1

     I purchased my airfare so far in advance that it was easy not facing the fact that it would be me flying to an island that dangled under the Arctic Circle--Iceland. 

     Thoughtlessly, I went through the formal steps of preparing for a trip:  I told friends, I bought a backpack, a tent, and a sleeping bag.  Now, as I sat at the airport, I was slowly realizing, OH SHIT, I really have no idea what I am doing!

*****

     I slept fine on the flight from Austin to Dallas.   While sleeping, some how I injured my shoulder on the flight from Dallas to Baltimore. 

     Some time during the flight, I awoke to find the marrow in my shoulder pulsating.  The pain extended down my arms, into my fingers, and down in to my ribs.  I had this sick feeling that I was having a heart attack.  I was scared that my trip was already ruined.  I wanted to sleep the pain off so bad.

     When the in-flight meal came, I was quite hungry but sleepy too.  So, I involuntarily compromised.  I would begin to munch on a cracker.  I would get the cracker to a nice pulpy state, only to fall asleep before swallowing.  A little later, the pain in my arm would wake me up and I would discover the chewed crackers in my mouth.  I would chew a little bit more to correctly identify that the cracker pulp was ready to swallow.  Mmmmm, that was good.  I think that I would like another cracker…but no sooner would I fall asleep…

     This cycle went on like this all the way until the final decent into Baltimore.  In Baltimore, I discovered I had a 5-hour lay over.  Damn!  So what did I do first?  I laid down on the marble floor and slept.  Without pulpy crackers in my mouth and the pesky pain in my shoulder, I slept uninterrupted for 2 hours.  After waking and eating, I had nothing to do but wait the remaining three hours for my flight.

*****

     I should mention at this time that I had received some information about Iceland from a friend, Hans.  He informed me that Icelanders were horny for foreigners.

     As I remembered this hard fact, I realized that I was approaching the Iceland Air ticket counter.  Furthermore, I noticed the agents looked very Icelandic.  I wondered if I was going to get laid before I even arrived in Iceland. 

*****

     Ironically, as I unsuccessfully tried to have a heterosexual experience with the female Icelandic ticket agent, I became more aware of the light mannerisms of those around me who were also waiting to board my same flight.  The more I listened and observed, the more I realized that those also waiting for the Icelandic flight were part of a gay singing group.  Some of their T-shirts gave it away:

          Oregon lesbian choir

          We sing out!!!

     Whoa!  Did Hans pull one over me? Was Hans laughing somewhere at the silly ideas he had planted into my horny brain?  Was Iceland in no way horny for foreigners, but rather a huge gay colony?

     Now, I have no problems with homosexuality, but they weren’t going to hamper my humping spree in Iceland.

     What could I expect on the plane, on the island?  Did the Iceland Air clerk think that I was part of the “blue heart” gay choir?  Was that why she and I didn’t get it on?

     Soon it was time to board the plane.  Surely, I would find others of my minority orientation group.

                   ***** 

     I am at this very moment, folks, about to board the plane that will leave the country.  I am now in line to board…20 more people, then me.  I am about to give my boarding pass...and…ooo…eee...and closer, YES!  I just did it.  I just gave the flight attendant my ticket and am now a helpless foreigner! 

     Folks, I am now aboard the plane.  Stepping into the plane was like stepping into Iceland.  The flight attendants were all classic blondes with thick European black glasses and pilot caps.  Here look:

     Great, the people next to me just asked me if I was part of the touring choir group. Damn it, and there I was trying to ooze raw sexuality.  I thought I screamed heterosexuality.  I was always convinced that cooperative women could smell my prowess.

     Yes, yes, my name is CRAIG DOWNING and I would like to make an official statement: I am not in the choir.  First, innately by definition--choir--I must be able to sing.  And, can I sing?  No, and don’t make me show you that I can’t sing—it would be damaging for all parties involved.  Second, even if god did correct my out of tune and knotted vocal cords, I am very, very heterosexual.  I’d love to show your wife how heterosexual I am.  Thank you for your time…

2

          I awoke to bright sunlight and an ocean of clouds.  I saw navy blue water and…land!  It was black and there were no trees.  I was landing in Iceland.

      After landing, I successfully retrieved my luggage, slipped through customs and bought a bus ticket into the city.

     Before getting on the bus, I went directly outside.  I went past the buses.  I went past all the cars and people.  I found a parking median with grass--Icelandic grass.  I grabbed a tuft and stuck it in my mouth, mmm, cold moist Icelandic grass.  I then returned and hopped on the bus.  Soon I would infiltrate deeper into the island.

     The airport bus transported me to the closest major city, actually, the only major city in Iceland, Reykjavik.

     Okay, hiccup #1: The youth hostel in Reykjavik had no rooms available. 

     I guess this is where I should have had a contingency plan.  So, I called Hans to update him on what was happening.

      Hans had arrived in Iceland about 4 days earlier.  Hans and I had bought our tickets to Iceland on the same whim.  It just ended up that he arrived before me.  Lucky for him, Hans had some how arranged to stay with some Icelandic girl that he had only recently met over the Internet.  So, here we were, two bored Texan fellas in the middle of Iceland.  Did I mention that I had no idea what I was doing?

                             *****

     Well, I was going to try to stay at another hostel in a neighboring town.  I tagged along with these two middle-aged fellas from Minneapolis.

     “Yeah, my great grandfather came from Iceland.  Why are you here?” one of my new partners asked me.

     Damn good question Jimmy, because I really don’t know why I'm here. As a kid, I remembered reading about Iceland in National Geographic.

     “I liked the pictures?” I offered.

     So we all ended up at another youth hostel together.  No sooner did we get to the youth hostel, than our friend, Optimistic Jimmy, asked the clerk,

     “Hey, do you know my great grandfather Bjorn Magnusson?”

     Jesus Jimmy, shut up!

     “See, my great grandfather came from…”

     I was seriously smirking to myself as Jimmy goes on about his Grandpa, but damn all, it ended up that these proud Icelanders keep records of everyone.  Iceland has some kind of genealogical society.  So, the clerk and Jimmy dive into a serious conversation and I wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t find themselves to be cousins.

                             *****

     I called up Hans again and set up a rendezvous at point alpha: Town center.  I returned to the city on the same bus route that took me out of the city.  At first I was feeling very lost and confused, but now I was starting to feel a little better.  It is silly how just knowing a bus route can make you feel as if you know what you are doing. 

     After riding that “known bus route” for an hour wondering where the damn “city center” was, and after multiple friendly Icelanders kept saying “next stop, soon,” I had made at least one complete route on the bus.  I was just going to get off where it looked metropolitan enough to me.

     Now an hour after I was supposed to have already met Hans, I was only just arriving.  I figured it was too late and I would just meet Hans back in our hometown of Austin. 

     Then, in the middle of Iceland, oops, I bumped into the bastard.  This was definitely odd.  5,000 miles away from home, in a completely foreign place, I was physically seeing someone I knew only from Texas.  With the sudden appearance of Han's familiar face in such a strange surrounding, it was like Hans was some spiritual guide.

     Hans said, “Hello, Craig.”

     This triggered a case of the willies up down my spine.

                             *****

     So we walked aimlessly around shooting off pictures.  There were pictures of me standing next to a boat, Hans standing next to a boat, now next to an Icelandic sign, and then in front of a store.  Hans chose to be a part of the cheesy lean-out-and-smile-from-the-stationary-train picture.  I abstained.

     After a while, Hans and I decided to meet the girl that he was hanging out with here in Iceland--Linda, 18.9 year old Linda.  

     We, 23 year old males, made a deal about Linda, “I won’t tell anyone back home if you don’t tell anyone, deal?”  Deal.

                             *****

     Linda mentioned to Hans that she wished he would speak with more of an American accent and, even better, with all the Texan flavor he could muster.  So, we intellectuals decided that I should oblige and surprise our Linda, our Icelandic Hostess.

     After hopping around on buses, Hans and I arrived where Linda worked.  We approached Linda.  And, with the thickest Texan drawl humanly possible, I introduced myself.  It went something like this,

     “Howdy partner, any lassie that’s a friend of Hans is a friend of mine.  Now, I have got me a real hankering for some BBQ, but this here country don’t have a damn lick of the stuff…” < I don’t find this funny anymore…just cut to next paragraph describing this …but not with quote>

     About right there, as I was looking at poor Linda’s soft, young, blank Icelandic face, Hans erupted laughter through his nose.  He effectively snotted all over himself.  Of course, I am an easily impressed American whose sinus cavity is no stronger than Hans’.   So, I too, erupted out all over my lip.  Still blank, young Linda was starring at two recently met Americans and trying to make sense of this American behavior.  Quickly we debriefed the situation and immediately ran away.

*****

     Later we were waiting for Linda at her house.  We stuffed ourselves with Icelandic chocolate.  We ended up collapsing on her couches and taking a nap.  I was sure my body had no idea what time it was.

3

     Linda was back.  I awoke fully rested and charged up.  We decided to go out and find something to eat.  There was this American-themed pizza joint that had all these crazy pizza names like: The Woodstock, The Rolling Stones, and, dear god, one was called The Pearl Harbor!  I imagined this Pearl Harbor pizza outfitted with sparklers and covered in red ketchup.  Well, ends up that, ironically, the Pearl Harbor was the only tasty sounding pizza.  All the other pizzas were just back home regular options, pepperoni, woo wee—who cares! So, get this, the Pear Harbor pizza had mussels, shrimp, salmon and scampi!  After getting over how salty the pizza was, it was not that bad. 

     While we were all sitting by the window just eating our pizza, I started to get this odd feeling.  People walking by were more than just glancing into the restaurant.  No, they were shamelessly staring, wide-eyed and astonished.  The pedestrians were not staring with disgust, but rather with general interest.  It was as if I had a broken arm, a black eye, or an obvious scar.  Whatever it was, it would catch and mesmerize the pedestrians walking by our window.

     We left the restaurant.  As I walked around, people continued to gawk.  It was like an old western movie; some new kid walking into town.  As the new kid is approaching downtown, people are whispering while someone runs ahead to tell others.  But, now as I was walking, I saw people run in to stores to get the attention of the store’s occupants.  Then the messenger would proceed to point out the window at innocent little old me.  I would catch the whole group laughing in a wide mouth chorus.

     It was now approaching evening.  Linda decided to let us see the Icelandic nightlife by ourselves.  This nightlife lasted a half-hour as I realized that my key to my hostel was missing.  We ended up needing to go back to Linda’s place on a bus to look for my key.  We had to run to get my keys and then run back in time to catch the last bus back to my youth hostel.

*****

     Wouldn’t everyone want to sleep now?  I mean, it had only been my first day in Iceland and god knows it had been hard on us, you and me, reader, up since 6am.  Not to mention, the exhaustion of cultural shock.  Well, of course my readers surely know that I am showing facetious concern.  Surely I am leading to an unfortunate twist in our path. 

     Arriving at the youth hostel lobby, I found our recently discovered cousins still talking, Jesus!!!!  I head upstairs. 

No one else was asleep.  So, I took this time to prepare a very restful and comfortable bed.  I pulled out my down sleeping bag.  For this great night of slumber, I even put all the down in the down sleeping bag at the bottom to make it extra comfy for my back.  Mmmm, sleep...sleep... 

     Of course, as you can guess, I was not the most excited of travelers in regards to our friend Optimistic Jimmy.  Well, as much as I would be glad for anyone to sleep as comfortably as me, I would not make sure that everyone else knew it by snoring as ungodly loud as possible.  Jesus Jimmy!  He rattled my bed, my brain, and my deep sleep.  Yet, even though he woke me, I couldn’t just go and shut him up by jamming my fists up his nasal passages. 

     Jimmy’s snores shook me as he lay deep in sleep. Jimmy was even sleeping in a fetal position.  Jimmy's snoring was as if he were trying to make as much noise as possible.  I then started to wonder if he was choking.  His snoring was just that bad!  Thank god that eventually his companion, frustrated as I, balled up a sock and threw it at him.

     I awoke many times during the night not knowing what time it was.  The sunlight was no longer a reliable indication of the time.  At this latitude, in the summer, there was sun light pretty much all the time.

     I awoke to find it 10:00am.  Both of my roommates were already shoveling down some oatmeal.  So, I, being the conversationalist that I sometimes can be, started their morning off with a generic-tourist-on-vacation-morning greeting.  I really didn’t want to bring up anything about the noise quake last night.

     “Ah, what a great night’s rest,” I announced. 

     Wouldn’t you know it?  My loving friend, Optimistic Jimmy responded, “Really, I couldn’t fall asleep at all last night.”

     Oh yeah, right Jimmy.  You were the only one who got any damn sleep.        

*****

     Icelandic water smells like poop.  The tap water in Iceland has lots of sulfur in it.  Therefore it smells just like basement fart.  While in the shower, I kept trying to remind myself that, minus the gallons of poop-smelling water gushing over me, I was actually cleaning myself.

     Clean and ready, I departed.  I was going back to Linda’s house.  We had all decided to head out to the famous Blue Lagoon.  Of course, I had forgotten a pair of swimming trunks, so I was forced into a more sexy option--my boxers.  Adding to the sexy element was the fact that my pee flap did not, and I repeat, did not have a button to keep it closed.  To add even more excitement to this embarrassment, Hans and Linda had decided to bring along another girl to witness my potential exposure.  Of all the boxers I had, which one did I get stuck sporting for this adventure?  The most all-American boxers I could find.  All they read was, “This buds for you.”  Woo wee.  Hey, hello all you Icelanders!  Guess who the dumb-ass American is?

*****

     The Blue Lagoon, to me, was the epitome of Iceland.  It is a geothermal plant.  It has lava rocks all around it and there is a hot spring in the middle of huge green mountains. 

     What a surreal experience this was.  I mean I’d seen pictures of the Blue Lagoon and yet, there I was in the middle of a 3-D experience at the Blue Lagoon.  It was like those old cheesy children’s stories where a kid falls into a picture book to find themselves experiencing each picture. 

     There I was at a geothermal plant seeing Hans’ head bobbing up and down in this phosphorus blue water against chunky green mountains.

     Wow, the water really was hot.  Supposedly, it gets so hot that people die.  At least one person dies there every summer.  And, I thought the shower water was stinky.  The water at the lagoon was the smelliest.

      After this swimming treat, we went back to Linda’s House.  Tonight we were really going to experience the Icelandic nightlife.

4

     Before going out, I had moved to the attic of a Guesthouse in the center of Reykjavik. 

     This was an odd situation because now would be a good time for me to introduce hiccup #2.  It was now Saturday night, tomorrow was Sunday, and Monday was a national holiday.  This would mean that the banks, one’s lifeline for money, would be closed for two days.  This, too, could only be a problem if one had no foreign currency.  One might need foreign currency to maybe feed oneself, or to pay for a roof over one’s head.  Yes, I had no money and no access to a bank for 2 days.  Thank the great credit card God.  I could only guess how much my credit card company would charge me for these foreign exchange of goods.  I would charge $10 here, $15 there, and $20 there for Icelandic pastries.  Mmm good.  I was having pastries for pre-breakfast, breakfast, post-breakfast, lunch, dinner, and post-dinner...pastries, mmmm. 

     So, I had no hard currency to pay for my rent at the Guesthouse.  Needless to say, I was avoiding my Guesthouse.  I totally felt like some crack-head with no money to pay my landlady.

     This explained why I had chosen these nights to explore the Icelandic nightlife.  Also, the eternal sunlight made it easy to accomplish this feat. 

     Icelandic nightlife, what should I expect?  Same answer applies for what I should expect going to Iceland in the first place--no idea.

***** 

     It was 12am.  Hans and I were ready to get laid.  Very quickly we realized that this was not going to happen. 

     Everyone was attractive, even the hefty ones.  I had stepped into beautiful world.  It was like some kind of GQ set.  Everyone, yes, everyone was in expensive and very stylish clothes.  Well, except for me, who was in his casual wear--jeans and a T-shirt. 

     It ends up looking like this:  The 13-18 year olds wear jeans and T-shirts.  Whereas, the 19-30 year-olds wear fancy and expensive clothes.

     So what did I look like?  Basically, I looked like an overgrown 23-year-old kid. 

     Well, as the night went on, it got worse.  Hefty drunken girls kept hitting on me.  Of course, no one I was looking at had their eyes even 180 degrees in my direction.  Yet, hefty drunk girls came a running. 

     I was the hefty-drunk-girl love magnet.  Wow, that magnet was strong.  Once the thick ladies swung past the electromagnetic waves, in the hefty drunk girls would come and in they would unfortunately stay.  When one hefty drunk girl would leave, another, a team plot I tell you, would shuffle in trying her luck.

     Oh yeah, by the way, it was 5am.  It was light out and no one was going home.  We were in no hurry because Hans had no idea how to get home and the buses didn’t start running until 7am.  Okay, 5:30am the crowd was thinning.

*****

     “Icelanders are very lax with sex,”  I remembered Hans telling me.  Okay, I was feeling the time crunch.  It was time to act.  I had to act quickly.

     I saw a target.  She was mine.  I had ammunition for conversation,      

     “When do the buses start?” 

     Check, ready, okay, here we go…

     As she briskly walked by, I had just enough time to tap her shoulder and lay it on her,

     “Excuse me, but what time do the buses start?” 

     A genuine question, and here comes her answer,

“               ”

     Here is her answer one more time, folks,

“               ” 

     Yep, she was deaf and mute.  Of all girls I hit on, I ended up picking the damn Helen Keller of Iceland.  Because, God knows, if she weren’t deaf and mute, then she would have immediately taken me home and had hot Scandinavian sex with me.

     ***** 

     Okay, it sucked and now I was done.  I wanted to go home-- no, not just to the hotel room, not even back to Austin.  No, I wanted to curl back up, warm, fetal, snoring blissfully in my mother’s safe secure womb.  Instead, I was feeling totally hollow in the tail wind of someone who couldn’t have possible ignored me anymore, ouch. 

*****

     Slipping into the guesthouse at 6am I was glad that no one was awake wondering where their money was.  Slumber was good --so good that I slept in until 3pm.

5

     Now, I was up and off with Hans and Linda on our first hiking trip in Iceland.  We went to the closest Icelandic Park. Which was weird, Iceland designates a specific area as protected due to unique land spectacles?  As if all of Iceland wasn’t one big spectacle. 

     At the park, we observed a waterfall.  We arrive at some wishing pool where witches were once drowned.  We made some profound wishes like:

     I wished Hans would buy me a suit.

     I wished I were a Ninja.

     Blah, blah, blah.

     I was still recovering from the eventful and uneventful previous night.  We were still tired, so, when we got back I was off to sleep again.

*****

     The next day, we were ready for more outdoor activities.  We decided to pick a mountain--any mountain and climb it.  Thank god I was wearing my mountain gripping sneakers.  So, without water, a plan or good shoes, we were heading up the mountain. 

      I was introduced to an old Icelandic tradition of trickery.  Every time I asked if we were close to the top, other hikers responded as genuinely as all possible,

     "Oh yes, very soon." 

     The view was nice.  We took pictures.  In Three and half-hours, we were up and then back down at the car.  I am getting old so I was off to bed again.

6

     Waking up the next day, I knew the banks were open, yes, and that meant cash.  On the way to the bank, I thought about situations where I was prevented from exchanging my traveler’s checks.  I saw automatic sliding doors going haywire and mashing my hands leaving me then unable to sign for my traveler’s checks.  And then, how the bank would not accept my signature made with my pen in my mouth.  I saw myself in the middle of nowhere without any money.  Trying to earn money, I saw myself going to the Icelandic plasma stations.  I saw myself in a factory shoveling fish innards.

     Fortunately, the bank transaction was a success.

     “Money, please...thanks,” I said and left the bank.

     I paid the lady at the guesthouse.  Now, I was off to try the local Youth hostel that didn’t have any vacancies when I had first arrived. 

     “Yes we have rooms.  You can put your bags in the room, but we clean them from 11-4.” 

     Guess what time it was.  Good, right, you are catching on; it was 10:55am.  Woo wee.  So I dropped off my bags and went back into town to meet Hans.

*****

     We had an agenda.  Today was museum day.  First we were off to the Reykjavik Museum of Photography. 

     Damn, and what an impressive museum it was.  I am surprised it was not internationally recognized.  I mean, they had selected not on quantity but on quality.  They selected the best damn 15 pictures I had ever seen.  What an efficient idea this was.  There was no need to build a new separate building for the photography museum either.  No, best to save space in this over crowded island and put this prolific museum as the lobby to a business.  Thank god they put a complete coffee table full of photography books of other museums so visitor’s time wasn’t wasted.  I think people were quite surprised that not only one, but two, tourists had actually visited this colossal museum.  We stayed a good two minutes.

     We were now off to the Living Art Museum.  This museum was actually very interesting.  In the basement of this museum, they had this huge aquarium stuffed with what I assumed was animal and hopefully not human innards.  This art piece had gizzards, livers, lower intestines, upper intestines, kidneys, pancreas, spleens, tendons, muscles, and in general just fat squishy tissue all jammed into this aquarium.  And to boot, one could stick their hands in these gloves that could then be inserted into the soup of innards.  Mmm, dear god, do not leak, please, ah…ah.  Watching my muscle movement move 40 pounds of innards was interesting.  I then headed back to the Youth hostel.     

*****

     In my room at the Youth hostel, I met a Danish guy.  This Danish guy had just finished working on an Icelandic farm for three months.  He went on to tell me that he had learned to communicate with the cows by emulating their snout twitches and snorting.  As impressed as I was, I could not partake in communicating in this manner. 

*****

     Here is a circular argument:

     “Why did you come to Iceland?” someone asked me.

     “I don’t know,” I responded.

     “Do you know any Icelandic?”

     “No.”

     “So why did you come to Iceland?”

     “I don’t know.”

     “Do you know any Icelandic?”

     "No."      

*****

     I napped for a little while.  Well, as much as one can nap with three other people loading and unloading their gear.  Forger it, no sleep now.

     Later, Hans wanted to treat Linda and I to Mexican food. When we arrived at the restaurant, Hans was having second doubts about treating everyone when each meal cost $17.

     So we ordered.  My food arrived and poof $17 worth of food gone in 2 minutes flat.  Actually, Hans and Linda could not finish their food, so I ate $25 worth of food in less than three minutes, mmm. 

     Hans and I left Linda as we went for coffee.  Coffee, that was stupid.  I didn’t need anything else to help disrupt my sleep schedule.

     Heading back to the Hostel at 1am I discovered Optimistic Jimmy and his buddy.  Good for Optimistic Jimmy, he had found his old farm and some third or fourth cousins.  We exchanged stories.  I warned them about the overload of excitement at the Reykjavik Museum of Photography, and recommended that they stop by the Living Art Museum instead.  Okay, then I went off to sleep, and discovered that my windows had curtains with a density of:

(Not magnified)

     These curtains were to block out something—obviously not sunlight.  So, my room was as white as:

     Add to this, that next door, through acoustically transparent cinder blocks, were 8 Asians having some kind of mafia meeting laughing and chuckling.  Oh, and in the morning it seemed as if some young kid had a nightmare and wanted to let everyone know.

     That was an acoustic graph of the scream.  So, I had no real option by then but to get up.  I left for a grocery store and bought some granola cereal.  At least, I assumed it was some kind of granola cereal.  After tasting it, I seriously considered that the label said in Icelandic, BIRD FOOD, not for human consumption.  Danger: Tastes like shit.  I gagged it down anyway.  Off I went to meet Hans.

7

     Today was a special day for Hans.  Today we were going to hook up with a member from the old band The Sugarcubes.  No, it wasn’t Bjork. 

     We were walking down the main drag.  It was 2 hours before we were supposed to meet up with this member of the Sugarcubes.  We heard someone calling Han’s name from a traffic stop.  Of course, it was the previously mentioned band member.  Our host said hello, and we confirmed our appointment.  Later, I was asking Hans where he met this guy.  Hans replied,

     “Over the Internet.”

     “So, this sugarcubes guy has never actually seen you?”

     “Never.”

     “Wow, it must be so obvious that we are foreigners that, from his car, he could identify us on a crowded street.”

     So, I responded by purchasing a hat.

     It looked a little like a Viking hat, but it was made of knitted wool.  The hat was very Scandinavian. 

*****

     We just ended strolling around until it was time to meet our guest from the Sugarcubes.  He had brought his kid, whose name was cactus, yes, like the plant:

      I don’t know if that is typical in Iceland to find names for their kids that are the furthest from anyone else’s idea for a kid’s name.  Cactus, Jesus!  So we hung out, tried unsuccessfully to obtain some free passes to an Icelandic music fest and then departed.  After all this walking, it was time for a nap again. 

*****

     Boy, did I sleep!  Thanks to Hans, later that night, a cute receptionist came to wake me up and to inform me that I had a phone call.  No time for dinner, but thank goodness I had that gourmet bird-food cereal.

     So I meet Hans downtown.  It was nothing real exciting.  We went and got coffee at a place called Café Frank.  I do not know if this was in honor of Ann Frank or what.  Anyway, we got to talking and drinking coffee and as it got closer to the time for the last bus I did not want to go.  I actually was looking forward to walking home--relaxation and tranquillity.