Holidays - Sense of an Ending

I was prompted to put down this entry after reading Julian Barnes' haunting Sense of An Ending. I would recommend this book, it's well written with some lovely sentences.

 It used to be that holidays and trips overseas were about the two of us. We did what we wanted and only what we wanted. Holidays these days with the kids in tow are quite different. We do what the kids would like and try to fit in what we would like in between. Or we find common ground. Though I think I'll leave that topic for another time.

 I remember our earliest trip overseas. It was a manic rush to Sepang to join the Hong Kong Supercar Club for their track day. Our ride then was Lamb, a wee 1.5 litre Toyota Corolla which was caught on a speed cam tracking 172 km/h. I forked over RM 150 for that jaunt. We managed to get a ride on the Porsche Carrera GT, a supercharged Ferrari 430 Stradale, a Ferrari 575M, and Charles Kwan (a professional racer) going out on the Pagani Zonda R.

 I recall that trip to Italy. Something I had hoped to do since my secondary school days when I read the history of the Roman Empire. I remember the splendour that left me gaping. The history that settled like a blanket about me. A culture that was celebrated and preserved.

Most of all, the images that come to mind most often is that rainy evening when both of us went for a walk in what began as a light drizzle. Hand in hand we strolled under the shadows of the Uffizi Musuem. Someone was playing the violin, I struggle now to recall the exact tune, but I remembered that it sounded so hauntingly beautiful. I was moved and reminded that the world can be beautiful, and to be glad of all the good things in my life. How lucky to I am to have pledged my life to be with someone that I truly love. The rain started getting heavier and the night deeper. We took shelter around a near deserted piazza where across us a woman was performing a soprano piece. I was cold and filled with warmth.

 David and how he seemed almost alive. A soul trapped without release in a marble prison. The works of the Masters. Exploring the crypts of Santa Croce and that delicious beef stew near the market sold from a street stall. One of the best things I have put into my mouth. Sharing a Steak Florentine near the Barghello and having to make small talk all the time with this American couple seated adjacent to us.

 On a late afternoon, we came out of the subway and the white marble columns at the remains of the Roman Forum caught the light and glowed like white pillars of florescent light tubes. How the breath caught in my throat. This amusing gentleman who waited tables at a cafe near our apartments in Rome, who reminded my wife of her Egyptian tryst. That birthday dinner for my wife at a restaurant with a view of the sunset, its ray filtering through the Coliseum to reach us. Sparklers in our food. The friendly oh-so-Italian bald waiter who I can see going home with a different girl each night. He was that charming. The street busker he pulled over to sing Amore.

The Biboli Gardens where she pranced around taking ridiculous pictures with the poor statues who couldn't get away. That scary walk around the entirety of Via Antica with car mirrors less than a foot away whizzing pass. Trips into catacombs, crypts and my wife soldiering on despite her claustrophobia. Strolling around graveyards and cemeteries. It all seems another life away. Just the two of us against the world.

Now our lives are blessed with additions like the Peanut and the Lion. Life changes and nothing lasts forever, but let's make the best of it we can. It's all we can do sometimes to hold on to the memories.