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In front of the morning sun we departed toward Lienz. We were lucky to have the company of a pair of young ladies traveling in the same direction. An interesting conversation made the time disappear and before we knew it our train had come to a stop. I needed to exchange some traveler’s check for cash and explained to Jim and the two girls that I would be a few minutes inside the bank. Once I exited the bank the three had vanished. I spent well over an hour checking one shop after another, up and down just about every street. …
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A good shower and I packed up for today’s trek. Our first stop was to see if we could check our bags at the train station but the area used for this service had been closed down some time ago. It was suggested that we try a hotel across the way. Typically hotel won’t check in new customer until around noon but usually will accommodate us early arrivals by watching our bags until check in rolls around. We have done this enough times to know to take advantage of this hospitality. …
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With the birth of a new day we began to head back to fetch our bags from the hotel. Beyond all odds we managed to fit all of us and all the baggage into one cab. Two of us had to lie across laps in the back seat. Our taxi driver slid in an eight-track and we were off to the airport. I found it odd that the stewardess confiscated only the US passports and then forced us to sit in specific seats, “the American” section. I guess in case of hijacking that would better protect the locals. I believed my eyes closed for just a second but when they opened we were landing in Crete. …
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When I woke I could not shake that dirty feeling. I had felt cleaner waking up on the floor of train stations. It was early. The sun hadn’t come up yet and Jenni was planning on sleeping in, so I headed off to the ruins of Ephesus. That trek started out as a long dark walk. Luckily I eventually hitched a ride. When I reached the front gate the sun began casting long shadows but it was still very cold. …
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We headed into Gent to be part of its annual festival. I, like a honeybee, danced from flower to flower collecting smiles, memorable fragrances. The next day started off with the similar ritual of walking into Brugge’s main square for a cup of coffee, this time before we jumped a train into Brussels. We trekked about the old section of the city and checked out the local sites. Muscles in Brussels and beers, muscles in Brussels and beers. …
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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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I woke early to the jingling and jangling of the vendors setting up the local market and was up and out in minutes following the caravan of wagons and carts down through the streets to the market. The strategy was the same, I looked for food and if I could obtain it for free, all the better. As long as we both got what we wanted out of the conversation, I could play the game. “You picked them all by hand did ya? Your fingers are too big. I think this one has been bruised. …
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We paid twenty pounds each for deck passage to Ireland. Everybody we had been crossing paths with had one priority, duty free beer. Especially a couple of guys from the states. One was from San Diego and the other from somewhere outside of Boston Massachusetts. I was still tired from the long walks and late nights in Liverpool, so I thought I’d catch up on some sleep. After two beers sleep wasn’t hard to find. Jim volunteered to watch our bags so I wandered off and found myself a comfortable place to grab some sleep. …
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Like a bunch of cattle we were herded from the boat to the train station. It was in this company we met a group of young ladies from Costa Mesa California on their way to a concert in Paris. We were scheduled to see U2 in Dublin but that plan kinda got left behind with a bunch of stuffed animals. …
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Over the years I’d met so many people that believe, believe in their personal God. When I would seek answers, ask questions, express an opposing opinion or different view, or anything that might contradict their belief system, they would jump into a defensive or offensive position, a position of judgment. …
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We rose early and spent the entire day wandering the pedestrian streets and central squares popping in and out of small cafes and trendy boutiques. That’s right, trendy boutiques. The young ladies that gather in these places are quite attractive. Carlsberg and then followed the tree-lined avenues to the harbor.
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The young man, who originally invited me to his parent’s house, got up at first light and ran off to work. His friend Brent left to pick up his girl friend. I began to prepare omelets for the returning couple and took the liberty of cleaning up the house from the night before. Brent’s girlfriend was very sweet and quite attractive. …
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The wind blowing through the trees surrounding Versailles whispered voices from it past. Is it a revolt? No it is a revolution. Words. Words that had challenged the cast system of the church and the rich. Science, literature and invention tore the fabric of the aristocrats. It started here. A revolution now and then can be healthy thing. I followed an English speaking tour to gather additional information. It was a beautiful home but the maintenance bill must have been outrageous. I guess it is good to be King? …
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We wandered among its narrow streets that radiated out like spokes to a wheel. Bicycles danced across our path. Up one of these many streets we spotted a small coffee shop adjacent to one of the more picturesque canals. It was a good day for mischief. It had a large window and we noticed that the table upfront was vacant and had a nice view of a small flower market. …
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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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