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I was out at first light and headed toward Bologna. While standing in the train station in front of an electronic schedule I noticed three young ladies behind me looking over my shoulder. They were three young Americans also looking for the train to Florence, so I introduced myself. Since the four of us had three hours to burn until our train departed, I accompanied one of the young ladies through the streets in search of a sweater. Her mother had purchased her father a sweater from Bologna years ago that he had always enjoyed. …
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Imprisoned by my own curiosity. I felt as if I was looking up through trees that encircled my view, staring at the many branches and the fruits suspended beyond my grasp. I knew I could no longer be satisfied simply to lie here on my back, closing my eyes and dreaming of things out of my reach.
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She had circled a small hostel up along the west cost of Northern Ireland in the little travel guide she carried. It was a gorgeous drive and well worth going out of our way. I’ll never forget the look on her face when she first saw her hostel. It was in the middle of nowhere and when the young men came out of the house to greet her, all the sheep ran for the hills. She had the look of a newborn, clinging to our car as if it was her mother. …
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It was a perfect day for drinking beer. We found shade within the Hafbrouhaus. While we downed a few beers alongside a couple of pretzels, our waitress dropped a hand full of mugs behind me and they shattered on the floor. A few pieces of glass had jumped up and cut her ankle. Since I’m a man, it was my job was to rescue her. I picked her up to the humming of the crowd and carried her into the kitchen. They brought Jim and me a free beer. …
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The clouds had parted and the wings of our plane began to dry. The very first thing I noticed was that “I wasn’t in Kansas anymore”. Gatwick Airport had green pastures on both sides of the runway. Unconcerned cows looked up at our passing plane. This was a total contrast to the cement landscape we left behind in LA. …
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I was told of a nice beach just outside of Pisa so I snuck in an early shower again and took an early train out. Tuscany provided an enchanting landscape painted in pastels. I followed the tourists to the tower in Pisa, gave my two cents and climbed to the top. With all those people hanging all over it I was surprised it hadn’t fallen and decided to head down before it did. After strolling through the Duomo and viewing Ramous’s doors I wandered across the river to get a feel for the countryside and sat along the side of the bridge thinking. Truth, like art is sometimes in the eye of the beholder. …
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I was up early, grabbed a table and a few chairs and set them up on the sand. I sat and gazed out on the empty bay writing until the others woke. A pot of coffee soon followed and then breakfast. The girls were taking about exploring the city’s bizarre, a female shopping ritual. I on the other hand I was invited to go with the men. Bear hunting was on the agenda. We all loaded onto a friend’s boat and headed along the coast to a location that supposedly had a recent bear sighting. …
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When I woke up I notice that my knife was unchaperoned, sitting all by itself. Most likely it was pushed away by me while I slept. There were two elderly gentlemen sitting alongside the same bench staring at me and the knife. I had gotten less than an hour of sleep and was still very tired and in need of a shower. I followed those two gentlemen back into the heart of Naples. …
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It was a relief to be back on a dry train. When we reached Paris we found it almost impossible to find ourselves a friendly word from the locals. It was like the Parisians were trained at youth to be rude to foreigners. Their rudeness came so easily it must have been a mandatory subject in their schools. …
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I looked down and saw the speck that was our car and I could almost make out Jim sitting there reading his book. “You’re missing out”, I yelled. I realize coming off one of these mountain I lost my wallet. Backtracked but couldn’t find it. Not much money and no credentials or credit cards inside, so that was a relief, but I did lose my address book. So for all those that I promised I would write, please accept this as my apology. …
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In a middle of a dream a young man introduced himself to me, explained that we knew one another and that he had something to show me. I looked at his face and couldn’t recall where we had met or when. He stated that he had been given permission to show me something and at that moment opened what could be best described as a door. Behind the opened door I saw billions of people of all ages, with all characteristics, moving frantically as if searching for someone important to them. As I moved closer I noticed that my mind did not perceive the physical characteristics of these people. …
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We had awakened almost in the same position we had fallen asleep. But now the birds below sang that the morning was new and filled with joy. It was as if natural geometry and rhythms had aligned and everything was clearer than the day before. We traveled hand in hand occasionally catching each other smiling as if it was just a bit hard to believe that we had found one another. …
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It was an early arrival into Rome. I had in my pocket a few phone numbers and a couple of addresses handed to me along the way. After two attempts at one of these addresses there still was no answer so I obtained a map and began walking towards Saint Peter’s square. I jumped on to the subway surprised to see all the graffiti. Unnecessary scars. As I entered the St. Peter’s courtyard I heard whispers, like the voices of the past that never really left. Each pillar that surrounded me gave me the impression they were watching my every step. …
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We found ourselves a small room above a bar not far off the main square of Brugge, claimed ourselves bed, dropped off our stuff and hit the local canals for a little sightseeing. We roamed among the flower vendors, chocolate shops, lingered behind a cup of coffee and smoked a cigarette while standing on a humped-backed bridge. I enjoyed the mood of the weeping willows and gazed endlessly at the reflections painted by the water. …
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Walked up one of the local hills and watched the sun rise over the valley. Then I took a trek back to the pools to get a few pictures without people climbing all over in them. They were so beautiful and unique. Shallow petal shaped pools with large expanses that had the texture and the look of snow. I expected the crunch of snow but was met with the resistance of rock. I sat alongside them for rest of the morning, just day dreamed and enjoyed the view. …
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