Writing Exercise: Imaginary Friend, Imaginary Trip

Write to an imaginary friend about an imaginary trip you'd like to take one day.

Hey, Angie!

Konnichiwa! Morning to you! Yes, I'm finally here in Tokyo. Sorry haven't written in a while; haven't quite gotten used to the time change. Just when I get used to Dublin time from Charlotte, I jump an entire day ahead. Ah, well.

I met Hiro and Sakiko at Tokyo Int'l. They're a nice couple. Hiro's a teacher, Saki's a housewife plus tutor plus painter plus peacemaker plus graphic designer. Oh, and she wields a mean kendo stick too. They live in a high-rise apartment in the city center. Land's an expensive commodity here, especially since there isn't a lot of wide open space. Their apartment is a rather cozy place: a main room that does triple duty as an office and a bedroom, a tiny kitchenette and bathroom. If you need a bit of privacy, all you need to do is borrow one of the shoji rice screens, set it up, and voila! Instant space of your own. It's amazing how you can change the tone of a room with a few shoji screens, bamboo mats, cushions and futons. 

I've been introduced to sushi, sashimi, teriyaki and mochi (really chewy rice cakes. If you need to exercise your jaws, that'll do it.). I'm not as crazy about the pickled plums, but I guess it's what you're used to. And they've got some rather interesting foodstuff over here...I probably should give the Japanese points for creativity for lemon fizzy cream soda with extra fizz (no joke. That's the actual name of it, translated). Saki's shared some of her culinary skills with me, and I tell you, she can give the Iron Chef a run for his money!

Yesterday, we went by a Shinto temple. It was beautiful in its simplicity. Saki explained that women go here to pray for children and a good life. The place was crowded, but that only seemed to make the temple more homey and less imposing. 

I'm looking forward to staying with Hiro and Saki. They're very gracious and accommodating. Tomorrow, I travel to Hiro's school and visit his students. I still feel a twinge of homesickness for the green hills of Eire, but I guess that'll pass soon, at least till I return.

Say hi to Ian and the boys at the pub for me. And Patrick still owes me my whiskey.

Till next post,

Annie

Italy out of hand by Barbara Hodgson

In the spirit of travel, I picked up this book, Italy out of hand, A Capricious Tour by Barbara Hodgson. Italy has always been one of my favorite countries. I lived there for 5 years, from 1982 to 1987. My father was stationed there, first with the Sixth Fleet (Mediterranean), AFSOUTH (Armed Forces Southern Italy), then at the Naval Hospital. I have fond memories of living in Europe: going to Rome for Christmas Eve Mass, visiting the islands of Sicily and Capri, traveling via hydrofoil in Venice, eating ices and gelati at Tony Sampan's, and eating pizza al metro (pizza by the meter) in downtown Naples.

Naples is one of the cities explored in Hodgson's book. The list includes Genova (Genoa), Milano (Milan), Bologna, Ferrara, Venezia (Venice), Padova (Padua), Firenze (Florence), Arezzo, Perugia, Pisa, Roma (Rome), Napoli (Naples) and Sicilia (Sicily, including Palermo). This is no ordinary guidebook; it brings together famous (and notorious) historical figures, expatriates, churches, squares, fashion, food, music and stories galore. I enjoyed revisiting places I'd been (albeit almost 30 years ago, now). There is always more to learn and more to discover, no matter how much you know.

Life can be gritty, messy, and wholly embarrassing, and the book explores the scandals as well as the triumphs. I was disappointed to reach the end of these travels...it only made me want to go back. Someday, I will.

All original writing and art copyright A. Dameron 2000-2011

The Muse is Back from Holiday...

...I think. She's quite the world traveler. This time, she decided to go to Saint Kitts in the Caribbean, with side trips to Egypt circa 2000 BCE and Rome circa 50 BCE. She came back wearing an elegant Italian noblewoman's gown, complete with beaded headdress and corset. Custom-made, she said, from the same dressmaker who outfitted Lucrezia Borgia.

"Oh, and since your latest writing challenge is supposed to be set in Renaissance-era Italy, I got you all sorts of goodies," she trilled. She reached into her beaded handbag (bigger on the inside, than the outside, of course) and pulled out a scribble book from Leonardo da Vinci ("He won't miss it," she reassured me), several written Papal bulls from various Popes ("the proclamations, not the animals."), and an autographed sketch by Botticelli ("Tried to get a marble bust by Michaelangelo, but they wouldn't let it through Customs.").

I'm envious of her, but it's hard to be mad at her when she gives me this child-like smile that lights her eyes up from the depths of her soul. That's how she is: fickle, adventurous, curious, eclectic and wholly fun. It reminds me of when I was a child. I wanted to travel the world, meet all sorts of people, learn every language and custom.

I may not be able to do it in reality, but my Muse keeps that hope alive.


All original writing and art copyright A. Dameron 2000-2011