July 7, 2007

7/7/07
London Cafe
10:30 AM
(Cafe Nero, near Embankment)

Well, I'm back.  I got to London OK in the end, but it was a long end.  I sat by the counter in the midst of their little war and read a couple of hundred pages.  Five hours later, they found a plane to London with an empty seat I could sit in, so I took it.  When I got to London it was raining.  I couldn't remember where on Earth (more specifically than "London") I was supposed to go.  I had the street address, but that was all.

I took a train to King's Cross, thinking it was a big train station that Uncle Jim had mentioned at some point.  It was, indeed, a large train station he'd mentioned, but as it turns out, King's Cross is North, and Uncle Jim is South.  I spent a while trying to find the appropriate station to ride the tube to, crossed the street a thousand times looking for a map or a phone or anything, tried to call my uncle (it was busy, I think), and did a great many other useless, frustrating, and somewhat wetting things (it was raining pretty well), all the time towing my luggage like the unfortunate dumb tourist I was.  And in the end, I took a cab, and enjoyed that.

In the process, unfortunately, I never did get the chance to call my uncle.  Having been up for almost two days, travel worn and somewhat soggy, I showed up on his porch and rang the doorbell with no warning whatsoever.  Oops.  Not such a great start, but it worked out okay.

So that's how the 30th ended.  But I think I've left you somewhat unsatisfied on the 23rd of June, somewhere in Charleroi, just hanging out.

Well, so were we.  We had a slow morning on the 23rd, and decided early (it may have been the night before, actually) that we didn't want to spend another day travelling just yet, and would spend the next night as well in the hotel.

The hotel had a little breakfast in the morning, which closed sometime around 9:30, effectively getting us out of bed better than anything else could.  I can still remember pretty clearly the image of Gina putting on her jacket over her cast and carefully coming out the door to come downstairs with me--in pain, I could tell, but in love.

Right.  So after the breakfast--which consisted mainly of Nutella on stale toast, apparently a favorite item for continentals--we decided to go explore Charleroi.  After wandering for a bit, we found a place for lunch located on the corner of a little town square, of sorts.  There was an odd modernist sculpture of some kind in the middle of the square.  It wasn't defined, but it looked like fingers coming out of the concrete.  Nearby was a modern art museum that was probably related.

Mostly that day, we just walked.  I love wandering through places, so we just held hands and went for a meandering day-long stroll through the town.  We saw a huge old factory, which a pretty view from its parking structure (of all things).  The hills in Charleroi made for some incredible vistas.  The factory is probably still in use, but it was closed then--I think it was a Saturday, which explains it.  There are endless numbers of train tunnels and tracks running through the hills.  We wandered into some, and found a large pedestrian tunnel that was probably used for the manpower of the factory.  It looked like the stereotypical Factory Approach: huge staircases & all included.  We went through & up; I think Gina didn't like the area.  She was starting to feel unwell anyway, so that didn't contribute to her mood.  Regardless, it was a fun in its own way: a rather silent and thoughtful approach to the town instead of the chattering companionship we had other times.  We walked.

I took her down small streets I didn't know, and behind one large intersection I found that little university square, wedged between buildings and a railroad wall, of which I told you earlier.  We wandered in; it was silent, greatly overgrown.  Ivy was conquering the old architecture.  In his silent sanctuary, forgotten by all but the smokers and loiterers, I guess, there stood a statue of the man who founded the university once.  The square was stepped down and walled on the edges, lined with old trees.  At the far end was a portion of wall at that perfect bench-sitting height walls occasionally achieve.  We walked through and found a short bridge over the train tracks, off to our left; it took us back to a civilized area, and we kept wandering.

At this point, Gina was feeling particularly painful, so we found a chocolate shop and bought some chocolates.  Then we walked on for a bit.  She wanted to sit down for a bit, but we were too far way from the hotel--so we wandered back towards that University de Travaile square, perched on the short wall, and ate our chocolates.

That moment in time was beauty itself for me.  I remember Gina's face in the sunlight; the rest, the warmth, the taste of rich European chocolate, the feel of her hand in mine.  We paused there, letting the world rush on around us and the square, sharing in that forgotten space's silence and age, absorbing its timelessness.  We lived, for a brief moment, in that square.