deja vu

(Paris 01/01/06)

we once followed dew laden cobblestones
to catch the early train out of Ponthierry

eyeing through windows
as villages left dots through farm fields,
fields to outskirts, and outskirts to Paris

handlocked we wandered through history
afraid we might lose ourselves never to return

acquired champagne and fleur des savannes
just before France threw down her evening blanket

discovered ourselves at under Eiffel's skirt
naturally, in French tradition she was ornately dressed in stars

amid chants and cheers time inaugurated another year

that night, I held you in my arms as the city rocked us to sleep

yes it's true,
we once found New Years in Paris

Calle Marina

After a week of blogging, I've almost decided to quit. It seems so egotistic for me to write and post it to the world as if I have something prophetic to say. I struggle wondering what would be worth someone else’s time. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy writing for myself but blogging seems to be quite the opposite. Really I have no great revelations or experiences; most days are fairly monotonous, wake up, work, eat, gym and sleep. Knowing that, read my blog at risk of wasting your time. Perhaps in the near future, my wife and I will be exploring some foreign continent and at that time I will feel inspired to write about a not so ordinary day.



on old Calle Marina's corner,
where tram cars and busses meet,
we will sit under the Prince of Barcelona's patio cafe,

Clouds hang like dry dream promises,
clanging cups and unintelligible smiles
school girls with night hair,
and aging men's silver rimmed mouths

memories ring distant stories,
time isolated by miles,
a catalonian rediscovery of america

the foreign tongue has become a lover's song,

"the road is too long,
the sky is too vast,
the wandering heart,
is homeless at last"
-Leonard Cohen,
(book of longing. harpercollins publishing 2006)

in the beginning

So here it is. Ruco has finally got up with the blogging world albeit through much prodding from my wife and friends. They must think i have something worthwhile to say but I beg to differ. I guess introductions are in order. My birthplace of Capetown can be found on the southern tip of the great continent of Africa. It clings to a mountain that overlooks the intersection of the Atlantic and the Indian ocean. Like the oceans, for centuries cultures and peoples have clashed on these shores. There I was born, a white african (ironic in itself). For most of my life my skin color was my passport. In a country made by whites for whites, I knew no apartheid only priviledge. Now it is I, that in the eye of the ignorant bear the face of apartheid. The heritage of the Afrikaner is ever present but perhaps this is the price the innocent pay for years of injustice. Scratch that... nothing can repay the injustice, all we can do is to tell the truth and reconcile. But what do I know, I have experienced no great war, seen no depression, and felt no poverty. Currently I am living in Pensacola Florida, but Africa is calling and soon.. very soon I will return. (God willing).