Aulus-les-Bains (I)

It's strange to have this much time, I thought, as I sat down to write this morning.

I'm writing this journal entry at night, on the first day of a weeklong residency at Camp. Camp is set up as a place to “think, write, and create” and located in Aulus-les-Bains, a remote village in the Pyrenees—the last village before the frontier. On the other side of the mountains, Spain awaits.

There's a group of nine, maybe ten of us here—I haven't counted—and most are musicians. Camp comes with plenty of instruments and recording equipment, and they often host music-related workshops, so it seems to be a popular destination for the musically inclined. Arriving here yesterday evening, after a beautiful two-hour drive from Toulouse, I enjoyed sharing a nice meal with likeminded people, all here to make things over the course of one or two weeks.

This morning I sat down at my desk and started writing. I had a half-formed idea in my head for an essay about time (or my anxieties surrounding it), which kept bubbling up over the last few weeks, and I just got stuck in. I wrote 1,400 words in the morning, then a few more in the afternoon, and edited 1,600 or so to a state that I felt satisfied with. My goal was to write 800 good words a day, so I'm off to a decent start. Let's see how it reads tomorrow.

Outside is warmer than inside, but the temperatures will drop dramatically later in the week. A warm wind blew through the village when Thom took us on a little tour today, explaining Aulus-les-Bains' history of thermal spas, showing us its grotto, and sharing with us the part the village played in WWII.

Tonight I'll read, if I don't fall asleep early. I brought along a nice stack of books:

• Tremor (Teju Cole)
• Bird by Bird (Anne Lamott)
• Time Travel (James Gleick)
• Pond (Claire-Louise Bennett)
• At the Same Time (Susan Sontag)

Plenty to choose from.

Tomorrow I'll hike, weather permitting.