ESTRAGON: I’m going.
VLADIMIR: Help me up first, then we’ll go together.
ESTRAGON: You promise?
VLADIMIR: I swear it!
ESTRAGON: And we’ll never come back?
ESTRAGON: We’ll go to the Pyrenees.
VLADIMIR: Wherever you like.
ESTRAGON: I’ve always wanted to wander in the Pyrenees.
According to Oscar Wilde, ‘ Life imitates Art ‘.
For instance when I was asked, “Where are you off to this summer?” the above exchange from Waiting For Godot crossed my mind so I said “I’ve always wanted to wander in the Pyrenees” and having made this destination public felt bound to live up to it.
I got the overnight bus to London, the train to Dover, the ferry to Calais then by taxi, train, bus, train, bus and hitchhike to Caldes de Boi then uphill by foot after foot to the Estany Negre with wild horses in the foreground and the distant blue peaks of Els Encantats (?) towering in the background.
Here I was at last, in the Park of Swirling Waters, Aiguestortes, in the Pyrenees, where I’d always wanted to wander.
Thanks be to Samuel Beckett.
( On the way back, at Santander, taking photographs behind the cafe at the ferry terminal – the PELIGRO sign obscured by a parked van – I was savaged by a couple of Alsatians. One on each ankle. Impressive inartistic scars and a few photographs to show for it all . But that’s life for you. )