L.A. Trippin’

I awoke around midnight. Louis had parked the bus under a couple of trees. Except for me it was empty. I could hear laughter from afar and as I peeked out of the window I saw my friends sitting around a huge campfire with a few guests. Three more couples were scattered around the garden. Wine was being served but most had already finished their meal. I had a minor earthquake rumbling inside my belly, so I got up and went for the exit. As I opened the door I almost stumbled over a snoring Quote, who, apart from saying something like: “- do I wake or sleep? Ode to a Nightingale. John Keats 1820,” soon fell back into unconscious-mode.
Once outside, I was welcomed by a crossover between a skunk and a balding college professor. He had more hair on his body than all of us combined – except for his crane. Quite a challenge for Pops Who. Although I would have preferred not to notice, it couldn’t be missed that he was practically naked, except for a thong which didn’t completely succeed in covering up his private parts. The stink that erupted from his mouth only made matters worse.
Raw GARLIC! My God, how I hate that stench!!! It always reminds me of Grandma. Her smell made me swear never ever to travel to the Balkans. She used to tell stories about her Macedonian greatgrandparents. She often mentioned their stink and that she’d never forget the smell that came with them. Imagine, this was my Granny talking….  She herself came equipped with a stronger bouquet than anyone could bear – it escaped from every possible vault and opening. But no matter how bad things are, you’ll always find worse.
The skunk I bumped into was Mr.Worse to me. He approached me with wide open arms, offering me his warmest welcome. I managed to escape the horror just in time by jumping over a sleeping Quote so that at least I had his body between us.  I walked over to the others as fast as I could, trying my best not to give the skunk the impression that it was really him I was running from. A needless worry. His reactions were so slow, almost as if someone had pulled the brake on his entire system. I didn’t know if it was the booze, the wine or pot, but he was definitely on another trip.
What a moment earlier I’d thought to be some ordinary garden-party now appeared to be far more kinky. My friends were just sipping wine by the fire, but in the bushes a bit further off, an entire tribe of university professor lookalikes – all in their late fifties or sixties - were uninhibitedly practicing different stages of yoga and / or the Kama Sutra.
I felt blessed that it was too dark to make out the details.
I found Nudjia sitting between Louis and another man who I guessed was Maxim. They  were talking old times and laughing. Lucy, Mark and Tiko had fun playing some card game on the other side of the fire. I couldn’t see Spooky anywhere, but I was sure he was having his own little feast with all there was growing in the garden.
As I sat down next to Nudjia she kissed me and said she’d get me something to eat.
“Vhat can I brring you?”  she squeaked.
“Anything, as long as it doesn’t have garlic,” I said.
It all tasted delicious. Baked tomatoes, different salads and fruits, real French bread and cheese, mozzarella. Not to mention the Belgian chocolates. Simply too much to describe. Just thinking about it now makes my mouth start to water again.
While I was eating, Nudjia filled me in on the things I’d missed.
“And this,” she said pointing at the man sitting next to Louis. “This is Maxim. Firrst he velcomed us to the house. Most of us got rrooms, but I said I’d prreferr to spend the night outside. Vhat do you think, love?”
I loved her little smile that went with her lust.
“Then ve all cooked togetherr. While we verre in the kitchen morre guests arrrived.”
She threw a quick look over her shoulder.
“They smoke home grrown pot. It makes them lose all theirr hidden inhibitions.”
Then she told me Maxim’s story, of which I’ll just give you the short version here.
As you already know, he’s originally from France. He once started out as a chef in Nice, the beautiful city on the Cote d’Azur.
One day he was forced to help out a local mafia boss by temporarily keeping off some policemen who were closing in on the guy’s affairs. Adding a little something to the Salade Nicoise’s vinaigrette had ended the officers’ evening earlier than they’d planned. But it was all in vain. A few days later the police caught the guy anyhow. It didn’t take them long to make the connection and after a short while they came for Maxim. It turned out the guy had started singing the moment the cops tightened the thumbscrews a bit.
Everyone in Nice loved Maxim – and it wasn’t just because of his cooking. He’d been their local war hero. Many families owed him for the lives of their sons he’d saved in Indochina. They all knew the stories. How he’d always brought back all his comrades. He was  one of the best. He never gave up, not until every single one of his men was safe. The restaurant came on top. Everybody had dined there, side by side, the cops, the crooks, the simple fishermen, and it had never been less than terrific.
So, after the arrest, out of respect, the officers  called the Foreign Legion. He took the chance. Anything was better than jail. He went back to war. What did he have to lose? Sure, the restaurant, but with his talents as a cook, he’d be able to open up a new one anywhere anytime. Off he went, back to Indochine. He was given a new identity and served several years in the Foreign Legion’s regiments. Only this time it wasn’t their war anymore. The U.S. had taken over.
Louis and Maxim met in Vietnam and they worked side by side for a short while. Together they managed to break up and destroy one of the main Vietcong information chains which employed French, American and Vietnamese double agents. The operation was a huge success. Of course it didn’t turn the tide of the war – way too late for that - but it saved countless lives on both sides.
After the war, after leaving the legion, Maxim moved to the States, searching for a place where people still respect freedom and keep up the open spirit the war had almost  destroyed in him. He finally found his peace near Sedona, where he bought himself a small piece of land. He started out with a single bedroom house but over the years he added one room after another. Some years back – with cooking still being his first love - he even opened a restaurant, ‘Santé Maxim’. The locals loved it from day one on and his parties made him famous for as far down as Mexico.
“This one has gotten a little out of hand,” he said, pointing over at some humping university professor’s moonlit bum half hidden in the bushes.
During Nudjia’s tale I’d kept observing Maxim. Like Louis he had this calming presence that automatically made you feel good. I walked over to him. He was big, but not as big as Louis. No one could top his square build. Maxim’s eyes had a friendly fire to them and when you watched him it was as if being warmed by a good glass of wine. The dark curls and his loose clothes made him look like a friendly Roman emperor - if ever there was one.
After I’d filled him in on the parts of the story the others had left out, Nudjia, Who, the Russians and what we planned to do about them, I said: “Maxim, if you wouldn’t own the restaurant and the house, would you think of leaving? Would you consider joining us?”
You probably think: what the hell does he think he’s doing? Just a moment ago he said he was happy not to have to take on anybody new and now he’s even asking for it.
Tell you what, I felt alone, as if I wasn’t up to the challenge. Of course I guessed Maxim couldn’t and wouldn’t leave everything behind. Then why ask? Simply because I still didn’t trust Sarge and his weapon-collection. What if he’d use the guns before we’d be able to try things our way?  I was afraid we wouldn’t be strong enough to prevent a slaughter.
“You’re Damon, right? Let me tell you something, Damon. My Grandfather fought the Austrians as an Italian soldier in World War One. I still remember his vivid tales about all his comrades who died the white death in the Italian Alps. The Austrians deliberately started avalanches so as to kill more Italians while at the same time saving bullets. The Italians returned the trick soon after. Twenty-three years later my father fought the Germans in La Résistance in France.”
I liked the way he pronounced it French. It reminded me of Liège.
“They shot off both his legs in revenge for a landmine which had killed a truckload of German singers and hookers who had been sent in by their command as a small but very welcome diversion to keep the soldiers from deserting.
“I myself served in Indochine, mainly because I was forced to help a creep save his dirty money. I did good and they practically stoned me with medals. But deep inside, war has made me a broken man, like my Dad before me and my Grandfather before him. That is already three broken generations walking the face of this earth. Now let me ask you: Why on earth do you ask me to fight?”
I felt a huge amount of shame wrecking my insides. I never thought of it that way.
“You know, Damon,” he said, “your generation is the first in this century spared by war. You grew up without a military threat, just peace and love and music. And yet you are willing and able to destroy it all. Your generation doesn’t seem to see the happiness that is in yourself and in nature, in all the beings of this planet. You need more and more drugs to cheer you up. Without them you’d be scared and bored to death. Has any of you ever thought about why it is you got so bored? Maybe you also need a war to amuse yourselves, to let it all out,  all the stuffed up hate and tensions like so many a generation before. Why can’t you be the first to create? How about inner peace for a start and then get on from there!”
He was almost crying. It was as if he’d been adressing the entire generation, not just me, finally letting out all his anger and frustration.
I watched Louis closing his eyes for a second as if telling me to let go. He’d lived the same misery. His face showed the pain of memory. Nudjia held my hands while Mark, Lucy and Tiko sat down next to the fire. Their presence comforted me. We sat in silence for a long time.
As I looked over at the bushes I saw the busy professors had disappeared. We were alone and the campfire warmed us. Nothing but darkness behind our backs, but I felt safe. As we looked up into the sky we saw thousands of stars blinking in the soft moonlight.
Little sparks of fire danced around our heads as Maxim took my hand and that of Louis on his other side. We all joined in. Normally I wouldn’t want to, as you know I’m not into this new age shit, but this was different. It was a natural reaction, not the least ridiculous. We didn’t say a word. There was no need. It was a silent prayer to whomever we believed in. I prayed for sunshine and rain, for saving humanity and protecting creation. For peace and happiness, courage and love, righteousness and tolerance and to keep the freaks out of my life.
I didn’t know who would want to or would be able to fulfill my truckload of wishes but still I thought it worth a try. Maybe I’d be heard, maybe this Holiness is somehow able to shift things a little, with all that had been going wrong for so long, who knows?
We sat together until darkness had devoured the fire’s last sparkles. Only then did I realize  that Sarge was missing.
“Where’s Sarge?”  I asked Louis.
He just pointed at the bus and said: “Do you think Sarge would leave it up Quote to protect his precious collection? Never. He’s probably hiding somewhere close, piercing the night for possible thieves and hoodlums.”
Not that I had the intention of finding him, I just wanted to know. Now that I did, I felt better. We all thanked Maxim, said goodnight and went separate ways.
Nudjia took me by the hand and led me away from the ashes, through some bushes and over to a small open spot between the trees. It smelled like fresh herbs. Mint, thyme, basil, sage and camomille in abandon. She had piled up some clothes at the foot of the biggest tree close to a little stream.
She looked at me in that special way and whispered: “Kiss me, Damon.”
I did.
I thought of all the luck that had fallen into place so that I could meet this girl.
She didn’t say much, there was no need to. Just a few weeks back I’d never have dared to dream of what we now shared - and it kept growing deeper and bigger.
Her dress fell to the ground as I caressed the soft skin of her bum.
“Come vith me,” she whispered as she crouched by the stream and slowly slid into the water.
I quickly undressed, almost tipping over because of the rush as I took off my shorts.
“No neet to hurrry, love,”  she chuckled.
Her wet hair enveloped her breasts perfectly. Her eyes were shooting bright lightnings right into the middle of my heart, what do I say, a complete thunderstorm passed her dripping lashes, setting me aglow.
The water wasn’t as cold as I expected. In fact it was rather refreshing after all the food and the smoke-filled air. I swam over. Just before I reached her, she dove under only to reappear a few meters further, laughing and teasing. I slowly followed. Sometimes she just  pushed her bum out of the black water, making it look like a set of twin moons, then a breast or a leg. After that last one was gone, she stayed under for a while. But before I even thought of worrying I recognized her lips the moment they broke the silent surface of the stream, gasping for air. What was it she was up to this time? She submerged again, but with the clouds breaking up I could see her back under the surface as she came swimming towards me. She softly pulled at my foreskin, resurfaced grinning, making her cheeks look like little hearts. We kissed again – and it seemed like forever. As we parted I watched our wrinkled fingertips. I thought it almost resembled a cultist’s before the transformation but I didn’t care.
From the way she watched me as I pushed myself out of the water, I could tell I was in for a surprise.
She took me there.
She’d prepared a bed entirely made of petals right behind the big tree. All available colors from the softest flowers were spread out on the grass. She lay down in their midst and slowly opened her legs.
“Damon, my love, come to me.”
I couldn’t. And at the same time I wanted to so much. I cried and laughed - we both did. We kissed all over. I can’t think of words to describe our love-making.
All was very quiet. The only sound was the endless flowing of the stream and our excited breaths.
As I came, she held me pressed to her body until we fell asleep.

I awoke just before sunrise. Her hair smelled of roses and thyme. She looked so pretty,  lying naked amidst the petals. She was on her side, her arms close to her face, her breasts pressed together. The night had scattered a thousand droplets of water on her skin.
I kissed her.
We made love once more until dawn broke.
We bathed in the stream and totally blushed as Maxim came and invited us over for breakfast.
“Hey, no need to hide. I don’t need a psychic to know what you’ve been up to all night.”
He grinned like Louis’ - we giggled in return.
“Look, it’s only natural. It sort of comes with the place, the tourists’ honey pot. But as far as I can tell, you two didn’t need no honey.”
I felt so good to see him smile again. Maybe sleep had put his memory to rest.
As if he was reading my mind he said: “By the way Damon, don’t take yesterday’s discourse too personally. Although I meant what I said, I don’t hold you personally responsible for your entire generation, o.k.?”
“Sure Maxim, no harm done. I on my turn would like to thank you for telling me your story. It definitely changed the way I see certain things.”
Although I try my best to describe the situation, to you as a reader it probably sounds awfully pathetic, and in a way it was. But when you’re living it, the real thing, it’s all so different, so intense …  Somehow the place, Maxim, the beautiful night, everything combined made it special.

We had breakfast by the bus. Maxim had put up a huge wooden table with chairs next to the campfire’s ashes. He’d arranged freshly baked French bread, croissants and a most amazing collection of fruit, jam pots in all kinds of sizes, fresh milk, coffee, tea and hot chocolate reminding me of Liège. We ate like we’d been starving for months.
Spooky was bouncing holes in the air on the grass. It looked like he was practicing some evasive runs, the way he zigzagged, suddenly jumping as if carrots were dropping from the sky. Back then I didn’t know too much about rabbit behavior. I hadn’t seen him the night before, but he had probably been asleep before I woke up in the bus. As he saw me, he came over and pressed his chin to my foot as a hello. I gave him some fruit, which he devoured in no time.
“Let’s thank our marvelous host here for all he has offered us,” Louis said, tapping Maxim on the shoulder as he finished a slice of melon.
His words aprubtly ended the wonderful time in Maxim’s oasis and pulled us back to reality and the purpose of the trip. It was time to pack our stuff.
Nudjia and I walked over to the big tree to clean up. As we got to the clearing, the sight of the wind playing with the petals made me want to stop time. We were in awe as we watched their magical game. It was a worthy goodbye for that wonderful place. Things change, people change but we promised ourselves we would forever cherish this memory deep in our hearts.
We kissed.
We met Tiko and Louis by the bus. Sarge and Quote were busy packing but I couldn’t see Lucy and Mark. Not that we were in a hurry to leave, but still it surprised me. Normally Lucy would be the first to want to get on the way. Now she was nowhere to be seen. You never know with Lucy. Could it be that the place had managed to clam down even her?
Or maybe her goal or whatever she thought it to be had changed. Not that she wouldn’t want to get to L.A., nothing in the world could have changed her mind on that. Maybe her yearning for the trip to end had cooled off. After all we’d met some fabulous people and seen some wonderful places over the days. Probably the garden had enchanted her too. But whatever it was, they needed to be found. I decided to take a look.
“Hey Tiko,” I said,  “have you seen Lucy and Mark?”
He shrugged, adding: “No, not since breakfast. They said something about bidding farewell. You want me to go and get them?”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea. I’ll come with you. Let’s check out the stream first, o.k.?”
Finally a chance to be alone with him. Maybe that way I could learn more about the ever changing batteries in that damn’ clock that made him tick.
“You two go ahead,” Nudjia said. “I’ll help Louis vith the bus.”
As we left her behind with the others, Spooky came running after us as if on an invisible leash. Our first try was last night’s love nest.
“Nobody here,” Tiko said walking over to the stream.
The wind had taken even the last petal, leaving absolutely no trace of the magic Nudjia and I had shared there the previous night.
“Let’s walk up this hill a bit,” I said. “Did you visit the house yesterday?”
No answer. Tiko had already disappeared behind the trees.
I followed him with a steady pace, Spooky running close behind.
“Over here, Damon. I found them,” he said, pointing straight ahead.
On the top of the hill stood Maxim’s house, half hidden behind several bushes and trees. Lucy and Mark were overlooking the valley from the clearing next to it.
“I would love to return here one day,” Lucy said. “Maybe when this whole thing is over, just for a few days. What would you say, Mark?”
His smile was a definite yes.
“Damon, take a look from up here. The sight is truly amazing.”
I walked over and was instantly blown away. The view was so magnificent, too marvelous for words. We were all in awe. Nobody said a word. It felt so damn good standing there. And the smell! Everything combined, the view, the scent of the wood and the trees, the fresh air; maybe that’s what heaven is like. Down below, embedded between the rolling hills lay a small lake. Its blue like a lonesome flower amidst the woods’ green and brown. And not a single human mark disturbing the harmony.
“What an amazing sight,” Tiko said – and he wasn’t grinning.
Although we hadn’t been able to talk on our way up, the way he was looking at me now seemed to confirm my guess that his recent Buddha-phase might be over.
“We just wanted to say goodbye,” Lucy said, taking Mark’s hand.
“We can go now.”
We walked downhill together. It was as if the place had changed us all a little. As if we had calmed down or as if something or someone had given us the feeling that everything was going to be all right; that we needn’t worry – we would succeed somehow.
Hadn’t Maxim said something about the place’s special atmosphere? Obviously some people - like the professors - misunderstood him, but as the saying goes, different folks, different strokes, right?
“It’s a holy place.”
The rabbit talking …
“Yeah right. Let me guess, Wild Cloud told you that story.”
“No, I just know, everyone knows. It goes back hundreds of years.”
Was this Spooky talking again or …  Ah, enough of all the ghost-talk. It would probably be best if I just didn’t listen. Nevertheless I truly wished it would simply stop for a while.
We had reached the bus. The others had obviously finished packing - all the baggage compartments were closed. Nudjia and Louis were busy rearranging the garden furniture.
“So there you are,” Louis said.  “What about heading for L.A.? Everything is packed, Sarge and Quote have already taken their seats, so hop in. Let’s move!”
He was right. Holding on wouldn’t have made the goodbye any easier for us. We all thanked Maxim for his hospitality. Thank God there was no sign of the professors.
“Come back any time you want,” he said. “And take care!”
The bus’ door slammed shut. Everybody waved. With Maxim’s last words still ringing in my ears, Louis  started the engine and our friend disappeared in the dust.
Would we ever be able to put a halt to this never ending series of goodbyes, maybe even settle down? It felt to me as if the moment we got to know someone better, we’d be running away from him. Sure, we had this job to do but still, it made me wonder. Was I truly ready for friendship, would I be able to commit myself? First of all to Nudjia of course, but also to friends like Maxim, Who or Tiko even.
We can learn so much from others. It would really be a shame if we would constantly walk away from all those opportunities. Even after only four days of traveling my world views had changed so much - because of the people I met. They’d made me become a lot more tolerant of others. And for that I wouldn’t want to miss  out on a single one of these impressions.
While the landscape slid by, they all passed my memory again, one by one. To my surprise, the first who came to mind - not counting Tiko’s Dad or Sarge and Quote because they were always there - were Superpops and the monkey. Probably because I still couldn’t stand them. But Who and her family were a close second followed by the girls we saved from the twins’ grip. Last were the cultists. Amazing how Zelda had nearly vanished from my memory.
In between flashbacks my parents’ faces kept popping up. They were crying, although at the same time they also looked quite happy. As if they were sad because we’d left them behind, but somehow they also knew we’d be fine. Maybe Wild Cloud visited them in their dreams from time to time. I didn’t really feel sorry, though. It was their life, their choice. After all they had wanted it that way …   Maybe just a little sorry - so I blew them each a big imaginary kiss.
Lucy and Mark had fallen asleep in their seats. At the far end of the aisle Sarge and Quote had taken their positions next to the improvised construction of cases and clothes in which they’d planned to hide from nosy Angelenos. It looked like some teenage backpackers’ trash assortment. I wondered if things would have been easier if they’d just dressed normally right from the start like everyone else. After all a gravedigger wouldn’t go shopping with his black hat on, either.
Nudjia was hanging on to the back of the seat in front of her, her head resting on her arms. Spooky sat in her lap, taking a nap. She shot me a glance. The look in her eyes made me weak in the knees. Since the night before I had this feeling that I was discovering so many new sensations and new sides to our love.
If you’re anxious for action and you think this all too pathetic and sweet, just forget I mentioned it. It’s just the way I felt at the time, that’s all. As to the action, be patient, it will hit you soon enough.
Meanwhile Nudjia nuzzled her face to the side of my neck and held me close.