Tuesday, July 29, 2008
There is no place like home that's why I suggest you live everywhere
I often sit and listen to the mundane thoughts that go through my, I don't really have a choice. Last night I was having a terrible time breaching the fortress that is the Slovene border. Unfortunately, the train I was planning on taking from Venice to Ljubljana was sold out. I was a little surprised because Ljubljana isn't exactly what most people are looking for in their European experience. Turns out the trains final destination was not Slovenija but Hungary, Budapest (home of the baby arm incident) to be more precise, which based on lack of train tickets must be wildly popular (but only after the fiersome five visited ealier this year, did the divided city achieve such fame, I'm sure).
So I decide to go to Trieste, as it is 23 KM from Koper, which seems to be the only other way to sneak in. I figured I could catch a bus in Trieste and then grab a train to Ljubljana. If I don't I am stuck waiting in Venice until the next night anyway so I asked myself what could it hurt.
I just realized that Tom took this train the day I nearly went ballistic because I missed my plane to Klagenfurt. I had to pay (but really my Mother) an extra $100 dollars to fly into Salzburg, 8 hours after my scheduled flight. Poor Tom had no communication from me because I was without money seeing as how Ryan air had shot me with a bullet I paid for. Tom got in around 2 am and I was suppose to meet him so we could go to the hostel. Instead, I walked like a drone around Ljuljana until I saw through clear glass St. Thom the saint of blogs. That was one of those days I was told to go home early because I looked like...well you get the point (mlos). I should add that the reason I was late for my flight to Klaggenfurt was because my Flight into London was an hour late and I waited an additional 45 minutes for my bags to be unloaded from the plane. In my mind I pictured a little Slovenian running around the landing strips inorder to prevent and landings and then moving on to the baggage compartment to cast a disappearing spell on my luggage, Slovenians descend from the Leperchaun linage of Ireland.
So now I am sitting in Trieste, which happens to be one of my favorite cities, so any excuse to go is fine by me. I get there and realize that there isn't a bus until 6 AM the next morning. It's at this moment I solidify my belief that I am not the Victor Frankel of my generation. Perhaps I am his antithesis. I started to get these feelings of desperation and lonliness. I was stuck in Italy with no place to go, no place to stay, and no razor blade to call my own. I wondered why I travel alone, why I am always alone, why I worry that I don't feel as close to people as I would like. You know those moments of cheesiness that you assume will lead to a paradigm shift but are quickly forgotten about after you've gotten what you wanted. Twenty minutes of moping later, I decide this is a blessing because A)there is no way I'm going to find a place to sleep tonight which meansB) I don't have to pay for a place to sleep tonight. Ahhh, the joys of being homeless. I gently lay my bag down (as my mother would be offend if I treated her bag with disrespect). I unzip the lockings lips of the bag, the container of my only possessions at present and grab a sweater to use as a pillow. The transition is complete, I am officially a hobo. It is more simple than one assumes. To seal the deal tomorrow, I will jump onto a moving train, and then playsoulful tunes on my harmonica for hours telling people I used to give water to the elephants at the circus until everyone was killed in a freak tight rope fire.
The time is 11 PM and I decide to set my alarms for 6 AM. I am off to REMless bliss.
At about 1:15 I am tapped and told something that didn't fully register. I had enough sense to mutter ˝no comprehendo.˝ Which I am pretty sure is spanish but the guy got the message. He started to speak in English asking me all this questions. In my mind I thought, ˝Oh, great its my first day as a hobbo and I'm already being arrested for loitering. The nice Italian Police Man asked me where I was going, what time I planned on leaving, and if I had documentation. I had the suspision that he thought I was drunk. I don't blame him. He then tomld me that I couldn't sleep in that part of the train station and they moved me to a halway where I and 3 other people slept. I wondered who these people were, why there were no bars in this prison, and who would rape me first. I was so tired I had no time to worry about my safety but, as a precaution I strapped my bag around a pole connected to the floor. Mind you it was just a strap and I'm pretty sure it could have been stolen just as easily. At about 5:40, when I could sleep no longer because the sweat left from the previous day was turning into a rash around my groin, I found that the minimus security prison I was taken to was in serious need of gaurds. The jail break was quick.
As I arrive at the bus station, I change clothes, for fear pictures already are circulating Italy demanding my capture and also inorder to prevent more heat rash. I stepped onto a bus driving me to freedom, Koper, we are driving and I see a sign that states we had entered Slovenia, and my heart rang with pride I had learned a lesson, that any problem can be solved by sleeping on it. I then took a bus to Ljubljana, this was the slow bus but it was beautiful. It went through mountains and forests. As we descended into Ljubjana most my anxiety had disapeared and I remembered why I fought so hard to get here. I arrived and immediately went to the center of the town. As I sat below the statue of Preseren(Slovene hero and national anthem composure(which incidently and appropriately is also a drinking song)), this sense of familiarty overwhelmed me, In the morning sun I see people I had tried talking to before in this very spot, I see people I never had the courage to talk to, and I see people whom I couldn't have talked to, because they usually only conversed, with themsleves. Relief fills my soul and I am OK. I think I love Ljubljana so much because it feels like my home when I can't go to my other one. And I am the type of person that needs one of those.