Travel is so important to writers. We get inspiration for stories as we experience the world. Of course, travel is also important for anyone who likes to learn in the “field” about life and culture.
Last year’s trip to Berlin, Prague, Vienna, Istanbul and Greece came during the heat of the immigration crisis in Europe. Daily, I viewed dramatic news stories with images of refugees at the borders, and watched as governments struggled to deal with millions of desperate foreigners.
On this trip, after a week in the UK, I hear all sorts of news stories and personal opinions regarding the UK leaving the EU. How exciting to be in the here during the Brexit crisis, Wales improbable run in Euro Cup competition, Wimbledon, and the inquiry into Tony Blair’s involvement in the Iraq war.
I hear many different points of view about Brexit. And, like with any other major world event, there are complicated economic, political and social realities.
I am living as a storyteller and poet on this trip. These interests have brought me to ancient lands and forests and druids. I will be exploring storytelling, myths and poetry in the UK for several months.
So, here I sit in Barry, Wales, renting an Airbnb with a great view of the bay while I spend time with my lovely hosts. We have meals, watch Wimbledon and chat about Brexit.
Over the past weekend, I attended a storytelling festival, (www/BeyondtheBorder.com) at St Donat’s castle near Caridiff, Wales. I met storytellers and musicians and poets from the Ireland, England, Wales and Scotland, Greece, Italy, among other places. I listened to their stories and heard music under tents and in the open areas of the castle.
Interests can shape a trip. Yours might be photography or spiders (I did in fact meet a man who photographs spiders) or culinary arts or hiking, biking or buildings. My interests happen to be storytelling, poetry, culture and travel. So, I am happy as a clam — or as a bard or bardess. More stories to come on the next leg into mystical Scotland.
My Wales poem:
I woke up pink today
A Goddess in pink says
Our girl Pink sings of True Love
Throws red rose petals at her lover
I see pink in the eyes of the gull balanced on the rooftop across the road
I imagine pink curtains in the distant homes on Barry Island
For me, Wales is pink, as light and airy as cotton candy
I feel its fresh delights like a pink bun on a new born
I smell a pink carnation so delicate I almost faint
I see a red fan in a moment fading into a lighter red then pink again
Why pink and not red?
To invite delicate pink ideas that could blaze into passion