Remembering

I know I must sound like a broken record by now but I will say again: this trip has been anything but easy. I feel so exhausted. Mentally, physically, emotionally. We have seen so many incredible things but we are now so tired. At least we now have a place to relax. I just hope that I can recover from everything quickly. 

Ireland is the exact opposite of London. It is quiet, calm, secluded, and kind. The weather isn’t great at all, it is constantly windy and raining. This doesn’t seem appealing when we have to walk to town. That aside, like I said, Ireland is wonderful. It is gorgeous and the people are gracious. I have yet to meet an unfriendly Irishman. 

I have so many people, things, and places to write about on this trip that it would probably take me a good month to get it all out. I have seen so many colorful and unique things. Europe is so much different than the States. It is neither good nor bad. Just different. 

For example, on the way up to Scotland Egil and I sat side by side on a high speed train. It twisted and turned through cities, countryside, and the oceanside. There I was, peacefully knitting away as Egil dozed off next to me when a strange fellow appeared in front of us. He leaned against the wall of the train, with a cup of coffee in hand. He seemed to just appear in front of us. I had not seen him approach. 

His attire was quite strange within itself. He sported a baby blue skin tight shirt which accentuated his bulging belly. The jeans were no less tight and the seemed to be suffocating his legs. Pointy leather shoes peaked out from the flare of his pants and shone like he had purchased them the day before. Wrapped around one of his pudgy fingers was a silver skull ring. Chains and necklaces fell from his round, thick neck. His hair line was taking over his head and their wasn’t much hair on the back of his skull. I am assuming that he was at least fifty. 

The man had been bothering another young lady who sat across from us. She had buried her face in a book and politely excused herself from the conversation. He still tried to talk to her for a good ten minutes before he took the hint when she wouldn’t answer. I wanted to move to another seat but everything else was taken.

“You from here?” He asked gruffly in an unmistakable Scottish accent.

 I was a bit caught of guard that he began to speak to us, although I had noticed him watching us for quite awhile and already felt a bit uneasy. We mumbled something to the effect of, “No. California.” I thought that would shut him up. It didn’t.

He plunked himself down in the seat across from me. For the next hour, he would not stop talking. At one point I even put on my headphones to drown him out and even that didn’t stop him. Egil kept him a bit more occupied than I did. I had enough when he pulled out his flip and began to film me, asking stupid questions like: Do you model? Are you an actress? 

The man felt the need to explain his entire life story to us. Apparently he was a well known musician (I didn’t buy it) and he traveled to California regularly to see his band (which consisted of his buddy’s sons). On and on he droned about his love affairs, his music, and his adventures. I only paid attention to him when his lip on the lower right hand side began to bleed. Never once did he touch it with his hands. Instead, he would thrust his tongue onto the sore and pull the tiny pool of blood back into his mouth. It reminded me so much of the death-eaters in Harry Potter that I was a little shocked. This action that he continued to preform every few moments disgusted me. I literally felt sick to my stomach. Something about the way that it just kept bleeding made me feel uncomfortable. 

I was so excited when the train finally entered Edinburgh station. He tried to get close enough to me to give me a hug good-bye. I basically ran off of the train. Egil, however, shook his hand. I do not remember the man’s name. 

I have been spending the past few days recovering and looking through old photos. When I see photos from 2007 I always feel so nostalgic. Life back then seemed to always be exciting, bright, and innocent. Sixteen felt so old then yet when I think about it now I didn’t know much at all. Maybe I still don’t. 

I can still vividly feel the emotions I felt then. It’s as though I am standing back in Piedmont, surrounded by all of my friends who are climbing nearby trees or flying down the pavement on their skateboards. Or as though I am at Meg’s house again, eating dinner with her family as though I was their own daughter. I can close my eyes and almost fully recreate scenes from my life then. When I open them, however, the tangible feeling is gone. 

At the same time, although my life back then seemed much easier and happier than it does now, I do not think it was. I endured so many years of constant emotional upheaval for many different reasons. One of them being I wanted so badly to be accepted and loved by someone who wasn’t interested in doing so. Those are memories that I can remember more vividly then others. Probably because one tends to remember the bad before one remembers the good.

So many memories still flood my head from that time period. Emily and I went to Wes’s house for a bonfire. It was a typical summer night in the bay area, warm with a slight twinge of chill from the far off fog. When we arrived, I could feel the tension in the air from him. All the other boys pretended like they didn’t notice. I cannot say I blamed them at all. In fact, I am still surprised to this day that they lived with the constant drama we created. 

A small fire sent orange glowing light onto all that surrounded it. We all sat in chairs and told stories, drinking beer and smoking cigarettes. Brendan (I believe) told Hugh, who was extremely intoxicated, that he had spiders crawling all over his half naked body. Hugh, who was deathly afraid of spiders, proceeded to throw himself into the fire before him in the hopes of killing the imaginary vermin. Amos had to grab his writhing body and pull him from the flames before he severely burned his skin. Everyone around laughed with the taste of alcohol on their breath as Hugh continued to roll in the grass. 

He and I completely ignored each other in the hopes of not creating any scene. I approached him anyway. We immediately began to bicker and fight. Both of us had been drinking, as always, so our judgement was quite impaired. The longer we spoke, the more upset I became. I always asked the same questions and never got an answer. Emily became frustrated and told me that we had to leave. I never wanted to leave the argument. To this day I do not know what kept me so intrigued by him. I would have done anything he asked in order for him to accept me and see me in the way I wished. I know now that I should have let him be. 

I have positive memories as well. In fact, the positive most definitely outweighs the negative. I can still picture Meg and I waking up side by side in our quaint room in Kauai, with the many calls from nearby birds pulling us from our slumber. The sun shined straight into our newly opened eyes and she always commented on how loud the stupid birds were. We would pull on our bathing suits, slip on a pair of shorts, and walk to the main house for breakfast. 

One morning, Meg woke up and exclaimed that she was missing an earplug. Neither of us had woken up during the night, or so we thought, so we ravaged the bed until everything was on the floor. No earplug. We must have searched for at least a half an hour until we finally gave up. She was a bit frustrated as the earplugs were the only way from keeping the birds out of her head. We decided that the earplug was a lost cause. Meg agreed and walked into the bathroom. She emerged a few moments later to tell me that the earplug was in the toilet. We still, to this day, do not know how it got there.

These fond memories are so wonderful that I wish I could go back to that place, if only for a day. At the same time, I feel as though I have almost outgrown them. Even though we are the same people now that we were then, our interests and focuses have changed dramatically. It is a sad but exciting truth.