1          SEPTEMBER SKY
 
     The bus between Budapest and Paris went by without problems but the night train from Bucharest to Budapest was quite another story. Another time, maybe....
I jumped on minutes before the bus was scheduled to leave and made my way to my seat. It will be a long journey....

     A long journey indeed. I was watching through my window. The scenery was unfurling faster and faster, changing shapes and appearances by seconds. My journey-mate was sleeping, drawing out funny noises, straining himself not to sleep with his head on my shoulder, but from time to time his right hand was on my knee.

     I was thinking more and more to the moment of the arrival. It seemed to be such an endless journey. Like I was in a dream, moving backwards and never get there. It was getting darker and even the road seemed to fall into my dream. We passed imaginary borders, stopped at imaginary places to drink imaginary coffee. All of these in my dream, because finally, I felt asleep.

     I woke up at a certain moment. After the driver stopped the bus engine suddenly an absolute silence, despite the fact that everyone was hurry to get off. It was so bracing after the annoying rumble of the bus, as it was pity to waste it.

     I get off the bus; finally I could chill off after a 48 hours journey. And there was the sky. Nothing else but the sky.

     Now as I write, I can still see that white sky, that September sky.  There was an overflowing of stars from the sky. Overwhelmed. There were more glims than the darkness between them, sprinkled diffuse, crowded in some places, sparser in others, concentrated in big pieces of light or dissolved into the frozen air.

     It was thoroughly cold and yet I was in no hurry to pick up my luggage or to go inside the bus station.

     I was speechless to the beauty of that night, feeling the wind blowing in my face, stare to that magic Paris sky, to that outer space bent over the darkness of the city.
I have been waiting night and day for that miracle to happen, me in Paris and all I could do at the moment was to stare at the sky.

     Besides the magic sky that welcomed me, somehow Paris manage to have everything. The city of light, the city of love, unsightly city, invisible city.... Its atmosphere is the most romantic, its shops and hotels are the most chic, its restaurants beyond compare. It is true. Famous old song says: "Paris, Paris..." Yes, there are very few cities in the world as wonderful as Paris.

     So, there I was with my head spinning round like a heavy planet. Finally I picked up my luggage. It never happens before, but this time I had no place to go. I was sitting on my backpack and I took off my Travel Book to look for the metro map. I did that before and yet I didn't understand a thing from those little lines draw there. Thinking how foolish it was to go somewhere without a reservation, I suddenly realized that its getting darker and I would end up probably sleeping in the bus station and get robbed.

     For a second, against all logic in that circumstances, I remembered about some brain diseases - not a cheap motel as you probably imagined.

     There are some brains diseases, which produces illusions that you might consider from amusing to awestruck. You can feel that a part of your body is missing. You can become to believe that the dearest persons in your life, like your mother or brother, for example, are not themselves anymore, replaced by humanoids that just looks like them and of course they conspires against you. Or, you can have the strange feeling that you can see your self from your back, one-meter distance, like in some computer games.

     I have to admit that, even I have no brain disease, I was kind of feeling that way. Watching myself from my back lost in the most beautiful city of Europe.

     I really could use some help and while I was thinking about it I grabbed my backpack and walk out of the bus station. 
 
  
 
2          WOODSTOOK HOSTEL
 
     The place I was finally checked in was not so bad. Woostock hostel. 48 rue Rodier.
Often called "your home away from home" a warm and friendly atmosphere.
I was so lucky to find an available place. Usually you have to book in one month in advance... There were faces from all over the world...

     My head was still spinning round and all I had in mind was to take a short shower and go out. I wasn't going to waste not a minute of my time there.

     I am just thinking now, as I am telling you this story, that in those moments I wasn't realizing that it was for real. I was there but it felt like it wasn't me.

     Suddenly, here he was, dressed up to go dreaming, wrapped in vivid imagination.  Moonlight becomes this kind of people beautifully. He was laughing, some kind of "crazy lunar laugh". If he wasn't performing himself, then he was be grinning at someone else's antics.

     He was wearing a black T-shirt with the text ENGLAND printed on it. Maybe, if he get lost, people will know where to send him back.

     It did not take me a long time to recognize a strong British accent. "Dear God, I said to myself, I just hope I will not share the room with him because I will definitely not understand a word he's saying." Yet, he was that kind of man you just can't help not to look, better saying, can't help not to stare... In fact this was what I was doing. I was hoping he would not notice...It was embarrassing...

     If he was the light in the room, I was more like a shadow. It was a strange feeling... And I am saying strange because I am not a carefree party type. You won't see me wearing a lampshade on my head, tap dancing or calling attention to my self in anyway... I am more like the admiring spectator in the background. But not this time... Come on! I was the new came, I was a girl, and I should get all the attention.... Or, maybe I only wanted his attention.

     I am that kind of person you may not even notice at first as I quietly and calmly, unconsciously, camouflaging myself into the background. So, what was I expecting?
We were all downstairs, in some kind of hostel's lobby. The receptionist, half-asleep showed me the way to the dorms. I was about to share the room with three other people. But there wasn't anybody by the time I get there. They were out, of course, having fun. 
 
 

3       LA CIGALE
 
         
     I was walking on Boulevard Rochechouart. I have read in my Travel Book, which is, by the way, an indispensable accessory of my journeys, about a place called La Cigale, "one of the two large rock clubs, seating 2000 for international indie, punk and hard-core bands."

     Entre a La Cigale et tout oublier. Tout sauf le palisir. Tout sauf la champagne. Tout sauf la jolie.

     In case you did not know,  "la cigale" means "the cicada". The cicada is related to the harvest fly. A cicada can chirp so loud that you can hear it from half a mile away. When I heard loud music more than half a mile away I was pretty sure that I am on the right way.

      I reached the club. The music was kicking, the drinks were flowing and everyone in a 500 meters radius with a fake I.D. was at the club. Settling up to the bar I ordered a bier. In a corner, as you would probably imagined. There were a lot of people. Cool atmosphere and loud - very loud - music. The place is great if you like being sociable... But sometimes I am not...

     I don't think I am particularly unattractive but don't think I am particularly pretty either - just average. Normally I don't bother much with make-up but I had made an effort that time. Not too much, just a subtle highlighting of the eye and some lip-gloss. When I left the hostel, I was feeling good. But, as good as I was feeling about myself, I was still a little uncomfortable with my clothes. I was not dress up properly for a rock-club.  My clothes were much more revealing than attiring. Lucky, no one was looking at me, at least that was I thought, and to be honest, I did not wanted that to happen. You can imagine how embarrassed can be when you are in a rock club dressed like a rainmaker. Just near the place I was sitting there was a group of guys absorbed in trying to convince the birthday boy to dance.    

   
     Suddenly a voice whispered in my ear: 
      _"Hello sweetheart!"
"Hello" was ok, whispering in my ear... ok, but "sweetheart"? Please... I turned over and there was a 16 years old looking guy, he was in the club with a fake ID, for sure. I said hello back and hoped the conversation will be over with that. Well, he wanted to take me into his dreams...(car) he was talking nonsense, actually he talked for 15 minutes... I wasn't listening. I was just looking around with my mind somewhere else. I just couldn't get the man I saw in the hostel lobby out of my mind...

     Finally, the 16 years old guy disappeared. He vanished into the crowd. Good for me, I thought to myself. But suddenly someone else appeared to notice me. I haven't seen anybody but it just felt like someone was looking at me.

     _"Good evening"

     I turned instantly yellow. In front of me there was the man I was thinking about. That was rather creepy than funny. I was expected to find people from my 3000-km own country, but not him!

     _"French, English?"

     I was dumb. Other 5 pairs of eyes fastened on me. His friends. Awkward silence.
Suddenly I forgot my very good English and my scant French.

     _"Have we meet?" (Grinning slightly and shrugged)

     God, please, from all the sentences I learned from conversation guides that was the only one that I could give.

     _"Maybe" he said.

     Soon we were talking like we were old friends. Laughs and again a round of laughs and the tensions were broken.

     As long as I live I know I'll never forget that night. We talked for what seemed like hours. I realized that he does not know that maybe we are in the same hostel. I don't know why but I was afraid to ask. Somehow it seemed that he did not noticed me earlier in the lobby. It was 4 o'clock in the morning and we decided to go somewhere for a coffee.

     One way or another I will have to ask him, I said to myself thinking that at a certain point we will have to go to sleep. 
 
 

 
4           COFFEE
 
 
 
     _I am staying at Woostook Hostel. I finally said
 
     _I know. He answered.
 
      His bus was leaving in two hours.  
 
 
5           THOSE WERE THE DAYS
 
     Once upon a time there was a tavern where we used to raise a glass or two remember how we laughed away the hours and dreamed of all the great things we would do ...