London
Friday, August 2nd
Ryanair flight 2002 is approaching London Stansted Airport. So far, everything has been very convenient, but problems are to come, well smaller ones.
The time on board has been a pleasant one, with a young docto being my seat partnet, she was really nice. Now, she’s left off for her bus and I’m sitting at the luggage convey, waiting for my backpack to arrive. About half an hour later, they finally make it, and I can proceed to the train platform without any more “inconveniencies” as the British always call that. Seems to be a favourite word of this entire nation.
The railway to Liverpool station is arriving soon, making exactly one call (can’t even remember where) and brakes down. Sorry for all inconviniencies this may cause. Well…
As a little friendly payback I’ve got a flabbergastingly pretty looking girl sitting vice versa of me. She’s just made an entry in what could have been a diary. Looked interesting, at least as interesting as she looks her self. Unfortunately I’m by far to tired to make contact with her. Have been brave enough for today, already got two conversations and some nice eyes-only flirt. Right now, the train is standing at the next station. Got a broken window or what.
The flabbergastingly pretty looking girl smiled, and so I decided to ask whether this was common; seems not to be the case. Also seems like I’m not the only tired person. Nevermind. Being my first `own’ journey, it has already been very interesting, and hopefully it goes on to be.
Saturday, August 3rd
One night over, and nearly a whole day. I’ve been out to Camden Town with my roommates today, which was great. It’s one big market there, and you can find nearly anything. The most wierd thing is, I’ve been hearing more Spanish than English until now. There seem to be quite some people in the hostel who are living here long term, although Jose for example is looking for an apartment now. Hotel’s too expensive. At the Camden Town markets you could see things ranging “quite normal” to “absolutely incredible”. It’s a meeting (not clash, not at all) of cultures, there’s a “Little Japan” and what not.
You can go into a shop where the salespeople are dressed like Borg from the Star Trek series. Or let yourself be convinced to buy some asian food by one of the everywhere-present, all-time-smiling Thai, Japan, Chinese, Vietnamese people in their stands.
I’m fulfilled of impressions, and a bit confused by all of it, as always when travelling. Still, this is a problem because the people you are being with are becoming at least a little suspicious about
you. Can’t help it though.
There’s one American girl in our room, Monica. She’s studying hinduism. Wow. I didn’t even know that you could study that (in the USA!) and am still wondering whether they also have the other major religions to study. And she’s nice to talk to and beautieful. Maybe we’ll go somewhere tomorrow, if …
… Richard is not replying with a positive message. The essential reason I’ve come here has been punished due to his attitude. It’s not often I’m set up like that, but this time it should be well justified. You don’t make an appointment with someone months prior to your very arrival and have his commitment to meeting until a week before you leave just to find out that he has “to work” that particular weekend. It’s not nice; not at all. Especially when considering how much is dependant on the meeting. Are these the usual challenges if one is following a vision, or is it just bad luck. I won’t find out today anymore.
Ten minutes later; so much about that: Richard’s replied he can make neither day. “Due to a shitload of work”. Not only that you’re being given a feeling of disappointment – you’re being kicked with feets aswell. Thanks very much.
Now, 12 o’clock. Still a bit disappointed by the Richard-thing. But actually, who really cares? After having a little nap in the room I had a writing-session in the Internet-room, then back to the room again, met Monica. We went to that Indian restaurant over the street and had a good meal, and an amazing talk. Later on her friend Justin was joining us (when back at the hostel). So, until now we’ve had a 6 hour conversation? Really amazing. It’s that wonderful thing about meeting people whom all ‘basics’ are
clear with, all the elementar things, and you do not have to do the awful smalltalk stuff. All this has brought me into one of the very rare states of mind which don’t require that much thinking anymore. You talk. Everything’s clear. Feels kind of like the old art of storytelling, just much, much more hearty.
Around us, there are people sitting together and talking in different languages. One is able to hear everything from French over German to Spanish here. Even Afrikaans, as we were told by Pierre, the french artist. Justin’s gone to bed some time ago, and now it’s just Monica and me doing our travel diaries. To the left of the room, two virtual cars are having races against each other over and over. Just in a similar manner, to the very right of the room, there’s to little virtual men jumping around a wierd world and shooting at stuff.
Aswell as a virtual airplane bombing New York City all the time and a skier doing the alps as if it was the only thing in his artificial life. Actually, it is.