All Of Monday’s Reasons - 8
8. Leaving Brindisi
Map (at sea, but the map won’t accept that as a location)
I boarded the European Spirit an hour early, before the other passengers and their cars, and found a bench on the top deck at the back of the ship. I stretched out on the seat and opened my beer with my penknife.
The sun was setting over Brindisi when we set sail. I started talking to an American sitting next to me.
“So,” I said, “what did you think of Brindisi?”
“It was…-shady.”
“Brilliant,” I said.
“Yes. I think shady would sum up this town.”
“In a nutshell.”
“Are you talking about Brindisi?” said a lady in her mid-twenties. She wore a long flowery dress and was reminiscent of the elegant Victorian colonialists who travelled in totally unsuitable clothing. She was very attractive.
The American man smiled at her. “What a town.”
We exchanged brief explanations of our origins, where we had been, and where we were going.
His name was John and he taught Mechanical Engineering at a Californian University. He was twenty-eight, wore his hair in a ponytail and spoke a lot like Jack Nicholson, but I think he was laying it thick her account.
He had been to Pamplona to see the running of the bulls.
“What I’ve been looking for everywhere,” he said, “is Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises.”
I reached into my rucksack.
“I’ve been searching every English bookshop I can find,” he continued, “but no one has it.”
I showed him my copy.
He looked at it as if it were a large precious stone. “How near are you to finishing?”
“Not too far, I’ll probably finish it tonight.”
“I’ll buy it off you. Really. Could you use the money?”
Stupid question. I could use the money like I could use a shower. Still, I knew this book would be a lifeline in lonely times when I could not find a friend, a circumstance which thankfully hadn’t arisen yet. Unless he was offering large amounts, I wouldn’t sell it. John’s attention soon turned back to the lady.
“So, where might you be from?”
“Where do you think?” She had an indiscernible American accent; to me anyway.
“Midwest,” said John, “Wyoming.”
She looked shocked and became self conscious. “How did you know I was from Wyoming?” She looked down at the dress she was wearing.
I laughed and John threw her a smile of extraordinary smugness.
Her name was Susan. She was twenty-six and it was her first time outside of the States. Much to John’s delight, they were both going to Corfu. John was travelling with a twenty eight year old friend called Frank, who was also from California.
Frank was the sort of person who took a genuine interest in other people.
“God, I can’t believe you’re travelling by yourself.”
I gave him a quizzical look.
“If I even wanted to go into town when I was at home, I would have to do it under my father’s strict regulations which he would have me agree to before I left the house. Do you, I mean, your parents do know where you are?”
When you travel by yourself, some people think you’re trying to hide something from them. You might be a fugitive, a recluse, an adventurer, a vagabond, a dreamer, anything.
“My parents know I’m in Europe with a round trip ticket.”
“Wow. Think how many years left you’ve got and you’ve done so much.”
“Still a lot more to do,” I said.
“True.”
“And we’re doing it,” I said.
“Good point.”
Then a fashion-conscious girl sat between me and John. The boat was filling up now. She introduced herself somewhat formally. Her name was Adriana, she was twenty three and came from Brazil. Frank took an immediate interest in her, as John was preoccupied with Susan from Wyoming, and they started talking intimately.
John turned back to me.
“You know, I had this student about a year ago now, and one day he decided he wanted to be a French horn player. He realised that he would rather make a career of music than engineering, and he wanted to start right away.
“He came to me with this problem, well into his second year of college. He obviously felt very strongly about it, so I said ‘Go ahead. If that’s what you want to do, do it. If you really feel strongly, do it now. Quit today and play the horn. Be happy. Control your own destiny.’
“So he started packing that day. Naturally, I got in trouble for letting this guy go, because I’m supposed to shape these guys’ futures and all that. I go to his recitals every so often, and he’s a great musician. Nice guy, too. Most of all, he’s happy now. We still keep in touch.”
He said that he got away with letting the student go because he is the best professor in the faculty. He said he is better than teachers there twice his age because they treat it like a nine to five job.
Call me a cynic, but I wondered for whose benefit this story was. I guessed Susan’s. Regardless, it was clear that John loved teaching. He said that he could be making three times his current pay in the engineering field, but he didn’t because he enjoyed doing what he did. And because he enjoyed it, he was dedicated, and it stood to reason that he worked his hardest, thereby being the best there is, therefore doing what he wanted and getting away with it. It seemed a nice rut to get into.
Susan laughed, sighed and said, “Hmm. Let’s go to bed,” right as he was talking. He didn’t respond, but he did hear her, because he hesitated in mid-sentence at that point.
After half an hour of talking, Adriana and Frank got up and walked to the lower decks.
”There goes my friend to get laid again,” said John, “He’s really going to get himself into trouble sometime.” We watched them disappear down the stairs.
I spread out my mat and sleeping bag and stripped off down to my shorts and t-shirt. I hadn’t undressed for three days. I folded my clothes into a pillow, I went to sleep immediately.