Via 3 Quarks, here's a site with "stuff people write on money." And, of course, an occasion to tell a little story....
You know that feeling of loneliness in travel, right? It's something I actually thrive on. I like the relative anonymity, being a stranger, having to constantly orient myself, meeting new people for brief periods of time (and sometimes much longer). Occasionally, however, the loneliness becomes more profound. You're simply uprooted, rudderless, directionless, alone.
Many years ago, prior to knowing Helmette, I was in Greece traveling by myself. I had been traveling for a while, had had a monthlong traveling romance in East Africa that she and I both knew would have to end abruptly as we both went separate ways. It did. I was feeling that intense loneliness, wandering around Athens for a couple of days before traveling around the country. It seems pointless, at these times, to keep traveling. You want to settle, be with people close to you.
I sat at an outdoor cafe and read nearly the entire warm afternoon. Read, and watched people pass, lots of couples. The lovers - and it's a lover's city - made the loneliness all the worse. I paid for my endless stream of coffees. The waitress returned my change. As I got up to leave, I noticed that on the 100-drachma note the waitress had left someone - someone anonymous, a stranger - had written, "I love you, [Helmut]."
3 comments:
Very cool. Definitely one to cherish. Why on Earth do we feel nostalgia for a time of such alienation and ennui though? Something about that kind of nothing makes prospects seem infinite, maybe. It's something people who work for a living will never appreciate.
I definitely don't feel nostalgia for times of alienation and ennui. I might for the moment of seeing the note, just because such an event can provide relief from those feelings, however briefly.
If you ever pass through a lumber town here in Oregon, check out the money you get in change from the local businesses. A lot of mill workers like to stamp their money with an image of trees, so that every businessman in town will remember that they depend on the timber industry to make a living.
Nice anecdote, Gordo. It has the extra effect of reminding us that trees go into dollar bills.
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