HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN?
Last seen being plagued by the end of the mosquito season (which was Sunday just gone apparently), the expat Gollum lookalike took refuge in a Pepsi can.
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There are a few days of my Europe break unaccounted for. I have vague recollections of time in swimming pools, races to the next lamppost, siestas on the couch. I can hazily see a strangely fantastic steak and kidney pie in a Spanish pub. Ooh, there goes Mum’s lasagne. Beaches, but not as I know them. And then greyness, cold, Jedi powered airport toilet flushes, wedged between kids in a magnificent flying machine and transportation to a parallel universe in the southern hemisphere.
So there we are, it’s all over. There were sights, so many sights, from lush Cornish coves to monstrous mountains. Gorgeous, but just sights, there for a photo to remind me of where I’ve been, to post on the blog and put together some sort of coherent witty story. Beautiful places but, simply on their own, not the things I want to keep in my head and cherish forever. They are a background, a stage for better things: races to the next lamppost, baguettes on hillsides, Batman impressions, coffee by the harbour, a round of warm beers, battles in the pool, long lazy barbecue evenings, red-eye trips to the airport, a chat in the gardens. It’s all about you people!
As I said goodbye to the folks in Spain I was finishing one of my summer holiday reads, Into the Wild, about Christopher McCandless, a twenty-something who gave up society and wandered into the Alaskan wilderness never to return. I think for me, and indeed most of us, there is at least a small, primeval appeal about what he did. We all dream of the next grand mountain or twenty mile stretch of white sand, looking for that high of pure, unadulterated nature and thrill of new horizons. Sadly, this almost obsessive pursuit cost McCandless his life. The poignant thing about this is that shortly before he perished, he seemed to actually realise the real beauty of life is not the earth but its people. One of his final diary entries read: “HAPPINESS ONLY REAL WHEN SHARED”.
I don’t wholeheartedly agree with his revelation – we’ve all been happy with a bit of me time, right? I sure have had some great times and craved that independence. But then I go share them via this blog, with a friend, chat about it on a Monday morning in work. Maybe I’d rather say the good times are good and the better times are the good times shared. Maybe even there’s a bigger smile on my face when the checkout girl at Coles jokes about the man talking to himself (okay this wasn’t offensive… he was on the phone) than when I stumble upon a beautiful beach and have it all to myself.
Why am I bothering to write this and get all deep on you? Well, mainly because I read these words in Alicante airport, after goodbyes which seem to get harder and harder each time. And I was reminded that it didn’t really matter if I saw mighty mountains or curvaceous coves. Because they were just a backdrop, for the people*.
So as a mark of respect I decided to try and find some of the least flattering pictures of everyone, including me! If you have made it this far and not given up on this post already, thank you so much for among other things hospitality, nourishment, transport, patience, cheese, being irritating and wonderful at the same time, but most of all, just being you. And there will always be a big welcome for you down under! 
Last seen being plagued by the end of the mosquito season (which was Sunday just gone apparently), the expat Gollum lookalike took refuge in a Pepsi can.
------------------------------------
There are a few days of my Europe break unaccounted for. I have vague recollections of time in swimming pools, races to the next lamppost, siestas on the couch. I can hazily see a strangely fantastic steak and kidney pie in a Spanish pub. Ooh, there goes Mum’s lasagne. Beaches, but not as I know them. And then greyness, cold, Jedi powered airport toilet flushes, wedged between kids in a magnificent flying machine and transportation to a parallel universe in the southern hemisphere.
So there we are, it’s all over. There were sights, so many sights, from lush Cornish coves to monstrous mountains. Gorgeous, but just sights, there for a photo to remind me of where I’ve been, to post on the blog and put together some sort of coherent witty story. Beautiful places but, simply on their own, not the things I want to keep in my head and cherish forever. They are a background, a stage for better things: races to the next lamppost, baguettes on hillsides, Batman impressions, coffee by the harbour, a round of warm beers, battles in the pool, long lazy barbecue evenings, red-eye trips to the airport, a chat in the gardens. It’s all about you people!
As I said goodbye to the folks in Spain I was finishing one of my summer holiday reads, Into the Wild, about Christopher McCandless, a twenty-something who gave up society and wandered into the Alaskan wilderness never to return. I think for me, and indeed most of us, there is at least a small, primeval appeal about what he did. We all dream of the next grand mountain or twenty mile stretch of white sand, looking for that high of pure, unadulterated nature and thrill of new horizons. Sadly, this almost obsessive pursuit cost McCandless his life. The poignant thing about this is that shortly before he perished, he seemed to actually realise the real beauty of life is not the earth but its people. One of his final diary entries read: “HAPPINESS ONLY REAL WHEN SHARED”.
I don’t wholeheartedly agree with his revelation – we’ve all been happy with a bit of me time, right? I sure have had some great times and craved that independence. But then I go share them via this blog, with a friend, chat about it on a Monday morning in work. Maybe I’d rather say the good times are good and the better times are the good times shared. Maybe even there’s a bigger smile on my face when the checkout girl at Coles jokes about the man talking to himself (okay this wasn’t offensive… he was on the phone) than when I stumble upon a beautiful beach and have it all to myself.
Why am I bothering to write this and get all deep on you? Well, mainly because I read these words in Alicante airport, after goodbyes which seem to get harder and harder each time. And I was reminded that it didn’t really matter if I saw mighty mountains or curvaceous coves. Because they were just a backdrop, for the people*.
So as a mark of respect I decided to try and find some of the least flattering pictures of everyone, including me! If you have made it this far and not given up on this post already, thank you so much for among other things hospitality, nourishment, transport, patience, cheese, being irritating and wonderful at the same time, but most of all, just being you. And there will always be a big welcome for you down under!
* this doesn’t mean next time you can just lock me up and feed me gruel when I come to stay – I still wanna go places OK?!
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