Saturday, 6 October 2007

STEPH Pescara 04/10/07

Dawn at Adriatica.

This morning we’re up at first light to watch the sun rise over the Adriatic. We sit by the shore as fluorescent pinks light bushfire yellows, the silver half moon shining high above our heads. I am aware that all the sky bodies are present: sun, moon, clouds and stars.


I sit with the stillness of morning. I look out to sea. I think: first they came by land, then by sea, then air. Now they come for the summer. I wonder about giving my attention to the invaders, the ruthless ones for whom more is never enough. Simplistic, I know. I wonder if a woman such as myself might have sat by the shore long long ago and watched the boats come . . . traders . . . invaders . . . big boats, wooden boats, mythical mystical boats.

There is a priestess in my imagination calling to the clear still waters of the sea . . .

Dawn at Adriatica.

We return to our wonderful little B&B with its steadily deteriorating breakfasts. On the first morning, as we dined among a riot of artforms, looking out the window through egg-yolk awnings shading candy pink walls, we were served scrambled eggs laden with fresh chopped tomato and a plate of toasted cheese sandwiches. On day 2 it was cold toast spread with cream cheese. Day 3 and the bread wasn’t even toasted, although she did make Ben an omelette. I digress.

We have brekkie, we pack for Ancona. We decide I need a computer. I decide it’s worth the extra weight. We drop our bags at the deposito bagagli at the train station and go Apple-shop hunting. Whether by fluke or destiny’s hand, we find one nearby and I buy my first Apple! Only we can’t pick it up till tomorrow. Which means that the train to Ancona and the ferry to Zadar will have to wait. Time up our sleeves. We find a couch in the corner of a bar, we order water, we roll around laughing as we watch our video footage on Ben’s computer . . .

I am reminded of a conversation I had two days ago with my husband. He was talking about his reluctance to make plans and I agreed that he needed to not make plans. He replied that this applied to me too and I shook my head. No, I said sagely, we have no plans. In fact we had one plan – to walk from Rome to Pescara and catch the ferry to Split. Within hours of that conversation our one little plan was catapulted into the Pescara blue when the ferryman informed us there would be no more ferries till March. My husband likes to say that if you want to make god laugh, tell him your plans. Well, s/he is having a mighty roar about that one.

We have an extra day. We go ‘home’. Ben takes a tip from the locals and curls up for siesta. He wakes hungry. We sit in a wine bar with a mob of Aussies! The only Australians within cooee since arriving in Rome two weeks ago: G’day there George, Helen, Henry, Jenny, Michelle and Dave! Happy trails and enjoy Sri Lanka!

Ben and I sit at a table. We play backgammon. Ben wins. The score is 8-0. I am warming to my game . . . his time will come. The only backgammon partner I’ve had in recent years is my eight-year-old grandson, Dylan. I’m preparing him to take on his Uncle Ben. We move next door for pasta. We play again. I feel myself sink into the game. At last, I see only the board. I win the next game. And the next. Ben is starting to sweat. He takes the next game and calls it quits.

The score is 9-2.

No comments: