Date: Tue, 13 Jun 2000 02:47:42
-0700 (PDT)
From: nathaniel finley
Subject: Reggae music, Igbos, and a
walk through the dark woods late at night.
Well, I haven't written for a couple of weeks and there is much to
tell. Last week, or rather, two Thursdays ago, I left the house that I
was staying in and headed out into the unknown Germany. That very
morning I met a German-American (US type) at a cafe over breakfast who
drove with me up to Heiligenberg, which is the mountain with the
religious past that I told you about in the first e-mail. it is as
enchanting of a place as I can imagine: I spent the day reading Carlos
Castaneda's Teachings of Don Juan: talks with a Yaqhui
Indian, in which he explores the different possibilities of
Peyote use. Quite a provocative book, I must say, and only the first
in a series in which he argues, finally, that one doesn't need drugs
in order to turn the world upside down, or stop the world
, as
he says it. Quite right! Well, I camped in Heiligenberg over night and
walked down the Philosopher's Way Friday morning. On Saturday I
hitchhiked to Stuttgart, which ended up being too big of a city for me
without enough trees. But I did hike up the biggest mountain, and on
my way back down I heard some of the most kicking Reggae music to my
left. So, exploring the soothing sounds that I miss so much here, I
found an African-Caribbean cafe peopled with 8 or 10 Igbo men from
Nigeria. We had a terrific time, them talking in German-Igbo-English,
and me following as closely as I could. At around 10 or 11 o'clock in
the evening I decided to head out of town, and thought that if I head
NW over the mountains from Stuttgart I would eventually hit Carlsruhe,
a town from which I could catch a cheap train back to Heidelberg.
end part one.
Date: Tue, 13 Jun 2000 03:07:53
-0700 (PDT)
From: nathaniel finley
Subject: a trip through the fire swamp
(or, I really don't believe in ROUS's...)
Well, I headed out directly into the path of a thunderstorm, but as
I thought it might be a little romantic to be struck by lightning, and
also having some voice inside of me that told me that I shouldn't
worry about it anyway, I just followed my faith straight up the
mountain, over the other side, and up about 20 more throughtout the
next 15 hours. The storm moved away from me to the north, and using
the North star as my guide I walked straight through the night through
some of the most magical countryside I have ever hiked. I was tired
the next day, and by four o'clock in the afternoon I was done in. As I
was on a road, I decided to hitchhike the remaining 30 or 50
Kilometers to Carlsruhe, which I made in less than an hour's time.
Reinvigorated from my trip, I hit the books really hard Monday and
Tuesday, which was fortuitous considering the events of the next
week. But they still have some things to be worked out before I can
tell the full story...the preview goes something like: attacked by
skin heads late at night, a desperate man with a mohawk, mistaken for
a punk, crawls to the nearest door and with his last moment of
strength manages to ring the buzzer. Flash to a new scene: a young
woman, cooking in the small kitchen of her student apartment, hears
the buzzer sound, and as she dries her hands on her dish towel and
reaches for the door, the phone rings. A small trickle of blood is
evident under the door, but she doesn't notice: what will she do, open
the door or answer the phone. Of course most of you will say open the
door and then answer the phone, but this is a student after all, and
students are notoriously unpredictable (at least the interesting ones
are...and I assure you, this is a very interesting student). Besides
that, as she is obviously a woman, and I am obviously a man, I refuse
to make and conjectures about what her next course of action is going
to be...in truth, I've got no idea. I'm not writing this story, I'm
just living it. OK, maybe not all of this part is true, and I will
leave it to the reader to decide for her\himself, but you can
hopefully understand the suspense, the tension, the blood on the
carpet (sorry Mama--there's no blood, really).
But I'll have to wait a little bit longer before I can tell you
that story. This week I go to Spain to visit some Family for a week,
and then back to Heidelberg or off to Hamburg--haven't decided. It
depends on if she picks up the phone or opens the door
(she does not necessarily refer to an actual individual
here, either).
So, reporting still from the basement of the Altstadt Bibliothek here
in wonderful, cute, serenely annoying Heidelberg (daily routines
become routing no matter where one is), where the grass is always
green and none of street lights work exactly the way you expect them
too,
Viel Spaß and much love,
'thaniel
