Looking to get to Ireland

The Madrid airport was like any other airport; it was humongous! And she couldn't find the Air Lingus counter anywhere. Nothing was open yet, so there was no one who worked there to ask. She tried asking other travelers to no avail. It was like there was some secret gateway to Ireland.

Tired of wandering she decided to sit down and just wait till everything opened in another 15 minutes. At that point she noticed a girl with lovely auburn/red hair and freckles. The girl looked Irish, so she sat down near her, hoping for the best (and for some reason she did not ask the red haired girl if she was flying to Dublin).

While writing in her journal, she looked up and noticed that the girl had a luggage tag on her bag saying "Air Lingus"! Silently she laughed, impressed with her genius! Not long later, a woman opened up the booth across from the girl and put up the sign for Air Lingus. Secret gateway to Ireland found!

At the Edge of a cliff

How can one convey the feeling of standing at the edge of a cliff? The smell of the moist sea air is all around you. Breathing it in seems to fill your lungs with a more pure form of oxygen and the soft breeze seems to make it all the more invigorating. To simply smell the air, you feel wholly freshened.

You can see until forever at the edge of a cliff. Miles and miles and miles of sea. Soft waves that continue endlessly and near the base of the cliffs; hard thrashes against the jagged rocks.

To stand at the edge of a cliff, you feel pulled to the edge- wanting to step closer and closer. The sea attracts like a magnet; she draws you to her. You could climb down the side; its not too steep. But what if her power becomes stronger and her pull causes you to just jump in? Would you be strong enough to resist her lure? So enticing! Almost like a silent Siren song.

All of your senses combine their perceptions to create one of the most energizing feelings of your life. Can you ever make someone understand these feelings if they've never enjoyed the experience?

(Inspired by the cliffs of Mallorca)

On Cumberland St.

This past summer I worked outside on the street. I had the fortune to be able to watch a lot of people going about doing their daily business. This ares is a very rich area of the city, so there were many well dressed people and many expensive cars. I saw an Aston Martins, various Lamborghini's, and many other cars that caught my eye, but I had no idea of their name.

One day there were 4 or 5 boys around 15 years old walking about. They really seemed to be waiting for something and I was really curious, especially since they all had cameras in their hands or around their necks. All of a sudden all the boys got very excited and two ran to the other side of the street. They began to snap pictures in a flurry as a bright orange Lamborghini drove past. Luckily for the boys there was construction going on all that summer, so the car was brought to a halt. The boys crowded around and snapped photos of the motorized orange gem. After a good minute the construction man directed the still cars to go ahead and the Lamborghini drove off with a crew of boy photographers trailing.

I saw the boys around for the next few days, trailing only Lamborghinis with their lenses and then I never saw them again. It made me wonder who they were. Did they live in the city? Were they only visiting? Why only Lambourghinis? Some of the many unanswered questions about people I saw that summer. And I'm sure I shall never know the answers.

Control on the S1

After a day of wandering the streets of Munich and an evening spent waiting at an internet café, she finally went to Hauptbahnhof station to take the train. It was 10: 45 pm. She had just been to the train station two days prior to see her friend Jeime off. Even so, she was still amazed that she found S1 line again- that station is massive! (It is a subway station, a train station to far away places like Venice- where she had come from, and there were local trains to the towns outside of Munich)

The temperature was dropping everyday in Munich. She tried to hold out with just her sweater, but she walked around outside everyday, so she found it necessary to purchase a scarf. The scarf would really just end up being packed away for the duration of the trip because she was heading to warmer climates in the morning -and she was excited! But first she had to make it through the night, since her flight was leaving at 6:30 the next morning. A clever reader might question why she was leaving so late at night when her flight was so early in the morning. That is precisely it- taking the first train of the morning was risky; she might miss her flight. Besides, staying another night at the hostel would cost her. And Europe is expensive, so she was penny pinching.

When she was seeing Jeime off, she was able to go right down to the track. Things went mostly on the "honour system"; meaning that the rider would purchase a ticket and get it stamped before entering the train. Sometimes "control" would come by and check tickets, but not always. Jeime had bought a ticket, but it was expensive -€9! Jeime said she regretted it. It would be much cheaper to risk it. So that is what she decided to do. She decided not to buy a ticket!

The train arrived. She got on, sat back and relaxed. It was going to be about 45 minutes before she was at the airport, so she began to write in her journal. After about 20 minutes, she noticed two men in uniforms walk by her to the front of the train. She didn't pay much attention to them at first. Not long afterwards, she noticed the men coming towards the back of the train. They were checking tickets! It was control!

They each took a side of the train and asked everyone for their ticket. As the men came closer, she began to feel very uncomfortable. She knew she didn't have the proper documentation. Suddenly she began to feel this awful feeling in her stomach. She felt like she was a Jew without papers during the Second World War.

They were a lot closer now. She watched them, but tried not to look guilty. They were close enough now, that she could hear them speaking. Something in German, of course. Hearing them speak made her imagine all the more that she was in a movie and the Nazi's were coming to check her papers. She didn't know what to do. She thought about playing 'dumb tourist' and giving the men the unstamped ticket for the -much cheaper-surface train. She didn't think she could get away with it. Plus, what would they do to her? Concentration camps came to her mind. She had one other option; this was the second last train of the night. She could get off at the next station and take the last train! But the train was going through small towns now on the outskirts of Munich, what if the next station was a long way off? What if they got to her before that next station?

As if to quell her fears, the announcement played reassuring her that the next station was approaching. Calmly and discreetly, she picked up her stuff and walked to the doors that were further back on the train. Control was about 7 people from her now. She prayed that the train would be at the next station now. Would Control ask her, even if she was at the doors? What was just a few moments seemed to stretch on for an eternity.

Finally, the train began to slow and finally the doors opened; she couldn't get off fast enough! But she made it! The platform was empty except for a young man who got off at the same time as her. He didn't leave the platform, so she assumed that he had done the same as her to avoid Control. She looked for information on the time of the next train- it would be another 25 minutes. The frigid wind rushed through the tunnels and chilled her to the bone. She was thankful to have bought a scarf. She tried to shove her hands deeper into her the pockets of her hoody. There was nothing to do, but pace the platform until the next train came. Just 25 more minutes...

*Disclaimer: This story is not meant to be racist or against the German people in anyway. It is simply an expression of a feeling in a situation that reminded the author of many movies.

A Cold Day in Munich

It was a chilly day in Munich. She was wearing her warm hoodie and she had just bought a scarf because of the low temperature. With hands in her pockets to keep warm, she ambled along a wooded pathway beside a river. She pondered buying gloves, but she knew she would be flying to warmer temperatures in two days, so why bother? She would not cop out.

The river was nice. It was not very wide and it looked fairly shallow. Up in the distance she saw two pink bodies standing beside the river. Intrigued, she walked a little closer. As she got closer, she saw two men with just a towel on. She was bundled up and they were, well - not dressed! She couldn't believe that they had been in the frigid water! As she was staring in disbelief one of the men dropped his towel and walked jauntily into the cold river! She was appreciative that she was still a ways off, because he was bathing in the nude! Those Europeans she thought... What crazy people!

Just Gardens

While waiting for the bus a man struck up conversation with me. It began with him asking if I knew how long we would be waiting. Moments before I had been on the other side of the street watching the bus I needed pass by. So I told him that it would be a while.

It was raining, but we were standing right next to a building that had a small ledge, so we were not getting very wet. The man carried a shabby, blue duffel bag and he was wearing a plaid coat that made me think of a lumberjack. He soon told me his name: Paul*. He owned a company called "Just Gardens by Paul". I think he had just started it up, but he already had plans for expansion. With great enthusiasm he told me he liked to build things, demonstrating vigorously with his hands. He wanted to branch into construction. Then he apologized for the wild hand motions. I said it was ok and that it is good to have passions. To which he asked what my passions were. And I sighed and said I still don't know. We talked about many things; his sister in Ottawa who was meeting with him about Native land claims (and how long they take), the fact that he was adopted, his childhood in Saskatchewan...

His dark eyes were lively, but glossy. He had been drinking -I could smell it on his breath, but this was not clear to me when I began to talk to him. He was also eager to know about me. He found out my first name when we introduced ourselves, but then later he asked about my "real" name. I said that Megan was my real name. He insisted that Megan was not my real name. I understood that he was asking about my last name after a bit. I said, "McDonald". He looked at my quizzically, so I pointed to the McDonald's Restaurant across the street. "Same as that" I said, and he understood and smiled a little. His face was worn. He had lived for a while- I estimated he was nearly 50.

He asked if I had any children. To my response of "no." He said "four?!" putting up 4 fingers. I laughed and argued with him. "No, I don't have any!" I said smiling. I asked if he had any. "Certainly, not. My bloodline ends here." Paul then told me about his views on kids: He said that there were too many kids in the world and that if he were to ever want kids then he would adopt. "Probably an Asian, or Malaysian, or 'Polynasian' " and he laughed. "Someone that sort of looks like me- that way there would be less questions". I agreed with him.

Paul asked where I was going. I had just bought some groceries and then I was going home to study. He asked about my program. He didn't seem sure that I would find a job with it. I shrugged and said "we'll see what happens". After asking about exams and essays, he told me about his university experience. He went to Trent for English Literature. But he only stayed for a year. He said it wasn't for him. We talked about how it's not for everyone. He said he was amazing at writing essays; it never took him more than one night. He told me the trick was to, "Just write. Don't worry about anything. If you just open up your brain and let things flow then you'll be amazed at what you can come up with". I said I'd have to try his way for my upcoming essay. Reminiscing made him laugh and he said, "I did way too much acid in those days". I laughed and then he said he was just kidding. I told him I'd heard that it was a good way to write creative papers. "Yeah... it is". And he laughed again.

*Name changed to protect privacy