A Final Note for 2025, Santillana del Mar

An Irish blessing

May the road rise to meet you,

May the wind be always at your back.

May the sun shine warm upon your face,

The rains fall soft upon your fields.

And until we meet again,

May God hold you in the palm of his hand.

May God be with you and bless you;

May you see your children's children.

May you be poor in misfortune,

Rich in blessings,

May you know nothing but happiness

From this day forward.

May the road rise to meet you

May the wind be always at your back

May the warm rays of sun fall upon your home

And may the hand of a friend always be near.

May green be the grass you walk on,

May blue be the skies above you,

May pure be the joys that surround you,

May true be the hearts that love you.

These were the words I found myself reading this morning as I scrolled through my phone — a small blessing I had savoured years ago.

If you’re anything like me, January often arrives carrying a mixture of excitement, anticipation, and doubt. That’s where I found myself this morning — somewhere between resting and beginning again. Half awake, I was browsing through my phone, retracing moments that have quietly led me here. Looking back through photographs saved over time — small, half-forgotten moments, gently connected — I was reminded how easily one season gives way to the next, whether you’re ready or not.

I started this blog just over a year ago with the hope of curating and recording nourishing, colourful recipes — rooted in my genuine love for food — paired with travel, style, interiors, and the joy of discovering unique and beautiful places. These are the things I find most enriching. The things I want to pause at, marvel over, question, and cultivate in my own life — the places where I continue to learn and grow.

So, on this quiet Tuesday morning — enjoying the last few days off work, deciding whether to stay in bed or take on the world again — I found myself here, reading these words once more. Words I had photographed years ago, written across the walls of a place that had once felt like honey to my soul.

These photographs were taken at El Convento, an albergue nestled in Santillana del Mar. I remember reading the blessing as it was written across a window-sized chalkboard in the communal dining space, surrounded by antique furniture and a softly eclectic atmosphere. Outside, an overgrown garden unfolded — a little wild, a little forgotten, and still bearing fruit. The Irish Blessing was just one of many quiet spiritual offerings scattered across its walls.

I remembered how those words affected me then. I remembered the beauty of that place — a converted convent that felt both like a refuge and a fortress.

I spent a few days in Santillana del Mar while walking the Camino del Norte, and loved the town’s quiet bustle — horses grazing in neighbouring fields, old vines climbing freely, and uneven stone paths underfoot. It felt both curious and idyllic, shaped by natural beauty, folklore, and rich Mediterranean charm.

So, as 2026 draws its first breath, I hope these words from the Irish Blessing reach you as they once reached me — wherever you are. I hope they ease any quiet feelings of unease, and soften the anticipation that so often accompanies the year ahead.

Thank you for following along this year,
Alex x