TRAVEL DIARY

A weblog regularly updated by Jodi Rose.

Monday, January 9, 2006

11:00 PM
Posted by jodi rose

I walk down to the river and the bridge twice today. First thing this morning, as the sunshine and blue sky are irresistible, thinking about guarding and love and fear and borders. Happy to be able to wander along the banks of the Danube and reflect on life.

Although of course it will fade and I will become restless again.
Immersed myself in Magris' Danube tome again, who says:
"The traveller is fleeing from the restrictions of reality, that trap him in repetition after repetition, and seeks for freedom and the future. Or rather, the possibility of a future that is still open, and subject to choice..."

Yes, indeed, that is the heart of the matter - subject to choice.
I have the sense that life is putting on the brakes for a while, after hurtling along at top speed maybe I do need to slow down and arrive.
Somewhere. Anywhere? Could this be simply the right time for me to be more at home in the world, and the actual location is irrelevant?
Or is there something particular and special about this place, these people? The spirit of the world, of the river, of the Magyar tradition.

Visit the bridge again at sunset. She is cool, calm and green in the fading pink-orange hues, and suddenly my face is freezing. Repair to the Green Pub for a warming tonic, where a few of my teenage acqaintances are recovering from their first day back at school, and Zoli comes in for a flying visit, tells me he is getting the Hungarian music he promised me for the sonic intervention and radio program.

Back home to write and read more, bake a batch of nigella's blueberry muffins - delicious if I do say so myself - I call Andrea to arrange our next meeting, so she can taste them. You're a better housewife than I am, she laughs - well, it's easy for me, I don't actually have a husband or child to look after! She tells me she misses me, as does Mary - I find this openness incredibly charming. And unusual.

A little more from Magris, on Lukacs, writer and philosopher whose young love of the woman Irma "had represented his yearning to live, the figure which symbolised the impossibility of reconciling existence with the work of art, genuine living with everyday banality."

Sometimes, everyday banality isn't so bad ;)
And it's a good thing I made it back from Bratislava when I did, or this strange fate could easily befall me: "Ladislav Novomesky, the greatest 19th Century Slovak poet, has a poem about a year he lost in a cafe, just like leaving behind an old umbrella. But things turn up again, and the umbrellas of our lives, left here and there over the years, one time or another end up in our hands again."

ahhh yes, I can't really tell you what I'm thinking right now, but am sure the umbrella of my life will continue to unfurl and provide shelter from the winds of uncertainty and misdirection.