Inspired by Miggi, I’ve been taking shots of myself via Photobooth. I am consoling myself with the notion that each image will not be there more than a tenth of a second.
Accountability - it goes up in two months, whatever shape I am in by that time.
Food coma and an ass kicking workout conspire to to kill my daily writing conviction. Wish I could remember half the shit Alex Lifschitz says and put it down, then this would be done for the night.
I think it would be pretty clear it wasn’t my voice though.
Re-entry into work is easy. I popped my head in to say “hi”, gathered an impromptu crowd for all you can eat sushi. Alex (and others, but mostly Alex) subjected Aidan to tales of alcohol and college life and many a nicely turned expletive phrase. He improvises them the way I make up dinners. He’s like a more refined Luly.
Sleep. We’re going to have this thing.
Out.
It was nice to write on train rides in-between places, such clear delineation from here to there to here.
Caffe latte. I do this. I make breakfast in my own kitchen where I know things are.
Back home, it’s not so clear. What breaks up the day? Where’s that in-between? So busy going, the going is gone and the next thing is already here.
The best part was sitting on the rocks by the sea
and soaking up the sun
and feeling happy that I was sitting there
watching the sun on the water
And there was no thinking
no children
no role to play
just sensation
and feeling my muscles uncoiling
and my body was light
Picking up socks, planning the next meal, buying school supplies, planning the first few weeks of lectures. It is already blurring.
On the rocks
soak up the sun
I had a great chat with Troy and Bridget.
“Tell me what it was like.”
And in the retelling, I remember. And I need to remember; to find the edges in-between and recognize the going before it is gone.
Insert self into a blank space.
Salad Dressing
• 4-8 Green & Red fresh Thai chilis (cut into thin rounds without seeds)
• 6-8 finely chopped garlic cloves
• 2 Tbs Patis (aka fish sauce or nuk mahm)
• Juice from 1 or 2 Limes
• 2-3 tsp Sugar
Salad
• bean thread noodle (soaked in warm chicken broth for 15 minutes)
• chopped boiled chicken or sauteed ground pork or medium peeled cooked shrimp
• cilantro
• chopped romaine lettuce
• bean sprouts
Toss with salad dressing
All us siblings were up to see Beau off at six this morning. Pretty good considering we just finished playing cards at three. There’s been a lot of that. Beau wanted to sleep a long time ago. “You can sleep when you’re dead…how often do you see us?”
Benny leaves at three. The rest of us take off for Virginia tomorrow, the boys and I continue our journey home on Sunday.
My abs hurt - partly from laughing, but mostly because Benny led me and Elaine in a Pilates class yesterday morning. (It’s what he does). Ow. But it’s a good ow.
Speaking of…now say “Ow” as if you were Christopher Walken. It’s easy, just start by saying “Wow” then take off the first “W”. Okay. Now do Christopher Walken doing Cameo’s “Word Up”.
Aidan went to Curt’s Tae Kwon Do class last night. He’s good. He’s really good.
Connor tried out the capoeria class. Also, a lot of natural ability.
Yes to both.
Also, we went to the pool again. And that is just fun.
I don’t normally buy the amusement park pictures, but this was too ridiculous to pass up.
Dad and I are sitting across from each other on our respective laptops drinking coffee. The Mast boys are at school. My boys and Brahim are asleep. Actually, everyone else is asleep.
This is a true vacation…nothing to sweat. There is lots to eat. Time by the pool to maintain that tan.
Beau and Benny arrive today and we’ll have that complete family circle. It’s been a long time.
Five different people have recommended I read “Eat, Pray, Love” now. In a bit. For now, mentally preparing for the return to the school year and a 30th high school reunion. Those two stressors pull in to the future and the past. Neither is stressful. The post-trip everything-will-be-alright glow is in deep.
Elaine is up and is going for a walk. I’ll join her.
In the dark early morning I wonder what country I am in and whether or not I am missing a train? It’ll take a while.
Elice, Elaine and I did the sisterly thing and got our eyebrows threaded and did our nails over wine. Well, Elaine and I did our nails and drank wine. The boys run around like a wild pack - which they are. The pool later.
The bro’s arrive tomorrow.
Pictures to follow.
Back to a normal time. It’s 6:30, this is that regular up-before-everyone-time…except dad. I like this quiet bit…except for dad. He’s grousing about the dishwasher non-under-his-breath. Grilled bread, boiled milk and coffee.
I swear Aidan grew another two inches while I was gone. Connor plucked the fedora off my head and rocked it, just as I knew he would, and Gabriel gave me a long never-going-to-let-you-go hug. Three days and the novelty of being together is not gone.
Elice arrived the day after me. I was up at 4 and surprisingly, so were mom and dad. They were getting ready to face traffic and hit the National airport. Elice looks great, and motherhood suits her. Ibrahim is a sweetheart. I got to see his charming self last night after Elice went to sleep. Jet lag, a new country, being away from his dad are rough on a little guy. I think he’s arrived now.
The boys and I did some retail bonding. The goal was some video games, IKEA and a haircut for me. We accomplished part one. Scribblenauts is a fabulous DS game. There are a variety of puzzles/tasks. The player types in “bazooka” and it appears, and then the character uses it. Fantastic. I dunno what he was trying to do but Gabriel asked, “How do you spell Gryffin?” Apparently, it’s what he needed. Two PSP games, and I bought connor a PSP slim since the one Benny gave him is near death…a much more expensive run that expected, but it is worth it for the upcoming 30 hours on the road.
And I bought a leather jacket. And it is perfectly what I want, skims me like second skin and (I wanted to say cost 35 Euros) cost 52 dollars. Check that off that longing list, and negate that shoulda-in-Florence regret.
Having that coffee. I am telling Spence in my head, “I do not have a problem.” It’s hard to lift the mug. I went with dad to the gym yesterday morning. My body is doing a wha?-Wha?- WHAT?!-are-you-doing-to-me? It’s been a month since the last gym run. All the right muscles hurt. Planning my attack. I have another 8 weeks to hit that mini-goal. Not worried, this is a project for the rest of my life.
This is the reboot.
Carlo tells me there is a Legos exhibition at the National Building Museum. (It was good to see Carlo. He came over for dinner, I made gnochi from scratch along with pesto - another dish to conquer, channeling Cinque Terra). There is too much to see and explore and feel to stay home.
I look at that picture of me on the bridge in Venice and that woman seems so very light. I am hoping I am still that woman as I return. The vacation really isn’t over yet…just the Europe part. My heart awaits me in Virginia. It went ahead and is sitting between my boys at my parents’ table with eggs and rice and longanisa.
Things I took for granted, that I do not any more: toilets in public places and in restaurants—free ones at that, air conditioning, water fountains. I guess it depends on perspective, but I like that water costs less than beer or wine. That I speak the language of those around me. That I know how the currency works and how much a loaf of good bread costs.
Oh. And clean laundry.
I admit I did like the uncertainty of not knowing the basic lay of the land and learning simple things – like “buon giorno, caffe latte.” Bellying up to the counter and standing to drink it, knowing what coins to put down. I liked wordless communication and understanding. I loved looking at someone for an instant and knowing there was a visceral flash of attraction and though brief and gone, it’s enough. Maybe this is something I bring back with me.
I grew younger on this trip. I started in my mid-thirties and was in my late twenties by the last hostel. I think it was the tan and the air of having no responsibility. I now have a face with a view, its shutters open, welcoming the breeze – lets the outside in, shines its own light in return.
Apparently red light districts are usually by the train stations of large cities. Who knew?
It’s a really nice hostel though.
We met our roommate- Terry from Perth, Australia. I really like his chill vibe. He’s coming off from a two month and change music festival tour. He described it as some thrash metal that approaches punk quickness. I dunno. He’s really like a goth hippie.
He says I am like a hooker-warding charm. As we walk to dinner no one bothers us. One guy walks by us muttering, “My life is sick.” Sick in not a good way. It’s funny anyway.
I want German food! I have fried pork belly (that is basically FAT), potatoes and sauerkraut. It was really good, and I don’t think I really ever have to eat that again. The meat was almost filipino. All that was missing was the soy sauce.
I got up at 4 this morning. Still up. Sleep is whack. I am rolling with it. Showering at 4 in the morning was easy. Been up since chatting, writing.
Badger says he could see me living in Italy given how I look in those pictures. I agree.
Throughout this trip, I have been alternately Spence’s sister or mum. There is overlap of what we both consider a good time: good food, interesting places, people. There is divergence in that I need my quiet time, and have to parse my doses of people. He has the stamina and energy to be out all night. The mornings have been like a changing of the guard. I am up, doing my quiet thing, he wakes up later at the tail end of breakfast time, then we do something together, or not. Clearly we are at different places in life. But I am getting the kind of hostel/backpacking experience that many a newly minted college grad from Britain, Australia, Canada, and occasional American have. I’ve met some older travelers, and they are having a different kind of thing. That will be me next year.
I would do it all again.
Boring, but necessary bit about what I brought and were indispensable:
Clothes:
- One pair of pants that could be rolled up so they were crop pants most of the time
- One pair of shorts.
- Two skirts that could be dressed up or down
- Two bras
- Two tanks
- Three stretch knit shirts
- One button down white shirt (some churches required one’s shoulders to be covered)
- A bikini and wrap that could also function as a beach blanket
- One light sweater
- One dress
- A hat
- Rain jacket
Electronics
- This netbook - oh yes! For communicating with family back home, journaling, booking the next hostel, dumping pictures from the camera…indispensable.
- Camera. Point and shoot. If the trip was about picture taking, I would have brought the SLR, but it’s big. This was great for grabbing that moment.
- My smart phone. Stateside, well, yeah, for the basics. But also for grabbing wifi on the fly, use as a flashlight at night when navigating a room of sleeping hosteliers, as a time piece, and an ebook reader.
- Converter for whatever country you are going to
- Multi-plug so you can charge all of your devices at once and you’re not being the one to hog all the outlets
And a really good backpack. I did it all under 20 pounds, and that was enough room to buy stuff and bring it back.
Speaking of…It’s 7:30. Going to pack it all up.
I should have marked a red dotted line on a map to indicate my route, played a traveling tune, hands in my pockets, and straw fedora on my head. You do imagine the montage.
There are no weekdays or weekends. There are traveling days and days at a place. The second day in Prague was rough, but was improved with the changing of the roommates. Christine and Meagan, both from Hawaii; two French women whom I like, though we talk just a little; two Japanese girls Yuka and Ako. That was just our room. In addition we met Ivana from Argentina and Camila from Chile. Definite change in the atmosphere of the room.
Spence had invited Ivana and Camila, I met and invited Christine and Megan, we all went to the Spirit Bar for dinner. Did I mention this place? Good (really good) inexpensive food! These women are all light and in the midst of adventure. Camila has her broken English and I my broken Spanish. We pledge to help one another and shake on it. My heart is lighter. I hang out at the bar with them and turn in relatively early…bowing out of whatever drinking they were about to do.
The next day, it is early. I wake up Spence long enough to say I am going to breakfast and will wander around. He registers this information and goes back to sleep.
This is the last day in Prague. I have a tram ticket from Bruce good for 24 hours. I hop on the first bus that comes by and stay on it until the end of its route. I see Prague; not just the tourist part, but the suburbs, and the projects, and the industrial bits. I see billboards and quiet neighborhoods with manicured gardens and flats that look like they were newly minted but are probably 5oo years old. It is a patchwork. I get on a different bus number that I know goes back to the city center. I see the station, “Radio Free Europe.” I remember from childhood a black and white grainy ad. It could be it was black and white and grainy because there was no color yet, but I think not. It was a series of shots of a city. I now think it is a communist one – maybe even Prague. There is a voice over in a foreign Slavic tongue that ends with the accented words, “…On Broadvay.” And you hear a needle come down on a record and the song begins. The words Radio Free Europe appear. And I understood that the people in this grainy black and white city were not allowed to hear this music. It really wasn’t that long ago.
The Astrological clock tells the time, the day, the orientation of the planets in their orbits, the position of the moon relative to the sun, and on the hour the twelve apostles show their faces at two windows, and a golden cock crows a mighty “Bok!” The tour guide said it was a pretty lame show, and that made it all the better. He also said that this is such a wondrous clock that Milan and Paris and Vienna wanted one of their own. In gratitude, the commissioners of the clock burned out the creator’s eyes with red hot poker so he could make no more. It is said then that brought about a curse on the clock and it did not work for 100 years. Michaelas’ take was the idiots just blinded the only guy who could fix it.
I sit in a café having a cappuccino and strawberries and cream watching not only the clock but the crowd awaiting the clock. Two ex-military men sit at the next table. I strike a conversation with them. This did not used to be easy. It is easy now…or maybe easy this moment. I have changed.
I window shop, and shop. I do not buy yet another leather jacket. Oh! But this one was badass. Doesn’t really jive with the backpack nor the weather. Another time.
Around the city are signs for “Thai Massage”. 24 Euros for an hour? I am so there. After the massage I wear the new traveling dress and leather sandals I bought that morning. My first adored pair of comfy sandals are at the bottom of the sea in Cinque Terra. Shit yeah. I get a manicure and pedicure too.
Can I describe how wonderful a pedicure is after two weeks of backpacking? I cannot.
I find the gang at the Spirit Bar…all the women from the night before, plus the Japanese girls, and the self-proclaimed team awesome (three guys – two from Canada and one from Brazil).
It’s our last night here.
Back at the room I insist Meagan try some of my clothes. We play dress up; do the make up thing; giggle; ask for opinion about what goes with what.
There’s a space of time. I hit the computer for a bit, chat with the owner of the hostel. I am still working that new found easy banter. Spence appears wearing a light blue pub crawl tee shirt. What? He’s in charge of leading us to the club of the evening? He loves this. “Where I go; people follow.” He giggles.
Following the leader. We walk from the hostel to old town. Christine says, “I sensed something there.”
“What?”
“With you and the hostel guy.” She goes on to say that I am perfectly charming and probably have no trouble finding men. (Love her.) Maybe this is true. It’s been a fabulous two weeks. Let me take a moment here to say that Spence has been a perfectly wonderful wing man. I will also take a moment to say that I actually haven’t needed him to be my wing man so much. It’s been crazy that way. Getting my groove back.
We hit a club. I buy a gallon sized container of mojitos with lots of ice and 6 straws. We share this as we jealously guard our dance floor turf. The music is great. The dancing is furious. One of the Japanese girls does a mean Michael Jackson. Camila, so quiet is a different person on the dance floor. “Yo estoy cansada.”
“Vamanos, ahora?”
“Si, si si.”
We find Spence and let him know we are heading back home. It is a cool evening. Camila says in Spanish, “I am your employer and I do not speak any English. I am going to interview you.” She’s a difficult teacher, no slack for me. It’s great. I pass my interview. I really do adore this woman. She’s up there with Kiera.
On the train to Frankfurt by way of Dresden. It is a picturesque route. If my entrance into Prague had been via this train, I would have not been so weighted down.
There is a warning that says that tonight’s hostel is in the red light district. Benny and I have this running joke that whatever we post on facebook, mom will click “like”. I imagine her reading this post and saying, “LIKE”.
I breakfast with Bruce, he packs his bags and is off to Moscow. Later, Spence calls me a jerk for not waking him for breakfast. (As I write this, it is now 7:00 in the morning on Saturday the 14th. I am tempted to wake him up now.)
He has breakfast; I lunch, and then we walk to the old city to the Jewish Museum. It is lunch break there, so we buy souvenirs. This is good. It is a happy thing to buy just that perfect thing for someone. It is a good thing we do this before the museum.
The Pinkus Synagogue is now a memorial to the Czech Jews killed by the nazis. The names of those whom they know of are written on the walls, floor to ceiling. Thousands…hundreds of thousands of names. I see “Aloisie”. Wall after wall, room after room, it is numbing. The most heartbreaking thing are drawings by children in one room. They erased them completely. No birth certificates. No indication of their death. Drawings of everyday things…with their family at a meal, or roads that they could not walk on, dreams, monsters…
There are no pictures for this.
- By weez on rearranging the space
- By An acquaintance on that girl
- By fivecats on extemporaneous
- By slaobautcyg on 16 May 98 - Brain Food
- By amit on in lieu of
- By KateJohn on Alas, poor women
- By you? on Selective hearing
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