Philippine Butterfly

This was the summer that we had planned to cross the country in my volkswagen van.  We thought we might even have it shipped over the ocean to Europe, to continue that leg of our tour, if things we going well enough.  They did go well enough, but not enough to have the money to ship a bus overseas, but that doesn’t matter all that much.  My friends said that New York was going to be the biggest challenge, because it’s not easy to sleep in your vehicle in New York.  That turns out to be very true.

It’s also difficult to get into New York restaurants when you only shower every week or so.  Some cities are more accommodating than others, by in Manhattan, they’re picky about smell.  It’s probably a good thing for everyone, in hindsight.  We really wanted to visit this restaurant, however, where my aunt had once, long ago, enjoyed the best dinner conversation of her life, with a Frankfurt school anarchist who told her about everything he’d learned after the war.  I wanted to have that conversation.  We found a friend who was willing to put us up long enough for a nap and a shower, and we were booked for a meal.

It was splendid, actually, but our favorite conversation was with each other, the continuation of a long dialogue that began before the van even.  We didn’t see any Marxists we could recognize, but we did see the supermodel Adina Fohlin, or at least someone who could certainly pass for her.  She’s from Sweden, and her commercial for Apoliva has caused 100 000 Swedes to join a group for people who are scared of her.  We decided to go to Sweden next, bus or no bus, because any culture that has that kind of sense of humor is worth visiting.

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