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.

 

 

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

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