Stages 4, 5, and 6

Two things before I get into it…

1. Happy belated Memorial Day
2. Sorry I haven't written in a couple days. I've honestly just been tired and lazy and maybe a little bit rebellious

Pamplona to Puente la Reina - 23.8km

We left early from Pamplona as we have grown accustomed to and set off on our way. As I mentioned in the last post the fútbol championship was happening and Madrid was one of the playing teams. So naturally when they won the city erupted with excitement and pride leading to drinking and general frivolity often seen after a momentous achievement for a region. While I did not partake in such activities I was sure to note their existence after the yelling, screaming, and cheering woke me from my much needed slumbers. But I digress. So as we were leaving the city that morning we witnessed various groups of people stumbling home after the night's escapades. The high buildings, the empty quiet streets, and the rising sun aided in our optimistic mood. I had one problem though, I was starving. The tranquility of the streets could only get me so far before I was acutely aware that the last time I had eaten was lunch and ice cream the day prior. Famished, very quickly did the monstrous characteristics of swimmer Annie emerge, that is will do anything if it ends in food. Naturally, since it was Sunday nothing was open. Literally NOTHING. The closest pilgrim bar was 5.1 km outside of town. After we figured that, getting to that point was my only intention. On our way through Pamplona three things of interest happened, 1) we got semi lost following two female pilgrims in pink hats and not paying attention (the hats from the wine tasting event the day prior) we got back fine because we quickly noted our error and re traced our steps a bit 2) In the distance we could hear a church choir singing, their songs echoing through the streets, their harmonized voices washing over us, compelling us to stop and take in the moment. 3) we walked through a Universidad which reminded me so much of the college life that I am only two weeks removed from. I had a sense of longing and sadness that I would not be returning to a campus such as CSU. The Universidad projected what most colleges do, potential and hope. Potential to do so much with our lives and the hope that we can all make our own individual mark on the world. Seems so much more attainable when one is axis student, a little different when you leave. Just another reason why I am going to miss college.

We made it to the café and I proceeded to snarf a basket of bread washed down with hot coffee → happy Annie. After we left the café in Cizur Menor, we could see that a large number of pilgrims were catching up with us, once again providing ample opportunities for camaraderie and companionship. We headed off towards Alto del Perdón easily seen in the distance, it's summit lined with wind turbines indicating our highest point for the day. As we climbed we came across a town a little more than halfway up by the name of Zariquiegui where we re grouped. While everyone got food, I took the time to pop over to the church of St. Andrew San Andrés to take a few quiet moments of prayer and reflection. Afterwards I headed off and came to the top of the mountain. The views were breathtaking to say the least and we were all able to look back at the region from which we have already traversed and say, “I walked across that!?” and then turn around to see what we were to tackle next.

Coming down from the mountain I suddenly had a surge of energy rush through me leading to me jogging the rocky path down. Content in my pace I had forgotten to look around. It wasn't until an Italian pilgrim waved at me from ahead and yelled something while gesturing to the side of the trail did I stop and slow down. My expression of surprise when I saw what he was indicating to must have been hilarious when paired with a rather higher pitched “oh!” The astute Italian was in fact pointing out a range of balanced rocks that lined the trail. It was a sharp reminder, to quote Ferris Beuler, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”

I did slow down a bit after that, but still jogged a bit, but really slowed down when I reached the bottom because ouch. My feet were feeling the distance, and I still had 6.5km left to go. So I took it slow the rest of the way in. One cool thing to note was that after we crossed over the mountain we were able to hear the church bells ringing from the towns below. One bell would ring for several minutes then the next town over would start, it went on and on. A nice addition to the already peaceful natural noises that we had been hearing. At one point in the town of Óbanos, the last town before our destination, we were walking through the vacant streets and came across a church just as they were letting out mass to proceed through the streets  to their own sounding bells. It was neat to see the community come together over something to special as their devotion to God.

Fast forward to La Reina, because I just meandered slowly the rest of the way and that's so much fun to re live (not). We returned to our developing habits of finding an albergue, settling in, setting put in search of food and drink, and returning with full bellies and happy souls for naps and reflection. In addition to the usual, I walked around town looking for an open farmacia (no such luck) and ended up wondering around the Queens Bridge before I headed to mass at the Inglesia de Santiago. Mass was beautiful and only a handful of people were present. Still getting over the not knowing Spanish thing, but I'm working on it! Getting better.

At the albergue we shared a room with only a handful of other people. A pair to note is a father/ son pair from California which we have kept along with since by mere happenstance. They have been a bit better at making friends than us so maybe they are our “in” if you will (joking, then again sort of not)

Puente la Reina to Estella - 21.9km

We left Puente la Reina not before stopping at a café for breakfast. There we experienced an older man, possibly the local drunk, who had tried to buy Betsy and I our breakfast. Not well versed in the language we struggled with our objections and even the worker at the establishment tried to aid in our objections. We left there laughing at the what had transpired and set off.

Immediately after town we started on a steep climb up and the conversation that we had started was cut short. My contacts were not working properly and I wasn't able to clearly see my surroundings, not being a fan I took them out on the spot and switched to my glasses. It's amazing what you can see when you change the lenses that you are looking through, literally! When we got to the top of the hill we could look over across the valley and see three little towns that we would got though and an expanse of vineyards and farmlands. The sun was starting to shine more on the mountains and brighten up the valley to urge it from its slumber and start anew. One area of particular interest was a group of lavender bushes grown in the shape of the earth's continents.

Once again I pulled ahead and made my way through the valley. In the town of Lorca, two towns from Estella, I contemplated stopping for our usual re group sessions, but I was feeling the momentum and have learned if you have it keep it up or you will regret it. On the way out of town I heard yipping sounds coming from a rough looking box thing. As I got closer I found that there were two puppies that resided in said box thing. I will admit to seriously contemplating taking one and putting it in the front part of my pack so it could look out as he and I do the Camino together. Tell me that doesn't sound awesome. But I thought better of it and moved on after visiting a little longer.

As I came into the last town before Estella, the black cloud that has been looming to the west decided to open up and dump down upon us poor pilgrims. At one point I thought that I could still push through it because I was feeling good. I passed by a café where a few people I was pacing with had stopped, thought better of it and turned around to relax and read the Camino book while I waited out the rain and for my amigos.

Once we re grouped we headed out and went to Estella. I was hurting and rusty as we were leaving because of the stop and slowly picked up pace, but not nearly the same as I had before. I also had to pull out the pole to assist as well. Once in Estella we got to an albergue, did our routine, and by the end of the night I was catching up on journaling and talking with fellow pilgrims on the patio on a beautiful night in Spain.

Estella to Los Arcos- 21.5km

So today! Finally talking about recent things! Yay! Today we actually stuck together most of the day, conversing with one another, laughing, and being merry. Just outside of Estella was a wine fountain that we took full advantage of :). It was very overcast for most of the day and we had apparently gone the “long” way through the towns and not the scenic route that a lot of others had chosen. Which was nice because there weren't too many people around. Today's goal was to drink more water because I have found myself on the dehydrated side of things. The error in my thinking was that what going in, must come out. And we were in fields again. Do with that what you will and how that may have affected how quickly I was walking to reach a baño. We made it to Los Arcos the quickest yet, even with pit stops, and have settled in and our people have since caught up and joined us.

That about sums it up! 

Picture Descriptions (top to bottom):
1)Wind turbines at the top of Alto del Perdón
2)Streets of Pamplona
3)Balanced rocks coming down from Alto del Perdón
4) Queens Bridge in La Reina
5) Looking down from Cirauqui
6)In Estella
7)After the big climb from La Reina
8)Wine fountain
9)Fields from Stage 6

Stage 3: Akkereta to Pamplona

To cap off last night, we had a wonderful dinner in the hotel with the other guests, all 12 of us. The three of us sat at a table with a pilgrim from Australia whose presence elevated the enjoyment of the meal to perfectly cap off the good day that was Stage 2.

At dinner we had made the executive decision that we would “sleep in” today, enjoy the breakfast offered by the hotel, then be on our way to Pamplona with the idea that we would arrive at our destination around 12. We had our breakfast once again with the merry group that had resided there the night before and we slowly made our way out, finally vacating at about 9:15. As we were leaving I started to get a sick feeling in my stomach and just started to feel “gross” overall. I attributed this to the over consumption of wine the night before mixed with coffee at breakfast. In general, the elevated amounts of acid I have been putting in my system was not agreeing with me one bit. I wasn't feeling so bad that I couldn't walk, I was merely slower and more lethargic along the way.

Despite my feeling of ickyness, the walk was gorgeous as per usual and the sun was out from the get go. As a whole today's walk mostly paralleled roads and highways, so the sounds of cars were predominantly heard throughout the day as opposed to the tranquil woodland sounds we have grown accustomed to. For the first quarter we were still in wooded areas that ran along a broad river with rolling grassy fields seen in the distance. We emerged at a Camino bar (which frequent the way to allow pilgrims some rest and nourishment) and remained in residential areas for the next quarter of the way. Now would be a good time to mention that at one point after we checked into our hotel yesterday I had misplaced one of my water bottles (don't worry, it was a cheap trash plastic one) which reduced me to a single bottle on a hot day in the sun. Luckily there were several water filling stations to encourage my water consumption, which I have been less than stellar with up until now. At about the halfway point we left the residential areas and started climbing on a trail that was mostly exposed to the sun, but looked out across the Spanish hills that had little villages cropping out between them. It was very reminiscent of the Palm Springs area in California, but green.

Eventually we dropped down into the town of Burlada. This was our first real experience walking through an actual city like town. There was traffic and large businesses and people rushing everywhere. It was a slight shock to my system after the country side I had grown oh so familiar with. Not sure exactly where we were supposed to go we continued walking through the town and picked our way by following the Camino shell symbols over to the walled-in city of Pamplona at 13:00. This is where things for interesting.

Once we breached the walls our mission was to find an albergue, get a bed, and sightsee the city. This plan got a bit edited. First albergue: full. Second albergue: full, and informs us that all albergues in the city are full…. What now? In addition to being in a walled city with narrow streets, there was an annual festival (no, not the running of the bulls) that filled the streets with people. This was even more of a shock to my system than Burlada. So. Many. People.

We followed the parade as they made their way into the square, which happened to be adjacent to the tourism office. There we picked a hotel at random, were able to get rooms, and adventured out in pursuit of finding said hotel. So far successful in our revised mission, we rid ourselves of our bags and decided to brave the city streets once again to take in the city’s beauty, culture, and most importantly, food. Tired from the day's excitement we headed back to our home base in order to prepare our minds, bodies, and souls for what tomorrow holds.
So for now I am ending the night hanging out in the hotel lobby with an old high school friend (who serendipitously happened to be in the same town, hotel and floor as me, and doing parts of the Camino for a study abroad program. We didn't figure it out until recently) taking care of our respective tasks while watching the fútbol finals and catching up. Stage 3 mission complete. Annie out. 

Picture Descriptions (top to bottom):
1)View as we were leaving our hotel this morning
2)Outside of the pilgrim bar was a statue of a pilgrim
3)City Hall in Pamplona
4)Dancers and musicians after the festival posing for pictures

Stage 2: Roncesvalles to Akerreta

I guess I should start where I left off yesterday, eh? After struggling to stay awake in order to get the last post finished I went up to my bunk and crashed for about two hours before the pilgrims’ dinner and mass. The dinner was great, 4 courses and wine to boot! The three of us were put at a large table with two Polish women (if I remember correctly), a German couple, a young Swedish girl about my age, and a retired Brazilian. Mostly I either talked to David (my grandfather) and his former business partner/friend Betsy (my two loyal companions), the Swedish girl, and the Brazilian. The Brazilian is who I enjoyed most of all, primarily because his story was really neat (as are for most pilgrims I've met so far). He recently retired from 32 years in the military and has decided to to travel the world. Starting with the Camino and continuing on with several additional travels when his wife meets him as he finishes.
After dinner we made our way to the pilgrims’ mass and received the pilgrims’ blessing. The church was gorgeous to say the least. As for the service, I know that the Catholic mass structure is the same world wide, but it was reassuring to experience something even slightly familiar. But me being me (having to be in the know) wished I knew more Spanish so that I could better respond and understand the homily and blessing. It's on my to do list to at least get the responses down before the end of this trip. After the blessing we returned to our beds, journaled, sent out some last emails and went to sleep.

Waking up this morning was a little rough for me. I wasn't really that sore, maybe a bit stiff, but the real problem was that I had put in some earplugs to guarantee a good nights sleep and had forgotten the fact that they would block out the sound of my watch alarm. It wasn't until I heard another pilgrim’s alarm did I wake up, 7 minutes after mine had started going off. I was able to rush getting ready and pack my things half hazardly before we headed out.

Leaving the albergue, the fog that had rolled in the night before had yet to lift and we set off into mist at about 6:20. We were informed that our best bet for breakfast was a cafe about 3.1km along the trail from Roncesvalles. It took us about 25 to minutes to get there. I had ordered some slice of quiche like thing with coffee in addition to grabbing an orange and banana for snackums later in the day to avoid a repeat of yesterday. I saw that several other people had gotten some freshly squeezed orange juice and I decided to jump on the band wagon to see what the hype was all about. The moral of the story for telling you the specifics of my meal, cause I know how much you care about that, is that after consuming these items, I came to the conclusion that fresh orange juice and good Spanish coffee make the world go round. Mostly because after breakfast I found myself in a much more chipper mood, to say the least, and was completely pumped to get the day going.

After the cafe we walked through the town which had no residents visible as far as we could tell and continued onto a dirt path through a pasture of cows and horses. Now, being well versed in the racing community, I have been trained, not unlike Pavlov's dogs, that cow bells are an encouragement to keep going and that you're doing great. In Spain and France they actually put the bells on cows/horses/sheep, go figure. So throughout yesterday and today whenever I would hear the bells in the distance I would have a sense of encouragement and excitement only to realize that it's just some cow who is the source of my affirmations, and he doesn't really care that I'm even breathing let alone walking 500 miles.

Which brings me to my next point. With sufficient caffeine and sugar in my system paired with the song “500 miles” (even better if it's the David Tennant version) you can set a really good pace for 7:30 in the morning. Just chugging along whistling to your merry self. But, as time goes by the caffeine and the sugar wear off and the internal metronome for the song tends to slow to more of a middle school slow dance pace. Also, I have reverted to my previous beliefs that up is better than down. Yesterday was merely the exception.

At this point I had made my way ahead of my companions like yesterday, allowing me to retreat back into my thoughts and observations. With the fog not showing any signs of relinquishing it's hold on the region it provided a sort of mysticism while traveling through the woods. At one point I had been pacing with a Spanish pilgrim, switching positions with him frequently. He didn't speak much English, and I even less Spanish. Despite the language barrier we had a sense of companionship for the few miles that we traveled together, making the occasional remark on the beauty of the trail and thanking one another in each others languages when opening the various gates for one another. Overall though today held a greater sense km community and connection among my fellow pilgrims. Unlike yesterday when we would pass one another with a half smile and grunt in their direction, today was filled with several, “Buen Casinos" and conversations.

I will note that the sun made sure to show it's shiny yellow face today, reminding me that the path was just as enchanting as it was when engulfed in fog. Until today I had yet to have a real sense that I am actually in a foreign country. While I “know” that I am no longer in the states, deep down it hadn't felt like it. I believe that today was the first time that the bonds of home began to loosen, allowing me to really, truly take in the Spanish country in a deeper manner.

At a point still several miles outside of Zubiri, I had definitely found my rhythm. On my own, mostly, and doing my thing, I came to appreciate my inability to properly guesstimate distances. Because of this “shortcoming” it gave me one less thing to think about, leaving room for other contemplations and appreciation. One being when I had passed an area of foresting and the tree hugging, Ferngully (movie) loving part of me was enraged at the destruction of such a beautiful forest. I let it go, but I wasn't pleased.

After stopping in Zubiri for lunch we picked up a lovely 80 year old woman who I walked with for the next 5km. Talking with her confirmed my belief that I get along better with older generations than my own. Not that I don't get along with my own, I just like old people better. Now we are cleaned up in the Hotel Akerreta (which was where some scenes in the movie “The Way” we're filmed) and resting our battered bodies for the night before we head to Pamplona tomorrow. A little more than 32 miles down. More to come. 

Picture descriptions (top to bottom):
1) Inside the church in Roncesvalles
2) Last night after dinner at the kilometer marker for the trail

Stage One

Today was hard. End of post. Just kidding, but really today was really REALLY hard. We left our hotel in St. Jean Pied du Port this morning a few minutes after 6 and made our way towards the starting position, if you will, and were on our way by 6:30. From the get go we were climbing, starting off in town making our way into the mountains. I will admit to having a bit of a temper when we started but just before we left the town there was a house with a gorgeous garden with an assortment of flowers, most notably, columbines. Seeing those before the walk really got heavy gave me a sense of reassurance and happiness as it reminded my of home. For most of the fist stage it's uphill. Now I had heard this many times and seen the profile and thought, “I've done 14ers before and hiked other hilly trails, I've got this!” No. Just no. I honestly don't know how there was so much up in one region. We started and it was very steep, and that's putting it mildly. It's not just steep but it's constant. Steep and constant. After a while the steepness reduces but it's still up, and up, and up, and up and up. When you think there on no way there is any more up, there is. And that's just the terrain. While doing all of this the French/ Spanish bipolar weather makes Colorado look as constant and predictable as knowing your new puppy will at some point be a dog. Rain, wind, sun, luckily no snow but it was a close one. Name it, we got it. Layer on, layer off, layer on, add another layer, take both off. It went on and on. Just past the half way point there was a van with assorted foods and drink. It wasn't until I got there and started to put something more than the croissant that I had for breakfast into my stomach that I realized how fatigued I had gotten. In addition to prices for various items the vendor also had a map and a little hope that said, “1km up, 5km flat, 5km down.” These few words became my mantra for the next 11km. By the time we had gotten up to the top we were well above the fog that had engulfed when we were about an ⅛ th of the way up, and the tops of the mountains peaked their little heads out to continually gave a moment of appreciation every time you stopped and looked around.  After that, there were still some hills, but nothing like what we had already done. As part of our initial descent there was a long path with trees canopying the way. It was like you had stepped onto a movie set or something. At that point though I was beginning to stretch me “up” muscles and they didn't seem to like it that much, or rather I didn't like the feel so much. At about 2 miles until town is when I finally gave in and pulled out my pole knowing full well, through information gathered from previous pilgrims, that there was a rather hairy steep descent into town. And they weren't lying. At first it seemed really bad and my knees were not fans but after a while most of the pain that I had before had disappeared.

Now we are at the Albergue in Roncevaux, Spain. All cleaned and resting, waiting for dinner and mass, and most importantly, sleep. 

Picture Descriptions (top to bottom):
1) Near the top of the Pyrenees 
2) In the canopy coming down
3) There were two trail options to get to Roncevaux. We took the harder, more scenic path and followed these markers in addition to the scallop markers.

The Things We Carry

The summer before my junior year of high school I was required to read two books; "Walden" by Henry David Thoreau and my choice from a specified list, which I selected "The Things They Carried" by Tim O'Brian. I will admit to not always finishing or often skimming my required readings, but when reading "The Things They Carried" I found myself wholly enthralled by its stories and sentiment, and proceeded to read it cover to cover. To this day that book has remained one of my favorites (at least in my top 5), and has been ringing a certain relevance as of late in preparation for Camino. 
In brief the book is about Tim O'Brien and his time in the Vietnam War as well as his fellow platoon members. He tells of items that the soldiers would have in their possession, whether they were mandated military supplies or things from home that were enveloped in sentimental value prior to the war. While not in a theater of war packing for this trip and the things that we carry are all significant in one form or another to our physical, mental, and spiritual continuance. That being said here are the things we are starting off with to carry, they are likely to change and evolve along the way, but that's all part of the process. (There are some shout outs in here so be sure to read the list carefully)

Clothing Items:
-Zip pants that can be converted into shorts on cool morning into hot days
-Regular quick dry REI shorts for when it's just too hot
-Relaxing loose light weight pants from Target for when I don't want to be anywhere near any hiking gear
- Tank top so perfectly picked out by my 12 year old cousin Cecilia 
-Merino wool t-shirt to whisk away the sweat or even keep me warmer, weather depending
-A fabulous Athleta long sleeve running shirt, provided my my good friend Lauren last Christmas
-3 pairs of Darn Tough Socks
-5 pairs of underwear
-2 sports bras
-1 wide rimmed hat with a SPF coverage of 50 (which I'm sort of seriously in love with)
-my ever trusty North Face fleece jacket
-cheap poncho
-Salomon trail shoes
-Chaco sandals (because duh) 
-regular flip flops
-wide headband to triple as headband, ear warmer and eye mask 
-Gloves
Toiletries:
-Travel size shampoo, conditioner, body wash, lotion, deodorant (vital), contact solution and hair brush
-Glasses
-Vaseline
-Shami towel
-Chap stick
-First Aid kit
-Water iodine tablets
-Sunscreen
-Tweezers and nail clippers
-Safety pins
-Sewing kit
Random Essentials:
-Gerber pocket knife lovingly given by my father
-One right handed walking pole greatfully lent by my step mother Melissa
-Chargers; international, phone/Kindle, camera, and portable (x2)
-Kindle (mainly for the planes and trains)
-Camera with 2SD cards
-Phone
-Sleeping bag liner sprayed with bed bug spray
-Whistle provided by my mindful Aunt Judy and Uncle Rick
-Camino book
-Head lamp
-Oakley sunglasses customized by my father and stepmother
Sentimental Items:
-Journal provided by my ever insistent mother
-Double sided picture of my good friends Brittany and Cassie and I
-Rosary I received at conformation that was customized by my mother and aunt 
-Cross necklace; Cross from my mother, chain from my grandmother
-Rock from Seattle to drop at the infamous cross (would have preferred from Colorado but Seattle will have to do) 
-Camino passport
-Scallop shell

Note: me being me organized the hell out of all of these items. And I am very proud, just thought I would throw that one out there.

Tomorrow

I think that this the moment where I am supposed to start belting out the oh so infamous lyrics so popularly associated with my name, "Just thinkin' about tomorrow clears away the cobwebs, and the sorrow 'til there's none!... Tomorrow! Tomorrow! I love ya tomorrow! You're always a day away...". To spare everyone's eardrums I think I will pass on that one. But tomorrow is coming and it is a big one.
Tomorrow we start our great journey. Tomorrow our bags will be packed (with too much weight already, so stay tuned for updates on that). Tomorrow we hop on a plane and make our way to Paris. Finally after months and months of planning I sit here typing this muttering the word "Tomorrow" over and over again. Sans the dark room and creepiness that I'm sure many of you might be visualizing, I promise I am not that weird (or am I?). 
So let the adventure begin. I am ready. 

What's Next?

While this post is not strictly about the Camino, I feel that it is vital to state that walking the Camino is not THE journey but a part of the journey called life (deep and cheesy I know, but true). Within the past week alone  there have been several “lasts”, enough to make a girl who doesn't often cry to put her lacrimal glands to the real test. Last days of sitting in classes as an undergrad, last finals as an undergrad, last time seeing and laughing with friends and acquaintances that have surrounded me for the past 4 years, last time spending late nights studying on campus, or goofy shenanigans with my roommates when we should have been studying, to name a few.  Writing this post I find myself sitting in my empty apartment hours after my roommates have moved out their things, and much of my own things either already gone or in boxes. Yet I am surrounded by reminders of the life I am moving on from. The silence amplifying the echos of these memories so that they may be more audible. There are no random giggles coming from either of the twins while they watch their shows, or sneaking around in order to scare or prank one another, or games being made up and played in the attempts to gain house points. But hey, at least the WiFi is working!

Amidst mourning and savoring all of the lasts and echos I am often faced with the question of “What's next?” I normally resort in saying, “Camino de Santiago, a 500 mile pilgrimage in Spain” (raise your hand if you've heard that answer from me. You are not alone) because that is what is “next”. But deep down each time I hear it and give that response I know what is really meant by that question, “What are you planning on doing with your life?” I. DON’T. KNOW. My options are many, and therefore overwhelming. Chances are I am going to leave the state within the year in order to pursue “what’s next”  but whatever it is I am unaware, only that it will be my next chapter. Chapter may not even be the right word. It will most likely be the next novel. The first in the series being my school age years (SPOILER ALERT: It ends with my graduating from college). The prologue for Volume 2 (title in process) being Camino, and the rest will write itself. To keep with the book metaphor, I feel like my life right now is equivalent to a book hangover. You just finished Vol. 1 with copious amounts of twists, turns, ups, and downs, and let's not forget about that phenomenal ending. You're not quite ready to move onto the next book because you are still savoring the dirty details of the last  one but you remind yourself that Vol. 2 will have the same author and same general characters that you love, along with the potential for new characters and stories that you will grow to love and never know how you had lived without them before.

So cheers to the closing of one book and the opening of the next, may it bring much happiness and adventure!