Day two of delayed blogging. I am still able to blog. There is still enough time and enough energy to blog for a day or two. No links in these blogs, just pure quick text. For those who are just tuning in. I am not at my computer. The messages here are delayed posts. I will be back next week. I am trying to write as much as I can, so you have something to read in my absence and hopefully come back.
About promises and expectations. It happens again and again. The expectations are grand, and then the actual results might not even happen at all. A person of words and no deeds is like a garden full of weeds.
I remember when my parents and I went on our great journey to Bulgaria in 1978. The trip went through the Soviet Union, Romania, Bulgaria, of course, Hungary, Czechoslovakia and back. Yes, it was Soviet Union and not the Ukraine back then and yes, it was Czechoslovakia and not The Czech republic. The trip was an amazing adventure. About as adventurous as they should probably get for an 8 year old boy, but the reason why I am even mentioning this trip here, are the grand expectations I had for keeping track of the events. I had my pens with me and a special book and I was ready. I was ready for a serious documentation of the events to come. Just crossing the border to the Soviet Union could probably fill pages of a journal. Romania was a country so foreign, so different. I was ready for all these large events. I was not ready for their actual appearance and I was not ready for the lack of space in the back of our car. Next to me was this little boy who barely spoke, and I was always trapped in a place where I just could not write. And the events were more exciting than I would have been able to describe anyway. About that time I also wanted to write like Henryk Sienkiewicz (look him up, I am not putting any links here..., he is the one who wrote Quo Vadis and got a Nobel Prize in Literature for it.) I was in love with NEL (look her up.) and I was sure that I could write another W Pustyni I w Puszczy. His book had 500 pages, maybe... Mine was out of ideas on page 3. I just did not know how to describe anything. Things were just happening. I traveled. I walked, I saw. (Oh, it was me, me, me and the others)... But I did not really travel or do or see... It was all a bit too much. The trip to eastern Europe will need some entries. It was a really good trip for me. It was also the trip that made the other trip possible, that eventually led to me being able to write this very blog.