Spiced Recollections

FROM VIENNA, DUBROVNIK, AND THE ISLAND OF VIS

from Vienna, Austria. (July 25th)

Imperial monuments everywhere, stained in black from the centuries of dust and grit… The Austro-Hungarian empire took control over that notorious region of the Balkans, whose ethnic disputes brought its own destruction; but it also amassed great wealth, such that scores of huge libraries and palaces were built. Why so BIG ? ? we may politely ask. Perhaps the sacrifice of thousands of people is worth the feeling of eternity captured in these stone slabs. Given the meager 70 year lifespan of an Emperor, it is no wonder ambitious leaders may aim for the illusion of forever-ness in their projects.

Now, tourists gawk and take photos, that being their own individual way of immortalizing the moment ; they can show their friends/family in the future, ‘See ! I was there.’ We CRAVE to think that what is accomplished will outlive us, indeed, that the moment is not just a flirting wave of time ; so what do we do ? we built monuments, we record it in photos, we have children, perhaps my son will ‘be a doctor just like me’ when he grows up . Continue the family tradition ! Admire how the structures have ‘stood the test of time’, but also be aware of a deep hypocrisy – that there is general concensus that Empires (those big controlling bastards) are ‘bad’. Then again, without this much hated government control of society (eg, Patriot Act?), without a big State, there is no surplus of wealth to create eternal magnificence. Does morality govern this choice ? or is it just relative to your position in society, what you can gain, what you can lose.

In Dubrovnik, Croatia. (August 13th)

The post office is packed with Italians, French, Germans, all the neighboring rich countries ; yet they must speak English with the clerk behind the desk. How funny (and disconcerting !) it is to watch these educated folk struggle to communicate in a language which is foreign to all of them. I am sending off a package today – my cherished duffel bag of clothes, books, and other essentials – to a mysterious Post Office in France. I scribble an appeal on the outside of the box : Please Keep for Kristian Beadle ! I give it a 50-50 chance that I will ever see my bag again. Ah ! but it is impossible to journey northwards, in search of random encounters and adventure, burdened with gear. I also find it quite romantic, to arrive hundreds of kilometers later to find my precious bag, such that the stars will smile and I will continue on my voyage as if nothing had happened.



At the Island of Vis, Croatia (August 19th)

Feeling warm and fuzzy that I found a nice campspot near the beach, I fall asleep under a bright moon. But then I awake in the darkness to a gusty wind, and sudden shards of rain, and my first thought is : God 1, Kristian 0. The cosmic game of chance always seems to balance out, however ; and after 3 wide-eyed minutes of desperately packing my bag, the rain ends. I stand looking out on the sea, swaying slightly. Something strange is happening here, I think. The wet ground is suprisingly confortable, softened by pine needles, and I relegate myself to chance once again, and fall asleep.

In the morning I am confounded by what turns out to be a pseudo-nudist colony, directly in front of my camp ; I slowly learn to harmonize with these local customs, having some epic nudey swims. At night, the swarms of yatchs gather in the marina, people lounging about sipping wine in style. I ponder intensively : if hitchhiking works with cars, why not with boats ? So I plan a devious scheme to elicit sympathy and score a free yatch ride, as I lick my melting icecream.

How ? remained a tricky question. The moment of inspiration came when I remembered the lovely girls at UCSB, walking back and forth to class ; like the yatchs, they too were another ‘world’, difficult to access, tempting as ever. The thought experiment had developed over a beer at Espresso Roma, on that outdoor patio where one may sunbathe AND watch students scramble to school at every hour. The idea became a great unrealized moment of genius, entitled, a ‘Sociological Study on Behavior of College Girls’. The procedure would be a professional and courteous approach, with microfone and slick journalist hair, coplemented of course by diligent note-taking and photographic evidence of the subjects. It is sad to note that sheer busy-ness conspired against our finding time for this Study, forfeiting the sort of reckless opportunities one is expected to embrace during the Senior year of College. Still, however absurd the concept seemed to be (the ‘Sociological’ label was a vain attempt at making it sound legitimate), the idea of posing as a research student, to start an otherwise awkward conversation, seemed valid when confronted by the very seclusive Yatch-ies.

So striding off I went, deciding which boat to approach : The Blue Lady, Oceanus, No Man’s Land… I had drunk the licquor of fantasy, romantic visions of ‘sailing into the horizon’ too hard to bear. But wait – a dark thought struck me ; was this plan of mine, though based on minor deception, veering into the territory of immorality ? Lies and tricks are for lesser beings, I was convinced ; but could this not be the start of a spiral of dark confidence, where my ability to manipulate situations begins to overwhelm righteousness ? For I hold honesty in high regard, and I feared that setting such a precedent (no matter how slight) might short circuit my ethical boundaries. Ahhhh… pearing through the cracks of desire into that latent pool of untapped flux, the ‘dark side’ we keep concealed, consciously or not. A quizzical smile to the lips, as I had success before I had even started – learning about oneself, and this fickle thing called the mind, is the goal after all. With this I concluded matter of factly : hey I just want to meet people. So I walked up to the sailboat in front of me, and said Hello…. But no, I never got to ride in the sailboat.

.Now I know why I don’t like deception ; I end up liking the people I try to deceive ! The couple on the sailboat were very nice, I will have to email them one day ; spring up the courage to say I don’t actually work for a professor studying the Globalization of Leisure Activities in the Mediterranean Sea, and cross-cultural interactions blah blah blah…. yikes.