travel-stories

The Winnebago by Mark Bufano (USA) (


From Oregon Mark also known as Cactus78)
friends of my travels(as well as you others you know who you are..or do you?!)...i have rarely done this but since i have insomnia tonite i thought i would sit for a bit and let you know what has been happening with me( as i can imagine you all have been just dying to know). well, i am now curenttly jobless and semi-homeless(i have a place to stay but you know it's not MINE mine). spent the first few weeks staying fairly low key and just seeing a few friends here and there. those weeks to be honest felt like a few days and i often wonder where all my time goes. something i did last year and did again this year was build a car with 2 other friends for the portland soap box derby. we bulit, now get this, a 1970 scale model of a winnebago. complete with interior wood paneling, wet bar,linoleum floor, the "W" stiping on the outside,spare tire,ladder and wiper bldes. we showed up almost 2 hours late to a warm crowd as they just went ape shit to see the 13 foot long, 5 foot high and 4 foot wide travel vehicle ( most cars are like 6-8 feet)just as we were parking it the weld for the steering broke...yep heros to zeros in ten minutes.but with some friends help and some luck we actually got an electric welder up on to the hill and found some power to weld it back for the 1st race......we went down and it was pure bliss i tell you. we laughed and waved as the crowd yelled their praise.just as we reached the top of the hill after being towed up our axl broke....no fear just more welding and we were back(kind of fiitng since our team name was TIME TO DIE [this worked on so many different levels it was insane])after 2 races we just sat back and drank mixed drinks and beers fromour cache inside the winneago...smoked herb and had just about every type of person stop by admire and most have some shots( you know BOOZE!!) and chill inside. i'm talking white trashers with missing teeth, rastafarians, hipsters,dorks, friends,gangsters...the whole scope....everyone fucking loved it. By end of race day we were fucked and soon was the winny as we took her down for the parade, the axles were dragging and scrapping so we jumped out and some people pushed her over a very steep double grass hill where she came to rest bent up, trashed but still yes but still beautiful. Now you must understand it had to be this good as we were in the local paper the week before showing just a picture of what we were trying to build*(as it was still just barely a frame and we had a reputation to uphold)...so have got some recognition from one being in the paper and then yesterday people coming up all the time to see the beauty that was THE WINNEBAGO. so what now...good question,some more summer events to come and lots of great bands coming here....but of course it's family time and i will head to the deserts of phoenix, arizona to visit my brother and folks.it should be alright and have got my pictures developed to show them and some of you (censored) as well ...i mean some of you.....er uhh sorry quote/unquote other people. other news...hmmmmm well i don't really know what the (f...) to exactly do so i am just chilling watching and enjoying my time being out of the rigmarole of daily "real" life...whatever the (f...) that means. the weather has been great here for the most part and should be for some time still.i thought i had more to say but i guess not. so hello to all of you wherever you may be whether it is still travellin', in school, working or just plain nothing but something, a like me...enjoy it! so that is it for my first installment of a group email. fuck that was lame i hate doing this shit and talking to all those (censored) that...wait am i still typing, what the (f...) oh well.....take 'er sleazy compadres.......m


Meine Sinne by Ingrid B
Meine Sinne, meine Fähigkeit zu genießen, leben in dieser Zeit hoch, höher den je. Von Traeumen, bis zur Musik, körperlicher Ausgeglichenheit bis zu intellektuellen Erkenntnissen oder Hochfahrten, mein Leben als auch meine Täume, mein Tage, Nachmittage und Nächte sind unbeschreiblich schön, weil ich ganz einfach alles hundertprozentig aufnehme und vorallem positiv. Obwohl man mir nicht anmasen koennte, ich waere naiv in dieser Zeit. Nenne man es, typisch Depressivler ala HImmelhochjauchzend bis zu Tode betruebt, nenne man mich Traemerin oder Irrealistin- egal. Was ist schon Realitaet und was ist wahr. Wie hoch koennten die Hoehen schon ohne wahre Tiefen sein, wie groß ist das menschlich- seelische Vermoegen Kleinigkeiten zu schaetzen wenn man nicht die schlechten Seiten des LEbens kennengelernt hat. ERst vor kurzem nach so vielen Jahren, eigentlich wieder aber diesmal vielleicht ausfuehrlicher und intensiver, ist mir klar geworden, warum ich auf Maenner oder Lesben und gewisse Leute so anziehend wirke. Wobei ich in erster Linie dies durch den Umgang mit Maennern erfahren habe. Sie sind ganz einfach nicht in der Lage ihr Leben in vollen Zuegen zu genießen, oder nur minimal, oder sie haben eine voellig ausgepraegte Faehigkeit, ihr Leben geniessen zu koennen, aber dafuer fehlt es ihnen an den anderen wichtigen Dingen des Lebens, was man halt so "Ernst des Lebens nennt." Ich nehme sehr stark an, dass ganz besonders du mich verstehen wirst. Um auf das Thema zurueck zu kommen. Diese Menschen, in erster Linie Maenner, wollen etwas von meiner Lebenslust abhaben, es von mir lernen, es mir aussaugen oder zumindest etwas, nenne man es wiedereinmal wie man wolle- was dahinter steckt ist klar. Diese Menschen, sind bzw. waeren auch ohne Computerzeitalter, zu Robotern geworden. Vielleicht liegt es daran, dass sie sich so sehr darauf konzentriert haben, soviel wie moeglich Geld zu verdienen um ihr Leben damit geniessen zu koennen, obwohl ich schon sehr stark zur Annahme neige, die Oesterreicher und sicher auch die Deutschen leben ganz einfach fuer die Arbeit. ICh auch irgendwie, aber ich geniesse sie- wieder einmal diese Wortwiederholung, mir faellt daweil kein Synonym ein- und nicht nur das. Es ist wirklich ein Geschenk so vielseitig und offen zu sein wie ich es bin. Und mit dieser Aussage, moechte ich auf gar keinen Fall ueberheblich klingen- ich speziell bin ein verkrampfter Feind der Prepotenz- sondern nur meiner Zufriedenheit Ausdruck verleihen. Ich bin ueberaus gluecklich gebuertige auslaendische Oesterreicherin zu sein, oder wie es der Exfreund meiner Schwester mal ausgedrueckt hat "Oesterreicherin zweiter Klasse", den ich weiß - zumindest bilde ich es mir jetzt ein- was fuer ein Geschenk das Leben ist. Dabei moechte ich auf gar keinen Fall ins theistische Tendieren- ich bin ziemlich neutral was den Glauben betrifft. So zwischendurch hoffe ich dich mit meinen ganzen Gedankenstroemen nicht zu langweilen, sondern dir etwas von meinem Gluecksgefuehl, meinen Gedanken und Eindruecken weiterzugeben. Vielleicht liegt es ja in der Luft und du bist sogar in Belfast davon betroffen, oder viellecht kann ich dich ja wenigstens fuer die Dauer dieses Briefes anstecken. Wie wenig Leute sind dazu gewillt oder besser noch, wie wenige haben das Beduefnis ihr Glueck zu teilen und weiterkzugeben. Das ist sicher mit ein Grund. Diese kapitalistische Gesellschaft, diese staendige Angst etwas zu geben ohne etwas oder genausoviel zurueckzubekommen, macht diese Leute krank bzw zu Robotern. Ich finde Bestaetigungen dafuer ueberall. Falls ich mich irre, waere ich erfreut eines Besseren belehrt zu werden. Aber ich denke dass diese ganze Pornographie, diese aktionsluestigen Angebote, von lebensgefaehrlichen Sportarten, bis Hochschaubahnen, wo doch ein normaler Mensch ganz einfach Angst um sein Leben haben muesste und gerne darauf verzichten, statt auch noch schwer verdientes, zeitraubend verdientes Geld dafuer zu bezahlen. Ist das nicht krank? Gerade heute habe ich mit einer sehr intelligenten ueberhaupt nicht senilen 96 jaehrigen Dame gesprochen, die ich seit meinem 5ten Lebenjahr kenne und sehr schaetze und deren Wohl mir natuerlich am Herzen liegt. Die Tiere sind viel intelligenter als die Menschen. Vor lauter Pseudophilosophie, Pseudosozialem oder egal was der Grund dafuer ist, wissen viele Menschen - ganz besonders in Oesterreich nicht- was ganz einfach, das natuerlichste auf der Welt ist. Ob der Grund dafuer die Ueberheblichkeit, also Prepotenz etwas besseres zu sein, intelligenter als die Tiere zu sein, ist, oder der Lauf des heutigen Lebens- kann nicht sein, ich lebe ja auch in dieser Gesellschaft- oder die Medien, vielleicht liegt es ja an allem ein bisschen, aber eine bestimmt Ursache muss es doch dafuer geben. Irgendwo muss es ja mal begonnen haben. Klar das die meisten, diesen Mangel von Elternhaus mitgenommen haben, doch wo hat das begonnen. Man kann doch nicht wirklich glauben dass das an der Rasse liegt und mit der stereotypen Aussage kommen, Ausnahmen bestaetigen die Regeln. Die Menschlichkeit, das Teilen, das soziale Umfeld, zu viel Egoismus usw und sofort, sind Gruende die mir auf Anhieb einfallen wuerden, viellecht hast du ja den Durchblick und kannst mich inspirieren oder aufklaeren. Vielleicht stimmst du mir auch zu. Auf jeden Fall wuensch ich dir wenigstens einen Tropfen von dem Meer voller Zufriedenheit, die ich empfinde und schicke dir viele liebe Gruesse. bussi Ingrid
A casual visit

by Sergio Campanale


http://www.todoadrogue.com.ar/sections/fotos_historia/monumento_esteban_adrogue.jpgHe checked his pocket watch again. It was coming up to six o'clock. The sun was shining brightly in the sea blue cloudless sky. In this intense sunlight the rough green metal seemed almost like Chinese jade. It was an effect Don Fernando found enchanting. He got up and walked towards the little monument once more.

"To the genius Don Fernando De La Rives Sanches Guttierez Pelayo: From the Grateful people: 1901". It read. A wave of pride passed over him as he read it again. "To the GENIUS, Don Fernando De La Rives Sanchez-Guttierez Pelayo: From the grateful people: 1901" from the grateful people!

He removed his silk gloves, closed his eyes, and ran the tip of his bare fingers over the elegantly embossed letters. How gratifying they felt! It was like caressing the skin of a beautiful woman again, yet somehow even that long ago memory of Dona Monserrat's warm delicate flesh seemed to pale into insignificance compared to the satisfaction this cold, lifeless metal now gave him.

He opened his eyes again and took a few steps back.

"To the genius Don Fernando De La Rives Sanches Guttierez Pelayo: From the Grateful people: 1901".

The artist had caught his likeness very well he thought, though he had made his nose perhaps just a little too big. Don Fernando felt strange, looking at himself cast in bronze. It was nothing like looking at a mirror, for a mirror catches your reflection. This was something different, unexplainable. The eyes, though wide beneath the spectacles, had no lights in them, no life. He would have liked them to have felt more alive, silently following passers by like some mischievous child, but he understood that a monument of such importance had to carry a graver tone, so he was prepared to overlook so small a defect. The rest though was perfect.
His eye felt back down to the naked figure by the inscription, the lithe, sinuous little nymph who snaked around the base, her hand outstretched in supplication to his smiling face, exposing her ample, well rounded bosom to the world going by. At her delicate, perfectly formed feet sat an angelic cherub of a baby, his little hand stretching hopefully towards him, though unlike his mother above yet unable to reach. Motherhood and childhood embodied, stretching out to him like a ray of hope from the heavens. The scene so moved Don Fernando that he found himself having to pull out his immaculate monogrammed handkerchief to wipe away a tear.

In the back of his mind a little voice began to scold its master for succumbing to the vice of pride. The genius found this little voice troublesome, for he feared there might be some truth in its lamentations. Was he being too proud? Was he now being what had never been in his own lifetime, vain? His head told him yes, but his heart knew otherwise.
"Of course you didn't do it for this!" Don Fernando told himself as he contemplated his own epitaph. "You never once thought about the fame or the recognition, nor did you ever act according to the dictates of your ego. What you did was for the benefit of all. THEIR well-being was your guiding star, your glittering inspiration. No, Don Fernando De La Rives Sanches Guttierez Pelayo, genius! You of all men, can look at yourself in the mirror and truly say that you spent your life selflessly. That you gave your every moment to the betterment of those around you, and their children, and their children's children, those very souls passing by you as you speak." He took a deep breath of air and allowed his broad chest to puff out just slightly. "No, Don Fernando, you have done nothing to be ashamed about! You have every right to feel proud!"

He took a few steps back, letting the space give the monument a fresh perspective with every pace, until he found himself pressed up against a tree. He sat himself back down on the wire-framed bench, and rested his hands on his ivory tipped cane.

"No, Don Fernando. You should feel proud, proud that the city fathers valued your humble contribution so much that they saw to it no one would ever forget!"
He lent down and rested his head upon the back of his strong gloved hands.


"No, Don Fernando. No one will ever forget you!"

The young woman looked at her watch. It was just after six o'clock, and she had little idea how to kill these two hours she had spare. There was no chance of getting a table at the Café de los Reyes. It was full to the brim, as always was on a Sunday afternoon. There might be a table at the Café Lope de Vega, but she had grown a little weary of that place. It did not have the same charm as the Reyes, and the coffee there was not as good. In fact she only ever went there when there wasn't a table at the Reyes and this, she now reflected, was no basis for choosing somewhere to lose two hours of her life, no matter how worthless they seemed.

The sun was still shining, and the woman stopped for a moment to let herself absorb its precious rays. It was so quiet in the paseo, everything was so still. When she had been younger she hated such stillness, yet recently she found herself appreciating such moments, savouring them as one would savour a rare and expensive delicacy which very unobtainability makes it so desirable.

There was an empty bench right beside her, empty and inviting. She thought the matter over for a second then sat herself down. She finally put down the bag, which had been weighing on her arm since she had left the house. The end of the rolled-up magazine protruded provocatively from the top of the bag, and she found herself unable to resist the temptation to pull it out. Mechanically, she opened it and began to leaf through its glossy pages, yet it gave her neither pleasure nor satisfaction. It just did not feel right. She closed the magazine again and put it straight back into her bag. It was quite clear that her mind craved no such distractions. This quiet perfection was all the diversion she would need.
She lay back on the wire bench and shut her eyes, hoping perhaps to catch a few moments of sleep. The breeze whistled gently through her ears like a lullaby, and the rest descended upon her. Some moments later she opened them again, and found herself looking directly into the eyes of a moustachioed, bespectacled man before her. She kept the gaze for a few moments then pulled away, yet somehow it was if the man was still watching her.

The young woman craned forward and gazed at the bronze bust :

"To the genius Don Fernando De La Rives Sanches Guttierez Pelayo: From the Grateful people: 1901".


Like the rest of the Paseo, Don Fernando had committed herself to her memory. He had been there yesterday, he was here today, he would no doubt be there tomorrow as well, a friend whose constancy was second to none. Yes, Don Fernando DeLa Rives had become a friend alright. She found his rounded, serene face strangely reassuring, like that of a perfect uncle one dreams of having, someone you could talk to when you had problems, someone whom you knew would listen, someone you knew would always have the answers in his pocketÂ… Many times in fact she fancied she was having a conversation of sorts with him, a conversation without words. He made her feel at peace like few others could.

"To the genius Don Fernando De La Rives Sanches Guttierez Pelayo: From the Grateful people: 1901".


Who the hell was "To the genius Don Fernando De La Rives Sanches Guttierez Pelayo?

It was a question she had asked herself many times. It was obvious he had been a man of some importance, otherwise they would not have dedicated a memorial to him in the Paseo De Las Columbias. But who was he? What had he done so special? How was he, of all his contemporaries, distinguished enough to earn the gratitude of a grateful people? What liberating ray of hope was this bearded old man in a hefty frock coat offering below? His name, as his face, had become part of her consciousness, yet she had absolutely nothing to connect them to apart from a date, and this frustrated her. She moved in closer and stared deeply into those serene bronze eyes behind the tiny turn of the century spectacles.

"Who are you?"

The Don replied with a smile and an enigmatic silence.
In the absence of any facts she had created a story for him over the years, that he was a doctor, a very important doctor who had founded a hospital in the city for the poor, for poor women and children, whom he treated and cured absolutely free of charge. That was why the naked lady and her child were reaching up to him. Yes, a great humanitarian, a wise, kind benefactor, guardian angel of the cities poor and needy. She had grown to like this story. It corroborated perfectly with her view of the Don as her own personal, kindly, protective uncle Fernando. Under the hot sunlight, it made her feel warmer still.

She looked at her watch and saw to her amazement that almost an hour had passed. An hour spent in the open air doing absolutely nothing. As she got up to leave she turned one last time to the smiling old man in the hefty frock coat and spectacles "See you tomorrow, Don Fernando!" She sang as she picked up her bag and set off down the Paseo de La Columbias.

Don Fernando De La Rives Sanches Guttierez Pelayo rested his round, full face on his large, gloved hands and looked into his own bronze eyes once again.

"No, Don Fernando." He told himself "No one will ever forget what you did for this city!


Originally written in 2002 and sent to zebras54  by c) sergio campanale
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