There are many times I have looked back at the things that might have been, be it a decision I didn’t make, a girl I didn’t pursue, a job I didn’t get. People often use the term nostalgia wrong, it literally means the pain of memory but it tends be used in a more jovial context these days.
There is one obvious one to any who follows my blog or knows me to a small degree and a recent one which could no doubt be figured by the same people. My American friend Andrea is one, what if I had excused the party and done my original plan of going to Chicago on the way back? Would we still be friends now? I really couldn’t tell you. What I wonder most about that path is what would have become of our ‘Transatlantic Conversations’, probably nothing and in a way that may have granted ‘Transatlantic Conversation’ a new lease of life…
The other involves me and a young lady, which in short has pretty much lived up to the lyrics of ‘On Top of Old Smokey’.
But those are not what I am talking about here, this is just a past muse about what some one charitable, very charitable, might call a holiday romance. This was on my second visit to the island of Margarita, which is the closet island to Venezuela and is one of its provinces. This was a trip with my good friend cum Horseshoes bar prop Pete and his mother and a semi regular at the Shoe and personal friend Levi, just before Christmas 2008. That in itself provided some rather interesting visual juxtapositions as a Caribbean Island isn’t where you would expect to find tinsel. Anyway, the incident to which I am referring pretty much started when Levi and Pete pretended to be Allan Quartermain and went to visit the Jungle on the Orinnioco Delta and see the Angel Falls, I would have gone myself but I was a little concerned about money. While they were away I mostly spent the time doing a spot of reading by the pool (War of the Worlds I think) and just idling time away in the hotel.
Thanks to an all inclusive bar I got a little tipsy and ended up taking part in the evenings entertainment which was the dreaded Karaoke. Probably as Levi and Pete were away and Pete’s Mum had retired for the evening I decided to go on stage, I think it was Mr Bojangles and I Left My Heart in San Francisco I decided to ‘perform’. Anyway, before I could do this I went to track down the folder with the songs in which I believed was in the possession of two young ladies who I guessed were sisters. Turns out the folder was in fact full of college work, so I made my apologies and tracked it down. After my performance I sat at a table feeling a little tired and emotional and one of the young ladies came up to me and said “well done, good singing” and various compliments to which I politely said thanks. Ever had one of those moments when a bit later you go… wait a minute did I miss something?
Well just before we left I had re-encountered the young ladies, they weren’t sisters but friends. Their names were Andrea ( pronounced Arn-dray-ah) and Isabella and they were from Austria. They were travelling with Isabella’s dad who due to his bushy beard was nicknamed Santa and we all got on like a house on fire. It was on the last night and the dreaded Karaoke was on again and I went up waaay too many times in various ensembles. Anyway we talked a bit and Isabella, who was the girl who chatted to me before, was rather shy but chatty. She was reluctant to go up along but we persuaded her. It was a good final night as we had lots of fun. Now this is the sting… according to an English couple we befriended, Isabella had taken a shine to me. Now as it was our last night I never got change to verify this… I do wish the opportunity had arisen to find out as she was a lovely girl. But as it is with holidays, friendships end up blowing in the wind.
Photographs lost in time is all I see… A pointless nostalgic, that’s me