Long Face
March 31, 2010 by admin
Filed under Linger Longer
Linger Longer: Driving the Trans-Siberian
Chapter 4: Long Face
Following the road around the Krumlov chateau in the
early evening, we find ourselves in the old part of the historic
town of Cesky Krumlov. Si directs me through a
labyrinth of narrow cobbled streets lined with beautiful
old stone buildings, all restored to perfection. After our
little nightmare drive through the torrential rainstorm, we
decide to spend our first night in luxury … well, I guess
that’s if you call a backpacker hostel, luxury. Crossing a
small bridge we find an empty side street and park up
beside the Vltava River.
‘Right, then,’ I mutter, grabbing the Russian phrasebook
out of my rucksack. ‘What words should I learn first?’
Si frowns. ‘What you doing?’
‘I’m going to learn Russian.’
‘We’ve just arrived in this incredible town and you want
to learn Russian?’
‘Si, it’s pissing down with rain. Why get soaked?’
‘Yeah, but it hasn’t stopped raining since we crossed the
border.’
Ignoring him, I flick to the beginning of the book and
glance down at the first page.
‘Basic expressions,’ I grin. ‘That sounds good. I’ll start
with basic expressions, “Greetings and Apologies”.’
‘Yeah, I’d learn apologies first if I were you,’ Si laughs.
‘I mean, it’ll come in handy for when you have to apologize
to the pretty girls for having a pin dick.’
‘Do you mind, I’m trying to submerge myself in a new
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language here?’
‘Ha, “submerge”. You’re only learning Russian because
you think it’ll help you get laid. You think that by slipping
a few Russian phrases into the conversation, you’ll have
girls doing back flips onto your cock. Well, don’t be surprised
when they back flip out of the door.’
‘Fuck off! I’m learning Russian so I can be a good ambassador
for our country. You know, show the people of
Russia that we respect their culture by at least giving their
language a go.’
‘Fair enough, Chris. I guess when we were in Mexico
you did try and learn a bit of Spanish. Well, at least the
words for “hey, beautiful, nice arse and two beers”, but I
was impressed.’
‘You have to start somewhere when you’re learning a
new language. I mean, look what it says on the cover of
this book. “Travel with ease and communicate with confidence”.
Now, that’s exactly what I intend to do.’
Si frowns. ‘Shouldn’t you be learning Czech?’
I look up from the page. ‘I’m sorry, what was that?’
‘Shouldn’t you be learning Czech?’
‘Why?’
‘What do you mean “why”? Call me a frigging idiot, but
aren’t we in the Czech Republic?’
‘Yeah, but I just think the more Russian I learn now, the
easier … hey! I don’t need to explain myself to you. Get off
my back, will ya.’
Si raises his hand. ‘All right, all right! No need to get
over excited. It just seems a bit stupid that’s all. If you
were in Spain you wouldn’t be learning French.’
‘OK, I get your point.’
After twenty minutes of learning a few Czech words and
a few near impossible Russian phrases, it stops raining.
We lock up the car and slip on our coats. Without a map
of the town or a guidebook at hand, we head into the centre
on foot and wander through the deserted cobbled
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streets in search of somewhere to stay. It isn’t long before
we reach the main square. Walking down a quiet alley, we
stumble across a backpacker hostel called The Traveller’s
Rest.
‘Here we go!’ Si grins. ‘A bed for the night.’
‘What a shit hole! There must be somewhere better than
this.’
‘It’ll be cheap.’
‘It should be free!’
I poke my head around the door and peer inside a small,
smoky room crammed full of young smiley faces. A large
group of backpackers sit around a table in the corner,
drinking beer and laughing in unison. ‘The Red Hot Chili
Peppers’ blast from speakers as we make our way over
towards a kid standing behind a small bar. The posh looking
nerd, who’s wearing a Red Bull T-shirt, appears to be
eves dropping on the group drinking at the large table.
He finally turns to us, and smiles. ‘All right, fellas.’
‘Hey, you’re English!’ Si grins.
‘Yes, born and bred,’ he replies.
‘Where you from?’
‘Bristol. What about you guys?’
‘We’re from a small town called Daventry in the
Midlands. You probably won’t have heard of it.’
‘Yes, I know Daventry.’
Si frowns. ‘Really?’
‘Well, I don’t know it as such. I’m sure I’ve seen a signpost
for it on the M1. Is it nice?’
‘Yeah, it’s all right.’
‘Cool. I’ll tell you what, give me your mobile number or
email address and I’ll come and visit you guys. You can
give me a tour of the town and introduce me to all of your
friends. Yeah, I’d really like that … I’ve got a pen around
here somewhere.’
‘So what you doing working here?’ I quickly ask.
The kid seems to immediately forget about the pen and
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opens a bottle of beer.
‘Well, I decided to work here because I thought it would
be a good crack. I’m Inter-railing around Europe, you see.
I’m on my gap year.’
‘Nice one!’ Si beams. ‘Look, we want to stay here
tonight. Can you tell us where the reception is?’
‘This is the reception. It’s the bar-cum-reception if you
like. We’re pretty full at the mo, though. Actually! Saying
that, I think there might be two beds free in the dorm.’
I frown. ‘Dorm?’
‘Yes.’
‘Dorm as in dormitory?’
‘Uh-huh,’ he nods. ‘Don’t look so upset they’re mixed
dorms, which is great! My advice is to sleep with one eye
open, you never know what interesting things you might
see, if you know what I mean?’
‘Yeah, we’ll remember that,’ Si grins. ‘You don’t have
any private rooms left?’
‘Nope. Just the twelve-bed dorm, I’m afraid.’
‘Twelve beds?’
‘Yep.’
Suddenly, the big group of backpackers sitting at the
table next to the bar roars with laughter, and begins to
chant the name Snowdon. A blonde guy sitting at the head
of the table, who’s wearing a white England Rugby shirt
and has an uncanny resemblance to Prince William, stands
up and raises his drink.
‘Thank you my good friends,’ he bows. ‘Thank you so
very much.’
‘Tell us another joke, Snowdon,’ a small spotty kid sitting
around the table cries.
‘All in good time, Freddy,’ he winks, ‘all in good time. I
think I’ll let you all recover from the last joke first before
I split your sides with another.’
‘Who’s the show off?’ I ask.
‘That’s Snowdon,’ the kid behind the bar replies. ‘He’s
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probably one of the funniest guys I’ve ever met. He’s a
master at telling jokes. They’re so funny and he’s so cool.
He’s a natural. All the girls fancy him. He’s on his gap-year
and Inter-railing around Europe, too … just like me! Hey,
Snowdon, that joke was hilarious!’
Snowdon stops laughing and looks over at the kid.
‘Thomas, you lazy fuck. Eight more beers over here and
make it snappy!’
‘Right away,’ Thomas salutes. ‘Absolutely no problem!’
Si turns to me with a smile. ‘What an arse-licker.’
‘Hey, Thomas!’ Snowdon yells. ‘Do you know any
jokes?’
Thomas drops his smile. ‘Uh … no, I don’t think I do. I
mean, I did do once, but I’ve forgotten it.’
‘Oh, I know the joke,’ Snowdon smiles. ‘Is it the one
about some loser called Thomas who goes Inter-railing
with a hair dryer?’
Everyone sitting around the table bursts out laughing.
Thomas’s face turns bright red with embarrassment.
Snowdon sits back down in his seat and flashes him a
smug grin.
Si turns to Thomas. ‘That was a bit harsh, don’t you
think?’
‘Nah, he doesn’t mean it. He likes me. We’re best buddies.
It’s just harmless fun. He’s a very funny guy, and he
respects me.’
‘Are you sure?’
He nods vigorously. ‘Yep! I’d bet my mother’s life on it.’
‘Come on, Thomas, tell us a joke!’ Snowdon cries. ‘OK,
it seems quite obvious you don’t have a funny bone in
your body … is there anyone else here in the house
tonight who knows a joke?’
‘I know a joke,’ I grin, raising my hand.
The backpackers stop laughing and look over at me.
Snowdon stands up and folds his arms. ‘You do?’
‘Yeah.’
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Si turns to me, and frowns. ‘You do?’
‘Yeah, I know loads of jokes.’
Snowdon looks me up and down. ‘Well, why don’t you
join our table and share this “joke” of yours with us?
Come on … don’t be shy, we don’t bite.’
We both walk over and sit down at the far end of the
table. Snowdon sits back down and takes a large gulp of
beer.
‘OK, let’s hear it, then,’ he mutters, wiping his chin. ‘I
can hardly contain my excitement. Actually, hold on a
minute, I’ve got an idea that’ll make this more interesting.
Why don’t we each tell a joke and the one that gets the
biggest laugh wins, the loser has to buy the whole table a
drink. What do you say?’
The little shit I think to myself. I can’t stand fucking gapyear
kids. They’re young, naïve and most probably still
sleep in their pajamas. This table is full of rich toffs on
their once in a lifetime adventure before they skip off to
University and become doctors and lawyers. They’re so
fresh faced and clueless.
A kid sitting next to Si raises his thumbs in the air and
smiles. ‘Yeah, I think it’s a cosmic idea, Snowdon.’
‘Yeah, me too!’ A fat girl with a posh Edinburgh accent
yells.
‘Thanks Edward, thanks Lilly. So we’re all agreed, then?
This coin I have in my hand will determine who goes first.
What will it be, heads or tails?’
‘Uh … heads,’ I reply.
‘What the fuck you doing?’ Si whispers in my ear. ‘You
don’t know any jokes – let’s get out of here!’
Snowdon holds the coin between his finger and thumb
and spins it on the table. We all watch the coin intently as
it whips around on its axis. Eventually, it begins to lose
momentum and falling onto its side it rattles to a halt.
Snowdon covers it with his hand and cautiously steals a
glance.
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‘It’s tails!’ he cries.
Everyone lets out a cheer.
‘Right, so that means I go first,’ he grins. ‘But, as I’m a
bloody nice bloke, I’m going to let you go first.’
Resting my elbows on the table, I throw Snowdon a nod.
‘Chris, this is stupid. Let’s fucking leave!’
I ignore Si and clear my throat. ‘OK … uh … why do the
Irish keep empty milk bottles in the fridge?’
Everyone shrugs.
‘…Just in case somebody wants a black coffee!’
Silence. Nobody laughs. There isn’t one single smile -
not one! The fat girl sitting next to me picks up her drink
and drops her gaze, while Edward scratches the back of
his head and looks over at Snowdon. Even Thomas, the
guy who wants to be liked by everyone doesn’t even back
me up with a snigger.
‘Well, well, well,’ Snowdon grins. ‘That wasn’t very
funny, was it? I don’t want to jump the gun or anything,
but I’d say that from the reaction around the table you
might want to start ordering our beers. Oh, and by the
way, I’m half Irish, so … yes, I am a little offended by the
joke.’
‘Tell your joke, Snowdon!’ Thomas yells.
‘Right, OK,’ he replies, straightening his posture. ‘A horse
walks into a bar and orders a drink. The barman turns to the
horse and says, “hey, what’s with the long face?’
The table erupts with laughter. Thomas whistles,
Edward stamps his feet, tears run down Lilly’s face and
everyone else just goes absolutely crazy. We sit dumbfounded
and watch the gap-year kid’s fall about in uncontrollable
fits of laughter.
‘What’s with the long face?’ Snowdon screams. ‘Beat
that, I bet you can’t!’
‘Si, for Christ sake, that has to be the oldest joke in the
history of jokes. I’ve had enough of this shit, let’s leave -
school time over!’
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‘About frigging time, you idiot,’ Si replies, rising out of
his chair.
‘Hey!’ Snowdon yells. ‘Where do you think you’re
going? You haven’t bought our beers yet.’
I turn to Snowdon. ‘Shut it!’
‘I beg your pardon!’ he snaps. ‘You can’t speak to me like
that I’m going to Oxford University, you know.’
‘Yeah,’ Thomas shouts from across the bar. ‘He’s going to
Oxford University.’
‘Well, good luck,’ I reply, slamming a couple of notes on
the table, ‘because you’re gonna need it!’
* * *
‘What a bunch of cock-heads!’ Chris yells, stumbling out
into the street.
‘I did try to warn you, but you couldn’t resist telling that
joke, could you?’
‘It’s a very funny joke … I love telling that joke … it’s a
great joke … why didn’t they laugh?’
‘It was crap, that’s why.’
‘Oh, and that posh twat’s joke was funnier, was it?’
‘Who cares?’ I laugh. ‘Hey, fuck this! Let’s sleep in the
car tonight. I really can’t be arsed to spend all night looking
for a place to stay.’
Heading back to the car via a pizza joint, we perch ourselves
on the bonnet of the Sierra and look out over the
river that sparkles in the moonlight.
‘Well, it looks like we’re going to be sleeping upright
again,’ Chris mumbles, taking a large bite out of his pepperoni
pizza slice.
‘It beats staying in that hostel any day. My days of sleeping
in a dorm are most definitely over. I’d rather sleep in
the car!’
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‘I suppose we’d better get used to it. I can’t imagine
there’ll be many backpacker hostels in deepest Siberia.
Actually, come to think of it, we must be insane!’
‘I know, fucking exciting, isn’t it? I mean, can you imagine
that lad Steve from the freezer just dropping everything
and chipping off to Russia for a few months.’
‘Hey, leave Steve-o out of this,’ Chris grins. ‘He was a
good lad. It was just a bit unfortunate he got his girlfriend
pregnant when he was sixteen, and very unfortunate that
it was the first time he’d had sex.’
‘You what? Was it his first time?’
‘Yep. It’s sad, but true. Until the night he clapped eyes
on Kaz outside the post office, he was indeed a virgin.’
‘Imagine having to work all those hours in a freezer just
to feed your girlfriend’s fat ass?’
Chris shakes his head. ‘Pure tragedy.’
‘He must love her, though, mustn’t he? He must be
happy.’
‘I bloody hope so, the poor lad’s only twenty-one.’
‘Who would your dream girl be, then?’
Chris frowns. ‘Now there’s a difficult question. I’d hope
she’d be pretty – curvy, nice tits. Maybe someone like that
glamour-model Jo Guest.’
‘Jo Guest? But what about personality?’
‘Personality? Hmm … mellow, but passionate about life.
She’d have to want to travel like me, and yet still be
secure enough for us not to have to be together all of the
time. I need my space. Maybe an artist, what about you?’
I shrug. ‘I haven’t really got a specific type. Blonde,
brunette, short, tall, none of that really matters to me.’
‘As long as she’s pretty, right?’ Chris grins.
‘You’d hope so! I wouldn’t want her to be vain, though.
There’s nothing less attractive than a girl that’s vain, I prefer
girls that are naturally beautiful.’
‘Who like?’
‘Someone like Michelle Pfeiffer or Audrey Hepburn.’
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‘What about that Charlie Dimmock off the gardening
program, Ground Force? She’s pretty natural.’
‘Earthy more like. What I mean is, I like a girl who’s
beautiful, but doesn’t appear to know it.’
‘Hang on, what’s all this talk about dream girls, anyway?
Are you getting lonely, Si? Scared of the future are you …
scared of the future?’
‘Piss off! It’s just something you think about sometimes,
isn’t it?’
‘Maybe you should’ve gone back to London and married
Emily?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’
A couple of months after returning home from my travels
in the US with Chris, I had arranged to meet my ex-girlfriend,
Emily, in London one weekend. I had stayed in
contact with her by email during the remainder of the trip
and, feeling confident that I could handle seeing her again
after our painful break up, I nervously got on the train and
headed for the big smoke. Before I knew it, I was on
Hampstead High Street for the first time since the day our
relationship ended. Memories of our time together flooded
into my mind, and I suddenly felt anxious as to how I
might feel about seeing her again. Having arrived early, I
decided to duck into a nearby pub to calm my nerves a little
before meeting her, and sitting at the bar I sipped a pint
and enjoyed the sensation of being alone with my thoughts.
Sitting there I remember thinking how familiar it all felt,
and it suddenly occurred to me that I’d spent many afternoons
before perched on bar stools waiting for Emily. It
had become a regular activity that I’d started to enjoy right
from the early days when we’d first met, and for the years
that followed I would often find myself arriving early to
meet her and use it as an excuse to enjoy some time to
myself. There was something deeply relaxing about waiting
for her to arrive, and I realised that as much as I looked
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forward to seeing her, I enjoyed the comfort of being able
to enjoy being alone just as much.
Mellowed by the alcohol, I made my way to the restaurant
where we had agreed to meet and finding a space at
the side of the street, I waited patiently for her outside.
Watching the traffic pass by, I tried to guess which direction
she might appear from and turning in the direction of
her apartment, my heart skipped a beat when I saw her
walking towards me with her big smile. Stamping my
cigarette out on the floor, I looked up in time to receive
her embrace.
‘Simon,’ she giggled breathlessly, kissing me on the
cheek.
Leaning back, she looked at me anxiously and with wide
eyes.
‘Hey,’ she laughed. ‘Have you been drinking?’
‘Just a pint,’ I grinned. ‘I got to Hampstead a bit early.’
‘You piss head.’
‘Come on, let’s go inside.’
Taking her arm, we entered the restaurant and grabbed a
free table by the window. I watched as she removed her
coat and the long red scarf that I had bought for her 21st
birthday. She looked as beautiful as ever, with her long
shiny brown hair and clear skin and forcing myself to avoid
admiring her familiar curves, I signaled to the waiter for
the menu.
‘Are you hungry?’ I asked.
‘Starving,’ she beamed.
‘Me too.’
Making herself comfortable, she rested her elbows on
the table. ‘So when did you get back? What was it like? I
want to know everything!’
‘It’s been a few weeks now.’
‘Was it amazing?’
‘It was fucking insane!’
‘I’m so jealous. You look fantastic.’
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‘Do I?’
‘Yeah, you’re tanned. You look more relaxed.’
‘You’re not looking too bad yourself.’
Reaching over the table we took each other’s hand. I
knew this was a bad idea. Chris had warned me not to get
too close, but after four years together it just felt natural.
We hadn’t seen each other for nearly six months, we
missed each other’s company and finding ourselves in bed
together later that afternoon, I put the consequences to the
back of my mind and enjoyed the moment.
Lying next to her in bed after the best sex I think we’d
ever had, I starred up at the ceiling. I felt incredibly happy,
but simultaneously a strange sadness lay twisting in my
guts. Finally, I knew it was over. I had needed to know
that what I’d felt for her was something special, and feeling
it more strongly than ever before I could also see that
it could never work. We had grown apart. We wanted very
different things, and in the pursuit of lasting happiness for
ourselves I think we both realised that it was over. In the
back of my mind, I’d hoped maybe we could find something
that might hold us together, but kissing her before I
left her apartment that day, I knew I would never see her
again and I think she knew the same.
Walking through the streets of North London towards
Camden, I’d felt strangely free as I made my way to a bar
to meet my old friend Dermot. My life had changed direction
for good and, although I felt nervous about what the
future held, I felt as equally excited about the endless possibilities
that lay in front of me. What I did with my life
now was in my hands and my hands alone. I had nobody
to blame for my frustrations. I could no longer use Emily
or my career as an excuse not to pursue my dreams. For
the first time in my life I was responsible for my destiny.
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