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We woke the next morning to a welcome change in rooms. Perhaps a good night’s sleep awaited us. Our little dog was adopted as kinda of mascot. He had been eating and actually gained some weight. By the affection he was receiving his future looked bright. Every day was a beach day and today was no different. Luck did find us. I spent the first few hours at the bar down on the edge of the sand, hair of the dog like the day before and the day before that. About every thirty minutes or so, it was back into the water to wash off the sun. …
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I wandered through the station lingering on familiarities. It’s amazing how routines destroyed time and sped things up. There were so many unexpected avenues, detours, new faces and outright pleasures that it seemed as if it had been months since I left here, not days. I got talking up with a couple on the train that had been reading the same travel guide and discovered out we were going in the same directions. …
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Over these last few days, I don’t think there has been a single street or ally way we didn’t accustom ourselves to. Most pubs we stopped in for a pint, maybe even two. About midday I ended up lying out in the middle of Hyde Park, looking up through the trees, day dreaming under the blue sky. It was another gorgeous day. …
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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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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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One night at Mik’s place while passing around the pipe, he weaved stories of sprits possessing the trails between the white horse and the many rock circles heading north. I could almost visualize these images he was painting and hear the pounding of drums in the wind, as I focused in on the flames dancing with the beat. …
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As we crossed into Montpellier, we were followed by a young Austrian girl after crossing paths on the platform. The three of us wandered through the gardens and down along the Roman aqueduct. Eventually we ended up strolling down the narrow streets gazing into the many store windows. I was attracted to an antique brass figure of a dancer, very Degas. It was absolutely gorgeous and about a hundred years old or so I was told with a price tag to match. …
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Even though all the other guys had paid for a room joining the ladies outside became a priority. Good looking women typically have that effect over men. We all traded stories and passed around a few bottles of alcohol. By the time we reached Corfu we had assembled into an interesting group of travelers. Once we hit Corfu’s dock an elderly lady persuaded us to check out her hotel. I used our group’s size as a bargaining chip and obtained a better rate for the group. …
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As I reached the Arctic Circle, I got off the train in what seemed to be a ghost town. I would assume it was at least three in the morning and everything in sight was closed. Although early in the morning the sun was still up creating an odd feeling, like being on a set of a twilight zone episode. You could tell something was off. I was carrying an address of a good place to stay that was given to me somewhere along the road. At that point I really didn’t care how nice it was as long as it had a working shower. …
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Along side the rising sun and took the early train toward St. Malo. On that train I caught up on filling out stories on post cards and when I finally reached St. Malo the post office was my first destination. I was still disappointed that I had lost my address book back in Scotland, but on the other hand I had fewer cards to fill out. After I got situated in my room, I took a walk along the shore. The ocean was crashing against the wall with an authority that made me feel alive. …
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I attached myself to the rear of a group touring Notre Dame. After I came down from the tower I found myself sitting among delinquents in the square just outside the church. After I finished a cigarette I proceeded down to the Louve. It took me all day to wander its halls, a maze of inconveniences. I planned on coming back in a day or two to catch up on what I missed. I always wanted to learn how to paint, so I enjoyed watching the students copy the masters. …
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I woke from a dream, fixing my eyes on the unseen shadows of the dark room and began tracing the steps of the dream that had just left my grasp. I got up, sat at a table in the corner of the room and stared out at the moon. …
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I was up early to the sound of the alarm aside my bed. Still half asleep my brain jumped into gear once it realized where I was. I was full of renewed energy and headed south down the empty street where Ann had disappeared. I sat behind a cup of coffee inside a small café across the street from where she had vanished. I had knocked on one of the doors and then another but with no response. …
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We caught a morning bus into Bath. There was such a beautiful view out the window I hardly noticed any of the other passengers. I could almost imagine hearing the hunter’s horn heralding from the hills, the sound of dogs running alongside the hooves of horses. I gazed at the many sheep spattered like white paint against the green, divided by a patchwork of trees and fences. …
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The clouds were telling no lies, this time they opened up and delivered rain. Bicycles were now out of the question, so we planned on thumbing our way south. We were hardly out of town when Jim started whining again. He’s like one of those thimble banging monkeys. Once his key gets turned there’s no way to turn him off, until his springs loosen. …
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