From The Morgue

I am at a place called ‘The Pink Palace’

We were greeted off the bus by a shot of uzo, at 9am

everything stopped making sense on the way out of Naples

Or even in Naples

I think all I have learned about Italy so far is that to understand it I’ll
need to experience it a lot more, but that’s a nice lesson to learn

Right.

There is a beach. There is nothing to be done, literally.

—–

I cannot believe I am staying at a place called the Pink Palace. Weird.
Google it and see what I mean.

—–

In brief: email is hard to find and expensive and, lets face it, low profile. So, I went to Rome, went to Naples, went to Pompeii, went to Brindisi, ferried to Corfu which is off Greece, had uzo, checked in here. Now you know. Travelling with Naomi, and this guy erik we met on the ferry. Who knows where next??

Bella!

~`mrg

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Getting from Ciampino Airport to Rome central was an adventure in itself.

There was a bus laid on, sure, if you wanted to fork out ten quid. I didn’t. But at the airport… well, I search around a while to find a lady behind a snack counter, who nodded sagely when I asked about getting to Termini. 1 euro for the bus to the train, and I jump on happily. The bus takes a while, no-one on it knows what’s going on, and then it’s off, rattling through the streets like a train off its rails. I’d heard about the driving here but hadn’t seen it. When it pulled up at a red light I was ecstatic, because there at last was proof that there were in fact road rules in Rome.

Then at the train station the machine wouldn’t take Euros unless it was primed with smaller coinage first. So I borrowed a 2 cent coin from a friendly local and promptly gave it back when it spat it back out with a ticket. And then on a train to Termini! Patrick the French-Canadian kept me company, equally as bewildered, and we shook hands as wished each other well as I sought out Naomi.

Naomi is a wonderful friend who I made at Massey Design School. She was a student, which is how I first met her, but then got a job doing admin and some design work in the office. We became good buds and when she went to London to work – well, good on her, actually. Anyway, when news came she was leaving London to wander Europe when I came over, and wanted a companion, everything fell into place.

So the wee gem had booked and paid for my bed for the night, and waited for me to give me an extensive night walking tour with running commentary. Excellent fun! I saw lots of postcard stuff, none of which I’ll go into here, but it was quite awesome in its way, although not quite so awesome perhaps as the way people drive here. As Nomes says, to cross the street you just walk out in front and they stop. Well, it’s worked so far.

~`morgue

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So Sunday night was the Thames Festival. On the south bank the whole riverfront was packed with people and stalls and buskers and more people. It was exciting just being there, it had hit the critical mass of people required.

There was a parade departing from just under Waterloo Bridge, and this was a great thing to behold. Rank on rank of people all decked out in river-themed finery and shining lights, lots of children, cultural groups dancing and making music, enormous uncanny creatons floating past. We danced and clapped the whole time.

Then the fireworks. Tugs darted about on the Thames letting off gouts of fire into the night as ominous music rumbled almost beyond notice, and bodies crowded in until the first blast of light and crack of sound erupted. Explosion upon explosion, delicate shivers on the membrane of sky or thunderous bangs slapping down to earth, trails of shimmering light and flashes too bright to watch, it became something I felt in my body, in the way my heart was beating.

I don’t know that I’d ever really understood parades and fireworks before this, not really.

————

I’m staying with Elizabeth and Roland. Elizabeth was one of the Todman St flat founders back in 99 and I haven’t seen her since the end of that year, so it’s been a tremendous chance to catch up. Roland is a genius character, too, and it’s been great getting to know him a bit. They live in Lewisham, which is south of Greenwich, which is south of London. It’s about a half-hour into the middle of town. There’s foxes at the bottom of the garden but I haven’t gone to look just yet.

————-

Tomorrow I go to Rome.

~`morgue

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Of course, the number I sent out last time was wrong. *sigh*

It should be 0781 7772635

The girl told me wrong over the phone! (Or I heard wrong. But I’ll blame her, better for my ego.)

Also, to all those people wondering – yes I mean it about the tube, yes I’m still in novelty stage, but it’s so handy! I’ll love it while I can love it, huh?

~`morgue

4.5 hours after leaving Heathrow, Leon and I met two guys from our seventh form year. None of the four of us were particularly surprised.
(For what it’s worth, they were Michael Rogers, soon to depart, and Jeremy Cain, just arrived.)

Important things to know about London:

* damn good tube system. I finally understand why everyone makes a big deal about ‘no eye contact’ on the tube – after all, isn’t that the case with every public space? – it’s because, on the tube, the seats all face towards each other. You’re face to face with another traveller the whole journey. This makes eye contact a central factor in the whole experience. (I’ve since been told that most public transport outside of NZ is like this. Except, in my experience, planes.) Anyway, it felt to me like there was a real sense of camaraderie with my side of the train. I really felt that if someone sitting on the other side had started something, my whole side woulda been ready to jump in and mix it up. Their side two. However, this didn’t happen on any of the train journey’s I’ve been on so far, which I put down to the reticent character of the British.

* it has been warm and sunny two days in a row. Don’t believe the hype. But the haze is real. I makes London look like a photograph of London.

* and everything is brick.

The moment when I felt ‘holy crap, I’m in a new place’ – walking down Regent St and seeing the high stone buildings curve away from me over crowds of people.

As you may have noticed, nothing interesting has happened yet. But I’m
working on it.

`morgue

(actually, that’s a bit of a lie – on the plane Leon and I met a guy called Joop Jagr. No lie. This guy is completely mad. We’ve got his number, and have made vague plans to meet. I hope we manage to, he’s a party all by himself.)

(morgue’s brand new cellphone number: 078 1772635. I don’t know how you dial it from NZ, maybe put 0044 in front instead of the 0? anyway. morgue now has a cellphone. how about that.)

[Waybackmachine link to original]

Full Name: Morgan Geddes Davie

(Geddes is the name of my mother’s family. I’m carrying the lineage of both
sides, but without a hyphen. Very nice.)

With: Leon Verrall, whose middle name I don’t recall. Old friend – one of
the oldest, well over a decade now – and a man with whom I’d trust my life.
(Note to my mother: I don’t intend to ever be in a situation of
life-entrusting necessity. Relax.)

The plan: Go to London. Arrive. See London. Let one week pass. Then go
to Europe sans Leon. Meet friend Naomi. See Europe. Let several more
weeks pass. Then go to Portugal (which, granted, is in Europe) and meet
friends Dean and Kerry, and once again Leon. Let another week or two pass.

At this stage, count coins.

Now you know the plan. The rest is story.

~`morgue

(Wayback Machine copy of original message)