How Good it is..
How good it is.... how good it is....
When you are on the road, then your mind can wander free; a wonderful release from the bonds of a workaday life, the urban hum-drum, the relentless wheel of busyness Ry and I seem to find ourselves on.
On the road though, your mind is free to wander and to search. You look inward, but where you wish to pause and contemplate, to watch and reflect, at times you end up criticising yourself, becoming acutely aware of your shortcomings, and little worries can creep up on you.
It's such a strange state. On the one hand, you're free and zooming down country roads, eating amazing foods, picking walnuts direct from the tree, discovering the amazing kindness of complete strangers...and on the other, you can be consumed by these interior concerns that grow as you feed them with doubts and concerns.
Luckily, for me....the world constantly shows me the other side of the game. Different vantage points. Inspirations.
I have so much to share with you. Beautiful Bente and her farmhouse of self-reliance, where the garden burst with autumn vegetables, clothes are knitted from wool spun into thread on the wheel...a beautiful pagan woman trying to keep dreams afloat on a rickety old boat in the Barcelona harbour...living there alone while her partner tries to smooth out legal wrangles in a cold northern country, she welcomes guests with a gentle charm that is suffused throughout the whole boat; a grand wooden structure she describes as like 'living in a forest'. The Mistral winds of Provence that whistle through villages high and fierce. You can hear them coming from afar, moaning and gathering speed and whoosing over your little tent, giving you crazy dreams.
Oh so much to share. And sometimes the worries rise up and swallow a whole day, and for what? In Liguria, a total stranger sharing a house and music and history with us...and paintings -- oh the magical paintings on every spare vertical surface. In Firenze, in Tuscany, on the lake where Hannibal slaughtered the Romans and rode elephants.
What about Rome, meeting my family, learning how to gesticulate and how to say 'you're breaking my balls.' Seeing my Nonna's sister, who looked like her, cooked like her, and had the same gentle air. Trying to eat and not to break down, and to swallow that lingering regret, the only regret of my fairly compact life.
Oh so much to share...Today what strikes me are the stories of people. Other people, people you might not glance at twice. Or those who make a big impact with their dreams lived on a grand and gorgeous scale...These two people aren't so different...
The flower seller in Venice, an Indian boy of 23. We told him we didn't want his flowers, just his story...After waxing lyrical about the Taj Mahal...'Madam, you can't realise it. 20,000 people took 20 year to build it....a monument of love madam'...then he told us how he arrived. By foot and bus to Iran, and then somehow to Greece where he payed to be stowed away on a boat to Brindisi. Then he caught a bus to Venice. Now he sells flowers (which he hates, he hates those damn roses) without any papers at all, in a sense without any identity. He lives in a room with 10 other men, only one of who he feels he can trust. He has a degree in Political science from Calcutta University. He believes that every few years, the Italian government offers a moratorium on illegal immigrants, and he'll get papers. He speaks no Italian at all.
His eyes shone as he spoke of his dreams.
Then tonight, researching our next leg, I came across this inspiration...On her site she wrote
"Every dream is given to us with the power to make it come true."
A girl who trusted the world and relied on the kindness of others...she hitch-hiked the world for more than 5 years and documented her incredible journey. Trusting in the universe and in strangers. To read her site is to be inspired by the possibilities that open if you fling yourself into the void without fear.
Kinga died 3 months ago in Ghana from cerebral malaria. Reading her site and viewing her images is an exercise in inspiration; her sense of happiness so visceral.
http://www.kingafreespirit.pl
How good it is....how good it is....
Kimba in Paris
When you are on the road, then your mind can wander free; a wonderful release from the bonds of a workaday life, the urban hum-drum, the relentless wheel of busyness Ry and I seem to find ourselves on.
On the road though, your mind is free to wander and to search. You look inward, but where you wish to pause and contemplate, to watch and reflect, at times you end up criticising yourself, becoming acutely aware of your shortcomings, and little worries can creep up on you.
It's such a strange state. On the one hand, you're free and zooming down country roads, eating amazing foods, picking walnuts direct from the tree, discovering the amazing kindness of complete strangers...and on the other, you can be consumed by these interior concerns that grow as you feed them with doubts and concerns.
Luckily, for me....the world constantly shows me the other side of the game. Different vantage points. Inspirations.
I have so much to share with you. Beautiful Bente and her farmhouse of self-reliance, where the garden burst with autumn vegetables, clothes are knitted from wool spun into thread on the wheel...a beautiful pagan woman trying to keep dreams afloat on a rickety old boat in the Barcelona harbour...living there alone while her partner tries to smooth out legal wrangles in a cold northern country, she welcomes guests with a gentle charm that is suffused throughout the whole boat; a grand wooden structure she describes as like 'living in a forest'. The Mistral winds of Provence that whistle through villages high and fierce. You can hear them coming from afar, moaning and gathering speed and whoosing over your little tent, giving you crazy dreams.
Oh so much to share. And sometimes the worries rise up and swallow a whole day, and for what? In Liguria, a total stranger sharing a house and music and history with us...and paintings -- oh the magical paintings on every spare vertical surface. In Firenze, in Tuscany, on the lake where Hannibal slaughtered the Romans and rode elephants.
What about Rome, meeting my family, learning how to gesticulate and how to say 'you're breaking my balls.' Seeing my Nonna's sister, who looked like her, cooked like her, and had the same gentle air. Trying to eat and not to break down, and to swallow that lingering regret, the only regret of my fairly compact life.
Oh so much to share...Today what strikes me are the stories of people. Other people, people you might not glance at twice. Or those who make a big impact with their dreams lived on a grand and gorgeous scale...These two people aren't so different...
The flower seller in Venice, an Indian boy of 23. We told him we didn't want his flowers, just his story...After waxing lyrical about the Taj Mahal...'Madam, you can't realise it. 20,000 people took 20 year to build it....a monument of love madam'...then he told us how he arrived. By foot and bus to Iran, and then somehow to Greece where he payed to be stowed away on a boat to Brindisi. Then he caught a bus to Venice. Now he sells flowers (which he hates, he hates those damn roses) without any papers at all, in a sense without any identity. He lives in a room with 10 other men, only one of who he feels he can trust. He has a degree in Political science from Calcutta University. He believes that every few years, the Italian government offers a moratorium on illegal immigrants, and he'll get papers. He speaks no Italian at all.
His eyes shone as he spoke of his dreams.
Then tonight, researching our next leg, I came across this inspiration...On her site she wrote
"Every dream is given to us with the power to make it come true."
A girl who trusted the world and relied on the kindness of others...she hitch-hiked the world for more than 5 years and documented her incredible journey. Trusting in the universe and in strangers. To read her site is to be inspired by the possibilities that open if you fling yourself into the void without fear.
Kinga died 3 months ago in Ghana from cerebral malaria. Reading her site and viewing her images is an exercise in inspiration; her sense of happiness so visceral.
http://www.kingafreespirit.pl
How good it is....how good it is....
Kimba in Paris
posted by kimba at 3:06 PM
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Meet your hosts: Kimba and Ryryry
