I have the key to happiness: remember, be profoundly, profoundly, totally conscious that you are. I myself, sorry to say, hardly ever use this key. I keep losing it — Eugène Ionesco
E was right, I needed to turn away from looking inwards and re-engage with the world. I know this but time and again I forget that the universe goes on with or without me, and that I should be grateful for life's gifts.
A straightforward itinerary: first the Netherlands to catch up with a friend and a cousin, then Malta and Gozo. On the way home to avoid looping west then east, a stopover in Cyprus. Can you tell that I like islands?
I'm inured to air travel now. My standard armour: music, noise cancelling headphones, books, air pillow, and sleep mask. Depending on the destination time zone I'll stay up or sleep early to pre-adapt. A quirky film, especially European, can help pass an hour or two. I often watch with subtitles while listening to music.
For reading, besides my Kindle, Chilean Luis Sepúlveda's Patagonia Express for practice. It recounts the author's travels in South America during his years of exile. Its longer title is Al andar se hace el camino se hace el camino al andar, the path is made by walking, walking makes the path, a snippet from a poem by Antonio Machado.
For music, a collection of jazz, Latin and World albums, including the one that introduced me to MPB (Música Popular Brasiliera), Sérgio Mendes and Brasil '66, which launched the career of Lani Hall. I have always enjoyed her distinctive voice and on digging the Internet, discovered what I didn't know before, that she is the wife of Herb Alpert. When I re-listened to the album, the track Goin' Out of My Head prompted me to borrow the sheet music from the library. This turned out to be easy to play. I can make a medley of it with Can't Take My Eyes Off You which Jersey Boys prompted me to learn. Both songs have a satisfying bravura chorus but are problematic to end, and usually faded-out.
Blasting Tubular Bells on the amp while doing final checks. An edgy, intricate piece of music. A musician friend and I used to joke about appending atom bomb to the instruments that the MC enumerates in the mantra-like end of the first side, climaxing with the titular tubular bells.
Time to fly. By coincidence I was just getting the hang of playing Samba do Avião, a lyrical, wistful tune that eluded me until I reduced the tempo. There's a lesson there. Fortunately, unlike its composer, I'm not terrified of flying.
E was right, I needed to turn away from looking inwards and re-engage with the world. I know this but time and again I forget that the universe goes on with or without me, and that I should be grateful for life's gifts.
A straightforward itinerary: first the Netherlands to catch up with a friend and a cousin, then Malta and Gozo. On the way home to avoid looping west then east, a stopover in Cyprus. Can you tell that I like islands?
For reading, besides my Kindle, Chilean Luis Sepúlveda's Patagonia Express for practice. It recounts the author's travels in South America during his years of exile. Its longer title is Al andar se hace el camino se hace el camino al andar, the path is made by walking, walking makes the path, a snippet from a poem by Antonio Machado.
Blasting Tubular Bells on the amp while doing final checks. An edgy, intricate piece of music. A musician friend and I used to joke about appending atom bomb to the instruments that the MC enumerates in the mantra-like end of the first side, climaxing with the titular tubular bells.
Time to fly. By coincidence I was just getting the hang of playing Samba do Avião, a lyrical, wistful tune that eluded me until I reduced the tempo. There's a lesson there. Fortunately, unlike its composer, I'm not terrified of flying.
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