The following are entries that were made on my laptop, but were unable to be transfered to the web until we returned home. Enjoy.
27 Jan 2006
I find myself wishing that I was travling with a massage therapist. maybe it's the exhaustion setting in, but the fantasy I am holding to is one of crawling naked, and freshly scrubbed with soapy cloths, into the berth of the sleeper car we have reserved for our travel to Budapest, and receiveing a muscle relaxing, stomach unclenching, theraputic massage.
Perhaps we should have brought Liz Pacetti too?
So far Terrisa and I have been in transit for about 24hours. We have both passed loopy, exhausted, and nauseated in various stages, and now rest firmly on the brink of collapse. The good news is that relief is in sight and we board a train for Budapest in about 6 hours. The great news is, if one of us should fall over, hey! we're doing it in Prague.
This city looks a bit like Moscow, but the people here are much more friendly. Where Russia still wears the often rude customs of the soviets like a protective cloak, it appears here that the Czechs have tossed aside communist attitudes in favor of a colorful fur lined parka with matching boots and a kicky berret.
In addition to the people, around every corner is a new and breath taking sight. Churches, public houses, private homes, museums, opera houses, the national theatre. It's all here and spectacular. So far I've seen at least one modern, international style building that I had to go Hummm? at, but even it was amazing in its uniquness, if not for its totalitarian structure.
No luck with the international cell phone - it's locked, whatever that means. What it means is that I have to treck all over the city to try to find the Nokia store, where they may or may not be able to unlock it for Czech. That's helpful if I can find it, but doesn't solve the problem for the 11 other countries we plan to visit in the next 21 days.
No big deal though, that's what the internet is for.
Terrisa has passed out across from me. We are sitting in an adorable little internet cafe, mere steps away from a 16th century tower and it's neighbor, a 17th century church. The tower is 11 stories high, and once at the top offers a remarkable view of the city. The church was locked up tight for the day, but we traversed the exterior and were delighted to find some beautiful - if eroded- hand carved stone tablets that mark the resting places of former citizens of the community. The tablets are huge, with life size carvings of their once human inhabitants. Though barely discernable now, I wonder at the craftsman that achievied such a feat with a stone tablet and chisel. It makes my graduate school applications look like a walk in the park, to say the least.
3 Feb 2006
It's been an amazing week, and though I have thought often about writing, I have not found much time in which to do so. Train travel has afforded me much time to sleep and read, but I am not comfortable breaking out my laptop in front of people who make less than $100 a month on average. It is not that I fear theft, for so far everyone has been polite and thoughtful, but it seems almost insensitive. Most people here have never seen an i-pod.
I suppose I should begin where I left off, but that is tricky. It seems like so long ago...
We left Prague on the late night train, pulling out of the station around 11pm, after an exhausting 40 hour travel period without sleep. Terrisa and I were both very excited about our expensive sleeper car - a first for both of us - but unfortunatly the dream did not live up to the reality.
After boarding and settling down for a long winter's nap (it was about 8 hours from Prague to Budapest), we discovered quickly that train whistles, stops and starts, and border crossings do not make excellent bedfellows. Within the first 2 hours we crossed into Slovakia and were greeted to a loud banging on the door and the border guards asking for passports. Settle in, and not 2 hours later the same thing in Hungary. By the time our train arrived in Budapest, we had been awake for over 48 hours, with only snatches of sleep in short intervals.
Budapest brought with it several amazing suprises, begining with meeting my Uncle Bobby (my mother's brother) at his hotel in the heart of the city. Le Meridian, with its multi lingual staff and towering marble dining hall was a bit nicer than we - unwashed, exhausted, and looking frumpy in backpacks next to the quaffed patrons around us. Finding it was remarkably easy, and Uncle
Bobby offered immediatly on our arrival to treat us to breakfast.
European breakfasts in fine hotels are something not to be missed. In fact, I highly recommend, even if you do not stay in the finest hotels on a trip, to venture in for the full service breakfast buffet - it's usually about $30 or so, but it is well worth it for a special treat.
During breakfast our first big suprise came when UB offered to procure for us our own room. After some feeble protesting on our part, we were pleasantly ensconed in comfortable beds with down sheets and were finally able to get a few quick hours of sleep surrounded by luxury.
The first day was low key and very enjoyable. After wandering with UB, he departed for a previous engagement and Terrisa and I took to the streets, exploring St. Stevan's Basilica and the surrounding areas of Pest. We enjoyed a few beers and some delicious pizza at a back alley joint -not very exotic, I know, but Budapest is set up mainly for tourism and that means pricey.
The next morning Terrisa and I headed to the Buda side of the city, walking a few short blocks to the river and crossing on the suspension bridge there. Budapest is a city of beauty, and while I would love to explain it in vivid detail, I fear that I will not do it justice. For an excellent description, read The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova. After seeing the city, her words brought tears to my eyes.
The touristy thing is the thing in Budapest, so we induldged ourselves with loads of pictures and gawking. It was Sunday, so in a remarkably pious move for me, we attended mass at the church of St Matthew, located within the Buda Castle area. While catholicism makes even less sense to me in Hungarian than it does in English, the beauty of the ceremony is never lost on me. The surroundings were so majestic, the words and songs so moving, that again I have no words to describe it.
A lovely dinner with UB and we prepared to say goodbye to BUdapest. Our train left the station the following afternoon, so after a quick trip to the Great Synagouge we were off to Romania.
A quick side note... Budapest was bombed heavily during the war, and many of it's most beautiful monuments were damaged or destroyed during this time. The city should be commended on its commitment to rebuild its historic structures, and perhaps none so much as the Synagouge, which was damaged in many ways, even so much that it's beautiful chandeliers were melted down to make guns to be used for war. The park to the side of the building was necessarily converted to a grave yard, and all of the gravestones bear the dates of 1944 or 1945. It is hard to think of someting so horrific as the willful extermination of innocent people, all because they do not share beliefs of those in power. Here in Eastern Europe, this is a recurring theme throughout history, but it is almost impossible for me to comprehend these actions so close to my own life. I experienced this same sensation in Munich while visiting Dachau, knowing that my own grandfather was imprisoned in a camp much the same, knowing the atrocities he must have suffered, knowing the miracle it was that he came home at all. I cannot understand so much death and destruction. It is such a waste.
I am sad now, thinking of the past, but I left Budapest in awe of the city and its treasures. And while Budapest offered much in the way of beauty, our next stop would prove to be even more wonderful, but for different reasons.
Ludus is a small town in Romania, where it is not unusual to still see people using horse and carriage to go about their daily lives. I could not find it on any of the maps that we carried, so we had to trust that the train schedule was correct and that we would miraculously arrive in the correct town. We did, around midnight, and were met at the station by Anna Maria and her mother.
I think Terrisa would agree with me when I say that this was our favorite part of the trip. I know we still have almost two full weeks to go, but the experiene we had in Ludus was so warm and full of pleasure that we will be hard pressed to top it. First, I must speak of the family with which we stayed.
Anna Maria came to the US in the early fall of 2005 to work and was employed under Terrisa at Starbucks. She is a wonderful woman, so friendly, and with a genuine smile that makes you feel lighter inside. She is the middle child, with a younger sister, Ami, who was just as beautiful and intelligent as her sister, and an older brother Gabi, who is as funny and kind as he is handsome. It is easy to see where they get their wonderful dispositions, as their mother was the height of hospitality and warmth herself. It was difficult to leave them 3 days later, so warm was our welcome, but now I am getting ahead of myself...
Our first night, after a short walk from the train station to their flat, they treated us to a wonderful home cooked meal and a few shots of soyka, a local favorite not unlike vodka, made from plums. It was very late when we retired, so we took our time in the morning, waking lesiurly and then enjoying a tour of the town. (Gabi and Anna made excellent guides!) The new and old parts of the city are seperated by a river that runs thru Ludus, and after climbing on of the hills that flank the area we were greeted to a fabulous view of the town. For the most part, there is little touristy to do in Ludus, a few churches and the old city which dates back a few hundered years. It was more about seeing a typical town, an a-typical family, and feelimg at home when you are so far from your own.
The following day we acted as bad influences on Ami, encouraging her to skip school in order to join us on an excursion to Sigishora, a medieval citadel situated high on a hill in middle Romania. Suprisingly, neither Anna nor Ami had visited the town, though their brother Gabi (who did not join us) admited that he had at sometime, though not in the tourist fashion that we would adopt. Among other things, Sigishora boasts the birth place of Vlad the Impaler, commonly known as Dracula, and the movie reference you would assume was rampant throughout the town. Very little of the actual history of Vlad Tempes was apparent, but then Hollywood has always sold more than history, eh?
For our final evening we induldged in a little hollywood magic, watching a film on the "pricolici" (vampires/werewolves) for which this area of Romania (Transylvania) is known throughout the rest of the world. The locals scoff at the idea of undead, but this does not stop them from having stories and legends, especially prominent in the small villages that still lie in the heart of modern day Romaina. It is an interesting contrast, the modern with the past, the legends with reality. I hope that the influence of the European Union will not cause too drastic of a cultural shift - with modernization comes formulization, and the truth of a culture and its past can so easily be lost to the needs of the present day.
As for leaving our fair Ludus, I am as reluctant to get to that in writing as I was in living it, but as is true with all things...
And I believe this catches us up. I am feeling somewhat romantic this evening, I suppose it is hard not to given my current surroundngs. Brasov is a lovely place, and we have of course chosen the old city for our stay. Our hostel lies at the bottom of the mountain, with a lovely sweeping hill full of 16th and 17th century rooftops as the view from our window. I am drinking cheap vodka and snuggled under warm, coarse blankets as Terrisa snores beside me in our bed.
Tommorrow we will move on, traveling to Bran, and then on to Bucharest, ever closer to leaving this beautiful country with which I feel such a connection. Is it the people, the air, the water, the book I have just finished, that pulls me into such a melancholy of romanticism? Is it the desire to experience for just a moment a life that has been lost to me for centuries, and could disappear overnight? Horses and unlabeled products are difficult to imagine as an everyday occurence in my world, but here they still live.
And they will be so threatened with the induction into the EU. I can only hope that modernization is worth it.
Maybe my romanticism stems from a simple statement made to me here, a moment of ego that will stay with me always, for here I recieved the biggest compliment of my life. When I said that I wanted to be a historic preservationist, a handsome Romanian soldier told me that there was a special place in heaven reserved for me. It warmed my heart, and warms me now, snuggled under blankets in a too modern hostel for such an old place.
But I am clean and safe, and really what more can a girl ask for?
6 Feb 2006
It was snowing as we left Brasov, beautiful glittering white flakes that swirled us off to the train station. The ride to Bucharest was short, only about 3 hours, and after a quick hop on the bus we found our hostel with little fanfare. My head was begining to get a bit heavy, and though I complained about being slightly feaverish on the train, we decided to make the most of our only evening in Bucharest, and head out for a bar or restaurant. It was only around 11pm, on a Saturday night no less, so we didn't think it would be that difficult to find a place to relax and get some cocktails and grub. Unfortunatly, though, restaurants all close their doors by 10 or 11, regardless, and so our options were the Non-Stop "which sometimes stops" (a mimi-market that sells produce, bread, etc.) or a bar for beer and chips. Beer and chips it is.
The little pub we found was great, Soccer on the tv and yummy cheap draft beer. After sitting for less than 5 minutes, the group sitting at the table behind us popped round to tell us that it was a birthday celebration - once they discovered we were Americans, they insisted we join them. One of the girls spoke excellent english, and was kind enough to act as translator.
We headed back to the hostel at a relativly decent hour, mainly because after 2 beers my heavy head was feeling a bit the worse for wear. This was Terrisa's first real "hostel" experience - coed dorm style. I blissful slept through the night, but Terrisa, who woke sometime around 5am in search of another blanket, got a floor show she hadn't signed on for. I'll let here tell that story, but needless to say, here in Belgrade we have our own private room.
When I did wake up around ten-ish, I felt terrible. My throat was aching and I was running a bit of a fever, I think, at least my body was aching all over and I felt hot hot hot. I stayed in bed for another 45 minutes until the worst of it passed, and then showered off the rest in lieu of being a happy tourist again. Unfortunatly, within a few hours T and I were back at the hostel again. Our train didn't leave until 9:45 pm, so we had planned to go out and do as much as possible, then sleep our way to Belgrade on the 12 hour train ride. Instead we headed back after a late lunch and limited sight seeing, and spent a most enjoyable afternoon watching videos in the common room at the hostel.
It ended up being a very good thing that we had had such a low key afternoon, because our night was not going to be calm at all. In fact, on a scale of one to ten, this train ride sucked!
INSERT Journal Entry: 5 Feb 2006On the Train, Bucharest to Belgrade
We have had our first instance with the possibility of theft. The night train we are on is 11+ hours long, and T and I both thought to enjoy the rest it would bring. However, within the first 2 hours, the door o our compartment opened and I - being a light sleeper- jumped up assuming new passengers would be joining us.
Instead, a man of young twenties, stood there and asked me for a cigarette. This is odd only because our compartment had been dark and not likely to inquire the casual request for a smoke. When I told him I didn't, I noticed Terrisa's purse in his hand. He gestured and offered it to me as though he had just found it in the corridor. Fortunatly nothing had been taken and I dismissed it for a moment thinking that it had been an accident.
A short while later two police and the ticket taker came to check our passports, warning in broken english not to sleep at the same time, that there was danger of theft. For the next hour I sat up as Terrisa slept, the police would perodically walk by, checking to see that we were okay and I was awake.
I was in the middle of this journal entry, thinking how nice the police were to check on us, when one of them came in, ostensibly to practice his english. Romanians have a quaint custom of kissing on the check - usually in farewell. This police did this once, for no apparent reason. We spoke for a few minutes. Then, all of a sudden, he went to do it again and pushed me into the corner of my seat to try to kiss me for real. I pushed him off and said NO!, and he ceased immediatly, apologizing.
All the while Terrisa slept like like the dead not two feet from me. I was more angry than scared, but this aggressive sexual behavior on the part of European men is begining to wear thin. This was not the first time we had been approached by guys (to say the least), not even the first guy to try to kiss me on the train since we'd been in the country - the first one was this odd little man we met on the train to Ludus, quirky and kept calling me his wife, but he never actually touched me.
I find myself longing for the casual sweet seductive ploys of the American guys I know.
I realize there is a sense of sexual freedom here that is absent from our own Puritan based society, but is it really too much to ask for a little romance? A smile or a friendly wave of acknowledgement does not mean jump all over me.
I am moving my borrowed ring from my right to my left hand now, and the weight of my knife will soon rest squarely between my breasts. Let someone else try to feel me up - they'll get pricked, but not in the way they bargained for.
END Journal Entry
Needless to say, I spent most of the ride in a foul mood. I was angry and feverish, and the heat in the car was unbearable. After waiting a few hours for Terrisa to sleep, I began to nod off so we had to switch. She prowled the car, turned the light on and kept the door open the entire time, so that I not only got very limited sleep, it was restless and I kept thinking someone else was coming in the car. I gave up before 4am, and let her sleep again, but by 7am I was nodding off again.
It was a night that was beyond exhausting, and when we reached Serbia for passport check around 8am, we got another lovely suprise. They cut the heat. 3 hours left to go to Belgrade, it's -8C outside, and now instead of roasting we are huddeled together for warmth. I have definitly had better nights and better travel experiences.
7 Feb 2006
Well, I had an interesting day today. I got to go to a Serbian hospital. Yippee. All is well, or it will be in a few days, but I developed a bacterial infection in my throat that caused my glands to swell to the point that I was in great pain and was having trouble breathing.
The hospital system here is a bit complicated to say the least. We took a cab from our hotel to the clinic, went in the main building, were redirected "out, left." So we went out, left, went to the end of the block and asked again. More left. Keep in mind this is outside and that there are buildings everywhere, none of which look even remotely medical, most of the from the early 19th century so they appear more like ministry houses or something.
Anyway, after like 6 more people gave us conflicting directions, we finally find the Emergency Oral Clinic - but it doesn't open for another 2 hours, so we get redirected to another oral clinic. Okay, after much gesturing, pointing, and writing the word oral in cyrillic, we realize we are in the right place. The take my passport info and within no time I have three relativly young doctors standing around me (2 women, one of whom spoke passable english and had bubblegum pink hair, and one man who spoke great english - thank goodness).
Okay so, the bubblegum chick pulls out this elaborate head lamp that looks like it should be straight out of a 1930s medical training film, and a basic medal tounge depresor. She told me to open my mouth, and when she looked inside she gave me the universal look of "damn Girl! that must hurt." These 3 were worried I might have mono, so the man walked us several buildings and back alleys away to the infectious disease clinic, where he explained the situation and I met with another doctor who performed almost the exact same examination, and with the exact same reaction when she looked at my throat. A quick prick of the finger for a blood test, again to make sure I'm not going to pollute the Serbian population, and nope - not mono, thank goodness.
Now, as if the process hadn't been complicated enough, the Doc then asks me where my doctor is here in Belgrade? Umm, huh? You know, you need a doctor to give you medicine. Umm, I thought you were a doctor and would give me medicine.No, we just are a hospital.
Okay... so after a bit more confusion, we agreed that she would write me a prescription. Then another walk to another building, up two flights of stairs, and into a small office filled with 6 women, where I am to pay my bill. They don't take visa, we didn't have enough money for the total bill, and after a few creative adjustments and all the cash in Terrisa's wallet, we somehow managed to pay and headed out the door and up the street to the pharmacy. More confusion, a pharmacist who when I pointed to the prescription just kept shaking her head and babbling in Serbian, handing me a different drug.
Back to Dr #2, is this the right medicine? no. back to the pharamacist, who at first refuses to sell me the correct medicine - lots of emphatic gesturing, and now I have meds and relief is in site. Suprisingly, all of this confusion took about the same time as a typical American doctor visit, about 2 1/2 hours.
So, now that I've done it once, I hope I never have to visit a doctor overseas again! Now I just have to file the insurance claim...
9 Feb 2006
As far as Belgrade the city is concerned, I have little to report. By the end of it we wandered thru the Nation Museum, whose usual exhibit was closed but they had a small exhibit on Italian painters that was okay. Then a pedestrian mall to see that inspite of recent battles, capitalism can do wonders for lifting the spirits of the people. Terrisa spent the afternoon I wasted in bed wandering about and had a great time, so perhaps she is the best one to speak of Belgrade.
What I can say is that I was disappointed that the majority of my experience was negative. Not the fault of the city by any stretch. It amazes me that so much vitality can be occuring with the smell of bombs still lingering in the city. The sight of a bommbed out building, horrifying to T and I, doesn't even slow the locals down as they whizz by in cars, buses and cabs. Construction crews are working everywhere, and again everywhere the people are seemingly so friendly.
I am tired. But in better spirits than the past few days, I suppose. This being ill thing is really making me, well, ill. I enjoyed a fun new experience of vomiting up blood this morning, a hazard of this type of infection I'm told. Whatever, it sucks. I'm not good when I'm sick, I'm grumpy, and the fact that I have to play happy tourist all day when I really want to be kicked back in my apartment eating won-ton soup and watching reruns of friends waxes my chaps, you know?
Ok, so when I put my happy tourist mask on I want to say things like "Zagreb is awesome!" and "What an amazing town." This place really is cool, very old, it's not uncommon to see a building housing a modern shop with a corner stone reading 1676. We wandered thru the older districts up the hill today, saw a few lovely churches and an awesome outdoor market where I managed to find Clementines of all things (smiles). Then we helped contribute to the local economy the only way we know how - shopping!
Croatian food is also proving to be vastly superior to the neighboring Serbia (but don't tell them I said that). A lovely beef and pasta stew, lightly spicy, and my throat feels better than it has in almost a week. Early to bed, early to rise, and we head for Lublyana, Slovenia in the morning.
So much for my faulous party vacation. Now that I'm on antibiotics and all sick and stuff, I can't even drink. Terrisa had three glasses of wine with dinner and I got club soda baby! Stupid, horrible, mean, evil rotten, nasty bacteria. Oops, where my happy mask slip off to? must have fallen under the bed. yep, I said bed. It's 8:47 pm, and I'm in bed. Watch out world! Here...comes... yawn... stretch...snore.
12 Feb 2006
Early morning scramble to the station, a nice private car. Break out the ipod and settle in to watch the country side slide soundlessly by. Such was the case for the train ride from Belgrade to Lublyana.
Sometimes when I travel by train, I feel like I am in a music video. You get to pick your theme song if you're lucky enough to have an i-pod (that works) and a pair of handy travel speakers. Then, as the beautiful flat lands of Croatia merge into the Slovenian alps, the music becomes a part of the ride, and I with it. I could see my own reflection merge with the scenery as it sped past, and it's hard to tell where my thoughts end and the glass begins. It can be a moment between you and your thoughts, a chance to recap the past few weeks, or to contemplate images of an unknowable future. Mostly I just wondered at the small towns as they went past, wondering if there was anyone in them who, if they saw me fly past, would wonder who I was and where I was headed.
Lublyana was lovely, nestled in a valley lorded over by snow capped peaks. The town is a wonder, specifically for me as it was mostly planned out by a specific architect named Josef Pilaznen (?Sp?) who I am going to have to make a note to research. He had grand ideas of how to turn the town into a place of efficient beauty for local and tourist alike, merging the hustle and bustle of everyday life with a comprehensive plan for the city and its future, incorporating parks and pedestrian malls, outdoor markets and the river that runs through it all. Pretty impressive, though poor Josef was mostly forgotten until recently, when his work emerged as the gift to the town that it was. I hope I can leave that kind of mark one day, although I'd prefer not to be forgotten of course.
We spent Friday in Lublyana, Friday night on the town with our hostel mate James and some random Canadian guy we picked up in a pub. Saturday we traveled to Bled, and had the best day. Bled is superior in atmosphere to anywhere else we had traveled. Couple that with the fact that it was a bright sunshiny day and we could not have asked for more. We walked across the frozen lake to the island in the middle, home to a 16th century church where you can - among other things- ring the "lucky bell" and see a fresco depicting the bris of Christ. The whole complex dates to the 8th century, when a pagan temple stood in the same spot as the now Christian church. A holy site, to be sure. I know I "Oh, God! Oh, God!" ed my way all the way across the lake - did I mention we walked across it? A first for me. The closest I ever came was in Russia walking across a small pond that was no more than 4 feet deep (and I made my friend Michael hold my hand the whole time). This was a little different, considering there were places that were definitly NOT frozen (like, say, where you get on it at the shore and where you get off it at the island), but I made it and it was awesome!
Today is Sunday, and we arrived in Vienna this morning. The train ride was relativly uneventful, but for one experience... we boarded around midnight, and slept for the better part of 4 hours until we had to change trains in Salzberg. For the most part the towns we traveled through were dark, a church lit up here or there. Then for no apparent reason, I woke up and looked out the window...
The night was dark, but the snow was thick and reflected the light of the full moon. We came around a bend in the tracks, and the land opened up out the window, revealing a town at the base of towering peaks. Far in the distance, about half way up those mountains, two "palaces" were lit up, sparkling and Romanesque. It was ethereal, and I almost believed I was imagining it, or possibly just dreaming. I have no idea where we were, but at some point in my life I will return to that place, if for no other reason than to have someone experience it with me. I can't describe what it looked like and do it justice, and I have no witness to the beauty of it as Terrisa was sound asleep across from me. I watched, propped on my bag, as the image rolled past. We rounded a bend and it was gone, and I dropped my head and was asleep again within seconds.
Terrisa is feeling a little the worse for wear (it's her turn to be ill, poor thing), so we had a very leisurly morning after checking into our hostel, then a quick jaunt around the city. We walked from Westbahnhof into the city center, stopping at a Starbucks along the way (what can I say, I'm with Terrisa). While doing the walking tour suggested by good ol' Rick Steves, we ran into a young gentleman in a bright red cloak selling tickets to a concert. He looked so cold and made such a good sales person that we couldn't resist handing over 30 Euro each for the tickets. Believe it or not, I think we got an excellent deal.
The show was held in the Vienna Kursalon, a building that Strauss actually performed in during his lifetime - a lot. The show was incredible, a mix of musicians playing the classics, along with a few opeartic numbers and even some ballet thrown in for good measure. It's hard for me to recreate feelings I had listening to these age old pieces in a beautiful concert hall as I sit on the floor in my hostel listening to Blur, but let me kill this music and see if I can close my eyes to recall.
Imagine inhalling luxury. I can picture the glittering of thousands of candles as the light is reflected off crystal chandeliers, spotless where they suspend from the ceiling. The hall features smiling plaster faces positioned as archstones over towering 15 foot windows, gold damask fabrics pulled closed to keep in so much decadence. The chatter of the people cannot be so different from 150 years ago, the shuffle of feet, the man who coughs and blows his nose into a hankerchief behind me.
The music is superb, the musicians well rehearsed and flawless. They are animated, heads moving in time, making me wish I could stand and sweep aside the chairs to create a dance floor worthy of a ball. When the music plays and I close my eyes I see different dancers, clothed in costumes of sweeping skirts and tight neck cravats. I am suddenly thinking of a small room in a Romainan flat, where I tried to teach Gabi how to ballroom dance. He was a perfect fit for me, srength and height wise, and I had only wished my mediocre dance skills gained from lessons held over a decade ago had been adequate to impart grace to us both. Now I can imagine myself gowned and bejewelled, Gabi in top hat and tails filling in the role of the dashing male of the piece. Together and in perfect time, we sail around the floor, his hand at my waist, mine resting lightly at his shoulder. Acompanied by a nine piece band to music that has been timeless for a century, and will continue to be so for centuries more...
It's a romantic image. There seems to be a romantic theme for me and this trip. Well, consider the surroundings.
