Category: Travel

White Sails Blue at Santa Monica

On By cjx07sterIn Existentialism, TravelLeave a comment

“I just dropped by to say hello” I said, dropping laptop on office carpet

“Oh, thats ok.. I got some work to do, though, got to get this sent off to someone now.. who needs help” Caitlin said, looking up.

Glancing round, beige office walls, and colorful things on shelves, it was nice to be back in town, so I sat there and relaxed a bit, not facing Cait, but looking out her window, finger on temple, elbow on desk separating us. Thinking how it was always a bit awkward starting off again.  I knew we were both friends. And we had said that we liked each other.  We had chatted sporadically on a messenger. It seemed to talk would be awkward and forced.  I just sat there silently, wondering about stuff, while she worked. Occasional ticking of the wall clock, and one or two careful mouseclicks, and keystrokes filled the air with a kind of chaotic clicking.  In these measured quanta of silence with busy minds not talking, friendship settled into the room.  Both minds were aware of each other, but busy with their current things to do, eager to get to the next place in time, but enjoying the moment allowed by circumstance.

“So I might go down to the beach today” I said.  “The sunshine will do me good.  Maybe go North of the airport, maybe Santa Monica, I’ve never been there before, if I go north and beat the traffic, I can spend some time at the beach, then drive back down to the airport.  The flight is not until 11pm or so.”

The silence continued, after some time she said “Yes might be best to go early, the beach is pretty nice and there is a pier… look”, she said, swinging the monitor round, with a Google map opened, and moving and panning and zooming into the Santa Monica pier.  “Just go up 405, and turn left on Route 10, till you get to the beach”

I was looking at her while she was talking, nice clothes, quiet manner, confident with the keyboard, and casually professional. I liked her, no doubt, she liked me, no doubt.  No affair, no romance, it would be just this, a quiet liking friendship.

“Thanks, I said, I’ll be going then.  See you later then, till next time, I should be back in a few months.” I said, standing to go and lifting the laptop back on, and feeling good, relaxed, and now with a purpose for the afternoon, ready to hit the road and get going while it was early after lunch.

She looked at me then, she got up and carefully walked around the desk, and came over to me. Close up, her eyes friendly blue cool with white light.

I left and hit the road, and eventually toward sundown,  stood on the pier, with the fishing, and the crowds, and the sunshine, the end of route 66, the end of the road for the day. I loved the white sails on the blue water. moving, searching in the light, like the eyes of my friend, looking south west toward home from the pier at Santa Monica.

[a surreal story with fictional characters and non fictional places]

Corpus Christi Carol

On By cjx07sterIn Sunday Posts, TravelLeave a comment

This as I walked on Sunday morning, in  Foxboro, MA. USA.  Past rocks and springs, and green grass, past houses of wood on foundations of stone, ready for the frozen ground to come, but shining in the light summer air that day. I had a short conversation that morning.

“hello” – said the american woman, as I came by her house.

“Hi”, – I said, the Aussie wondering..

“How are you ?”, the woman answered, digging out a tree in her garden

“I’m well” I said, the stranger walking by,  “looks like a fair bit of work for you”…

“Yes”, “The kids are away …”

“OK well It’s good that it is not raining then” as I continued on past..

Sunday can be like that, far from home, a whole day can be spent with just occasional short conversations.. which take on a significance due to the lack of other conversational noise of the day to day.  As I continued walking I thought I might write something of Corpus Christi, what is it all about etc..

Corpus Christi Carol, I really like the tune, the way Jeff Beck plays it, the way Hayley Westenra sings it, the way Benjamin Britten wrote the music, the way somebody wrote the ancient lyrics some 500 years ago.  I feel there is scope to extend the lyrics a few more stanzas…I guess these stanzas look at the continuation of presence by faith and power in the Eucharist, something relevant to the feast of Corpus Christi.

Corpus Christi Carol – additional stanzas

And this is the method his story is told

not symbolic, but real life fold-ed

Corpus Christi, he gave us to share

Bread and wine Christ made him there

How can it be, that this bread is He ?

How can it be, this wine you and me ?

in our lives, his love transforms

and by our faith, his word informs,

And told the priest that he had the hour

To continue the simplest miracle power

Heart Rhythm Dusty Boots

On By cjx07sterIn Existentialism, TravelLeave a comment

”]Ferodo had travelled too, and his heart had gone with him, together the two of them both, person and heart along the way, had flown global streaks across the blue sky oceans below them. Landing in cities unknown and hotels of shine and polish.  For Ferodo his life in other cities was cool and well planned.  He really had only experienced the unexpected greatly in India, in Mumbai, in Delhi, his naivety was equally as great as the crowds and his heart would skip beats with each unknowing happening in the dust of the streets around.

But what synchronised his mind eventually, was the rhythm of the sounds, a Hindi wedding with it’s blaring trumpets, the crowd shouting and the sound coming in waves, listening to that was like listening to the mighty Narmada river, and shouting over the top, until his heart got that rhythm spirit inside, and his blood too became river like inside flowing that way in tune with the raga’s of it all.

And so he ventured out into the streets, the houses and places the nagars of indian cities in the pink and black dusts of Rajastan and Delhi, and into the places and forts of empire and had found his way around walking and being through the crowd that way.  In walking in crowds he found he became invisible to the throngs only when he slowed his walk to their rhythm.  Too slow, he was not going anywhere, and was a distraction, too fast like a westerner, he was a foreigner with no heart for the place.  He found he had to walk slower and more measured, like time was not of the essence, but a determination was still there, not like he had no where to go, but like where he had to go would still be there when he got there.  He had found with his western speed, that people hurried to places, as if it would not be there in the end, or they had to get there first in case of others.

His cloak of invisibility, of synchronism, of rhythm then were his boots.  Even though he had got them in San Antonio, on a whim of a visit, and not understanding why really, he had found them useful in India, in the cold of winter and had taken a liking to walking around cities world wide in these strange boots of Texas.

And now he was in Sydney, here with his girlfriend, wearing them, the strange boots of Texas.  He found now that the boots captured memory, of the places he had been, he only had to look down at them, and he could recall the places, like photographs, shining out of the polished facets of the boots, and his heart would re-synchronize with his mind and feet, and he would feel ok.  Sipping coffee by the opera house steps, his girlfriend taking snaps, and as she did, each click of the shutter would trigger another snap of the magic Texan boots he had on, complete with their Rajastan dust and his heart complete with a kind of rhythm of love for the place of song and concert, the dust of places he had been, and his girlfriend close by in his walkabout.

Heart rhythm dust

magic boots with shutterbug

ωalkabout

Lunar Real-Estate – An Earth Facing View

On By cjx07sterIn Innovation, TravelLeave a comment

Ferodo was sitting at a side table in the club lounge of the Hyatt Regency hotel in Delhi.  His local Indian colleague and friend Tanish was sitting there across from him.  Scotch this time, it was late, in the evening, dark and monsoon out, it had not been a good day, after three weeks of bad days, the pair had just about had enough.

The desk clerk Anuga, at the lounge dropped by and since there were few people around, and not so busy, asked how they were doing.

Really not so bad, said Ferodo.  We’ve been out, and now we are back.

“So, what brings you to Delhi then ?” asked Anuga

Ferodo said “actually we are… in real estate”, “there is a united nations sponsored conference on here in Delhi at the moment.”

Anuga said “oh really, I hadn’t heard of that one.”

Putting down his glass, Tanish stepped in and added “yes, it is not that well publicized, but my friend here, Ferodo, is a scientist and is helping with some key questions”.

Ferodo looked over at Anuga more intently and said “You see we’re looking into real estate on the moon.” and took a careful sip of scotch.

Anuga looked between both of them, somewhat incredulous, and assumed they were both pulling her leg.

“Yes that’s right”, said Tanish, “you see Ferodo is an astronomer, and so he knows all about the conditions on the moon and is advising the UN and the real-estate brokers all about the situation of housing on the moon. I myself sell real-estate, so I’m selling land on the moon.  Well, not yet though we are still finalizing the details.”

Tanish an ambitious kind of guy, got up and left saying he would be back shortly.

Anuga looked at Ferodo, Ferodo looked at Anuga.

“You see it is like this”. said Ferodo – “there are several key features about the situation of real-estate on the moon, and many misconceptions.  For a start  The moon has a day, almost like the earth’s.  So day and night is not a problem.  The real problem is that it is constantly facing the earth.”

Anuga said “Yes like the man in the moon right ? It always looks the same.”

“Right”, said Ferodo, “It always looks the same, it is always facing the earth, even though the Earth spins past, it is always facing it. ”

“So why is that a problem ?” asked Anuga

“It’s simply a problem for humans, not for the moon. If you were sitting on the earth facing side, you would see the earth.  Always. You could never stop seeing it.  Even when the moon went round the back of the earth at night, you could still see the lights of Taiwan, Japan, UK, not so much India, but you could still see it.”

Ferodo sipped his scotch and gazed out the window as if drawn by a problem too hard to solve.

Anuga said “Really !, I never looked at it that way. But that would be good woudn’t it ?.”

Tanish had rejoined the pair at the table, but had missed the conversation.  Ferodo asked Tanish to explain why a permanent earth facing view was a problem.

Tanish said “You see the real problem is that the earth is always always in the same spot in the moon’s sky.  So if you put a house on the moon, it can only see the earth in a particular position.  So one of the key features is ?”

“An earth facing window !” said Anuga. “Wow, Let me get you another drink and you can tell me more.  I don’t see that is a problem.”

Anuga went off to organise some more drinks.

Ferodo explained to Tanish, “You better tell her about the earth facing side, and the non earth facing side of the moon.”  “Like you cannot sell land on the non-earth facing side, i.e. the dark side, which is not dark, just can’t see the earth.”

Tanish, the ambitious one, said “Not a problem. There must be many people who really don’t want to look at the earth, reminded of the place they left, where their family and ancestors are, where their old long lost friends are.” “Living on the non earth facing side would be perfect for them.”

Ferodo waited.  Anuga returned.

Anuga, looking excited told Ferodo. “i know what the problem is, I figured it out, but I have a solution.  You want to hear it ?”

“OK go on” said Ferodo

Anuga kept her voice low and said quietly “You just need special blinds, you know special blinds that you can close.. and then just open them whenever you feel like looking at the earth, you know, to remind you of home”

Tanish was thinking as was Ferodo, perhaps it would work.  They might each mention it at the conference in the morning.