En Route to San Francisco, Clear Sky, Temp: 0F
Hmm, I'm not sure where to start. It's been 4 years since the last journal entry was made. The enormity of the prelude to this trip has prompted me to continue this tradition. It's not that my finger has not been itching to write. It has, for a long time. However, just all the many facets of life at the present phase, has seemed to offer more interesting distractions at times than writing some old forgotten memories.
It's been a tough one, I'd say. There was the run around, due to a mistake on my ticket from the airline agent. Six hours later, and one thousand dollar poorer, I found my way out and a revival of the glimmer of hope that was almost fading this morning. I am going to finally make it to go home to find the wife and the baby! Wow, what a relief. It may sound trivial, but the events in the past 3 months at work, and just the general impression of the surrounding at this time and age, has made me think if the so-called expeditionary operations is really sustainable. Well all this may sound like goobledigook. Maybe. After blazing the trails to the far corners of the universe, maybe taking a long break is a well deserved vacation. I once told a friend of mine, "Well, the world is such a vast place, there is always a new place and new people to meet. I think I am getting tired of it because it is just simply inexhaustible".
Maybe this is a good time too, to reflect back on some pieces of memories that has been tinkling in my mind. Like a time the time we were on the train to a place in Birmingham, UK, where we ran into, well, supposedly a pair of troublemakers. It was supposed to be just an ordinary touristic trip until one of them pulled out a cigarette, played with it a little, and got ready to lit. They seemed like a pair of decent street people, a couple of wisecracks, and as they mumbled some choice British expression, they unprovokingly asked us if we would mind them smoking.
Unwittingly, I saw an opportunity, as my travelling companions, Bassam and his brother, stood agape, and I said, "Yes, I'm sorry, but I do mind". They went back mumbling more of some choice British expressions and stopped short of lighting. Later, just before we disembark the train, I stopped next to the pair and said, "You folks stay out of trouble, awright?", and one of them offered a handshake. All in all, a decent pair of British street blokes.
I am guessing that the whole incident capture the interest of two Swedish characters who were in the train, and one of my travel companions, never missing the opportunity to introduce himself, went and started some conversation. It turned out that they were going to the same Haloween party as we were, and we made more friends that night at the party.
Or there was another incident in this particular trip that is also memorable. It was the time that I was separated by some distance from Bassam.
This probaly happened around Plaza de Espana in Madrid, in the middle of thousands and thousands of tourists that night who crowded the little street that we were walking. There were a group of young girls who saw an opportunity to rob your standard issue touris; a guy with a backpack and a map book in hand -- me. Boy, did they pick the wrong guy that night. They approached me with a map open wide, to block other people's views and spoke German to me, pretending to ask where something on the map was. As I said I didn't understand what they were saying, two of them tried to hold both my hands. With a quick Jedi twisting movement, I twisted both my wrists and my hands free. They keep trying to hold my wrists but time and again I twisted them free. However after a while, one of them, I identified later as the leader, finally was smart enough to hold my left arm tightly with both her hands with no opportunity for me to twist it free. She dropped my sleeve trying to inspect what kind of watch I was wearing. Boy, as I said, they got the wrong guy that night. I was wearing my trusty old LCD cheapo watch. As this was happening, with the other free hand, I pushed away the chicks to my right and moved while rotate my body to get a better view of all of them. Essentially I am putting all of the in my field of view with no hostile target behind. Realizing that they had a bad catch that day, the leader decided to let me go, but as that happened, one of the girls quickly reach down my Docker pants' pocket, looking for Jabba the hut... no, I mean for some junk pieces of paper and 40 American dollars. They quickly disappeared.
Stunned with what just happened, I quickly catch up with my companion, and with my breath still racing I told him what just happened. When I was talking him that, as I reach down my pocket, suddenly I realized that one of them had grabbed some junk paper and a little bit of money. Shhyyuucks! I uttered some choice words and decided that this was no Detroit and there is a good chance of catching them. I just told my companion to follow me and we ran back. He was all surprised, not knowing what the hell just happened (he told me later). Here we were, Starsky and Hutch running down a narrow alley with traffic going in the wrong direction. Quickly as I catched a glimpse of one of the gang members, I seized the opportunity and held her and started screaming at her.
I asked her with my meanest face where my money was and I threatened her with, well, just a loud angry voice. Even a bum who just happened to be around, came up to us and tried to separate us thinking that we were about to start fighting. The relationship between the bum and the young girls' gang is still a mistery; strict coincidence, a pimp, no one knows. In the middle of the lively discussion about the whereabout of my money, suddenly the gang leader appeared and said, "Is this what you are looking for?" while holding my $40 and my junk pieces of paper. Dumbfounded, I took the out of her hand and said something like an assurance of her butt being introduced to the heel of my shoes if they would try something like that again. Then my companion and I continued in our previous direction.
Well, ever since that incident around Plaza de Espana, I thought that perhaps there was really no need to change my appearance in exploring foreign lands; backpack, and a map book are a standard issue. There were really no need to avoid drawing any attention because by nature, foreigners stick out like a shore thumb in a crowd of locals and crooks will always be able to select a target. I still enjoy telling these stories today (OK not tell but brag). Boy, as I said, didn't they pick a hell of the wrong guy that night.
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