An Island Away, Excerpt 1

Chapter 1: Charlie and his cat, Screwball, are on his balcony, looking over the town of San Nicolaas, Aruba, the principal setting for my novel, An Island Away.

Charlie lived in a place where the illegal was legal, where the immoral was moral, and where some people’s fantasies were other people’s realities. So, he lived every day in anticipation of the fantastic. And why not? It was the night before his birthday, the start of another year in a place where anything could happen.

…a little further on….

A car rolled beneath his balcony, flashed its signal, and turned right. Charlie watched his lifelong friend Sam park at the end of the block. He couldn’t help but smile at the man’s reliability and persistence. No one but Sam took the time to make his birthday a grand affair. Unfortunately, and despite Charlie’s constant warnings, Sam fell prey to indomitable emotions with regard to the girls working in San Nicolaas and frequently found himself miserably heartbroken, a condition Charlie studiously avoided.

“Thanks to Sam, we’re in for a nice time,” Charlie said to Screwball. “Unless something else comes up. You never know. Eh? Let’s hope we have a party and something else.”

The cat shifted on the parapet, licked his forepaw, and once again put his head upon it.

Something else? Charlie asked himself. What could it be? Well, this town was named San Nicolaas and not for the Jolly Old Saint Nicolas the Americans called Santa Claus. Nonetheless, the town gave its gifts (such as they were) to one and all, Charlie included. Christmas was every night of the week, every day of the year, with the exception of the actual Christmas Day, New Year’s, Carnival Saturday, and Easter Sunday. And on those days, too, an enterprising man need only walk the lane known as Rembrandtstraat, peek into the caged halls leading to the rooms upstaris, and call out. Someone would unlock the door, lead the man  inside, and provide the service of the oldest profession. The experience could be another meaningless act, or it might change somebody’s life. As he knew, the outcome depended on the man, the woman, and the people in between.

Charlie stubbed out his cigarette and looked over the street one more time. “Welcome to San Nicolaas,” he said, “We’re open for business.”

Published in: on June 28, 2008 at 2:08 pm  Leave a Comment  
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The Greatest Travel Writer

In my humble opinion, the greatest travel writer I’ve read is Mr. H.V. Morton. Morton’s original claim to fame was as the journalist who broke the story of King Tut’s tomb back when Howard Carter was poking around the Egyptian desert. He went on to write an entire shelf of books about various countries, cities, and regions, all in the context of a travelogue.

Before discussing Morton’s work further, I’d like to say that most other travel books I’ve read are either the romp-through-a-place-kind, or the guidebooks that have about twenty words for each stop. Both of these serve a purpose. The first type are vicarious fun. The second give practical information and pointers in the right direction when assembling an itinerary. Almost without exception I’ve found these books quite thin on the type of information I’m looking for.

Thus, H.V. Morton. Morton synthesizes history, culture, geography, all sorts of things into an integrated travel experience. In the course of his books, he relates these facts through a series of encounters with whatever subject matter is at hand. It might be a hidden gem of a church in a back street in Rome or a pawnshop in Venice. Each gives an opportunity to inform the reader of an incredible array of details, each more fascinating than the one before it. It is this type of presentation that offers the reader a sense of “knowing” a place. Morton sleeps in monasteries and run-down hotels. He eats meals that give him stomach troubles. He rides on mules when he has to. And he doesn’t hesitate to let the reader know that all does not go well when traveling, a reality that too many other writers ignore.

I read A Stranger In Spain between my second and third trips to that country. Upon my third and several trips thereafter, I found myself recalling much of what Morton had written. Astonishingly, many of the places he visited are still there, some in the same condition as he found them. The same could be said for In Search of London. I read this before a trip to that city and while in the Temple area remembered Morton’s stories about the Knight’s Templar and the lawyers that operated there in his time.

Anthony Bourdain said, “Be a traveler, not a tourist.” This certainly holds true for Morton. Who is your favorite travel writer? Do you have a favorite book about a place you’ve visited or would like to?

Published in: on June 28, 2008 at 12:23 pm  Leave a Comment  
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