FORTUNATE TRAVELLER
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Pisa It was necessary to escape from the heat to the Ligurian seaso I got back on the train, the Tuscan countrysideunscrolling before me, in time for a quick lunch in Pisa,with the old joke of holding up the tower for a photo.I walked down a side street just off the Piazza del Duomoand ducked into a place where mostly locals were eating.At the end of a very simple but…
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For Benjamin I Walk Talk Walking We had an idea to take a walk, gowalking, not a stroll and not a hike, justa walk, going for a walk, knowing youcan stop, feeling the elements: the earth beneath your feet, the rain waiting, the airmoving, the fire waiting. The walkingworld doesn’t pass you by, it comes with you.You’re not driven and if you’re on the rightbearing, you can always rest. Any placecan…
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The Dark Green Conifers another day in the woods. on Strawberry ridgelooking out over undulating green hills tothe next great wall ridge of mountains. the lastmorning clouds left from last night’s stormhanging in the valley mistily. the sun eventuallyburns them away. the respect between old Paul Karlsen and I continuesto exist. even though he’s a Mormon and I’m a fallenNew Yorker. the work is comparatively easy, liftinghundred pound bags, so…
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1 Warmbad The pastor’s house, the fort, the mission church,plastered white, the police station grey stone:women in bright doeks, swaying in the sun,singing ‘With one consent let all the earth’: the kaptein’s goats, a hundred head or more,boerbokke, red and white, bearded, lob-eared,a commando on the march, a high herd,drumming around him, as if off to war. The magistrate, the captain of police,the bank manager, are here to celebratethe oldest…
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As we can see through the work we’ve published so far here on Fortunate Traveller, travel stories can be presented or told in many different artistic genres or forms. Though we commonly think of the travel book or travelogue as the main form of travel literature, artists have also turned to poetry, music, dance and visual arts to capture something of their travels. In today’s post, the travel story comes…
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Aspen, ponderosa pine, blue sprucepink glacier-cut rock, scree, ravensgrey jay, peregrine falcon, hawk. We climb to 11,000 feet in three days, camp at Lawn Lake for three days. Alpine tundra. Elk, bighorn sheep, marmot. Tileston Meadows, ticks in grass, rock face of Mummy Mountain. Binoculars show pink cracks in grey rock. Stoke gas stoves, play cards. Boil water, set up tarps, lay out sleeping bags, hang bear bag. Watch crescent…
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Recovery Seas of enlivening magenta under a sky of azure blue, frame a canary in an avocado tree.Lizards sunbathe on the path below. Leaves of banana trees sway in the breeze,as farmers wrap the fruit in sapphire andthe sea, enveloping pebbles, pulls them back to bed. The sun lowers its glow behind the mountainas the scent of jasmine fills the air, while, from a cobbled alley, comes the sound of…
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I. Night Gods at FeastAfter Wendy Xu’s Several Altitudes of Not Talking a sign here reads: Sell your deadInvert the batteries. this is, of course, an error. mine or the sign maker’s. our headlights in lieu of distance, travel the length of eyes. anoint the sheen of a gate. we approach at this uncontrollable hour night gods at feast; local beer and pink-bodied chickens held in a spit:the world is a puzzle…
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REINVENTION I The rope of distance broke you sat there reinventing Lagos islands got drenched inside us black crows torched our scars the lessons of attraction the avalanche might actually get kinder wandering in all capes but the death of desire is not what you keep hearing about II Soon all this will be memory stitching yourself into a blue sky, an open door that’s what it says in get-aways…
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I We move out from the park, through a circle of chairs, And pass a sleepy-eyed attendant from whose mouth Igbo language moulds concepts like chunks of meaning. Ikpoba hill Descends on us as a woman seductively unwrapping her dress. The landscape still spells Benin with red sand and Perfervid sun. Suddenly, it becomes green with envy That I am leaving. I too feel guilty that I am abandoning Home for another home…
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