Haunting event...

...Quiz night at The Queens Head. Two locals, one childhood resident and a stray. Had some laughs, drinks, smoke and yummy dessert. Michael entertains in 4 inch Leopard skin heels, further up etched in sparkling fuchsia lipstick and mascara thicker than Epping Forest. Fourth place is hawed about, bill paid and reminisce lapped up.

Off go the four. One wants a taxi, cuz he "...can't be bothered with the tube...". Bounding along thru late night London's sensory overload of pollution, thence round a corner, forgotten is its name. Yet scene etched in me brain...

...taxi's rushing by, her blond hair fallen below a shoulder, corner store shows open. Neath a stone window sill four feet high, sits her, less than three. Eight eyes go fixed, her back impressed and soaking up cool stones of England's damp. Butt scooched out, planted as old growth. Our legs still move forward, whose pace changed? Anyones? Three of four, I reckon. Knees scrunched up tight w/ a bright white fag balancing atop like a crown jewel. Fixed I am upon her squat, placing meaning upon the openness of her legs, wondering of upbringing, the wrong guy seeing opportunity, a group seizing the moment? Fag glows of orange three inches from her lips. Would have blindly walked into a hole due to my gaze. Questioning and wondering of her stature, gulped me in. Vertical rectangle print of dull reds and yellow run her up and down, legs cased in black leggins. "Do you think she's alright?", "Yea, she's fine. Look at her, she's got two fags." As her lips loose touch of fingers and the ugly yellow butt exits her mouth. Finally--"Are you ok?", the tenderness of female knowingness asks outward versus us only inward. Smoke exhaled, strifles up adding to city filth. Lips gently say "No.", without any confirmation. "Ahh, she's fine, she'll be fine!", drunken slur convincingly laps ears and minds. Curbside three still peer like Muir cats and one simply craves a taxi. "No" was stated and yet our walk continued, as did her abyss like stare. What was in her darkness that night? We shall never know. What did "No" mean? Why did one mans disregard overpower three's interest?

Sorry ain't good enough, but it is all I can say...

Stood...

...where time begins, this day. Pretty touristy, but who cares. Kinda fascinating that not too long ago, mechanical, time did not exist. Tried taking a photo of the worlds first (practical) clock for ya Reva, but was nearly tackled, cameras and personnel were recording every ones move.

Principal meridian of 0 degrees, to which parallels for the civilized world begin. Greenwich was great. Only 350 years of mechanical time on our hands, then a couple hundred later scalps sent to wallpaper London.

New sense of why the Native American Indians were thought of being such heathens......Europeans are so bloody proper. Strip a Grizzly cub of its mother and innately he/she will know how to forage. Strip a European child of its mother and innately he/she will know where to place all 16 pieces of silverware and how the tie is knotted. Deeply inbred for thousands of years.

Spain...

...Club Delta Mar in Riviera Del Sol, between Fuengirola and Marbella. Simply the noisiest RCI resort ever stayed in! Coastal lands packing condos for tourists---like us.

Went to Mijas via a 20 minute bus ride because we were told and read of it being a nice Spanish Village. What a joke, we both felt as tho we were in Florida w/ my parents. Tourist trinket shops and English eating joints lined the streets.

Walked along the beach to Playa LaCalahonda which had a small marina again lined w/ tourist restaurants. Had dreamy ideas of sailing!!!

Drinking on the terrace and playin cards and our light burned out. Dial 9 and out comes "maintenance". A nice Spanish man that spoke english, so i asked if there was a place we could go to get away from the touristy areas? He said NO! Inland was his best advice. Logical now thinking of it---Spain has been an English escape for many decades, local true villages can not exist on these coastal waters.

Eating fresh croissants w/ a smear of Nutella, that's delicious!

Sittin and waitin, bus should be comin. There she be and all us folk line up like sheep, except one bloke in blue. Pockets and purses are his focus. Myself not payin any mind, just shuffling along like a good sheep should do, but once on the bus..."Ya, he would have taken that guys wallet if I wouldn't have said HEY!", this big ole female bloke rambles on to her other big ole female partner. "We ought to do something!". "Come on now just sit down.", "Look at him out there!", she yells. Her ruckus draws attention and eyes, including mine. I rise up and pinpoint a curly haired 60 plus year old man blending in amongst the flock. Beady little eyes to go along w/ his tiny regard of others. Engaged in amazement, as he one by one weaves in and out, seeking an open hole of the careless traveler. "Look at him...the guy in blue!", she yells to the bus driver. "He is a pick-pocketer." Her excitement opens my adrenaline valve, as i still gaze on. Bus continues to load and his line of opportunity shrinks to nothing.

Much like the buses diesel smoke, our bloke in blue dissipates. "Where'd he disappear? In a corner don'tcha know, countin his take!", she blows on. Interesting how once my eyes synced up to the situation how much i wanted to jump into the mix, like Wolves to a Caribou or was it like white cops beating the life out of a black man? Ither way it's an irrational reactionary, border line survival instinct response.

Sidelines vs. center ring?!?!?!

Chalk Farm...

...and lost, if i were.
Wood i be here?
Bus after car, stroller prior woman. Breath drawn and spat out. Not in relief, but sum form of grief.
Arse now upon grass, all still pass. Soon girls to be met, who knows where we jet?
Since i am here, me must be lost

Swinging...

...with a blond, just for awhile.
They really do have moor fun!!!!
Look at those cheek bones, yummy!!!!

Can't compare...

...but i do.

English countryside is so lush and manicured, giving way to stiles and trails for one to ramble across her entirety. Something provocative in this offering, yet the wild ness of Montana's grandeur sets one to a different awe.

Foods in the states is crap by all comparisons. Marina has always expressed her knowing, however my un-knowing could not comprehend. Clear in taste and memory now---pheasant, duck, rabbit, venison, lamb, pig, quail etc. are offered for lunch and dinner w/ all the trimmings. States offer a burger and fries or perhaps chicken nachos. Woo Hoo!!!

Buildings again miss the mark. Sure there are a handful, mainly churches. However for centuries homes have been built to with stand centuries, not to say the country side did not pay a toll for this consumption of man. Hell it paid over here also, but we just built shacks w/ Natures givings, something to get by, something that continues to consume until it collapses.

Crave...

...what do they? next best thing...doubt it!
globetrotters...ya think? DSL or dial up?
honest to soul...i reckon! appreciative...hourly!
never spoke w/ theez women, simply stole a digital echo.
transportive one at that.

Walked to...

...Pescosolido this morn. Along our route found a tiny market, ya know the ones the size of some folks bathrooms, served the entire village, small yet delicious bread, cheese and prosciutto still available. Pescosolido is the real deal. Nothing touristy! Structures from 1187 and cobble streets all dotting a hillside next to Abruzzi National Park. Another tiny market in town proper had Roma tomatoes out front, which we were lacking. Inside a local Father was laughing w/ the store keeper. He pulled out a 10 euro bill and raised it up with definite question in his action. Kindness from behind the counter waived it off-out the door-up the steps to the church. Off he went smiling w/ his plastic bag full of goodies and 10 euros. Someone should let the Father in on the re-use of canvas bags. 0.15 euros of tomatoes then 1 euro for a beer of Marina's liking and we had la fresca style lunch atop a marble bench while local men relentlessly went on about seemingly crucial/useless conversation.
7 p.m. was our departure time to La Quercia del Baronia, for a second time, which meant us and one adorable little puppy could say excited hellos thru a metal gate along our walk. Marina was looking forward to pasta this evening, Baronia's chef schooled in England and Paris, delighted our palates once again. Ravioli w/ cheese and pear topped w/ almond sauce. Gnocchi w/ spinach, mint, lemon, lime and ginger. Wow what delights!
European cheek kisses exchanged w/ gracious Anna Maria saying "You are so kind!".
Not that you would choose to visit Sora or Pescosolido on your visit to Italy, BUT if you did take the 2 plus hour bus ride to the end of road, visit La Quercia del Baronia, disappointment will not find you.

Breakfast in Italy...

....farmstay, situated below the small village of Pescosolido abutting Abruzzi National Park. Olive trees skirt grapevines. Squash lye in their beds. Goat, sheep, chickens and donkeys all kick about. Missed the grape harvest by 4 days, oh well, fermenters are bubbling away.

Walked around Sora, Italy too long. Seems nearly the entire town closes down from noon to four. Why? We do not know, theory is that all Italian men have a mistress, so this time goes towards lunch w/ wife and kids then off for "mistress mischief". Made our way to Coal super market and found 12-20 Prosciutto legs hangin, along w/ 20 plus cheese flavours. Tomato, bread, cheese and melt in yer mouth prosciutto created our lunch at curbside.

So fine and delightful, just as their grape, was Dominico's family. Along our meandering 45 minute walk back to the Italy farm stay a well fed yet stout, Oak of a man wearing a black tank top pushed a spewing wheel barrow across and down. Ah ha, pith and seed of grape can only mean large containers with spigots, iron and wood creating many pounds of pressure, sweat from brow and pit, wiped away with hands stained rich purple. My smile and wave leads to another. "Marina you know they are making something up there!?". As my body language is all but being pulled forcefully up hill. She nods and gives way by a sweeping hand motion, as if to say, "...follow yer gut I will follow you, this is one of the facets I love about you." So I did just that. Up the hill to smiles of invitation and words of zero comprehension. "Vino", with a drinking hand gesture is all I could muster. I believe "Vina" was vocaled in return and before long the Oak of a man was throwing his voice up hill, til a dear lady being his wife of decades made her way down below. One tier below us sat a man with eyes deep as bark, of which decades of time have sagged his eyelids, saying, "Yeap I used to carry a pack like yours and make passionate love to that apron wearing woman on your right and watch out--we are still hangin in there!!!" I wish I knew what this happy smiling 90 plus year old man was truly saying to me. He just sat quietly for a spell w/ his little hat resting on his cane and then all at once he would excitedly exclaim out to me.

Out came two plastic cups and a 1/3 full bottle of shiny purple gold. Our hosts all awaiting our response. After a toast, sniff and swig---ahh the smiles of glee and words of no literal meaning drowned the terrace.
Been articulated centuries over and once again "The best things in Life are free." Later that evening we paid 44 euros plus 20% gratuity for a exquizitely prepared 4 course meal, does wine count as one course? Anna Maria and Giovanni at La Quercia del Baronio were great to meet. The meal will be remembered years from now, but the FREE cache of our brains tap a deeper level. Dominico's family refused our offer to pay with intensity, so much so that when I reached for my camera bag hanging around my neck, all but the old timer rushed me and exclaimed out, they thought I was reaching for money. I thought they were going to tackle me.
Free with expression, desire, love, sharing and true delight. Sent home we were, full bottle in hand w/ diligent Italian instruction from all, not to drink too much at once and to leave the lid cracked open or perhaps the bottle AND us could have an explosion. Fair warning!
Connection of soul versus meeting via money exchange. Perhaps how ya meet, matters not, it's what was exchanged!

May your father belt out in passion for years to follow. Thank ya kindly, Ciao!

No bus...

...station in Sora, just a bench D'Ambrosi O Pane and Dolce, meaning the best pastry shop for a hundred miles, well that is what it meant to us. No bathroom or phone. Be prepared for foul weather and be flexible. Dropped off for a 10:50 bus, well a bus left at 10:50 but it was not going to Rome??? Another bus at 11:30 indicating Anagnina but he waived us off and drove away. Til this moment the language barrier had been OK, but this is like the barrier in Costa Rica, it just plain sucks. Been pacing now at least 20 minutes and these are the instances where i question, "why i travel to a foreign country at all. hell i can read about an area in books and via internet, in English, loaded w/ photos."
We sit, Marina twirling her hair, our necks twisting left to right at any sound, wishing it be a blue colored Cotral bus. Nothing! Clouds lying atop mountains looking beautiful and throwing a chill towards us. Marina went to the Polizia Locale to attempt a bathroom? Thank you to a darling female officer that allowed her to use the facilities and that called Cotral, next bus time 2:40 pm, WOW! Now we search for a different view of scenery. Cafe's, Pizzeria's, Bars all closed.
Looking, looking, looking, well this bush looks good along some main drag so i take a leak. Finally Geleteria Masci saved us, especially me, two cones later, crema and espresso we are wired to wait it out.
This is a good example of why to leave early and not have some lazy relaxed morning. Miss an early bus, then catch the next, miss the late morning bus and you miss your day. Well atleast as you had it planned, but then again "Life is what happens while making plans.", right???????
We missed a day in Rome but will never forget waiting for the bus and eating ice cream......

One forgets...

...how trashy cigarette smokers can be especially in cities. Butts just tossed everywhere. Could it be cities are just plain filthy places. Period. So why not just add to it??? Kinda like the "don-t shit in my backyard mentality".

Yummy...

...my first Baklava at the Wilton Cafe Bakery, London, you can find deliciously dripping treats along w/ freshly made Turkish food.

How big...

...its not hotel! easyHotel.com is pretty darn thrifty.
Not bad, but two doors down, ya get free wi'fi.
Marina's out reached arms plus one foot was the room width, not stayed in a "pod hotel" prior, pretty great really. Reminded me of my thoughts of, "Why is there no place across the states where a guy can just get a cheap room for the night?" $60 is not a cheap sleep.

Missed...

...the Square and Compass Pub along w- Corfe Castle.
Perhaps next time round.

Bournemouth...

...Leslie and Dale.
Besides simply being lovely folk, will always hold a special memory,
thanx for being my first hosts in this old country.

Enjoy your hut with oceans breeze
May a cottage replace yer flat
May she smoke and still be well
Visit and we will walk amongst, our treez