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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 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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We proceeded down through the middle of Wales, heading south toward the coast. We followed the hedge groves that lined the road as it meandered like a large serpent, forcing the adjacent hill to bow to its will. …
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Tracking down each of the antiquities had the feeling of a treasure hunt and we never felt lost because we could always find signs of life behind the pub door. One of these nights while wandering I discovered the pub door was locked, so I entered an old grave yard across the way seeking the unknown. It was dark at eye level, even darker after gazing up at the million of stars looking down upon me. …
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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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With a cup of coffee and a cigarette, I got an early start and headed toward Gavie to see its shores. All this talk about love and kissing had got me thinking about it as well. In regards to the young ladies that had entered my life that I have loved, I always acted as a gentleman and never took control until the door was open and I was invited in. I needed a green light. …
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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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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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After packing up my clean clothes I headed off early into the city, sat behind a cup of coffee just off the main square, with pen in hand I watched the city wake up around me. I found myself staring at the unique inner walls of the St. Catherine’s church. The inside was different from what I expected from its outside. It captured my attention and soul. The contrast between the dark and light was not like others churches I have visited. I sat off in one of the corners and for some time stared at the many faces looking down on me. …
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The sunrise was a picture to behold. Sitting on that beach was like being the only person on the planet. Once we were all up and awake we attempted to hide the remains of the burnt telephone pole and headed up to meet the first bus to Nicolas. We were in need of a shower and food. We took advantage of the stop over on the way to Nicolas which provided enough time to grab some real food. We were all so hungry but still skeptical after the last experience. Once we stepped off the bus in Nicolas a little fat kid’s persistence persuaded us to follow him to an available room. …
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On the trip into Athens we were joined by another young lady and young man who had been pursuing her. She wasn’t interested in him but tolerated him because she liked the attention. At least that’s what she told us. We discussed renting a van and exploring Greece’s mainland. I wanted to visit Delos and then each extension of the Maurice Cross but Athens was first on our agenda and we decided to postpone making a decision until later. …
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We divided up the day between Rembrandt and Van Gough. Sadness is Van Gough’s greatness and without his blood and wed of failures, such masterpieces perhaps would have never been put to canvas. I can relate to the color and texture of his turmoil and find myself too at times walking around in a daze. In contract his colors were bright and unique. …
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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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I woke with that taste of too many cigarettes and one too many beers and wandered toward a morning coffee before it was back on the road again. We started down the coast searching for another room, kind of back tracking over the previous day’s plans but we ended up in Monte Carlo instead. It had just begun raining as we headed up one of the steep hills looking for shelter and a cup of coffee. We sat down alongside a window and while we sipped our coffee I noticed a motorcyclist get hit from behind. …
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The West Coast of Scotland was absolutely gorgeous and we still hadn’t seen any bad weather. Trekking along the coastal cliffs and the Island of Skye can only be described as a religious experience. This is God’s country. Gardens touched by the finger of God. A clouded island littered with crofts and memories of the day before Culloden. …
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