Watching The Paint Dry
Tuesday, June 24th, 2008I classify “Downtime” as any period in which there is not some steady and rather urgent work going on to achieve a particular goal. Generally, I become sort of restless and unfinished-feeling, wanting to get cracking on whatever my project of the moment is. These days, the Book/Blog Project is still filling someone else’s inbox and I’m waiting for my turn to start using the fruits of their hard labors. My guess is that everything will come back to me on the same date and I’ll be more than frantic trying to take care of it all. Stop and Start! Those are the ingredients of life……and the ingredients of world travel. Such a reality is hard to remember when a trip has receded into the past. The mystique of being on the move carries with it the general impression that traveling is a great time-filler. Truly it is, but luckily for our own sanity, there are the slow periods.
Almost exactly three years ago, in July, 2005, I wrote this entry in my journal while visiting Zilina, Slovakia. Now, this was just a regular town, not really expecting to be hosting many tourists. It simply lay along a route that I was making up for myself on the way across Eastern Europe. Probably, the only strangers it received were a few hikers entering the High Tatry mountains off in the distance. The whole time that I was there, I had the impression that every resident was away for the weekend. Here is my journal entry:
“Thinking about this town, I can’t find anything pulling me to come and be with it. The people here have done more than most to make an attractive central square; but all they have actually done is to clear and pave a really, really, really big space and put some statues in it and lots of shops around it. I’m circled with shoes and clothes and cell phones, winking at me through plate glass windows, and the little outdoor cafes cater mostly to thirst in this glaring heat of the day. None serve much food. I want someplace spectacular, and this isn’t it, but never claimed to be. Most countries; most cities; most people just simply aren’t that and I’m asking too much to expect anything more than what I find.
When one thinks of world travel, especially the labor-intensive sort like this is, you never imagine that there could be days when you’ve done everything you can think of within your location; when you’ve more than satisfied your curiosity about it; when the books left to read are all dull; and there’s no prospect of finding others in your language; when you can’t watch TV or go to the movies because they are unintelligible; when there is not a soul to talk to anywhere; when the internet cafe is closed; when all your usual time fillers are unavailable and you are completely on your own. What do you do?
Well, you can pray and meditate. You can still write in the journal and you can still sleep. You can soak and scrub your rubber sandals and you can shower and change into fresh clothing. You can listen to your new CDs; you can dance to them, and even sing away in the privacy of your large room. You can eat your fruit and muesli which you have provided for yourself instead of restaurant cooking. And, you can be happy and content with your own company while you watch the day move steadily by. Plus, you can write a little poetry:
The last few minutes of July
Bleed down time.
Me and July and Zilina, Slovakia
Will never, ever meet again.
July dies tonight,
I leave tomorrow,
And Zilina will continue
In her unbroken slumber
Never missing the two of us.
Never even knowing we were here at all.”
lindajbrown