About five years ago or so I told a friend that in ten years I might be able to tell him what I am up to. I think that that was an outright lie. I will never be able to tell anybody within a reasonable period of time what it is that I am up to. That said, I am back. The weeks of silence on public man reloaded were a break from it as a writing exercise. However, writing is about all I do besides reading. In between I eat and sleep. I am not too terribly keen on listening to real people, fictional characters apeal  to be far better. While on the list of dislikes, I also do not care for the beach unless it is raining or in the cold months.

I landed in Geneva last Sunday evening, and for a while there considered immediately getting on another plane. Anywhere would have done. One way ticket was the option that I was considering. Then realized that I must have arrived home. Home is that place where a whole lot of unfinished business awaits. I seem to be at home in a lot of geographical locations. Unfinished business here and there. Adventures are everywhere. Last week’s unfinished business started at a restaurant named Sem Palavras.

Last week I had a shoe adventure. I disposed of three pairs for a variety of reasons while at the beach. Saturday morning traded a pair of extremely muddy old running shoes for a pair of flip-flops. That trade was after I had helped myself to breakfast by a fig tree on my cousin’s property. Man, the deals that I make! However the shoe story was not over with the trade for the flip-flops. All I had with me were two pairs of high heels and still another pair of flip-flops. I can not really walk in flip-flops, and do much better with high heels. Still, there are limits to how much walking I am willing to do on stilts. The minute I arrived at the airport in my beautiful black summer pumps I decided that I had to solve the walking problem. I ended up with a not so funky pair of Lacoste sneakers that were on sale and happened to fit.

The scent of the fresh figs and the the moist earth is nothing that one can buy in a bottle. I suspect it is a cure for depression. While on the wild hunt for breakfast besides the figs off the tree and the grapes off the vine I rediscovered the delights of an old brew of coffee. To complete my olfactory adventure, I was lead to the carob storage room… wow! If you never experienced the smell of harvested carob beans, you just have not lived! Remember that I also like natto for breakfast, and then you may have things in perspective.

The academic year is gearing up, and I am curious as to what it has in store for me.