High in Afghanistan, Wild in America
For one month I stayed, enchanted, with many memorable nights in the garden, the hotel gardener and maintenance man managing the hooka. He always excitedly warned us against Scorpions, calling them something like, gargedoons.
Then an empty bottle appeared.
It was supposed to have been previously filled with LSD, a popular recreation of the time, and water was added. Many of the group took a swig and entered an imaginary world hitherto unknown. For months, water was added continuously and the tiny receptacle kept giving.
"Nothing will happen," they reassured the unwitting recipients.
They really did think nothing would. The Afghani government generously supplied its national gardens for the travelers' amusements, and they were lovely.
We finally decided to pile into the Italians' VW bus and head for the hills of Pakistan. What a trip, with this noisy animated company of players! During the climb we encountered the unique moment in Kafiristan I told you about earlier.
My favorite was Alfonso, a tall, skinny redhead, who spoke no English. He did manage a little fractured French, and with my high school knowledge, we developed a surprisingly talkative relationship. I remember one night in Pakistan having a deep philosophical discussion about "la crise," one of many this crew always had.
These memories stay with me always, and sometimes I go through patches where the people around me are a little dull. Not so right now. I feel I've re-discovered the lost jubilation of my old thespians, artists, and all assorted creative, animated, troublesome, gregarious, outspoken people. A stage for the living in all their shades and variations.
I love Leo for it's acting nature, but I think most of all, I go for Pisces -- the creature who does it for IT, not for them. Lost in imagination, spirit unbottled.