21/06/2014

Day 74. The birthdays of many men

When I leave the Danube, will I be able to roll it up like a bright blue thread and put it in my pocket? I can try. There is no harm in trying. And my pockets are big. They should be able to hold a river.

I was meeting somebody today. We had met yesterday, on the bridge in Passau, both leaving. Christian was by bike, he had planned a resting day today. Which meant I would catch up on him. He invited me for lunch in the village where he was staying two nights.

The only place open on a saturday afternoon was the fancy hotel. A big group of people were in the middle of leaving very slowly. They had celebrated a wedding the evening before. Somebody walked around with the leftovers of the wedding cake. I got two big pieces.

A man with a French accent started talking to me and when Christian came back -he had been inside asking if it was possible to eat something-, he was delighted to find a fellow countryman. He hadn't met any French on the road. They switched to speaking French straight away and I listened, my French is very rusty when I'm not in France. Matthieu and Veronica had met in Rennes, the city where Christian had lived for a long time. In no time they had agreed to meet each other in August in France. Afterwards Christian thanked me for being the link, if I wouldn't have been at the bridge in Passau, he would have never met the two French and their small daughter. But I reminded him that if he would have chosen to take the other bridge in Passau, he would have never met me. It remains exciting how one decision leads to the next, also meaning there are many strings with possibilities we will never research, be in the middle of. What if ..... doesn't exist. Or maybe it does but in another dimension, layer, timespace, part of the matrix.

A collection of men's birthdays this weekend. My grandfather yesterday, my father today, his oldest grandson today, and both Shari Walls' -with whom I am walking today- father's and partner's birthday. And on Saturday I didn't know I was going to share a couple of beers and a long conversation with a man on Sunday who celebrated his birthday on that day. But more about that tomorrow.

I walk late often. I walked along the Danube at dusk. The beavers were out. Floating in the water nibbling on small branches, sitting in the grass on the river bank. So concentrated on their food, I could get quite close to them. It is an amazing landscape after Schl√∂gen. The river bends, almost takes a 180 degrees turn but then decides to follow the same direction anyway and bends back. It has carved deep into the landscape. The hills on both sides are steep. Impossible to pitch a tent anywhere. But I am in no hurry at anytime. I just walk on until the proper opportunity presents itself.  Like an abandoned restaurant with a small wooden structure in front where they used to sell drinks and sausages. Where inbetween the counter and stack of tables there is just enough room for an air mattress. Where I can leave my tent in my cart and can even sit on a chair. Luxury comes in many shapes.

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