An Unattended Adventure

It was late afternoon, we were tired but
not yet willing to end this vacation day.
Yesterday's newspaper greeted us in
the bin of this small town. My husband
purchased it and we flipped through the
pages looking for events of interest. An
Art Festival listed for this evening; quickly
we decide this is much better than heading
directly home. We say goodbye to friends,
having shared the day and swiftly parted
going our separate ways.
My husband drives, following his innate
sense of direction. Leaving the main streets,
we meander through narrowing roads that lead
us into the back parking area of an ice packing
facility. No other exit is visible. Low slung buildings
fill the perimeter of this small space. Definitely we
are now in a working neighborhood, unacustomed
to welcoming curious outsiders.
The air is heavy, almost oppressive with the
natural odors of salt air and fresh fish. An alleyway
that appears the perfect spot for a movie drama
displays several rows of chairs. For a mere fifteen
dollars we could sit there and wait for our evening
adventure to unfold. The atmosphere is uninviting.
We are totally hidden from sight. We are in a
desolate parking lot that appears to cower behind
the ice building at this working seaport. The unseen
heart and soul of this city.
Although intrigued I feel uneasy, vulnerable by our
decidedly tourist appearance.
A group of individuals that can only be described
as 'art colony' meander down the alley toward the
rows of unfolded chairs. They have their own
distinctive appearance and style. A mime performs
upon the roof of the building closest to us, as we
remain seated in our car, watching preparations
for the performance.
A slender man, no a very thin man with hair the
length of a woman's walks toward another group
of mimes. Dressed in black clothing with white
chalked faces they huddle. The performers now
out number the audience.
We feel we have intruded upon a private
gathering of local talent. Although potentially
entertaining this place, this grouping of artists
and mimes, the alley, the seclusion of this
place; we decide to leave this unattended
adventure behind.
Once on the road that leads to home we
do not complain of traffic or exhaustion.
We are thrilled to experience such trivial
things. Relaxed and relieved to have
escaped the alley, the desolation of
unknown harm.


written by Pauline
copyright 2006