Memories

When I looked at the last post I published, I wasn't too happy about how the photos and the words lined up, looked a bit messy to me. But how do you choose the photos to use when they are all so special and have special memories. I wanted to change the words to fit better but decided in the end I could live with it because my thinking had moved on. 

I was thinking more about the memories photos invoke; how when you look at photos that contain the memories of others, they are not as interesting as your own. I often sit and review my photos, all 1700 plus of my ones from Europe. I still don't have my ones from Qatar yet and I long to immerse myself in them as they contain some very special memories of my friends, of the places we visited and the times we had. 

While that possibly sounds a bit self centred, well really self centred, I'm sure everyone can relate to viewing the photos of others and how enthused they are about them while you are left not quite getting their significance. 

It's the same with memories of other places. I have often talked about my travels and work to others alongside sharing my photos. Some people love the stories and enjoy looking while others glaze over or worse don't want to know because they see the travels as your time, as excluding them. 

I take care now who I share with and I am very privileged to have friends who are travelers and enjoy sharing their stories with me as well. We have long talks, talks of longing. We talk about what we might do if we could choose without constraint, choose without thinking of our commitments to others. Dreaming leads to doing, I know that, but it often takes a more planned approach as well. 

I so enjoyed my trip around Europe after being in Qatar. I especially enjoyed my time with Di in Rome, wandering and taking photos. There is one little story that has escaped both our blogs. Feel free to glaze over.

In Rome it's possible to buy alcohol in a supermarket. This was such a novelty for me that we decided we would, a rosé for me and a chianti for Di. What we miscalculated was the distance to our home base, it was our first full day in Rome after all. We wandered carrying the heavy bag because we thought we should get nibbles too and found ourselves in an interesting bookshop. We both love bookshops. 

At some point I smelt a funny smell, a bit like rosé, as I was engrossed in the book I was reviewing. My feet were also a bit wet, thats funny I thought, until I looked down. The bottles had clinked together and the rosé had broken and was flowing freely onto the floor and over my shoes and new jeans. Oh crap! I made a hasty retreat outside to minimise the damage while Di tried to find something to clean up the mess. Luckily the shop assistant was understanding and with her help and the help of a couple of traveling Australians, the wine was sopped up. The place smelled like a brewery as we fled the scene dumping the broken bottle and ruined nibbles as we went. 

Di was generous enough to share the chianti a little later when we got home, not sure I'll live that one down.