Pocket Travel

Do you do this too? Change of seasons and you put on another coat. As you put you hands in your pocket you pull out a city map.

New York. End winter, early spring 2012. The map has pen circles on it. China town – go to this restaurant and nowhere else. East Village – great gallery. Starbucks Times Square – meet Jean-Luc.

The map is rolled up and crumpled and has been wet. It fell in the snow but I seem to recall the weather was nice.

Circles around MoMA and the Metropolitan. I promised myself to come back and spend a week there. Just there.

I hesitate. What if…

I put my coat down and open the wardrobe again. I rifle the pocket of an old coat that I haven’t worn for years.

Bingo. Beijing 2007. February. Business trip, as evidenced by the paper key sleeve from the Kunlun Hotel. It was very cold, but that didn’t stop me from leaving the hotel at 7:00 AM to walk a good kilometer to a Starbucks I had found on my last trip. I prefer the low key atmosphere to the stuffy hotel restaurant.

How about suit pockets. My old DJ perhaps…

Bad choice. Embossed matchbook in celebration of my sisters wedding. Yes, it was a happy occasion. But 3 kids and a divorce later, it doesn’t feel the same.

Quick, another one. Yes, good choice!

Ticket from a ferry in Istanbul. Long weekend with the family a few years back. I love this city. East and West mix like a marble pattern. I must go back. Rent a small apartment, take typewriter and a stack of paper. Write the book. Just hang out.

A forensic scientist would have a ball in my wardrobe. Dust from Santiago de Chili, Durian odour from Bangkok, Wine stains from Madrid, cold air from Montreal, gold dust from Abu Dhabi.

I put my coats back having carefully returned the evidence of travel past.

You never know, it might rain next week.

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