Fhilleamar ár theaglach ar bhaile againn ar an lá Chinn Bhliana. D'fhágamar go déanach sa lá. Chaitheamar a ní an teach go maith. Níor iarramar ag imeacht ar ais ag an coillearnach ina sheamsamh ar imeall An Crios Naofa. Chonaic mé áiteannaí éagsulaí ar feadh mo thuras ar an bóthar mór 101 níos fada. Chuaighamar amach ar an cóngair an cois ar dtús. Chasamar ag dul isteach go lár na tíre ina dhiadh Cuan Bhogach. Bhreatnaim liathróid préachán ansin ag eitilt os cionn ár carr. Bhí cuimhne liom íomhá le Escher.
Phéintáil focal faire le páirti Phoblactachtaí Ghorm ar an trucail in aice leis Príosún ina hÁit Uaigneach: "Bhí Phoblachtach é Mairtín Luther King." Bhí díth Lhéna ag fáil seomra folctha, ach níor d'oscail sé ina Naomh Ardo. Bhí sráidbhaile gan chonai freisin ann.
Bhí maith liom an comhartha "Per Bacco" saothróir fíniúna ag imeall gcathrach Naomh Lháigsech an Easpag. Bhí iontach liom faoi fíon ann. Féachfaidh mé air. Thóg tacaí úr gan fíniúina le saothrú fíniúna eile in aice leis Poll Láibe. D'eirigh siad le cosuil crosa ina reilig saighdíuir.
D'itheamar ár lón ag "La Simpatia," nó "An Cheann Cíneálta," ina Guadalupe, nó Gleann Mic Tíre. Is bhaile oibrithe feirmeachaí Meicsicigh ann. Nuair bhí Leo is óg, d'athraíomar maoinairt aige ina trunc gcarr ann! Anois, bhain sult asainn bia blasta ansin aríst.
Fuair Léna seomra folchtha eile ann. Chuair cuairt sí ar cúl. Lena linn seo, d'inis cailín freastail agam Léna chomh an-deas den saol. Lhabairt sí orm go raibh mo bhean go halainn go fiú amháin maisitheach. Aontaim mé féin léi!
Thiomáin Léna go dtí an gCathair na hÁingeal. D'eisteamar le "Lestrogynians" agus "Scylla & Charybdis" le "Ulysses" ar dlúthdioscanna. D'fhás ceo go tapaidh ar an claddagh na Aigéin Ciúin go Faoileán. Bhí ceo dlúth go dtí Fiontar ar an bóthar mór.
Rug mé orm aghaidheannái difríulaí tríd na fuinneogaí ar an tren. Tháinig sé ag dulta an ionad gan San Nioclás, ach go raibh ainm aigesan leis an lána fós ann. Scaip na nealta ar noimead amháin ag timpeall farraige idir Fiontar agus Naomh Bairbre. Bhris gealach chomh caochadh súile leis Véineas geal síos sí.
Tugadh radharc dríochtach amháin deireanach istoíche sin ann. Dhóigh tine ealaíne amháin suas sinn. Níor bhain siad le deanaí. Lhás solas saorga ochtú mile ansuid ansin go dtí an bhaile againn anseo.
Travelling South.
Our family returned to our home on the eve of New Year's. We left late in the day. We had to clean the house well. We did not wish to go away from the woodlands rising above Santa Cruz.
I saw various places during my journey on the very long Highway 101. We went along the vicinity of the coast at the start. We turned to go inland after Moss Harbor. I looked at a ball of crows there flying above the car. It reminded me of an image by Escher.
A party slogan was painted by the Black Republicans on a truck near Soledad Prison: "Martin Luther King was a Republican." Layne had a need to find a bathroom, but there was none opened in San Ardo. It was a village without anyone living there, also.
I liked the sign "Per Bacco" of a wine-grower on the edge of the city of San Luis Obispo. I wondered about the wine there. I will look for it. Fresh stakes without vines from another vintner were set up near Atascadero (=Mud Hole!). They rose up like crosses in a soldiers' cemetery.
We ate our lunch at "La Simpatia," or "The Kindly [Female Nouned] One," in Guadalupe, or "Wolf's Valley." It's a Mexican farmworkers' town there. When Leo was very young, we changed his diaper in the car trunk there! Now, we enjoyed a tasty meal there again.
Layne found another bathroom there. She paid a visit back there. During this, the waitress told me that my wife was "as pretty as can be." She told me that my wife even without make-up was beautiful. I myself agreed with her!
Layne drove to Los Angeles. We listened to "Lestrogynians" and "Scylla & Charybdis" from "Ulysses" on compact discs. Fog grew suddenly on the shore of the Pacific Ocean at Gaviota (=Gull). There was thick mist until Ventura (=Venture) on the highway.
I caught me different faces through the windows on the train. It came going past the location without St. Nick, but his own name (i.e. "Santa Claus") still was on the lane there. The clouds separated only a moment around the shoreline between Ventura and Santa Barbara. The moon broke like a winking eye with Venus bright below her.
One last magical sight was brought at that night there. A single firework burned up over us. None took off afterwards. Artificial light then lit eighty miles from over there until our home here.
Griangraf/Photo: "Stacked Plates" blog, Dick McGowan.
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