I’m drifting in the Adriatic Sea, weightless in its salty waters. When did I get this light? In the fresh water of the great lakes, my feet start sinking down by now. Here I am buoyant and delight in my ease of floating. I’ve swam more in Croatia than I do in an entire summer in Michigan and it’s quickly become my favorite way to spend my time here.
My first sampling of Bosnia was the bus ride from the city of Split in Croatia to Sarajevo. The terrain grew forested and hilly, with tall roofed homes and humble villages nestled in its curves. Small farmers fields had large mounds of hay, seeming to me at first to be strange huts of some native tribe. Surely someone lived in them they were so massive. Yet they were just hay stacks of the tallest proportions with chimney like poles peeking out of the top of each one. You’d be amazed at how much your mind has to reassess every day during long term travel.
The rush of Rome clatters through me It is the grit, the noise, the heat A pulsing of life breathing in the shells of the ancient They hover and stand through the test of time The Pantheon, Colosseum, and Appian Way all still firmly planted as if they have roots reaching miles down feeding the past to the future
We sit on a rocky ledge with a green expanse stretching across the horizon. Lakes of turquoise fill the center, jewels in a sea of forest spilling into each other. Looking down I can see where we hiked earlier, an abandoned part of the park we had to ourselves. We crossed a river far below, balancing in the current with our shoes in our hands. I stopped in the center to stare at the falls rushing towards us not far ahead. The memory lives in my mind and not in my camera that was packed away in case I slipped. We sat on the riverbank looking up at the falls beyond the ones in front of us and caught two tiny tourists waving at us from a bridge high above. I smiled and waved back, happy in the knowledge we were alone and not following the masses.
I drift in the water of the Adriatic Sea, my body floating with my arms in a T shape. It’s just me, the water, and the sky. I pick up the distant whir of an engine under the surface. Lifting my head from my bed of waves I see a small boat zip by. I look around and see blue, orange, cream and green. They are the colors of Pučišća.
There is a place not far from Rome, where one hundred fountains rest in a row and grand promenades decorate the slope over a town called Tivoli.
My visit to Deutschland was a low key, relaxing stop to spend time with some friends of mine. We strolled the quaint city streets of Lippstadt, ate sushi in Paderborn and visited castles near the River Rhine.
Bologna, where to begin, there are many moments that are imprinted in my mind of this city, one blurring past the other when I remember my time there. Miniature movies that play and give glimpses of happy, heat filled days.
I had a dream long ago of a long white pier, ornate and beautiful on a blue sea. I floated above it as if in a plane circling it. The image as been drifting in my mind since. I knew on this trip I wanted to see the white cliffs of Dover and in researching them, I found the Seven Sisters instead.
What is in the missing of a person, a place, a thing? The ache of longing for a familiar face, a home cooked meal, or one’s own bed settles in when on the road. There is a comfort in being in the same space as a good friend or hearing a love’s laugh. Sometimes as I wander the streets of a foreign city, I experience a strange connection in the face of a perfect stranger.