I Think I Shook England
Heathrow Airport, London, England
September 6, 2007
London, London, London. A little glad that I am just passing through. I was sitting on a bench in the terminal and a couple of old and proper English women were sitting next to me, talking gossip and news about labor strikes in Spain. They had curly white hair, and I got the impression that they were annoyed about missing their afternoon tea. In my weariness I did not think to check a loud fart. “Oh dear!” they exclaimed in unison. I think I shook England.
Perhaps I could not express my feelings in any better way.
No, I do not mind England. I just always found my breif stays here a little suffocating. The last time that I passed through here was almost a year ago to this day. I was with Mira and we had a lovely day in Hyde park napping off our jet-lag. We could not afford ANYTHING, so we just walked the night time streets passing between each other a cheap bottle of wine to celebrate the beginning of our Indian journey. If we only knew what laid in store for us we may have remained in London searching for Big Ben(dover). But our travels in Asia tought us alot, anout each other, our selves. Nothing teaches you more about yourself than travel.
That is why the monks keep walking on.
I was reprimanded by the English immigration official about my passport. “The lamenation is pealing off of it,” she said, “passports are not made for travel in the tropics.” What could I do? I cannot go to the tropics without one. Just stick a microship in my arm and get it over with.