Outsider’s Insights

I had the perfect day: sun, a light off-shore wind and superb waves. (referee says 1:1)
My camping companions had to leave in the evening though. They have been too loud too many times too late at night and were thrown out. But I will travel back this week as well (leaves time to visit friends back home).

Every morning, some parts of the beach are full of waste from last night’s beach sit-in.
I wonder why people don’t take their rubbish. It’s so stupid.
Are they so inebriated that they return the next morning and say: “Gosh! Who the f,;& left all that rubbish here? They really must be some idiots!”
Or is it that they just don’t care?
Understanding humans…

My fourth day in St. Girons Plage. There are two campsites and that’s about it with civilization. But that’s very nice compared to the crowds in Hendaye, Biarritz and Vieux Bouceau (where I just stopped for about one hour; horrible place)
A nice beach, pine trees and waves. Until now too high and wild to ride; it was this bad because of a hurrican on the American coast. At least, so they say. But I have almost a week left. And I camp with very funny persons, so the days without surfing don’t drag on at all.
Two nights ago, we sat next to the campsite’s “mainroad” and watched people passing by all night long. This may not sound very interesting, but we had loads of fun.
For last night a big storm was announced, but it seems to have us passed by. Just a lot of rain in the night and a rough wind in the evening.

So much for surfing today. Went with Nick (from Australia) to the beach and thought, he could give me good advice. But there were no waves higher than let’s say 20-30 cm.
Went to my favourite place instead, a little rock at the ocean, where I had to climb up a bit further every 15 minutes as the water was rising.
And I went swimming. That was a stinging sensation. But now the skin looks pretty good.
Tomorrow or the day after I will travel up north.

No waves in Hendaye, and too many people for such a small place. So I moved on to Biarritz. A guy gave me a lift from Hendaye to St. Jean de Luz and I thought: Damn, he looks gay as hell. Then I thought: Well, looks can be deceiving. But then he started talking about nudism and almost begged me to wait for him three hours, so he could give me a lift to Biarritz when he would finish work.
I took the bus instead, found a place to stay (not easy right now) and went to the beach, rented a surf-board and hit the water.
Well, not only the water, as it was high tide and the rocks pretty well disguised. So I got abrasions on the shin, the ankle, two toes and one finger. Not bad for the first day. As the beach-guard told me while disinfecting the wounds:
C’est bon pour s’habituer.
And he is right: I had forgotten, how powerful the ocean can be. So better to get accustomed to it through abrasions rather than with broken bones.
Did you know that abrasions start bleeding only when you leave the water? It looked pretty rough when I returned the board: My lower left leg was quite red.
But nothing serious, and tomorrow I will surf, when there is low tide.
Nice thought, abrasions in salt-water. Ouch!

Knowing, it is very difficult to get out of big cities, I took a regional train to get out of Paris and near the highway. But my map played tricks on me, so after one hour I was back in Paris, but finally near the highway.
When it started raining cats and dogs. I hoped, the rain would trigger the charity-button, but I did not get a lift for almost three hours.
After that it went very smooth, just one stop til Orleans and there I found a truck-driver from Ecuador, who was going to Spain. We rode till one o’clock in the night, stopped just after the Spanish border and slept in the truck in two bunk beds.
He wanted to learn English, but his pronounciation was somewhat exotic. With his Spanish I also had problems, as I am not used to American Spanish. So we muddled through a lot of topics, but I lost the plot several times, especially when I grew more and more tired. Every now and then I crawled in the back to get some sleep, which is not so easy when the road is a bit bumpy.
A strenuous ride, but a very long one.
And this morning, in Hendaye, I saw the Atlantic ocean again. Yippieee.

So, I started travelling on Thursday. I got i.a. lifts by
- an electronic engineer (we got into a traffic jam, because an acid-loaden truck had an accident, so the street was blocked)
- a young couple (i had to lie-sit in the trunk on a mattress while we passed through belgium)
- Michelle, a 60-years-old lady (i took care of her strong dog while she drank coffee)
This lady was very anxious of nobles and rich persons, but she said to give my address to a successful script writer she knows.
And she invited me to stay in Paris. She was looking after a friend’s appartment in one of the best quartiers in Paris, so I did not decline. 4000 Euro was the monthly rent, she said, and it really looked like it.
But when she finally reached her friend on the phone, we had a problem. Her friend and her husband were outraged, wanted me (and the old lady!) out, said they would call the police etc.
So I decided it’s best to leave quickly. Michelle felt so embarrassed because of her friends that she gave me money for a hotel. Nice move.
I had a nice, but rainy night in a hotel near le Sacre-Coeur, strolled through Montmartre and continued the next day.

Edited on Aug 16th 2004, 18:29 by Outsider

My best friend moved away. (Roughly 350 km) We lived in the same city for almost eight years, and now a new period is to start in our friendship. What makes it easier: though we lived very close to each other (shortest distance: 300 metres), we often used to have phonecalls lasting several hours.
In addition, another good friend is migrating to Roma. And that is much further away. We met yesterday to say goodbye and it was quite sad.
I believe that it is possible to keep up relationships even over a long distance. But not being possible to go for a walk in the park or to go to the movies or just to meet for an ice-cream…
Not many good friends left here. Actually, just one! All the others are scattered througout the country.

Edited on Aug 11th 2004, 19:24 by Outsider

A quiet night in a big city. The air is a bit foggy. A forgotten bridge. Two black cars arrive at each end and stop with a sudden break. The agents - they know each other, because they worked together for quite some time - move cautiously towards each other.
The older one knows, they are treading on dangerous ground. One wrong move, and the peace after the final battle will be gone. But then it happens: they almost had finished the exchange of the last hostages and remnants of their former cooperation, when the younger agent cannot stop himself, flinges a knife right at the stomach of his former partner. A fast move prevents deeper injuries, but what was left of mutual trust is gone. The meeting ends - quick and cold.
Back in their agencies, the older one makes a last phone call: that it was not necessary to end it like that. But all is sad and said and done. The younger one has to learn a lot. About being honest. About choosing the right moment. But the older one leans back and thinks: “It is no longer of my concern.” Time will tell, if they ever meet again.

I almost lost my new character. During the Con’s last night, I was turned into a small frog (by a beautiful woman, but still). So I hopped through the camp to find all the persons I have had close contact with. My aim: croaking to draw attention, so they will start thinking that there is something special about this frog. But nobody did a useful thing. Jesus! M. and B. were in a huge outtime bubble, B. just said, oh, I have nothing against frogs. I had already decided to jump into the nearest river when finally another ex-frog came and persuaded the responsible frog-woman to change my shape again. That really was a close call. And all that would have been necessary, was a small ritual.
(By the way, B. played a shaman.)
The good thing about it: The frog-woman and I hopped along pretty well.