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I convinced Jenni to take another day trip, this time to visit Masada. At the bus depot it was like joining a herd of sheep. If there was a terrorist attack it would not be good. Jenni kept reminding me of that. Alongside the Dead Sea and after passing a few scattered Bedouin camps I found myself wondering how far it was to the next tree. Masada was a magnificent plateau in the middle of nowhere. It’s hard to understand why anybody would be motivated to conquer its walls unless motivated by pride. …
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Behind us we towed a small motor boat. Being an inexperienced sailor, I first thought we brought it along in case the boat began to sink. But no, when strawberries were needed to complete a meal, we suited up and headed in the small motor boat toward a local port. I liked to imagine that it was my blue eyes, or my healthy build, rather than just the curiosity of “Who is he?” …
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We took a tour bus around the lock, walked along the water’s edge, waited and watched but never did see a sea monster. I took off my shoes along its edge and waded ankle deep, for only seconds. To a California boy this was cold. One old man told me that this sea monster stuff had a lot to do with how much whiskey was drunk, but that didn’t help either. …
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We discovered that the prior day’s information was incorrect. There were no boats leaving today. We got our Sabbath’s mixed up again. We had already packed everything up and trekked the long walk down to the docks. At first I had doubt that anybody was talking straight. I always had to ask a few to get some comfort in confirmation. We managed to gather numerous alike answers and concluded that we were stuck there another day, fuck. …
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We were on the road for about an hour after sunrise. I was passing a small automobile with what looked to be three construction workers on their way to work. As I sped up to pass them, I caught some of the loose gravel and slid sideways into them. I’d say we at least traded paint but when I slowed down to deal with the situation they kept on driving. …
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When I woke up I notice that my knife was unchaperoned, sitting all by itself. Most likely it was pushed away by me while I slept. There were two elderly gentlemen sitting alongside the same bench staring at me and the knife. I had gotten less than an hour of sleep and was still very tired and in need of a shower. I followed those two gentlemen back into the heart of Naples. …
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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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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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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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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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I was intrigued with the works of Escher and understood there was an exhibit in the Hage, so I persuaded Jim to board a late train out of Luxembourg. We arrived in to Rotterdam even later. There didn’t seem to be anybody but the two of us, the streets were virtually empty. We wandered toward the lights advertising vacancies and pounded on doors until one finally opened. The price the gentlemen in pajamas requested was outrageous. …
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I was out at first light and headed toward Bologna. While standing in the train station in front of an electronic schedule I noticed three young ladies behind me looking over my shoulder. They were three young Americans also looking for the train to Florence, so I introduced myself. Since the four of us had three hours to burn until our train departed, I accompanied one of the young ladies through the streets in search of a sweater. Her mother had purchased her father a sweater from Bologna years ago that he had always enjoyed. …
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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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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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I looked down and saw the speck that was our car and I could almost make out Jim sitting there reading his book. “You’re missing out”, I yelled. I realize coming off one of these mountain I lost my wallet. Backtracked but couldn’t find it. Not much money and no credentials or credit cards inside, so that was a relief, but I did lose my address book. So for all those that I promised I would write, please accept this as my apology. …
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