Thursday's Travel Tales

Late last century I was seated in a sidewalk café in Turkey, when a man at the next table suddenly began to mumble and shake the newspaper in his hands.  I went back to watching the people parade, but the mumbling and noise grew louder.  The man leapt to his feet and began to tear the paper intro shreds while screaming out that all of the reporters and editors were liars and fools.  Smoke began pouring from his ears, as he hurled the shreds to the pavement, and began jumping up and down on them screaming that you couldn’t believe anything printed in these lying newspapers.  After a bit, when he had calmed down, I asked him why he read the papers if he has such an attitude and he replied, “Well, you must stay informed.”

Recently a lad engaged me in talk and disclosed that, based upon his extensive research of all religious, mystical and occult studies, he had decided that all of the famous spiritual figures of history were not super human messengers from the gods, but were beings from other cosmic worlds.  He wanted to know if I agreed.  I pointed out that it was a shame his education seemed lacking in the physical sciences so that he might consider the interchangeability of time and location.

If, as you humans say, a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, what would be its aroma if “smell” were spelled s-o-u-n-d?

Some years back, I stayed for a while in a village where the people showed an unusual ability to hear of ideas extraordinaire, which I periodically presented to them.  After several months of such conversations, a large group of them came to my hut and announced that they intended to replace their king-priest with yours truly.  I declined their offer and left the village that afternoon.  After my departure, their leader learned of their attempted plan, and with his personal warriors, came after me.  The morning of the following day, they caught up with me as I strolled along, and the king-priest, who had previously displayed only kindness, leapt from his steed and demanded to hear what I had to say about his village’s attempted coup.  I pointed out to him I had declined their offer and left.  All grew silent as his warriors turned to gauge his response.  He scratched his back with his sword and moved dirt around with his foot and said, “Well, I still don’t like it.”

A mortal with whom I periodically met one day, approach me in a most forlorn condition and said he dearly need to talk to me.  He commenced to relate an endless stream of  hard-luck tales about how no one liked him; how everything he attempted came to naught, and how deeply difficult it was just to keep putting one food in front of the other each day.  During a pause, I told him, “Hell, look on the bright side, you might die tomorrow.”  He then said, “It’s always a relief to speak with you.”

J.