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After a morning cup of coffee I took a direct route to the train station and boarded the first train heading towards Barcelona. I didn’t offer Jim a single word. He either followed or went his own way and at that point I wasn’t going to give it too much consideration. I wasn’t interest in continuing the conversation from the night before so sat in my own compartment. About a quarter of the way to Barcelona a group of travelers from North Africa joined in and donated some hash for the ride. …
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I’m an early riser and that provides advantages. Like in the morning, there were no lines leading to the showers. I walked around until breakfast and then took the shuttle down to the beach where I planned to spend that entire day on the sand. When I reached the bluffs I began exploring. Jim followed duplicating every picture I took. It is just better to ignore his competitiveness than to give it thought it doesn’t deserve. …
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It was very late, or to be more accurate, real early in the morning. Outside the station it was dark and cold, really cold. Neither one of us were equipped for that type of weather. The streets were covered in ice and our worn tennis shoes didn’t provide much if any traction. When we exited the station we had no idea which way to head to find ourselves a room. There were two others that also exited our train so we began following them in the hopes they would lead us down the right path. We came to a large boulevard lined with large office shaped buildings but there were no signs or lights that provided us any indication that we were heading in the right direction. …
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There were about eight of us on a train traveling from Sweden across the Arctic Circle into Finland. When we reached a painted line across the tracks, the train stopped and they ushered us out for a celebration. When the speeches were over, they actually gave each of us a certificate validating our crossing, woopty-do. It was a nice opportunity to stretch our legs, until we came to learn that this leg stretching exercise would continue for another few hours. …
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Alongside the darkness we walked the city streets. It was a different feel since the majority of the shops were boarded up for the night. It gave the streets a maze like feel. We came upon a community of water pipes where I sat across from an elderly blind man and a few of his companions. We shared a pot of spearmint tea and a conversation. I had a picture taken but it was very dark and without a flash I wasn’t sure if it would come out. …
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We entered a compartment that could be best described as humorous. There was a young lady traveling by herself, who had spread her clothes from one end of the compartment to the other. This was orchestrated to persuade us to look elsewhere. We just laugh since this was a technique we often used to maintain our privacy. We found it amusing to watch her reaction to our comfort. She acted as if her mother unexpectedly allowed her new boyfriend into her unmade room. …
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We woke to another picturesque day and it wasn’t till we began driving the Ring of Kerry that we realized it was also a lucky day. We were heading clockwise, south to north and every possible tourist and circus was traveling in the other direction. This gave us the ability to stop and enjoy the scenery and not second guess our place in line or force us to let others dictate our pace. …
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The train station was a short walk outside of town but after only about fifty yards or so Jim began complaining. I was at the point where I didn’t even hear him anymore. He threatened to pack his shit up, fly home and didn’t like my “Go or stay but just stop complaining because you’re giving me a headache” response. My thumb attracted a truck that had also picked up a pair of French girls who, like us, got off at the campsite. …
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I was disappointed that Jim didn’t have the same level of interest in seeing these local sites. I started referring to Jim as “Stationary”, because literally, he’d stay in the train station and read a book while waiting for me to return from my trek. Wasting opportunities like these between the pages of some romantic novel seemed foolish to me when this is all new. …
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I darted around from one small town to another and eventually followed a young lady into Kuopio. She explained that she had been traveling in Germany for the past few weeks and was reuniting with her boyfriend that evening. We kinda hit it off and she went out of her way to call a few of her friends to see if they could accommodate me with a room. She found me a beautiful cottage alongside one of the many lakes. I understood the cottage was her parents or an Aunt but they, like most the folks this time of year, were away on holiday. …
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With the crack of dawn we were up to conquer the monster. We had taken the first train into the heart of the Jungrau region, Grindelwald to the base of the Eiger. We surveyed the landscape against a local map and selected the West slope since it was opposite from …
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I was awakened by the sound of sweeping in the distance. It’s funny how things looked different under the light of the day. I really thought we had selected an isolated location where we could be unnoticed but the fact was we practically slept on top of a monument. It was comfortable and no one bothered us and would have been perfect if we weren’t sharing the space with a colony of ants. …
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We had planned on seeing Urgup and the Goreme Valley and headed out into the streets in search for the tourist office. It was still very cold but it was like a reversed microwave, my bones were colder than my skin. We located what we believed was the tourist office but there were no brochures or posters to confirm that we had found the right place. Everybody inside was huddled around a small stove trying to keep warm. They explained there were no buses or organized tours this late in the year and suggested we find ourselves a taxi driver. …
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At the breakfast table there were rumors of another train strike, so about six of us headed out early to attempt to board the last train prior to any stoppage. Our destination was Mont-St-Michel. When the island first came within view I stood there for some time and gazed at its glory. It had more a look of a cover to a picture book than something actually real, a castle right out of some fairytale. There were endless fields of mud waiting for the imprint of somebody’s foot. …
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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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