The Other Side

The Other Side

Chapter 1: Departure

I was off to the airport, sent off to California to spend time with my aunt. I was already packed and ready to go so I put my bag in dad’s car and just sat there and waited for dad. The drive down to the airport was awkward. Dad tried to start some conversation but I didn’t feel like talking. He said, We’ll call you around eleven this evening. You should be at Aunt Tammy’s by then. He said ‘we’, I guessed that he was still thinking that mum was around. I didn’t say anything. I just didn’t feel like talking. It’s not like I was trying to be annoying or anything it’s just that I felt that if I didn’t have anything to say then I wouldn’t say anything. I knew it annoyed people, especially teachers, not saying anything that is, and that is why I did it. I liked to watch them get angry. I was good at that, knowing how to make grown ups get angry. It was just a matter of not saying anything and smirking. They don’t like smirking. Dad looked at me when I didn’t say anything and I knew what he was thinking. I didn’t think he liked me much and I didn’t blame him. I didn’t particularly like myself either.

I just sat and stared at the suburbs as we head out to the airport. The traffic was mostly heading the other way. At the traffic lights I looked at the people in the cars that stopped next to us. The drivers stared out blankly looking at the lights waiting for them to change color and tell them which way they could go. I looked at a bald, old man in a white car next to ours. He was looking straight ahead. He was wearing a suit and a tie. He had a moustache and he was completely bald. His face had no expression. He looked like he was dead. I wanted to open the window and say to him, Hey, loser, excuse me, but what are you thinking? What is your life? What are you doing on this planet? Were there any traffic lights that could tell me which way to go and what to do in my life? I wanted to say something to dad in the car but nothing came out. It was better to say nothing.

When we parked at the airport, dad got a baggage trolley and we walked to the departure lounge. Dad talked small talk. It’s busy today Steven, people heading out everywhere. When was the last time we came here? It must have been a year ago at least. We came with mum remember? We were off on our holidays to Thailand. That was a great trip.

I said, Yup.

We looked at the departure board and found my flight and dad waited behind me while I checked in.

I felt bad saying goodbye to dad at the airport. I knew I had made him worried. I could see it on his face. His pride and joy, his wonderful son had turned into a problem. The last few days, I could hear dad on the telephone having whispered conversations with Aunt Tammy, talking about me going through a ‘bad patch’. I heard words, difficult, communicate, rude and expelled. ‘Expelled is one of those words that really sound exactly like what the word means. ‘Expelled’, sounds like being flushed down some tube into the darkest sewer or spat out of the mouth like a nasty piece of phlegm. That was how I felt, getting thrown out of school,

I knew I had made dad’s life full of worry. Ever since mum died things had gone bad. Everything just seemed bad at that time. It happened so quickly, the breast cancer, suddenly she was gone. I knew it was hard for dad too and that we should have been closer but it didn’t work out that way. I thought that I could see a bit of relief on dad’s face that I was going away for a while. I knew he was maybe glad to see the back of me and that he would be able to have a holiday from my disgusting behaviour.

My disgusting behaviour, or one of my disgusting behaviours was that I hadn’t been going to school. I mean I had been going to school but only part-time. Well quarter-time really, actually, less than that. I couldn’t seem to relate to school life at all. It was not that I was dumb or anything because I was actually quite smart. I just felt that I was wasting my time. I wasn’t like the other kids at school. The teachers didn’t like me and I didn’t like them, they were mostly a bunch of wasters. I didn’t think many of the other kids liked me either. I heard teachers say I had ‘an attitude’. What was ‘an attitude’ anyway? If I didn’t like something I said I didn’t like it, if I didn’t want to do something, then I didn’t do it. Is ‘that attitude’ such a bad thing?

The only thing I enjoyed was art so that was the only class I went to and I had art only twice a week. I didn’t like any of the other classes at all. I created my own timetable. I didn’t think the teachers were concerned at all that I wasn’t turning up to their classes in fact I think they were quite happy. I went to school in the mornings and sat in my home-room for morning attendance. Then I left school. I went down town. I hung around the public library or the music stores and listened to music. I lay down on my back in Queen’s Gardens and looked up at the sky and I drew my manga, read my books or just listened to music. I browsed in the book shops. I walked and walked. I walked all day. It was like I was semi-retired at the age of fourteen. This idle life of an aimless student went on for about a month. I went to school in the mornings and then straight out again.

It was amazing, no one missed me. I was the invisible student. I was just a name on the roll, Steven Townsend. Fortunately my name was not unusual. I mean no one is going to look to see what kind of face belongs to a name like Steven Townsend. I couldn’t believe I could have gotten away with it for so long. I went to school in the morning and I sat in my homeroom at the back. The teacher read out the morning news and messages. Then he called the roll, Townsend. Here! I would call out. When the bell went for first period I walked out through C block down behind the canteen, down behind the Manual Arts blocks and into the tall pine trees next to the rugby oval. I sat down under a tree, took off my school jacket and shirt and stuffed them into my bag. I had a smoke. I kept on walking down next to the oval and out into Black Rock Avenue. Then into Venice Street and I hopped on the number fourteen and in fifteen minutes I was down town. No one ever stopped me.

Well someone eventually worked it out. The vice–principal, Richards, called me up and dad was sent for and that was the end of me and Amberley College. We sat in the school’s stupid conference room, me dad and Richards and the principal, Father Spencer, ‘Father Spencer’ what a joke. I just sat there and didn’t say anything, not a word. I could see that Richards was getting really angry when I didn’t answer any of his questions and so was dad and then I just started laughing. I laughed out loud, it all seemed so funny to me. They were taking it all so seriously. Father Spencer had already made up his mind about me as I had had a few run-ins with him before and I was sure he was glad to see the back of me. That was the end of that. The school was expensive. I had to wear a ridiculous uniform with a silly hat and a jacket and green silly shirt and long silly shorts and the whole school looked very silly. I know dad was mad. He spent a lot of money on the school fees but dad never shouts he just says nothing, which is worse really, I would have preferred to have him get angry at me. I knew this was just something else for him to worry about besides all the worry about mom passing away. The school had a waiting list of people wanting to send their children there and so they didn’t mind expelling students at all but I didn’t think of that at the time.

Dad thought it may be good for me to go over to California and spend some time with Aunt Tammy before we worked out a plan for my future. I have always gotten on well with Aunt Tammy, she was an artist, and she was little bit crazy like me and she had a cool place near the beach. Mum always said that Aunt Tammy thought a bit differently from most people. Dad said she lived on another planet. Dad thought we both needed a little breathing space from each other. I was happy with anything, it wasn’t working out and I knew I was to blame.

When it was time for me to board the plane we just stood around with dad talking small talk. I looked at him and felt really bad as I could see the worry on his face though he tried to hide it and be cheerful. Dad was looking older and I knew he worked hard.

I said, Sorry for messing up … I’ll try…… and that was all I could think to say.

Dad hugged me hard and his body felt like steel.

When our heads were together he whispered, Look after yourself. It’ll work out.

I said, Well I guess I better go through……..I’ll text you later.

I walked through the gates and turned when I got through. He waved. We looked at each other. I felt terrible as he looked smaller and weaker. That is what worry does to you, it cuts into your body and saps flesh away, it takes away confidence and your shoulders sag, you stand differently and you look smaller. I waved and went on through. When I got to the departure lounge I got out my cellphone. I typed out a message to dad, Love you dad. But I didn’t send it.

So that was how I was sitting on that airplane, flight ID777 in window seat 21C. We took off a little late at four fifteen. I was listening to ‘Mahler. Gustav Mahler Symphony No. 1 in D major’ on my ipod and the music was very good. Most kids my age didn’t like that kind of music, classical music, they listened to the stuff on MTV or whatever but that all sounded too simple for me. I didn’t get all that Rap stuff and Pop and Rock. I liked Mahler, I could always hear little bits I didn’t know were there when I listened to him. Every time I listened I could hear more, a note here or there I didn’t hear before, a cymbal, a flute, every time I listened I picked up something new. It was like looking up at a starry sky, the more you look, the more stars you see. He must have written this music for flying on airplanes though I don’t think there were planes when he was alive, maybe he was imagining flying like a bird.

There was an old lady sitting next to me. She tried to talk to me but I didn’t answer and to tell the truth that was the way I wanted it, silly old bag. I didn’t like people to bother me. I didn’t feel like talking to anyone so I played my music loud and I pretended I couldn’t hear her. I just kept on listening to my music. I was good at that, pretending I couldn’t hear or that I was asleep.

The stewards and stewardesses went through the usual demonstrations and my music was momentarily interrupted by the pilot talking and then all of the safety stuff and having to turn off all electronic devices.

At last it was take off. I said to myself, Sorry mom, sorry dad, I’m sorry I’ve turned into a creep. I just feel lost. I don’t know what I am. I don’t know what I want to be. I don’t know where I am going. I don’t know anything.

I loved the music and I loved looking at the clouds. None looked the same. They changed shape and colour all the time and they moved with such grace, melting into each other and then merging with others and taking new forms. The music went perfectly with these clouds moving like it was a kind of cloud ballet. The violins were soaring, sending the music into the sky like this airplane, and the clouds were dancing. I couldn’t take my eyes off the clouds. I saw the sky changing colour as the sun went down slowly. Different colours burst through, apricots, pinks and reds and they joined in this sky ballet, becoming the background while the clouds danced. The sky darkened to a Prussian blue and then turned black. I put my face to the window but all I could see was a flickering red light and my reflection, a close up of my eyes looking back at me. I could see my eyelashes and my big nose.

I needed to go to the toilet and take a leak. I was busting. At the toilet there was the usual queue waiting to use the toilet. I was third in line so I had to just stand there and wait. I was looking down at a magazine a woman was reading in the seat I was standing next to. The article was about someone surviving breast cancer and it had a picture of a woman on a yacht pulling up a sail. I started to read the first paragraph and thought about mum when the light went on for the toilet and a tired looking man came out.

I hate these airplane toilets. You can hardly move inside and you have to smell other peoples’ farts and share the tiny room with hundreds of others. There were traces of the others left, a pubic hair in the basin, some tissue paper on the floor, some smudges on the mirror. I zipped down and pulled out and waited to pee and then do my business. I checked my face in the mirror. I thought to myself, I’m not that ugly. You’re not that bad looking Steven Townsend. Maybe my nose was a bit big but I could also call it distinguished, a Roman nose. Mum had a big nose too, I think I got it from her, she called it her big beak. I had black curly hair. I had blue eyes and I had the usual mouth and a set of ears. I washed my hands and my face and splashed some droplets on my hair. I took my time. I looked around the cubicle. The people outside could just wait. I looked down at the stainless steel bowl. I pressed the flush and the little hole opened and the suction started. It made the usual sucking sound. The sound of the vacuum didn’t stop. It was hauling the water down and it started to get louder and louder and louder. The hole was like a mouth, a small, mechanical, animal mouth. Then I hit the flush again and that is when it all began. I hit the flush again to see if it would stop and I could feel my jacket starting to be pulled down. Bits of loose paper towel were sucked straight down and were swallowed up by the steel mouth. This is strange, I thought, so I put my hand slightly above the bowl and I know you think this is totally crazy, unbelievable and that this could never happen but it did. It did happen and it happened so fast I couldn’t do anything at all. I think it was my hand that was dragged down and then my head that went through and then the rest of my body followed but it happened so quickly I can’t honestly say, but I was sucked down right through that little hole in the toilet and the power that pulled me down was so immense I can’t think of anything to compare it with. I didn’t see anything; I just heard this overwhelming sucking. I didn’t feel anything because it was so fast but all I remember is black. I saw this black.

… I don’t know for how long but I woke up and I was floating in the sky. I wasn’t cold and I wasn’t frightened. The sky was black, a sea of ink. I was flying in the sky, floating and flying like a little leaf. I couldn’t feel any wind. I was looking up at the airplane and I could see its lights flicking on and off and I could see inside the plane. Figures sitting in their chairs and I could see a lady that was sitting and looking out the window. I waved at her. I guessed she could only see darkness. I was looking at them and it seemed like for a long time but it must have been only an instant. I don’t know why I wasn’t scared. I could have been in a state of shock but I remember looking and feeling quite comfortable. It was so dark. I was floating away and the plane was getting smaller and smaller quickly. The red lights were flickering. The white body of the airplane was disappearing but the red lights were still visible. I opened my eyes slightly and looked down and couldn’t see anything but darkness. I started to feel cold. I started to feel some wind. It was hitting my face with such force. I could feel my cheeks being squashed in. I didn’t want to open my mouth and I kept it clenched shut. I lost sight of the plane, it was gone. I started to turn my body around and fly. My heart was thumping but I know I should have been scared but for some reason I wasn’t. This was fun. I was flying. I felt a little cold but I wasn’t freezing, I know I must have been hurtling at an incredible speed but I could just open my eyes a little and see around me. I looked below me and I thought I saw a few tiny lights below. I kept my eyes on them and they were getting closer. Then I lost them. Nothing else was visible. I spread out my body like I saw sky divers do. I turned my head up, opened my eyes a little and saw the stars. I looked down again and I saw a deep blue ribbon with sparkling diamonds. I thought it must be a river and then I saw that black again and fell unconscious.

CHAPTER 2: Arrival

When I woke up it was day and the sun was bursting into my eyes. My eyes opened and I saw a blue sky. I was lying on grass and that was the first smell I smelt, green grass. The first thing I did was sit up. I checked my body and everything seemed in tact. I looked at my hands and fingers and they were still there. I looked for any blood but there wasn’t any. I felt my legs and my knees and they seemed fine. I looked in my pockets, everything that I had in them before was still there. In my trouser pockets my wallet, a lighter, some coins and a handkerchief. In my jacket pocket my cellphone and my ipod. I had my small drawing pad that I always took with me to sketch and jot down notes in my jacket inside pocket along with a pencil. My passport lay there as well. I looked at my hands again and moved my feet. I still had on my clothes, the same clothes. I looked at my watch and it was still going. It said nine twenty pm and the date was the thirteenth of March and that seemed right but there was something wrong, something funny about the watch. Then I saw what it was, it was the second hand, it was going in the wrong direction. It was going backwards, not clockwise but anti-clockwise. I tapped it a few times and shook it but it didn’t make any difference. The impact must have sent it heading in the wrong direction.

I ran my fingers through my hair and down my face. There was no blood. I looked around me. There were some tall trees not too far away. There was cut grass, turning brown. There were birds. There were large round rocks. There was a purple mountain range in the distance. There was a rocky hill over to the left. I stood up. I bent down and stood up again. I felt a little creaky, my joints a little stiff. Had I been out and asleep for a long time? There was nothing wrong with me. No blood, no broken limbs, no tears in my clothing. I felt as if I had just woken up from a nice deep sleep.

I tried to think what had happened. Why was I here? I remembered the airplane. The toilet, the sound of the airplane toilet flush, it was getting louder and louder. Was it a plane crash? I looked around for some wreckage, some people, nothing. I remembered flying in the darkness, watching the plane slide away slowly, the bone white of its body and the flickering red lights. That was all I could remember.

I could see more standing up. I saw a road, an unsealed road. There were lots of big rocks on the side of the road and pot holes, a bad rough road. So there must be people about. I looked up to the sky, hoping to see an airplane but it was empty. All I saw were clouds and blue. Then I heard a noise. It was an engine. It was some kind of a machine, a vehicle perhaps? I looked at the road where the sound was coming from. The road curved behind a brown, rocky hill. The sound was getting closer and I could see puffs of dirt rising from behind the hill. It was the sound of a car. The car was coming from behind the hill and then it was getting closer. What came around the corner behind the hill was a bright pink car. As it turned the corner bits or rock and stones were spewed out to the sides. On the top of this funny looking pink car was a sign that said ‘taxi’ it had pink flashing neon lights around the taxi sign. It came hurtling down the road swerving between pot holes and boulders and came to a screeching halt about fifty metres from me. Its windows were tinted so I couldn’t see inside but the bright pink taxi sounded a horn three times. I looked down briefly at the ground below me and checked that nothing of mine was there. I walked towards this strange looking taxi as it was the only thing I could do. I didn’t know where I was and if a pink taxi comes and hoots its horn in the middle of nowhere you had better go to it.

I walked on over and as I got closer the back door opened up automatically. I looked in and there was no one sitting there. I walked closer and poked my head inside and looked in. There was a hairy, swarthy looking character at the wheel. I didn’t see his face but just the back of his head, a mass of curly black hair. He was wearing a bright pink shirt. He said, You order taxi? Get in.

I didn’t really know what to say so I just said, I didn’t order any taxi. Where am I? He said, Get in. I take you. I sat down but didn’t close the door. I was worried. I could see his face in the rear view mirror. He had a long moustache that drooped down and he hadn’t shaved for a few days. He looked a little chubby and he had a round face. He had a hooked nose and he was picking it. He had his little finger deep inside one nostril and he was excavating deep inside its cavern. He then pulled out a ball of snot, had a brief look at it and then flicked it outside the window.

You need go to Quilla to get to Iida. That was the first time I heard the name ‘Iida’.

What is Iida? Where is this exactly? What country is this? I asked.

He turned and said, Get in. You need go to Quilla to get to Iida.

So I got in. I couldn’t see that I had any choice, being stuck out in this place. I had no idea where I was and after the experience of the plane, this taxi seemed like my only option. Anyway the taxi driver seemed to know where to go and it was a place called Quilla. The taxi swerved between boulders and pot holes. The driver leaned back in his seat and had an arm out the window but seemed to manage this obstacle course with small movements of his fingers on the steering wheel. The road was impossible and littered with large rocks and huge holes. After about fifteen minutes the taxi stopped. There was a huge boulder sitting in the road blocking our way further. The taxi driver looked around. No more drive…. car stop here. You wait here for donkey car. He pointed to a small hut on the side of the road.

But where is this place Quilla and what country is this? Is there a telephone? He didn’t answer and pointed to the hut again. You wait here for donkey car take you to Quilla.

So I got out and just as swiftly as the pink taxi had appeared the taxi did a three point turn and in a puff of dust it disappeared back down the road it came from. I watched as it swerved between the rocks and holes in the road. Dust billowed up behind it and it got smaller and smaller and then it was gone. All was silent again. I could hear nothing except the occasional squawk from a bird and the wind in the trees.

I walked over to the small hut and looked inside. It had hay on the floor and glassless windows on three sides. I wondered what a donkey car was. It was hot so it seemed like a good place to sit and try to make sense of what was happening to me. I lay down and started to suddenly feel extremely tired. I fell into a deep sleep in this small hut with soft hay on the ground. It was strange but I didn’t dream of what had happened to me at all but instead I dreamt a funny dream about Peter Rudgly, a boy from my old school, who picks up his pencils in his pencil case and puts them on his desk and then they all turn into snakes.

When I woke up I found a shrivelled up old man looking at me. His skin was brown and wrinkled like a cooked sausage. He wore dark indigo pants tied with a leather strap at his waist. He wore an indigo shirt that wrapped around and was tied with straps at the front. On his head he had an old, black, worn round hat with square rims. He was smoking a strange red cigarette that was wide and coarsely rolled. He then coughed and chuckled. He then coughed and chuckled again. I said, Hello. Are you waiting for the donkey car? He coughed and chuckled. That was to be the extent of our conversation from then on. I would say something and he would cough and chuckle. The old man stood up and motioned for me to follow him as he coughed and then started to chuckle.

Outside were a donkey and a cart. I realised then that the taxi driver was trying to say I should wait for a donkey cart and not a donkey car. The cart was full of hay and assorted vegetables. He pointed to the cart and gestured for me to sit in the cart. I got inside and made myself comfortable on the hay. The old man climbed onto a seat and the donkey started to pull us along. It was slow going but seeing I had no idea of where I was going it didn’t really matter. I was not going to get any information from this old man as all he was able to do was smoke, cough and chuckle. Wherever we were it was a beautiful day. The sky was a brilliant blue and the countryside was lovely. There were purple mountain ranges in the distance. It was dry and quite rocky but there were crops of some kind and there were orange fruit trees lining the road. Someone must be growing things that meant that there must be a market or town somewhere which meant access to a telephone. Perhaps in this Quilla place I could find out where I was and what happened and call home and let dad and Aunt Tammy know that I was alright.

It was comfortable sitting in the back of this cart as we trotted down the road. The cart was small enough to dodge the boulders and holes in the road. I wanted to get out of where ever I was and back on a plane to Aunt Tammy’s or at least let her know I would be late. I looked around at the old man driving the cart and he was singing some song in a language that I couldn’t recognise and coughing occasionally. He still had his red cigar sticking out of his mouth and he took deep breaths of its smoke. It didn’t smell like any kind of tobacco but an acrid smell like spices being cooked in a pan.

The road was still bad but as we turned a corner we came onto a long stretch of straight road lined with trees on both sides. The trees shaded the road and the shadows created a criss-cross pattern. It was hot and with the slow rocking of the cart and the mesmerizing patterns on the road, I felt strangely, quite calm and relaxed. It was then that I started to see people working in fields. They were husking a grain of some kind. They were women and they wore hats like my cart driver. Round like a ball with a square rim but these were in different colours, reds, and yellows. We passed people in these hats pushing carts loaded with vegetables and produce. Some were young children, laughing. Some had long hair that was fair and others brown. Looking at their faces they looked quite tanned and brown, they could have been Greek or Italian. They looked Southern European or Middle Eastern. This could be Europe, a very rural part of Southern Europe, but the hats were strange. The plane was flying nowhere near Southern Europe it was flying across the Atlantic Ocean to North America.

I wished I had paid more attention to my Italian teacher in the year that I took Italian. Maybe I could remember enough to ask for help or for a telephone. They waved to me as our cart passed them and they laughed and called out.

The old man coughed and chuckled. I called out Bonjorno to the children pushing the carts. They laughed. I tried again with the next couple that we passed but got no response except a friendly wave. I could see other carts carrying loads and some were heading the other way. Everyone seemed to be wearing the round hats in reds and yellows and the same wrap around pyjama like clothes like what the old man was wearing.

We crossed a small wooden bridge with a swift moving river flowing under it and then suddenly there were people and movement and buildings, simple, rustic one storey, brown, clay buildings. They had mud plastered over them. Some were orange and others were yellow or brown. They had thatched roofs made from straw or hay. There were many flower pots on balconies and in the front of the buildings. It was a one street town with maybe ten of these small buildings on each side of the street. It wasn’t crowded but there were people carrying baskets or sitting on mounds of hay and a few donkeys and goats strolling through the town. I couldn’t see any cars and I looked up to look for telegraph poles and signs of electricity but I couldn’t see anything like that. I had never been to a place anything like this before. The cart stopped. The old man turned around and looked at me. He then coughed and chuckled and pointed down the road. He pointed down the road again and coughed and chuckled. I guessed that this must be Quilla.

Of course I didn’t actually know that this was Quilla, I was just guessing. There were no signs stating what this place was and since the taxi driver I hadn’t heard any words in English. I looked around, a few people were sitting down on the side of the road with their produce in front of them, vegetables and fruit mostly. The sight of the fruit suddenly made me very hungry. I realised then that I had not eaten since I left home. I left the plane or I fell from the plane before lunch service. I could see some familiar fruit. The fruit looked deliciously healthy. The apples were large and bright red, the oranges almost neon in colour. There were lovely round plump bunches of green grapes. I had to eat something so I cautiously approached an elderly woman sitting behind three or four large round wicker baskets of fruit. I pointed to the grapes and she nodded. She had a beautiful smile but she had no teeth. I reached into my pocket and held out to the lady two dollar coins. She looked down at them, she looked closer at them and then said something. She waved them away with a small worn hand and then smiled at me and spoke again. She gave me a bunch of grapes and I tried to give her the money but she just waved me away. I thanked her and stuffed round grapes into my mouth.

The people in this place were wearing the same round hats with square rims in different colours. They didn’t seem particularly interested in me though I was obviously very different from them. The road wasn’t sealed and it was quite dusty. The town consisted of just the one road with these small mud brick buildings on either side. Cats sniffed around. It was quiet, there were few street sounds and with the absence of any vehicles or motors you could hear the few people about talking and walking. I turned around and saw the old man and his donkey cart heading off back down the road we came on. He was still smoking his funny cigarette and I thought I heard a final cough and chuckle coming from him.

The road that he had pointed to curved and then descended. I couldn’t see past the curve. I guessed the only thing to do was to head in the direction the old man pointed and hope that I came across a post office or some kind of administrative building where there were people that spoke English and maybe had access to the internet or a phone. The funny thing about this Quilla place was that there were no signs. No signs and no sign of electricity. I thought the whole world had electricity. Usually towns no matter how small had shop signs and advertising everywhere. There were no street signs at all and no names on any of the buildings. I walked down the street munching the grapes and around the curve and followed it down quite steeply for about fifty meters. The buildings were spaced out with small vegetable plots between the houses and there were few people here. I saw a woman sweeping the road in front of her house, a man carrying a basket of food on his back. I tried to say hello in English with anyone I saw. I though of all the languages I could say hello in. I tried it in Italian, French, Japanese, Chinese and Greek as well but I got no responses except the wave of a hand or the nod of a head. I thought ‘hello’ was a fairly universal greeting.

I caught sight of a river at the bottom of the road and