Euro Tripped

by Sally Bryan

  “Having second thoughts?” I asked, genuinely hopeful so we could forget this whole silly idea.

  He looked up from the plate with a disapproving glare. “I’ve eaten worse than this. You’ll understand if you ever see Beijing. What was it Prince Philip said, ‘if it has four legs and is not a chair, has wings and is not an aeroplane, or swims and is not a submarine, the Chinese will eat it.’”

  I shook my head, having thought too soon about him not causing offence - Oh, Dan.

  “Bon appétit, Freya, oh look, they left the skin on.” He sat back and clasped his hands behind his stupid head.

  Gabe assisted by transferring one of the portions to my plate and leaning in close to my ear. “It’s supposed to be very good for people with arthritis.”

  “But I don’t bloody have arthritis.” I was almost trembling at the sight of it and pulled my wine closer.

  He soothingly rubbed my forearm. “And after eating this, you never will.”

  I nipped the skin on the back of his hand. “And I don’t know why you’re being so smug because you’re next.”

  That shut him up and he leaned sombrely back.

  A hand began rubbing my other arm and I looked across the table to find Arwen reaching between the empty glasses to offer comfort. “You can do it, just one mouthful and then you can relax and watch the rest of us attempting to choke it down.” And there was something so very reassuring to her tone, her eyes.

  “Well, when you put it like that.” After all, I was here to try new things, even if cow brain hadn’t been high on my list.

  I grimaced before the pink, rubbery goo and skewered it with my fork, brought it to my nose and inhaled, “smells like French mustard,” which, I guessed was the sauce they’d used to kill whatever vile taste it had.

  Gabe’s hand was back on my knee and Arwen was leaning forward, elbows on the table.

  “Ok, here goes.” And there was an inhalation from somewhere as it touched my tongue and I closed my mouth to commence mastication in earnest. “It’s chewier than I’d hoped, kind of rubbery, can taste the mustard, faint hint of caper,” it finally broke up and I swallowed, resisting the urge to purge, to give Dan the satisfaction and I smiled, carefully replaced my fork, dabbed the side of my mouth with a napkin and invited the rest to give it a try.

  Arwen applauded and then added to the wine already in my glass. “You deserve that.”

  And never was I so relieved to have wine.

  It wasn’t that it was bad because it was no different to eating a large piece of particularly gristly pork belly. It was more the psychological aspect, the knowledge I was eating brains and then not going straight for my wine afterwards, to wash away the unpleasantness because to do so would be to give the boys satisfaction and to show weakness in front of Arwen, which for whatever reason I did not want to do. No, this one was a victory for the girls.

  Arwen soon followed with the band-aid approach, swallowing so fast I doubt it even touched her mouth. The boys, however, were somewhat less dignified, drawing it out, trying to distract, to get more drunk, huffing and puffing, offering money and favours so they wouldn’t have to go through with it until finally surrendering and submitting to a forfeit at some time of our choosing.

  “No more food tonight,” Dan proclaimed to everybody’s relief, “only drink.” And he regaled us with tales about the food he’d eaten on his travels; chicken feet and one-hundred-year-old egg in China, eyeballs in Japan, fried spider in Cambodia and tequila worms in Mexico, although judging from his performance tonight, it was hard not to be sceptical.

  On her travels, Arwen had also been adventurous, having tried snake in America, grasshoppers in Thailand and even kangaroo in her own country, though only because she’d been told it was beef. Meanwhile, the height of my exotic food experience stretched only as far as the occasional kebab and eating the fish we’d caught ourselves in the Highlands.

  Then Dan tried to one-up her by speaking of the rivers he’d rafted down, the tribes he’d spent time with, the mountains, planes and valleys he’d camped on and the crowds he’d entertained with his music as he’d travelled the world.

  Not subdued, Arwen entertained us with anecdotes of the exotic wild animals she’d photographed, the castles she’d been in, mountains she’d climbed and more than one story of being propositioned by rock stars and hip-hop artists who, she assured us, she’d turned down.

  I listened in awed silence, enthralled by it all and barely daring to breathe in case I should happen to miss an important or even minor detail. Yet conversely, I felt so empty.

  As I sat and listened, all I could think was that there was indeed so much more to life beyond the student halls I’d spent so long shut away inside and as Arwen and I made brief eye contact from across the candlelight, I couldn’t help but feel regretful about the lost opportunities, which I’d never see again.

  Why was I only feeling this way now? Was it hearing of Dan and Arwen’s adventures? Or was it the food? That I’d finally done something crazy myself and opened the floodgates? I had to admit, it was funny it took a cow’s brain to make me see it.

  I was nearly twenty-four years of age, was only now going on my first independent holiday, had no real hobbies to speak of and had known only one lover. I’d never had a part-time job and thus never earned my own money. I’d never run a marathon or competed in a sport. I’d missed celebrating my twenty-first birthday because a group presentation had been scheduled for the next morning. The drunkest I’d ever been was arguably this moment and I’d never used drugs of any sort, although that was unlikely to ever change. I was educated and, I’d thought, extremely happy but now I couldn’t be sure I’d even lived a life at all.

  Worse, I knew that as soon as this summer was over, I’d return to Britain, back to a life of routine, of doing the same things, of having to shut myself away in a hospital for half the day and a study the rest, of not having time for anything else and I’d always know that this magical euphoria I was presently experiencing may never again return.

  Don’t get me wrong, I wanted nothing more than to be a doctor, there were very important reasons why I’d chosen this particular career path and knew I’d make a bloody good one but there are points where everyone gets hit by melancholy and the lamentations of what could have been.

  Should I have waited a year before going to medical school? I didn’t think so because at the age of eighteen, I had no interest or urge to travel and the thought of doing so would have struck me down with fear. But I was certainly travelling now and sometimes things happen in life at the right moment for reasons. And although I couldn’t take back the time spent locked away, nor more of the same that was yet to come, what I could do was ensure I made the absolute most of this summer by making a vow to myself this very moment. That vow was that I would seize every opportunity to live this summer, this one magical summer, to the utmost of its extremes. I would say yes to every opportunity that presented itself but more than that, I would create my own opportunities. I would laugh and cry and for the first time, I would live.

  I gulped from my glass, suspecting the wine was probably responsible for my strange mood, for my vacant eyes and Gabe brought me further back to clarity with his deep voice up close.

  “Hey, Doctor, are you all right?”

  I smiled from the mouth, as warmly as I could. “Yeah, I think so.” I reached out and he took my hand, kissing my knuckles as I glanced across the table.

  Dan was leaning into Arwen, speaking so low I couldn’t make it out and it became clear the table had split into two groups, one couple and what, to me, was increasingly beginning to look like another couple, despite what Arwen might have said.

  “We can’t leave this place tomorrow,” Gabe gestured out with his hands, “it’s too soon and it’s a good base for other nearby places.”

  I nodded in affirmation, “what are they talking about?”

  He hesitated, looked across and frowned, “oh, dunno, um, maybe what they’re go
nna do after we’ve ditched them. Europe is our oyster, Frey, and we can go wherever we want.”

  “Wherever we want,” I said, sounding hopelessly monotoned.

  “Hey, guys,” it was Arwen, who was raising her glass, as Dan to her side likewise mirrored her.

  Gabe and I obediently did the same and waited for the Australian to make her toast.

  “I just wanted to say that I’m so happy to have met you all so, let’s make a toast to us, to friendship, to Mother Europa and to whatever’s around the corner.”

  I couldn’t agree more and then we all clinked glasses.

  And drank.

  * * *

  The language guy watched bemused from behind the front desk as Gabe and I shambled into the hostel a little after midnight, using each other for support, Gabe chanting the first verse to Auld Lang Syne.

  “Shush, Gabe, I want to ask the genius a question.”

  A bushy eyebrow perked from behind the desk and we shared a moment of telepathy, another rowdy lot from north of the English Channel.

  “Sorry for my Scottishness, can you understand me? Of course, you can, you understand everybody, even those people from the Amazon jungle.” I leaned against the desk and began shuffling through a stack of pamphlets about nearby attractions or something. “You obviously spent most of your life studying stuff and languages, so I just wanted to ask … No, Gabe, stop that, not on my neck … I just wanted to ask if you’d have rather done other stuff instead? … Gabe!” I giggled and shoved him half-heartedly away, forgot my question and reached out again for his support, heading in the direction of the steps and calling over my shoulder, “there’s a pretty girl behind us and she’s with some guy who’s not got a chance, so could you do him a favour and say he should just forget about her.”

  Gabe’s tongue found its way into my ear and I shivered. “What are you talking about? Dan’ll soon be having his way with her.”

  I slapped him playfully on the side of the head. “No, he bloody well won’t.”

  “Should old acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind? Should old acquaintance be forgot, and old lang syne?”

  “Shush,” I urged him, watching every step on the creaky stairs, “Gabe? Do you have any regrets? Anything you might have done differently?”

  “Nope,” he kissed me on the cheek, “everything’s perfect.”

  Chapter Four

  Catalonia

  We spent a total of three nights in Carcassonne, using it as a base to see other nearby places, like the town of Avignon to the east, which during the fourteenth century had been home to the papacy, with its twelfth century bridge to nowhere, the Pont Saint-Bénézet that traversed halfway across the Rhône river before stopping, the other half having been destroyed by floods four hundred years earlier. We enjoyed a beautiful river walk on a hot sunny day with ice creams before driving the short distance to see the one place I’d have picked out of a million, somewhere that was bound to show up on any travellers list of places to see, the Pont du Gard, a largely intact Roman aqueduct that dominated the Gardon River with its imposing size, beauty and countless arches.

  Standing on the south bank, Gabe and Dan were arguing over whether the structure had been altered to accommodate the tourists that were even now walking across from one side of the aqueduct to the other.

  Dan thrashed his arm in the direction of the structure. “They’re not gonna alter a two-thousand-year-old Roman pile just so you can waddle your fat arse over it.”

  Gabe jabbed his finger with equal intensity. “Are you blind? Just take a look underneath the thing? The stone at this side’s a different bloody colour, size and texture. And why do you think that is? Because it’s been cut from the quarry nearly two thousand years later, using different tools and techniques. It’s not been in the bloody sun as long.”

  “The sun makes stone lighter, does it? Then why is the older stone darker?”

  “So you’re admitting it’s older stone now?”

  Dan momentarily found himself unable to reply, which was rare for him.

  Gabe, sensing victory, delivered the death blow. “And you think they won’t alter a two-thousand-year-old aqueduct for reasons of posterity but they’re perfectly happy to allow thousands of tourists to trample all over it?”

  Arwen and I had been listening close by and we looked at each other, rolled our eyes in unison and waded into the river. We were both in summer dresses and flip flops and, not knowing we’d be doing this, neither of us had thought to bring a change of clothes. Not that it mattered because the sun was imposing its power on us today and the water was a beautiful cooling contrast against the skin.

  “What do you do back home, for a living, I mean?” My hand was making small, incomplete movements in the direction of Arwen’s arm, in anticipation of needing her for stability as the water gradually began to cover our lower legs.

  Her hand was doing the same and at one point, her fingers briefly wrapped around my arm. “I dance.”

  “Ahhh,” I nodded, as though it explained a lot, “very cool. What kind of dance?”

  Her face brightened as the water made slushing sounds with our every step. “I spent most of my life training in ballet, tap and jazz. They were my passions but after I hit eighteen, I kind of needed to go where the money was so I learned salsa and hip-hop too.”

  I glanced across as my lips made an appreciative pucker. “Do you teach?”

  “Um hmm, there’s just not enough music videos to go around so I kind of have to spend most of my time teaching but that’s ok, cos I love it, it pays well and feels like I’m giving something back.”

  “You’ve been in music videos?” I asked in a tone that failed to hide how impressed I was.

  Her hand jutted out again for my arm and I helped steady her by reaching around and placing a hand on her shoulder. “Thanks, Honey, yeah. Have you heard of Tiny Biggz?”

  My eyes widened. “He’s a huge hip-hop star! You’ve been in one of his videos?”

  She nodded as the bridge of her nose turned red. “Oh, he’s a rotter … offered me money to sleep with him so I told him to go eat shrimp.”

  I snorted and gave her another appreciative glance. Most women would probably have done whatever a world-famous multimillionaire demanded of them but not Arwen, no. “Wow.” I finally said.

  “I’ve actually been in several of his videos and was on his world tour last year. I lived and travelled for free for six months, performing in shows every night and living in hotels but I didn’t actually get to see anything, not one thing, which was such a disappointment, so I saved a huge stack of cash and came back to Europe to do the whole thing again, only this time properly.” She giggled, “if you think Dan’s an ignoramus, you’ve not seen anything until you’ve met a guy who’s obsessed only with diamonds, gold, fast cars and flashing money around to impress people.” She rolled her eyes and I wondered of what memory she was thinking. “No, Dan’s an angel compared to some guys, oh, and Gabe too, of course.”

  I agreed, “of course.”

  From atop the aqueduct, at least two male tourists were taking photos of us and we stopped as the river came up to our knees, we both almost slipping on the goo coated rocks of the river bed. I fell into her and she steadied us both by threading an arm around my hips, where it remained.

  “I have to agree with Gabe,” her voice was calm, easy and natural, like holding onto me was nothing, “you can see where the stone changes … not clearly perhaps, but if you look hard, you can sort of tell.”

  “Oh, don’t let him hear you say that or else he’ll be gloating the rest of the day.” I felt her fingers pulse around my flesh and the cold water sent a shiver up my body. “The fact we’re even discussing this shows how great a job they did. They’ve fooled thousands of people into thinking that walkway is ancient.”

  I silently mused how Gabe would complain that had the aqueduct been built in England, they’d have long since pillaged the stone to make sheds, demolished it altogeth
er as a health and safety risk, or else kept the structure but built the walkway from ugly breeze blocks or solid steel and I had to agree with him. There were reasons Britain possessed no comparable aqueducts, despite the Romans having occupied most of the island for nearly five hundred years. One only needed to look at Hadrian’s Wall, or what was left of it, to understand the problem.

  Two men in a kayak glided past, their oar blades coming to rest on the water’s surface as they leaned back to relax, enjoying the break and majestical view for a few moments.

  She hummed and brushed a long pink braid away from her eyes. “Still, I’m not sure I’m totally in favour of altering such an old structure just for tourists.”

  I sighed in agreement. “Yes but it’s probably preferential to having them trample over the real thing.”

  Together, our heads turned to the bank from where the boys were still bickering. We giggled and, feeling her hand slip from my side, we started for the bank. Two steps, three, four and I spun around, throwing up water to soak Arwen’s grey summer dress.

  She stopped and gaped, unable to believe what I’d just done. There’s nothing that reveals damp patches in clothing quite like the colour grey and, approving of my handiwork, all I could do was laugh.

  “Oh, you drongo.” She finally managed to squeak after adjusting to the additional cold and wetness.

  “I’m a what?” I was briefly crippled with laughter until she sent a stream of cold water my way, soaking the front of my flowery summer dress. The chill was brief because it was soon overwhelmed by the delivery of more and so I sent a cascade back until we were both thrashing and kicking water and only coming to a stop when neither of us had anything left to soak.

  “I can’t believe you.” She grinned as water trickled from the tip of her chin, from the point of her nose and the lobes of her ears but I didn’t care because never before had I stood in such a beautiful river with a friend and endeavoured to soak her as my belly hurt from laughing so hard.