Goodbye to the Road

The great bird, regal and sleek in flight, swooped over the dry forest above the desert. Far away, jagged peaks of crumbling lava gave way to a snow-capped Sierra, but the near shore of the Pacific Ocean lay concealed. Yet the creature knew instinctively about the pyramids that existed beneath the cloud cover, ancient structures that resembled the tops of the barren foothills that poked their summits above the heavy white mist.

Descending the Cairo Side

I took off to see the world on June fourth, flush with the conceit of youth. I hoped for a great embarkation party, but events soon veered off course. Sometime after a night showing of the movie "Jaws" in Montreal and an early morning flight to Madrid the real world got in the way.

I'd thought about traveling a lot. Fifteen years of uninterrupted schooling will do that to a person. From my first memory of throwing up chocolate milk in pre-K, through the tender mercies of the nuns in primary school, to the charade of university undergraduate academic studies, it seemed that life had been nothing but a parade of classrooms overseen by battle-axe teachers and pretentious professors. Visions beckoned to me of far-off deserts and a serene life detached from the great material wheel of North American society. I'd endured the snow and drizzle of Canadian winters for long enough; it was time to seek warmer climes.