In France with the Magician

I landed out in Belgium late at night, to have the Magician and his father pick me up. The drive went by quickly in a blur. My lack of French not stopping us all singing rock songs together on the drive to the Magician home. When we arrived in the velvet darkness, the Magician and I echoed our thank you’s to his Dad before we rolled into the Magician’s apartment.

It was strange walking round the flat, nervous curiosity haloing me. Whilst the Magician was cloaked in nervousness, watching me carefully, looking for any signs of my opinion. The Magician lives in a large town just outside Lille. Our conversations through the time on the Camino had offered one idea that this place would have become our home for a short term, till we agree our next plans. If it hadn’t been for my fears. It hit me heavily here, that the place, with its masculine splashes of red, but subtle reminders of the Magician’s strong spiritual interest. I immediately felt at home here, and began to recognise the strength my fear influenced an inability to move with both feet into a new relationship. Again, I had a moment to thank my ex husband for that present.

Lille is a beautiful city in the north of France. Its about 1 hours train ride to Paris, and you can easily get to Belgium from here as well. The weather is similar to England, grey dark clouds dominating the skyline most days. With strong breezes wrapping around you in the January weather. The buildings here reach four or five stories into the sky. States and square with historic déco- facing with traces of natures patterned on the grey stone. The streets all wrap in straight lines. When the Magician took me into the centre he showed me round the left over Christmas sights whilst we shopped. And I got over excited seeing Unicorn paraphernalia (actual head dresses!!) and sending the picture to my beloved sister for a laugh.

In the middle of the week we took an early train out to Disneyland. We ran from ride to ride in the mild French weather. We were amazed at the short queues in the two parks, which was at a minimum of 5 mins to a maximum wait of 20 minutes. We went on the tower of terror and Space mountain multiple times debating which was our favourites of all the rides. Here during the two days we spent continually together we talked more openly about the other women the Magician had previously seen. As I’d finally started writing about our time on the Camino together, I’d finally started being able to open up about my feelings that I’d struggled to be open about when we walked together. It helped me to start to realise my assumptions on the Magician’s feelings could be really damaging to our relationship at times. We also opened up about our preconceptions of sex and what was important to us. It was the first time I’d been able and allowed to talk of things freely without fear of judgement or negativity in a relationship. This opened a gateway for us to be more and more open about all aspects of us.

I spent the majority of the week meeting the Magician’s closest friends and family. Every time nerves thriving into my chest, making my heart pound and my mouth go dry. The Magician never ceased to be by my side, translating English and French back and forth till nerves subsided. There I started to fall more deeply in love with him as he showed me his world. I realised his love for me would mean he’d never leave me on the side lines. That he moved around me, as I did to him, magnetic.

Although our relationship had become very rocky between us before I arrived in France. At the end of the short week with him, I left more in love with him that ever. Our connection becoming very strong again, and as we parted in Brussels airport, tears fell down our faces. Knowing that we might not see each other again for a little while. I was left hoping that he would be comfortable in me coming to meet him in Nepal, just so I could be with him. 6 weeks without him would be too long. With that thought echoing in my mind, I wondered how would I cope on the Appalachian trail which would mean 7 months without his kisses, his smile, his arms around me.

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I can come in many labels, many boxes, a divorcee, survivor, traveler, writer, optimist. But these labels only limit me to who I am at this point in time. But as you will read on my blog, I am my journey. I hope you will enjoy walking this path with me.

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