We meet again

It is 6pm. Again, as if by the cruel hand of the airport Gods, I am waiting; forever in transit. Stuck between one place and another. I hate this feeling…

 

I always feel like I am nowhere, in limbo, with nothing to relate to or ground me and nothing concrete when waiting at the airport. The usual ritual of browsing the few uninteresting and overpriced airport stores begins the longwinded stint of boredom and restlessness, followed by the search for a remotely comfortable looking chair upon which I may read, attempt to sleep, or simply lay and ponder. Once all this has come to pass I habitually turn to my Blog; the one thing which grounds me in this expansive, white, tension filled place which I have for some reason found myself unable to connect with. Perhaps this is because I feel it is not in itself a place; merely a middle point between an origin and a destination. Whatever the case, my inability to feel comfortable in my surrounds has again driven me to this blog; a gateway through which I may connect with places I have been and wonder upon those to which a visit is impending. I have parted with London; it was not an easy thing to do but something I felt to be necessary; I had taken all that I could from the city and felt I should move on.

And then there is the man.

 

Or at least that’s what I am assuming he is…perhaps simply because I have never truly connected with another female over the course of my life. What would posses one to try to reach out to me now is beyond me….thus it has to be a man. A trench coated man…

 

I should explain myself further as I feel that my writings may be leaving you in a state of confusion…unless the photographer is in fact the only person viewing this blog, in which case it would all have made perfect sense. Nontheless, I shall fill you in on the more recent occurrences. In my last post I mentioned the red scarf which I left in a pot plant outside the ship and shovel as a means to say perpetuate a connection with the city and, as a second thought, in hope of a reunion with ‘Rune’ – he who sent the first email. Sure enough, I received a second email containing the following picture just this morning:

 

I left my red scarf in a potplant...

 

 

 

It seems my friend wastes no time in picking up where he left off…

 

Im still very unsure as to how to approach this. In a way I am flattered, in another I find it a little disconcerting. I find myself in an odd place, one unlike any I have encountered before. While I can in any physical situation merely remove myself from a place and become anonymous again in yet another, this blog entails that I am forever contactable, always grounded in some way, and reachable. By anyone, at any time, on any sort of impulsive whim which may compel them to reach out to me… This is a reality previously unbeknownst to me. In any normal situation I would find myself writhing and fretting at the notion of being ‘tied down’…but this is different in some way. I resolve to ride it out, take what comes for a change. There is always the ‘delete’ button regardless….one click and this whole thing never even happened…

 

The wonders of technology.

 

Goodbye for now…my flight to Thailand awaits. I have a clamoring urge to evade Europe for a time… and to serve up a challenge for Rune.

 

-Alaina.

 

 

The perils of posting your email online…

The first email i received

 

The Second.

Rune will follow. What i desire to know is where…..and why.

will this end?

A Trench Coated Man.

It is my fourth day in London and I have just awoken, showered in my tiny bathroom – which proved more of a challenge to maneuver within than I had expected! – and decided to post again…though it has only been a few hours since my last installment much has transpired and thus a recap is in order I feel!

 

The ship and shovel was all that I had dreamed of in an English pub; wooden in and out with a few booths lining the edges of the pub and bar stools hovering near the bar; alluring the wearied businessman, rowdy local or lone traveler. I chose a stool near the corner; not too far out of the way as to be completely removed from the action but with enough distance to entirely soak up my surrounds and look upon my fellow pub goers with intense interest. I ordered a pint of lager in keeping with English traditions; as they say, when in Rome… Sipping from my dauntingly large glass jug, much more daintily than those around me might i add, I observed a group of 5 men laughing, swearing and singing the night away and smiled at their folly. Out of the corner of my eye I had noticed a man sitting across the bar who looked vaguely familiar…before I had a chance to take a closer look, the barman strode my way, cleaning a pint jug with a shabby looking old cloth, and enquired about what i was doing ‘down this way’. I spoke to him for a short while and explained my Australian heritage and current travels; he seemed interested in my lack of direction and said he admired my spontaneity; wished he could follow in my footsteps one day and leave everything on a whim. I smiled faintly at him; I’m sure it had been easier for me to leave the little there was to keep me back than it would be for him. He wrote his name, Tom, and his number on a used coaster and said if I ever wanted some tips on where to go, a place to stay or just a friend in a strange place, to give him a call. He was a sweet guy, but I had never needed any of those things from anyone…. Something I refrained from telling him in that moment. Sometimes certain things are better left unsaid…

 

As I thanked him for the kind offer, I looked up to see that the man who had looked so familiar was pulling on his brown trench coat, and turned suddenly to Tom, saying I had somewhere to go and must be off. The look on his face told me he didn’t quite believe that one; a girl in a strange city with no contacts and somewhere to be in such a hurry? I smiled apologetically; I think he knew he wouldn’t see me again. After my eyes had lingered upon his for a short time I made my way to the door after the man, who had placed a 10 pound note on the bar and made his way through the door, which chimed a cheery goodbye, and into the bitter wind outside. I turned in a circle upon receiving the heavy wall of wind, only to realize I had lost him….he had obvisouly been in more of a rush than I. Perhaps it was nothing…perhaps I had never seen this man before, but I was intrigued and a little on edge after being sent a picture of the pink umbrella I had left in the tree in Paris, observing from its perch the passers by. Obviously I was mistaken in thinking that no one may have been following my blog. I have at least one reader who cares enough to track down the piece of me I left behind….perhaps my writings are in fact not for my own exclusive gratification after all….

 

The umbrella i left in a tree in Paris

 

 

Unable to decipher what all this meant, I thought I should put it to the test…I will leave my red patterned scarf within a potplant outside the ship and shovel… this time as a means by which to keep a hold upon London town even with my departure; which I feel to be drawing closer, and as a nod to the new owner of my beloved pink umbrella…

 

-Alaina

A City I Adore

 

London. I’ve always desired a meeting with this place. I’m not entirely sure what the attraction has been but over the years it has grown ever stronger; and I have not been disappointed. I am staying in a small hotel room just near Charing Cross station (the London underground is a God-send, weaving its way through the city like spaghetti it is perfect for my unprompted far-flung ventures…). It is fairly small and boxy with a patchwork quilted single bed, static ridden television, neglected bathroom with a cramped shower, and some basic cooking facilities –a kettle and microwave. Despite its deficiencies it provides ample space for my purposes; I tend not to find myself spending too much time there anyway- the attraction of the expansive city I adore is enough to keep me away!

 

I have been here for 2 days now, apologies for not filling you all in sooner but its been an eventful few days!! Ive seen many of the major sites; Big Ben, Windsor castle, the London eye, but that which most appealed to me was in fact Madam Tussauds wax museum; a place I had not expected to appreciate to the extent that I did…wading my way through the stiff replicas, whom if not for their notoriety I could not distinguish from the hundreds of other onlookers; the manner in which their artificial life which seemed to writhe beneath their glossed eyes was disconcerting. How could something so life like be so void of any intellectual capacity or emotion? Staring back at Princess Di’s intent and impenetrable gaze I saw a kind of reflection of myself within her; existing in a room packed full of jostling, excitable people and being completely and inanely inept at communicating with anyone. I feel that sometimes I embody a wax sculpture in my life at times. This may be the stem of my spontaneous departure….and the reason why I am unsure as to who, if anyone, is actually following this blog. Sometimes I wonder if it is more for myself than anything…

 

These things seem such trivial and minute details of my life at the present time. I am traveling abroad, my own free spirit, drawn to whatever place on a whim with no ropes or chains or questions of others to tie me down or direct me. Just the way I like it…          

 

On that note, the ‘Ship and Shovel’ pub just down the road calls me for my first ever English pub experience… not to disappoint I’m sure!

 

The Ship and Shovel

 

 

I shall blog again soon… I’ve been a bit slack lately so ill be sure to keep you up to date on my travels!

 

-Alaina

 

A Slice of Paris

Given the ample time i have had on my hands while in transit, I decided to throw together a bit of footage and a few photos i had to give you some concept of my comings and goings for you to wrap your heads around… I used the song ‘Paris’ – for obvious reasons-, by Camille (my love for her blossoms into a more voluptuous and beautiful one each day).

The quality isnt the best but you’ll get the general idea. Welcome to your own little slice of my Paris! Enjoy

-Alaina

Bored!

While it is not often that i find myself in desperate need of entertainment, as i am usually more than capable of entertaining myself in some way, the eternal bore of airports and the endless waiting, wondering, impatiently fiddling has driven me almost to the point of insanity, a place i thought i would never reach until now!!

I have thus been surfing the internet for about one whole senseless and deplorable hour. At the very least i thought i would share with you a song I have just reconnected with; one i felt apt to post in account of my recent impulsive travel embarkings… I hope you enjoy it. I’ll update you on my doings once i have arrived in the city of London….my excitement is somewhat overwhelming as i stir restlessly in my haphazard desk chair in anticipation!

-Alaina

On The 5th Day

I’ve now been in Paris for 5 days…and while this is an exceptionally short period of time in which to have both looked upon it with wide and eager eyes as well as waved a tentative goodbye i feel it is time to continue my travels. My floral bed sheets and thick duck feathered quilt seemed to sag into the bed in mourning of my impending departure as I packed the last of my belongings back into the black case from which they came. If only I could keep this place for myself….perhaps this inexorable desire is why I leave with a small snow globe; the Eiffel tower looming over the sprawling city of lights amidst the slow falling white flakes. I leave my pink umbrella in the knotted branches of a Ginkgo tree near the Café de Flore, a place I spent so many mild Parisian mornings with a good book and a latte. I will take a lot from this city and thus I shall leave a small piece of myself behind…

Perhaps I should provide a brief recap of the last few days; so much has happened I couldn’t possibly explore every glorious detail in this short blog but I shall do my best….

The last thought upon which I left you hanging involved the charming male specimen who found his way over to my table bearing the telling smile I would come to grow fond of over the following days, which I perceived to have unintentionally implied ‘im sexy and you know it’. His name was Anton, I introduced myself as Jane; he was a Parisian local with a rather firm grasp on the English language, luckily enough for me. We chatted over coffee that morning, he seemed delighted at my Australian heritage; I was delighted by his deep green eyes and roughly swept dark hair. He insisted on posing as my tour guide and was determined to show me a side of the wondrous city most tourists turn a blind eye to or are simply not so privileged as to experience. That afternoon he took me to an all expenses paid lunch in a quaint French home-style restaurant on the river Thames where I tasted my first snail; something I had sworn never to do but which I had somehow been coerced into. Maybe it was the warmth of the slight afternoon breeze or the pieces of sunlight fighting their way through the entanglement of leaves and branches to form a dancing pattern upon our outside table; but for some nameless reason the taste of herb infused snail was not met with even the slightest hint of detestation, but rather a vague appreciation. Anton enquired about my world back home; I gave him a very brief overview of my older sister Jen; the ever perfect doted upon golden child…without the gory details of course. To him she is merely a legal secretary to the highest paid lawyer in Sydney: a job which I should have aspired to instead of condemned according to my parents. And they wonder why I don’t see her much. If they wonder at all…Oh and my parents…luckily for Anton he has no inkling that they were in fact the reason I left home on my 18^th birthday, nor do they I suspect… The beautiful picture I Painted for Anton was one of family camping trips in an aussie outback setting, riding my bike home from school to a big family home (that part was true) to be met by a kiss on the cheek, a ‘how was your day darling?’, and a warm hearty meal on the table. This elaborate fairytale of domestic bliss seemed to delight the good natured Anton, enough for him to ask me to join him the next day….feeling a little guilty I obliged and we agreed to meet at noon. The next day after strolling around the small park for a few moments, distracted by the laughter of children floating upon the wind as they larked about in a sandpit I stood and watched their blissful and carefree smiles for a short time. Endless balls of energy; it was their zest for life which inspired me to live in the same way: appreciating every moment in itself and not worrying or caring what the next will bring. A heavy hand upon my shoulder startled me from my intent gaze; I looked around to find he held a gift the other. The card read ‘vous êtes belle’, and he bore the same smile which I now understood as meaning ‘your sexy and I know it’… His sweetness aroused a softness within me, if only for a second. I placed the gold bracelet upon my undeserved wrist before he led me, arm in arm, away from the now seemingly distant laughter.

The Bracelet Anton Surprised Me With.

Our first encounter was defeated only by our second; he took me to the Paris ‘Freeze’ (a lot of fun although I must say im not accustomed to being so still for such an extended period of time– the video can be seen on my youtube account), to dinner and then introduced me to Camille, an eccentric French artist whom I have fallen for…

as we left the small bar in which she played I scrambled for my umbrella in the rain and upon finally opening it into the vicious raindrops striking us like tiny soldiers, he kissed me.

I left him with a light kiss on the cheek and a promise of seeing my face in the morning. But I am one prone to breaking such binding things as rules and promises…. I cant say why, but I was consumed by an irresistible urge to leave today. Perhaps I simply cannot be bound by anyone but myself… whatever the case, I closed the door behind me with one last glance at his sleeping body; no note, no explanation, no means to contact me…not even my real name. Just a pink umbrella in a tree a few doors down….

So here I am, waiting so restlessly again for my flight. This time im headed to London, and am researching hotels at this very moment on an airport computer; they do come in handy when you need them. Oddly enough I am eagerly anticipating playing the tourist once more: the wax museum, London eye, Big Ben, Windsor Castle,….the list is endless but im determined to fit it all in. By the end of my trip I shall have become the most efficient tourist of all time, providing there is an end to it of course…

We shall commune again once I have landed on English soil, I am sure there will be much to divulge!

-Alaina

Parisian Days

The ever intriguing Mona Lisa

What a whirlwind few days its been! I’ve seen and experienced so much in such a short frame of time and I have thus decided to take this Thursday afternoon to quietly soak in my surrounds and collect my thoughts….adding to my blog is a perfect means by which to do so.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’ve visited all the main attractions; the Eiffel tower in all its towering and triumphant glory, and the louvre – the Mona Lisa took my breath away! Having seen it reproduced countless times I thought my reaction may be a little blasé, but upon my arrival my assumptions were completely shattered -which does not happen to me very often. Its surprisingly small size did not take away but added to its mystery and beauty and I, like so many others before me, wondered intently at her thoughts as i stared into her blissfully perplexing eyes. I could see a lot of myself in her; perhaps that is why i was compelled to push my way to the front of the crowd to inspect her more closely, and lingered there for an unexpected half hour or so… she reveals nothing of her thoughts or true intentions behind a veil of beauty and insouciance. It seems I could learn a lot about myself from Da Vinci… I also visited the Arc de Triomphe among others, ill set up a flickr account and upload some of my photos as soon as a i get a chance. For now, im adding one of myself and my favourite pink umbrella outside the Louvre to my blog; I certainly feel a strong connection to this place with its amazing gold detail, marble floor and distant ceilings adorned with16th Century paintings.

My Early Morning Haven

 I am currently sitting in the Cafe de Flore, a quaint and very Parisian caffeine haven just down the street from my hotel. It has become a favourite place of mine and i write this while teasing the froth of my mocha and observing the bustle of the street outside; the perfect spot to wind down and collect my thoughts. But I may not have much of a chance now; the rather attractive young man who i have been exchanging somewhat flirtatious smiles with has just left his table and made a bee line for mine….

 

 

 

 

 

Ill keep you posted!

-Alaina

Touched Down in Paris

I’ve finally arrived!

There truly is nothing like the feeling you get when you painstakingly drag your wearied body through the door of your hotel room after a grueling 20 hour journey. By some spark of insanity it makes it all seem worthwhile just for that moment in which you find yourself sucked into a seemingly cavernous bed, all thoughts lost amongst the pillows after hours spent in a cramped economy class seat trying to ignore the irritatingly loud sounds of the rather large and inconsiderate man next to you wolfing down an apparently bottomless bag of Doritos. I can finally hear myself think…what a relief. And not a moment too soon as I have so many thoughts, wishes, ideas and plans to digest and put to fruition.

After sleeping a short while I thought it best not to upset my sleeping patterns any further, and reluctantly willed myself out of bed and into the hotel lobby for a quick triple espresso before scoping out the sights of Paris. Stumbling across this computer in the reception area I thought id stop by for a short update on my travels. I can barely focus my attention on the screen, the lobby perpetually fills with waves of exotic guests and local Parisians; each more entertaining and enthralling than the last. Right now a dim witted American businessman is attempting to communicate with the receptionist with his terribly decayed French speaking skills. The woman is no doubt amused as she notices me watching and sends a quick humoured smile in acknowledgement. No wonder the French prefer you to speak their language, there is always a laugh to be spared for the tourist who tries and fails miserably. I am determined not to fall into this category, but my grasp on the language has slipped over the years and while I have been studying my English to French dictionary profusely I shall no doubt provide an entertaining encounter for many a Paris native over the next short while…

My stay in Paris is by no means calculated and bears little direction, driven only by spontaneous blows of the wind which may push me one way or another. There is so much I wish to immerse myself in and properly experience. Seeing the main landmarks and attractions of Paris is a start; the Eiffel tower, arc de triomphe, the louvre, les Invalides, and montmarte are pertinent as is aimlessly strolling the streets and taking in the unique fashions, incredible paintings and vibrant sidewalk life. Unlike most tourists i do not simply want to see Pairs, I want to feel it, blend into the landscape and take a piece of it with me when i leave; have it leave a mark on me and i upon it. The idea of being just another tourist does not sit well with me; to have come and gone with the horde of travelers, like the tide washing footprints from the sand… I find it is not people, but places I connect with most and so I wish not to leave this rousing place simply to be forgotten by it in an instant. A place does not judge or condemn you, does not push you away or harm you but accept you with open arms. Once you have a connection with a place, even as your absence swells it will always welcome you back, something which i regrettably cannot say for most of the people I have known in my life.

Anyway, I think its time I discontinued my incessant ramblings and stepped out into the boundless city which awaits me!

Ill be sure to update you all soon.

-Alaina

Sitting, Waiting, Blogging….

I realise this may seem a rather strange way to ground oneself but, as i am currently awaiting a painfully late connection flight from Singapore and happened to stumble across this ever so handy public computer I thought id give it a try. I’ve never really been one to obsess over computers or self glorifying web pages such as the likes of myspace or facebook but a blog seemed more appealing for some paradoxical reason, seeing as they are in essence one and the same. nonetheless, here i am scrawling away at my online diary. I am going to be abroad for some time, so keeping those i leave behind up to date will be easier done this way. The exact length and nature of my travels is yet to be determined in keeping with my usual spontaneity; my friends and family weren’t all too surprised to hear I’d bought a ticket to Paris on a whim and knew there wasn’t much hope in convincing me to rethink my elaborate impulse purchase. So here i am. Sitting across from a fairly grimy looking Malan Noodle place where i may be forced to spent at least a portion of the 4 hours 23 minutes and…15 seconds remaining until my flight. I’ve been harshly reacquainted with the ‘bête noire’ (I’ve been polishing up on my French) aspect of my love/hate relationship with airports; the excitement and anticipation lingering in the air and hanging off every word had formed a foggy haze of elation over the perils lying dormant underneath. Guess ill be snuggling up to a hard, cold airport bench tonight… not all too different to a big, cold empty bed at home I suppose. Enough from me for now though; my stomach is beginning to override all other urges and suddenly mr Malans noodles don’t look so bad…

Au Revoir!

-Alaina