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