A can of twirls

During the 40 days of Lent we collected sweets, lollipops, chocolate, bars and biscuits from my grandmother and neighbours.  Kitkats were graciously accepted from my grandmother and hidden away so as to avoid temptation; biscuits were politely declined and jelly beans were pocketed to be secreted in the infamous tin.

Those of iron will power might open this can of sweet temptation and count their spoils for Easter Sunday.

The weeks limped by and most of us realised that we could manage just fine without the sugary nourishment of confectionary.  Despite this, when Easter Sunday arrived and we had attended Mass, the lid of the tin was peeled back and we dipped into the treasure that had accumulated over the last few weeks.

Lent is a time when several people give their New Year's resolution another whirl.  It's a time when they might shake the dust off of their gym membership card and vow to give up cigarettes or other guilty vices.  Every year in the run-up to Easter many people undertake Lenten vows to purge and cleanse their souls as well as their bodies; some abstain from chocolate and sweet stuff, like my father, and others perhaps beer.

When we were young we would collect sweets over the weeks and stow them away.  My older brother had the idea of using an old baby food tin.  I come from a large family by present standards and so there was always a younger sibling devouring baby food by the crate load.  This meant there was no shortage of tins to be recycled or used as we saw fit.

During the 40 days of Lent we collected sweets, lollipops, chocolate, bars and biscuits from my grandmother and neighbours.  Kitkats were graciously accepted from my grandmother and hidden away so as to avoid temptation; biscuits were politely declined and jelly beans were pocketed to be secreted in the infamous tin.

Those of iron will power might open this can of sweet temptation and count their spoils for Easter Sunday.

The weeks limped by and most of us realised that we could manage just fine without the sugary nourishment of confectionery.  Despite this, when Easter Sunday arrived and we had attended Mass, the lid of the tin was peeled back and we dipped into the treasure that had accumulated over the last few weeks.

Before breakfast was consumed something was snared from the tin and devoured.  Often, the first item ingested was quickly chewed and swallowed with little time being spared to savour the taste.  The second piece of chocolate would taste strange and you might wonder why you ever ate so much of this but shortly after the cravings return with a vengeance and that guilty stomach ache you suffered Sunday evening coupled with a sugar crash are soon but a distant memory.

Strangers

One evening I was bitten by the insomnia bug; it may have secreted something in the 5 large mugs of coffee I had consumed that day.  As my mind wandered, I stared at the ceiling sketched with the shadows of miscellaneous items, and I thought of the present, the past and the future. 

My mind drifted on and I thought of my past studies; moving to Maynooth, orientation week, my first year of study, my Erasmus year, the stress and exams of final year and securing a place on the MA programme, looking for a home in Maynooth and helping my little sister find somewhere before opting for the very halls she declined through hesitation.

When I was studying my MA I lived in communal accommodation just off-campus.  These little flats hosted a variety of characters; some seminarians, some attending the language school next door and some regular university students.

I remember one of the residents – Salvatori.

I hadn't realised this bearded, shy man with an eccentric streak was a man of cloth.  He’d wander around the kitchen, his hair resembled tanned tumble-weed stuck to his head, his beard a wild bush.  He always wore sandals even in the cold winter.  His clothes were mostly woollen garments, possibly llama or alpaca wool and outdoors he often wore a poncho.

After a time we spoke and I found him to be a pleasant fellow.  I often found him in the kitchen cooking or brooding over his English homework.  On occasion I even helped him but only when he asked.  He was a pious man.  Although born in Italy he had spent many years working in Bolivia.  He spoken many languages but English was his next goal.

His celebrity crush was Jodie Foster.

He sometimes argued with the other residents citing the Bible as his justification  and calling our neighbour the atheist an 'anti-Christ' but all in all he was a good man.

When I mentioned that I had applied for jobs in London I found a small map of London by my door the following morning.

When I packed my belongings to leave and move back home I thought about asking Salvatori for his e-mail address.  I didn't.  

So, as I wondered I wondered where he was now.  What might he be doing?  Had he gone back to Italy?  Or was he once again working in Bolivia?  

Where were they? 
He and all the other people I knew and didn't know, the people I met but never really knew save for brief or fleeting encounters.  Would it be fair to call them acquaintances if I had hardly known them?  Perhaps, that would be the greatest insult - to say I was acquainted with someone when I knew so very little of their life.

In a little while my mind moved on coaxed by the dancing shadows I thought of a great many things and promptly forgot them all before morning.

Interval

29/01/2013

Interval

I sit at Hütteldorf station waiting for a train to spirit me to my next destination that happens to be in the 14th district of Vienna.  I sip tea from a flask relishing its goodness and the nourishment of its stimulating contents. I have in my pocket a bag of rubber bands 'Gummringe'.  I  set about lapping them round several bundles of my flashcards.  Most have been snapped and knotted until they were little more than a knotted length of band ; useless and worthless.

Rubberbands here come in a variety of colours and while aesthetically pleasing to the eye, they don't quite match our bands for quality and durability.

As I ponder these thoughts my train rolls into the station, I board it and carry on.