Summer Vacation

Summer is the season of heat and passion: emotions overflow, hormones rage, hearts pound, people go away for vacations, meet and fall in love. A summer fling, over when summer ends and autumn arrives with her melancholy and contemplation.

Last summer, I was here. I needed to get away after breaking up with my girlfriend of 5 years. So I went to the airport and got onto the next available flight with my wallet and passport. A moment of madness, but I was thinking back then, I would just go somewhere, and if I liked it, I would maybe stay for good.

I was back at the hostel I stayed that summer. Pushing open the door gingerly, I didn't really know what to expect. The girl at the reception smiled and greeted me. But she wasn't the person I was hoping to see. Nevertheless I was a little relieved that she wasn't. Perhaps I wasn't prepared.

"I have a reservation," I said, handing her the printout. She checked it over and handed me a form to fill in, which I duly did. As she proceeded to process the rest of the paperwork, I let my eyes wander and saw the photo on the wall behind her.

"Ok, here is the key, your room is…" I patiently listened to her explain about the hostel rules and facilities. When she was done, I asked, pointing to the picture, "Do you know this girl?"

"Danija? She used to work here. But she left about a year ago to go to the countryside to recuperate…I haven't heard from her since then…"

"So you have no means of contacting her now?"

"No…I am sorry."

"How about any of the other people in this picture…"

"They stopped coming when Danija stopped working here…"

"Ok…thanks," I said, backing off.

**

I went to the hostel bar for a drink. Nothing much had changed, except for the two bartenders. I sat alone at a corner and watched the other people.

Danija entered the bar. I smiled. She got herself a drink from the bartender and came to me. "Everything ok so far?"

"Yeah."

"So why are you here? What is your story?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, everyone who comes here has his or her own story."

"To this bar, or this city?"

She shrugged and took a sip from her cocktail.

"I just ended a relationship. Needed to get away, took the first flight out. Came with nothing."

"That's quite adventurous. Kind of romantic, even."

Just then, a girl entered, saw us and came over. Danija smiled and hugged her.

"Oh, this is Steffi. Steffi, this is Will. New in the city."

"Hi," Steffi said, reaching out a hand.

"What would you like, Steffi?"

"Just some orange juice would do. So you like this place so far?"

"Haven't been around much. Was mostly shopping for necessities. I came with next to nothing."

"What? You gotta be kidding."

"Your juice."

"Thanks. Well, you heard of free walking tours? They have one in Prague."

"Not really…I don't know much about this city. Pretty much came on impulse."

"I see…well we have one here as well, and incidentally, I am one of the guides. So I am doing the tour tomorrow. Meeting point is the clock at the main square at 11 am. It's free, but would be nice if you leave a tip at the end for us to sustain the running of this service. So you will be welcome."

"Sounds good."

**

I reached the main square at 10:45 in the morning, and waited by the clock. This was where I had met Steffi. With luck, she would still be doing the tour. There was a small group of people waiting, and I asked if they were there for the free walking tour. They said yes.

At 11 sharp, a girl showed up and came to us, asking if we were waiting for the tour. She was the guide. I asked her about Steffi.

"Steffi? I have never heard of her."

The tour left without me. It was organized by the same organization, so Steffi must have left before that guide came in. Perhaps the guide was Steffi's replacement. But I couldn't understand why Steffi would have quitted: money wasn't really important to her; she loved her city and loved telling visitors stories about her city.

I stood alone, in the middle of the square, contemplating my next move.

"She's a writer. If you want to find her, that is where she will be."

I remembered Steffi's words. That café.

I checked my bearings and headed towards the side street which would bring me to the café.

Along the way, I stopped by a street artist, because one of his pictures had caught my attention. I took a closer look.

"A picture of you, perhaps?"

I scrutinized the picture; it was her, no doubt at all. "Do you remember this girl?"

He took a look at the picture I was referring to. "A very pretty girl. A local. What was her name? I can't really remember. I think I did this last autumn, or was it the end of summer…I can't really remember. But she's a local."

"How much is this?"

"What?"

"I would like to buy it."

"It's not for sale. It's a gift from her."

"Not for sale at any price?"

"A gift is a gift, young man. Some things cannot be bought with money."

"I see. Thank you anyway, and have a nice day," I bade farewell and went on my way.

**

I entered the café synonymous with the city, and found a seat at a corner, which was where I had sat, the very first time I came. That table next to me was empty.

I was overwhelmed by the café. The atmosphere was special. You could feel the history in this place. So many great writers had been inspired here. I ordered a mélange and took out my camera. I snapped a photo of the place.

Then I noticed her. She was glaring at me, somewhat with hatred and disgust. I put my camera away.

My mélange came. She took a sip of her coffee and scribbled something in a red notebook, stopped to look at what she had written, then cancelled whatever she had written and flipped to a new page. She did this for a few more pages before shutting her notebook in frustration, putting it away. Then, she raised a leg up, propping it against a table and took out a cigarette.

I found myself watching her as she wrote and smoked. There was just something about her which made one sit up and take notice.

Later that evening, I was totally shocked to see her at the hostel bar, drinking alone. I sat 2 seats from her. The two seats between us were then filled by Danija and Steffi.

Danija and Steffi made the introductions. Madeleine was her name. She barely acknowledged the introduction, but continued to drink.

Two other guys came and joined us: Carlo and Jan. They were complete opposites. Jan was quiet and reserved. He shook my hand and sat through the night with barely an utterance. He was the kind of person who could sit there without you noticing his presence. In a way, he was that unremarkable. Carlo, on the other hand, was the kind who takes centre stage wherever he goes. When you first meet him, you would be cursing God for his bias: how could one be so blessed with good looks and confidence?

"Carlo is a bartender. A very good one. Carlo, why don't you make something for him, as a welcome drink," Danija suggested.

Carlo stole a glance at Madeleine, who was looking at her empty glass. "Sorry, not working tonight."

I sat by the side as they talked, although it was more of Steffi, Carlo and Danija doing the talking. Madeleine would give her opinion now and then, always authoritatively, while Jan hardly spoke.

At about 2, Carlo stood up. "I have to go."

"So early?" Danija asked.

"I am going to her place."

"At this hour?" Steffi looked at her watch.

He nodded. "She texted."

"For the first time in your life, you seem to be serious about a relationship," Danija said.

He shrugged, flashed a charming smile. "I am off. Good night."

Later, Danija would explain to me that Carlo, a Casanova, had been seeing a married woman whose husband was often away on business trips. Unlike other relationships which lasted at most 3 months, they had been seeing each other for half a year.

Although no one said anything, I knew they had their reservations.

I sat for 2 hours in the café, and knew that Madeleine wasn't going to show up.

**

I saw the poster at the tram station. An exhibition of the works of young photographers from the city. I took a closer look. One of the names was that of Jan. The Jan who hardly spoke.

I checked the venue; it wasn't very far away. I headed there. Jan's compilation was titled "Looking through her eyes."

One of the photos was that of a wedding.

"How was your cousin's wedding?" Steffi asked.

"Very pretty. Maybe Jan can show you the pictures he took," Danija replied. We were at the bar.

"Jan went along?"

"I asked him to be the photographer on my cousin's behalf, and he accepted."

"Really? Funny…Jan hates these kind of things most. He hates contact with people."

"Well not as if it was required of him to interact with the guests."

"But still…it is not typical of Jan."

**

Jan wasn't at the exhibition, and the staff there couldn't help me much. I took the tram back to the hostel. Sitting opposite me was a girl reading a book. She was very engrossed in her book, with the slightest of smile on her face.

"Everything all right?" Steffi asked.

"Yeah. Thank you."

"For what?"

"For making me feel welcome. Hanging out with you guys really helped a lot."

"Really? I don't know…maybe you would feel weird, because we have known each other for so long…breaking into a clique is never easy, you know? And like, some people don't really like newcomers as well."

"I don't know…I think I get along well with Danija and you. Jan is just reserved."

"Jan doesn't like to interact with people. He has always been like this, so don't mind him."

"He is a photographer right? So what exactly does he take photographs of?"

"Well everything. He says he takes photographs to help him remember things, to help him remember what a place is like at a specific time…although if you ask me, he doesn't need photos…he has a photographic memory."

"I see…And Carlo…I don't know…he is somewhat cold towards me…"

"It's not about you. It's about Madeleine."

"What do you mean?"

"Madeleine hates tourists. You are a tourist to her."

And then, it dawned upon me. That look on her face, the very first time we met at the café. It had nothing to do with her getting into my picture, as I had first suspected. She was just angry that I was taking photographs of the café because it was famous, like any other tourist would do. She was angry because it was her café, while I was a tourist who didn't understand a thing about her city.

"Carlo is always on Madeleine's side. That is why Carlo will never really welcome you as long as Madeleine doesn't."

"What is going on between the two of them?"

Steffi smiled enigmatically. "Carlo is looking for a girl he saw once on the tram. She was reading a book, with a smile on her face. Looking at her, he felt at peace with himself and understood what bliss meant."

"What about you? What is your story then?"

"My story?"

"Danija said everyone has a story. What's yours then?"

"My story is boring. Not exciting at all."

**

Back at the bar, the girl at the reception asked me when I entered, "No luck?"

I shook my head.

**

"Morning!" the girl at the reception called out when I came down.

"Morning."

"Going out to look for her again?"

"Maybe not. Today is my last day here. I am leaving tomorrow. So I thought I would just go and see this city one last time. I don't know when I will be back again."

I found myself at the café. I ordered a mélange. As my order came, I heard a child's voice behind me. Subconsciously, I turned around and saw a young mother with a child of about 4 years old entering the café.

Our gazes met.

"Steffi!" I called out, after spotting her at the cereals section of the supermarket.

She whirled around, and that was when I noticed the little girl tugging on her blouse. She smiled. "Hi."

She saw me looking at the little girl. "My daughter Miriam."

"Your daughter?"

"Yeah. I told you right? My story is boring. I am a single mother, working hard to raise my daughter."

We went to a nearby café after that, where Steffi told me her story: how she was a first year university student when she met this exchange student and fell in love with him. They broke up when summer and his exchange program ended. After he was gone, she realized she was pregnant.

"I decided to keep her, because she is my child."

"It's been a while, Steffi."

"I thought you were never coming back."

I didn't answer her. Miriam looked up at me with wide eyes. "Mummy, who is this?"

"An old friend of Mummy's."

Mother and daughter sat at my table. Miriam drew on her sketching pad as Steffi and I sat opposite each other without a word.

"How's your girlfriend?"

"We broke up."

"So that's why you are back again?" there was a bitterness in her voice.

"No…"

"Then? What are you here for this time round? To reminisce about the past? And then what?"

"I am sorry."

"I can't forgive you. Because you hurt Danija. You came, told her you love her, and packed your bags the moment your girlfriend called. I am sorry, your ex."

I looked down as Steffi's words bombarded me. I had never seen her so worked up.

"I thought you were different, that's why I stood up for Danija back then."

"He likes you, right?" Madeleine's voice.

"Who?" Danija's voice.

"That foreigner."

"I don't know…and you don't have to call him by that…he has a name."

"But he's one. So you like him?"

No reply from Danija.

"Don't."

"Why?"

"I don't trust him."

"He seems to be different…" Steffi's voice.

"You should know better, Steffi. Carlo, a Pina Colada."

I turned away from the bar.

"After you left, Danija went into depression. Do you remember the memos she always wrote and pasted on her desk? Danija has a rare condition which affects her memory. That's why she always needed such reminders. With medication and luck, her condition would be kept under check and not develop into full-blown dementia. But because of what happened, her condition worsened. She is getting better now, slowly remembering things again. So as her friend, I hope you will stay away."

"I am leaving tomorrow at 10 in the morning. I want to see her again. Even just a glance, to know that she's better."

"To make yourself feel better?"

"No. I miss her."

"But you left her."

"It was a mistake."

"It's just your excuse," she stood up and left some money on the table. "Miriam, we have to go."

"Bye bye," Miriam waved goodbye to me as they left.

**

9:59. 10:00.

I felt the train slowly move.

As the train pulled out of the station, I realized I was leaving her city again.