Don’t do it …

Cinque Terre, Italy

… writes my friend A., as he and partner are doing the ‘grand tour’ of Europe (never too late to travel to places you’ve known and heard about but had neither time nor money visit). In today’s post, sent from Italy’s Ligurian coast, he ruminates on “a few things that need never be done ever again because too many people do them. The doing of them does not make one a romantic hero nor an adventurous person in any way. Doing what others do just makes one a follower and a not very imaginative one at that.

“No more tagging. Don’t do it. On anything. Your illegible name is not interesting. We don’t care. Learn how to do some art if you have to spray paint something. Stand out by doing something as unique as you can.

“No more locks on railing. All the romantic bridges in Paris are going to crumble under the weight of brass. The Cinque Terra is going to lose some of their walkway railings from the weight pressing down on the terraces. Furthermore, anyone who has to buy a cheap lock and write your true loves name next to yours in a heart with a marker pen and lock the device to a railing is destined to go through a brutal divorce in a few years.

“The next thing not to do? Don’t buy plastic bottles full of water unless your life actually and really depends on it. It’s usually just tap water sold to you for the cost of the petroleum that makes the plastic. The taste of tap water is terroir. You know – that romantic idea of the taste of the wine that comes from the earth the grapes are raised in. The taste of water in taps is the taste of the ground the water is filtered through – plus a little chlorine. And if you don’t like the taste of chlorine, let the water sit in the stainless steal bottle you bought to carry water – with the top open so the water has a chance to breath. You do let wine breath; why not with water. And if you do find yourself buying bottled water while you are walking through some romantic area of the world … don’t, just don’t throw the bottle away so other romantics can contemplate the romantic implications of trashed water bottles at the side of the trails. Recycle the things. If you carry them in carry them out.”

Seen through artist’s eyes, spinkled with bits of history, sociology, and literature, seasoned with a sharp sense of humour, A’s travelogue makes me want to follow in his foot steps. The next best thing, while still in my bathrobe and never leaving home, is reading his blog. “Thank you for tolerating me getting that off my chest,” he ends today’s missive.