A mental state of limbo

Marao, Spain,
27 Nov. 2010.

I try hard to close out the cacaphony of Catalan and Spanish speaking voices of my fellow travellers on this slow train getting back from a daytrip to Lloret De mar, making a serious effort of getting Nong´s voice back inside my gray brain  mass, that sweet femenine voice that was with me while I walked the two hours from Lloret De Mar to Tossa De Mar following a rocky coastal path going up and down the rocks and hills that seperate these two popular beach resorts north of  Barcelona...

The strong smell of pine trees, a solitary walk in nature with the sounds of birds making me emotional and melancholgy...the right combination to transport my Farang mind back to Thailand and my many Lady  Of The Night ladyfriends over there...but Nong always foremost in my mind when I make these mental travels...

but sitting here in this early evening train back to Barcelona, the Cataluña capital and my present place of domicile, dead tired from my long walk and all the clear sea air that has invaded my lungs making me even more like feeling asleep on the spot, making it sort of hard to concentrate on what that sweet woman was trying to tell me in that state of mental limbo....

Instead I try to concentrate on my fellow travellers...like this young Arab man in his long Djalleba and reddish beard that should grow on the face of a man much more advanced in age, sitting opposite me, wiping his reading glasses before starting to read his little leather bound version of the Koran, totally ignoring the group of catalan speaking teenage ladies, sort of semi-sluttily dressed and obviously on their way to Barcelona´s friday rowdy nightlife...

The much younger boys who carry their bicycle with them and excitedly talking about this skeeler structure in the urban gonglomerate of Barcelona where they wanna try their iron horses...

A few in black frocks dressed elderly women whose Catalan I find to difficult to concentrate on considering my present state of fatique...

Two Roman musicians busking with an antique looking acordeon amd a drum the size of a child´s play thing, dressed in a fashion that must have been out of time when even my dad was walking around in his shorts during his pre-adolescence years... the music they produce even worse as their dressing code...

No way I will be able to go back to that mental state of limbo back there in the pine woods that covered the hills between Lloret De Mar and Tossa De Mar...not in this slow early evening local train full with people!!!