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

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