Chapter 1: The Joy of Foraging Alone

In the midst of everyday life, there are countless opportunities to transform the ordinary into moments of joy.

One of my favorite finds is Wild Rosemary, alongside Sage, Thyme, and even Wild Garlic. Walking along the Caminos, I encounter bountiful Almond and Fig trees, as well as an abundance of Oranges and Lemons. Occasionally, I stumble upon Avocado and Pomegranate trees, and let's not forget the Bay Leaf and Pepper trees. The Olive trees are a staple here, and perhaps I should mention the Carob as well.

The quieter paths are lined with ancient grapevines, their lush clusters offering sweet delights. For those with knowledge, wild fennel and a variety of herbs await, each with unique benefits—some can alleviate toothaches or aid digestion. Wild carrots and kale can also be found, though mushrooms are best left to seasoned foragers. Each year, we sadly lose some of these foragers, often due to fading eyesight—where one type of mushroom is a culinary treasure, another can lead to dire consequences.

Ah, how could I overlook the Asparagus? Searching for those tender stalks feels like a rite of passage. I often find myself chuckling at the bewildered expressions of out-of-season tourists. The more adventurous visitors explore our secluded mountain Caminos—paths that are little more than worn donkey trails. Here, they might encounter high-end SUVs parked seemingly at random, with no sign of their owners.

My friends, those vehicles belong to local foragers. They park and vanish into the pine-covered hills, equipped with woven hats, baskets, and provisions for the day. They return as daylight wanes, their baskets filled with nature's bounty from our humble paradise.

As winter approaches, my personal joy is to prepare a roast. On a lazy afternoon, I pour a glass of rich Spanish wine, toasting to another summer survived. After a slow, appreciative sip, I grab my trusty pocket knife—an essential tool here—and set off to gather ingredients for my meal.

In these moments, there's no music or podcasts to distract me. Sometimes, my cats accompany me, their playful spirits brightening the trek. I might catch a glimpse of the local Eleonora’s Falcon, soaring silently overhead. It’s a reminder to observe the world around me, even if I rarely see the local wildlife.

I could share tales of clouds, winds, and puddles another time—each a storyteller in its own right. This afternoon, like many to come, unfolds at a leisurely pace. I gather what I can, sometimes in abundance, and when I feel I've collected enough, I turn for home. It’s a simple yet profound realization—knowing I have enough. Thank you, Ibiza.

Calling my furry companions, we make our way back to our peaceful sanctuary. Some require a lift, or so they imply. If I’m wearing a hooded top, I reverse it, creating a cozy pouch for them. Their joy reminds me of when they were tiny, snuggling in my palm as we walked.

Once home, it's time to cook—often accompanied by music and incense. This is a celebration! My culinary endeavors can yield enough food to feed a small gathering, even though it's just me.

After the initial feast, I save slices for toasted beef and mustard sandwiches, a nostalgic treat from childhood. I also freeze portions for later. I find joy in this method of cooking—it's special because I don’t do it often. I relish the efficient use of time, preparing multiple meals at once, while enjoying the process of foraging, cooking, and celebrating with music, wine, and incense. This approach minimizes waste compared to shopping for one.

This is my way of living. What about you?

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