Traveler's Song

Finding your manhood in foreign countries a-plenty, keeping your wits ahead of the many, decisions and prisms of choices to make, brake, find and take you under OR keep you awake. Blonde hair, blue eyes, arrivals, departures Gate 35. Coming and going and going and coming, buses to airports and shuttles to buses, rushes, white russians, Brussles and buttons... on Swedish made jackets, different shaped sockets, too many hours and flowers and clocks are blurring together to make Swedish sunshine last 18 hours of daytime, sinking in wait-time, not always a good time, yet always all MYTIME.

Happy ending, sad ending... This is why I travel

(Thursday, July 30, 2009)

Last night I slept in a park.

But, I just bought a beer with my back-up credit card, which was previously unusable (primary cash card was lost in Amsterdam) ... so things are looking up.

The culmination of the previous 48 hours has ended on a flat note and has lingered there for the time being. I'd like this melody to soften into a harmonious whole note and fade out slowly with savory satisfaction, but it appears that the maestro has gone missing...

- Wednesday 8:30am -

I stumble off the ferry boat surrounded by high-strung, hormone driven, mostly female Swedish teenagers who presumably have been looking forward to this day for months. They quibble & squabble on their way to the front of the pack in a desperate endeavor to be the first off the boat and see their adolescent stomping grounds for the next two weeks.

After wading my way through this sea of naivete, I get my backpack off the luggage-go-round, I step outside and realize I have no idea where to go. I'm supposed to meet my friend, whom I've only talked to via email, once in the past two weeks. I go back inside.

"Where can I use the internet?" I ask. He has a kind, round face that wrinkles around the perplexity of this unexpected question. He asks for my ferry ticket and turns it over. He draws a small map and explains in well-versed English that the library isn't far from here. I thank him and leave. Back outside.

After wandering around a beautiful port with old buildings on the mainland side, I come across a small park next to a university. I size it up and the pang of possibly sleeping here hits me like a sledgehammer. I tread into the library, with purpose.

After a long, arduous procedure, I register with the library and take to the internet. My two main goals: find a hotel for the night and then find Vendela. Accomplishing both of these would be fantastic! But accomplishing just one of these would suffice as well.

"No hotels available," reads the online website. None. Even the 2,000SEK ($250) options are booked solid and I mention them because after searching for an hour and finding nothing with panic peering 'round the corner, I'd definitely considered this possibility. When you're stuck in a tight spot, money takes a back seat and the typical impulsive spender uses this cliched, yet soothing phrase, "when in Rome" to justify his/her breakdown in financial morals. This situation however, is a little different. I would gladly do whatever it takes to sleep in a bed. I look at the screen and re-read the words, "No hotels available."

Then, out of no where, a flash of hope appears in my inbox. Vendela has written back with her phone number and work place on the island! I'd asked for it at least a week ago and what better timing than to receive it now. Realizing that I won't find a hotel from the library (the clock reads 7:12pm) I decide to cut my losses and make my way to her work to try and meet her there.

First thing's first. I get back to the ferry dock and spend the last of my Kroners (50 in cash) to put my bag in a locker and then I change my boat time for the next day as a fail-safe option. I know that these precautionary moves are keeping me a step ahead but at the same time, in the back of my mind I know I could spend a night with the stars.

I get a cab and go to Venela's restaurant. I've called the phone number she gave me from a pay phone, the library phone and now the cab driver's cell phone. No answer and no message service. It's 9pm. I wait. I walk around and get lost in my imagination. I marvel at the beautifully old castles and thin, cobbled walkways that lead people through this swanky, Euro-island getaway. Over 1,000 years old, I can't help but swim in its history and wonder what people walked these paths so long ago. What were their priorities on nights like this? Were they wondering what their purpose in life was and where their decisions would take them? It's hard to say with so much time between us, but I can't help imagine that at the core of us all, whether now or 1,000 years ago, must lie similar desires, questions and fears that fasten the binding buckles around each of our lives. The relationship between present day and history is invariably so close and yet so far from each other. As I walk these streets, the stone houses reverberate their anomalous nature on every side. I'm lost in the center of a timeless, imaginary world.

I slowly meander away from my day-dream and realize it's getting late. I make my way back to her work place, find a bench and wait again. As I look for the only familiar face I will find, I notice the people around me. Absolutely beautiful. Everyone. Soft, golden skin, matching their long or short silken hair. Bright and shiny jewelry accents their yellow hue and clothing styles I've never seen. Strictly European. Magazines from Albertsons' racks in the flesh. Not intimidating, yet they all have a unique presence, presenting itself.

After looking at so many Swedish faces in the hopes of finding Vendela, I finally give up. I look at my watch and it reads 9:50pm. I foolishly decide to stop waiting and begin my mission to find my location of slumber.

It's a funny thing trying to find a place to sleep... that isn't a bed. In the process, your animal instincts and desires take over. I found myself seeking out flat, grassy areas, prodding them and situating myself so I was comfortable. If I wasn't satisfied, I would move to another area and begin the process all over again. I also contemplated sleeping in one of the old castles (built in 1234A.D.) and nearly did so, until I realized that getting out might be impossible and the thought of tourists walking by a foreigner holding the gate bars, stuck inside an 800 year old building, though hilarious, might be an even bigger predicament than I was already in.

So, I settle down in the park. I find a spot in a small alcove, mostly hidden from a path. In Gotland, the sun goes down around 10p.m. and then rises at 4a.m. Usually, one might be angry when the sun awakens them at 4a.m. but this was not the case for me. The cold, mildewy frost had nestled it's way completely over the green, earthy bed and I, nature's newest edition, would not be spared from it's covetous duvet. Shivering to maintain body heat, my hooded sweatshirt is cinched up to everything but my nose and as the sun peeks into the day, I find solace in getting up and out of this temporary residence.

I get up and start walking. Trying to regain body heat, I look for the McDonalds I had seen the night before, hoping it would be open 24 hours and I could sleep at one of the tables for a couple of hours. However, to my surprise, the landscape has completely changed its appearance since the sun has made its presence. So, I have no other choice than to go back to the ferry dock and retrieve my bag. As soon as i get there, i plan on calling the previous hotels to ask for vacancy and then hopefully book a room with my backup credit card.

When i arrive, I make the necessary calls around 6a.m. and notice people docking the ferry for the first boat back to Stockholm, leaving at 7a.m. I male two calls to the cheapest hotels and find that one of them has increased its price by roughly $100 and the other doesn't pick up at all. With each phone call and no cash, my change is running thin and a crucial decision has to be made.

Either I go back to the library and wait for it to open, call the hotels (which were over $200/night, one day prior) and hope to book one with my limited credit on my backup card, try to meet Vendela at her work, which had previously failed, OR I could play it safe and try to return to the airport two days early in hopes of changing my flight and going home early.

Since the sleep in the park had severely tainted my perception of luck and chance, AND I still had yet to make contact with her, I decide to cut my losses and get on the 7a.m. boat back to Stockholm. A sad ending to what was so promising just 24 hours earlier...

I get back to the airport and find out that my flight is non-refundable/non-changeable. I also quickly realize that my backup credit card has maxed out and I have no other form of currency. I cannot purchase anything over $20 worth and therefore, a beer is acceptable to buy, but not a hotel room. I try to get online to pay my bill (as I have plenty in my checking account) but I'm denied, as it's a Saturday and the payment won't go through until the following Tuesday. Then, I browse my mail and see a message from Vendela! I click on the link and read:

Vendela July 30 at 3:08am

My phone is fucked up! Meet us at my work at 10 tonight! Its gonna be so fun! B-)

I'm crushed. Though she had told me she didn't have any place for me to sleep because she was sharing a place with 6 other workmates, I had previously thought that at least one of them may know of somewhere to crash. This news kills me. But the real pain comes from the fact that I missed her by a mere 15 minutes and I went all the way to Gotland, only to come up 15 minutes short.

EPILOGUE

After spending all day in the airport, racking up bills in collect calls home, trying to talk to my parents to wire transfer me money, I finally get my dad on the phone and he comes to the rescue. He wires me the money and instead of sleeping in the airport, I sleep in a Jumbo-Jet hostel

the next two nights and find my way back to Frankfurt two days later, where I am bumped up to BUSINESS CLASS, because of the flight company over-booking the flight. Thus, this sad story turned into a happy ending... Lovin' life after all.