On The Road Home
Trip Start
Jan 23, 2006
1
7
Trip End
Mar 21, 2006
Rajasthan, India
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
But, the roads and streets of Rajasthan squelched that pleasure. And, finally, forced this weary traveler to surrender and return home. I traveled in just about every conveyance: Walking, walking and more walking; Dangerous, shaking cycle rickshaws; Noisy, noxious tuk tuks; Cramped cars; Congested, choking busses; Trains both comfortable & crowded.
The excitement of these new forms of travel quickly became a test of endurance. The final blow to my ego and endurance fell during a sleepless night; in a 4 bunk sleeper on a 16 hour train ride (over 6 hours late). I had enough while waiting for sunrise, in the rattle & darkness of that lavatory sized cabin; surrounded by 3 sleeping room-mates. My room-mates were interesting people; and we spent a few hours in pleasant conversation. But their company could not repair the damage of dust, dirt and noxious fumes, which produced my pre-dawn smoker's cough.
I always take some reading material on these solitary journeys. This time, 3 books: "Best Short Stories of Modern Age", Nabokov's "Lolita, Annotated Edition" & Shakespeare's "The Tempest". On that cramped bunk, under a dim reading light, I read Conrad's "Youth"; Chekhov's "Gooseberries" & Hemingway's "A Clean, Well-Lighted Place". Their words lighted that dark night of travel.
Dear Reader, You have endured enough of my prattle, or perhaps palaver, and are now pardoned. Now, I'll quote a passage from Joseph Conrad's "Youth" because it is an apt, evocative and a "thought tormented" conclusion to this belles lettres.
Conrad, A Pole, wrote great sea stories using equally great English prose. In "Youth" Marlowe, one of Conrad's favorite narrators, is telling the story of his youthful desire to travel the Seas and see the Exotic East. His audience is a small group old, successful men; who, like him, have traveled the Seas as youthful merchant sailors. Marlowe is reaching the end of his story, which is punctuated with many draughts of Claret; when he recounts his first, youthful encounter with the East.
"I pulled back, made fast to the jetty, and then went to sleep at last. I had faced the silence of the East. I had heard some of its language. But when I opened my eyes again the silence was as complete as though it had never been broken. I was lying in a flood of light, and the sky never looked so far, so high, before. I opened my eyes and lay without moving. And then I saw the men of the East - they were looking at me. The whole length of the jetty was full of people. I saw brown, bronze, yellow faces, the black eyes, the glitter, the color of an Eastern crowd."
A brief interval and Marlowe continues:
"The East looked at them without a sound. I have known its fascination since; I have seen the mysterious shores, the still water, the lands of brown nations, where stealthy Nemesis lies in wait, pursues, overtakes so many of the conquering race, who are proud of their wisdom, of their knowledge, of their strength. But for me all the East is contained in that vision of my youth. It is all in that moment when I opened my young eyes on it. I came upon it from a tussle with the sea - and I was young - and I saw it looking at me. And this is all that is left of it! Only a moment: a moment of strength, of romance, of glamour - of youth!... A flick of sunshine upon a strange shore, the time to remember, the time for a sigh, and - good-by!- Night - Goodbye...! He Drank. Ah! The good old time - the good old time. Youth and the sea. Glamour and the sea! The good strong sea, the salt, bitter sea, that could whisper to you and roar at you and knock your breath out of you. He drank again. By all that's wonderful it is the sea, I believe, the sea itself - or is it youth alone? Who can tell? But you here - you all had something out of life: money, love - whatever one gets on shore - and, tell me, wasn't that the best time, that time when we were young at sea; young and had nothing, on the sea that gives nothing, except hard knocks - and sometimes a chance to feel your strength - that only - what you all regret? And we all nodded at him: the man of finance, the man of accounts, the man of law, we all nodded at him over the polished table that like a still sheet of brown water reflected our faces, lined, wrinkled; our faces marked by toil, by deceptions, by success, by love; our weary eyes looking still, looking always, looking anxiously for something out of life, that while it is expected is already gone - has passed unseen, in a sigh, in a flash - together with youth, with the strength, with the romance of illusions".
I'll stop for now; except for one final postscript; an aside to Gerry, Lud and other like minded solipsists. Sometimes travel and discovery are entirely cerebral. What will I find around that bend in Gerry Sielaff's or Gregor Samsa's brain? Is there some strange new idea hidden in the culvert of Lud's or Clare Quilty's mind?
Enough already! Oy Vey! Stop! Stop! Stop! On to the pictures and the blessed ending of this balderdash - this sweet and sour wort; more commonly known to this harmless lexicographer as "beer talk".
