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| Boat to Split |
SPLIT, CROATIA By morning the brilliant sky was gone, blurry gray squalls were gathering over the Adriatic, enough time, I thought, to buy this evening's boat ticket to Split and climb to the castle before it starts raining. It did. It came down in sheets just as I reached the top of the castle tower. I hastened down, getting soaked, finally finding refuge in the hotel lobby. The rain was not going to let up so I unpacked Die Unsterbilichkeit (Immortality), by Milan Kunder, left by someone on a bench outside the station in Ljubljana. I had read a few paragraphs then and found the German not too difficult and the introduction appealing. A single gesture of an older woman captured for Kunder the timelessness of a woman's inner self and inspired him to write the novel. That got me thinking how traveling can suspend one's orientation to time and place. Everyday we're reminded of our age, through family, friends, and relatives; through our house, the pictures on the walls, the souvenirs from long ago vacations - anchors tethering us to an age and point in time. Traveling alone, you're tethered no longer, you're as old as you like, only the mirror at night keeps you somewhat in check. Keep moving and there's a suspension of place - everything is strange - but since everything is strange everything is the same. You're somewhere but nowhere at the same time. Now, I'm somewhere off the coast of Croatia, by morning, Split, someplace somewhere.
