THE FAMILY HOLIDAY
Away from prying lenses
I left my West Australian shore one more time this year...
heading towards the sun to the exotic Eastern part of the world
I met Fred, his wife and Olivia in one of the Bangkok's beautiful parks under the heavily scented tree...
While Fred has already started to admire the local beauties
his wife found it difficult to breathe in crowded places...
overhelmed by coulours, noise, smell and heat...
Olivia took my hand excitedly so eager to see and explore the far away places...
She has already found a friend in a hotel to muck around...
when mum called on her to put the shoes on and settle down, we are all going to visit a Buddhist temple...I invited them to see the ordinary families....
We were waiting in a queue to go into a temple, nto a qeue of tourists but mostly of the Buddhist faithful...
there to make their prayers and practise their beliefs in private, with just us mingled in.
Among the hundreds of them was a mother and a little girl. She was very pretty.
Fred, two big digital SLR cameras hung around his neck came up close to the little girl and started photographing her.
Her mother waved her hand at him, politely, signalling "no", the girl looked away.
He ignored this and carried on, the little girl trying to bury her face in the crook of her mother's arm.
Fred reached forward, took her under the chin and turned her to look out again, at him. At which the mother covered her daughter's face.
Fred pulled the mother's hand out of the way and tried to carry on. His wife took another camera and joined him.
Suddenly I couldn't stand it any more and hid them behind my back. Olivia followed me and took the little girl by her hand.
Fred and his wife turned away dissapointed: "We just wanted to take a picture, what's wrong with that?"
Photography can be intrusive
are we acutely aware of this?
While spending our hard earn money
to enjoy the sea and the sun
of far away exotic lands.
"It is so good to be home,"
I sqeezed the leathery hand
of my sea-faring uncle,
over 60 years old captain Tom.
He eased his 33 m
350-tonne vessel from the wharf
and we watched from his cabin
a big crowd waving
to the passengers on board.
As we headed from the harbour
at Makarska
leaving
the bustling popular tourist town
dwarfed by the mighty Biokovo mountains
behind
Tom smiled broadly at me:
"Do you remember our fishing trip together
when you have been seven or eight
coming to spend with us your summer holiday?"
"Of course, I do, my best times ever,
but no more fishing for you now,"
I laughed pointing around the decks
where relaxed passengers
were sipping the complementary drink of rakija.
"We still fish the open seas in winter,"
Tom winked at me:
"You don't have to plough the ocean,
You only have to take care of it
and it always give."
"But tourists give more,"
His son in law from Germany
entered the cabin and shook my hand:
"Welcome, I heard so much about you,
you are just like daughter to him,
so we are officially family,
Fred is my name."
Tom spent 20 years working in Germany
to raise capital to go into business
had paid off
His boat can take 280 passengers
on this day
there were 260 on board
on its return to harbour
it became a nightly seafood
restaurant
serving up many of the 10 species
caught in the winter
including squid and prawns.
It was party disco time,
the sparkling night
at the rear of the vessel
chefs busy grilling fish
its delicious smell drifting
over the dark waters
of pristine Adriatic.
"This was my idea,"
Fred proudly
lifted his glass of white wine,
"To Tom and his successful 2012 tourist year."
"One day it will be yours,"
Tom proudly lifted up
his five year old grandaughter Olivia
who joined us with her mother
for family dinner.
Suddenly someone waved at me
from the noisy and crowded tables
further at the deck.
My friend Lisa from Perth
ran to me and gave me a big hug:
"What are you doing here?"
I asked surprised.
"My hubby comes from Korcula,
didn't you know that island
is the spiritual home
of thousands of West Australians?"
She laughed and then turned to Tom,
"Do you mind, captain if I take a picture of you
and your beautiful girl?"
Tom stood up proudly
while Olivia snatched his captain's hat
and made a cute pose
but Fred rushed to Lisa
and took the camera from her hand:
"Hang on, this is my daughter
you want to take a picture of,
I don't even know you, what for?"
"Just for a keepsake to remember
this great boat and this holiday,"
Lisa suddently turned red
and backed off
full of appologies
when Fred handed the camera back,
"It's okey Lisa, we just prefer for tourists
to respect our privacy."
Tom patted my hand
when I came back from Lisa's table:
"Fred is a good bloke, just too German,
they are very proud of who they are,
do not take it personally."
When Dalmatian folk music
I have known from childhood
filled our ears
and brought Tom and me
to emotional tears
I hugged him tightly:
"I would love you to come
to visit me."
He smiled through his tears:
"Captains do not take holidays,
I just catch sleep on board
when I can,
but Olivia with her parents
go to Thailand in two weeks
maybe you could all meet there."
On my last day
Tom sailed very close
to parts of Brac
where the harsh,
rugged
rocky hilly
shoreline
reminded me of the place
where I live now.
"Many of them went to Australia as well,"
Tom said pointing at the crumbling buildings
among the small pockets
of fertile soils
created by moving rocks by hand.
I looked at the extremely difficult terrain
from which local people
for centuries
desperately tried to make a living.
"Do you remember when we helped
to build a stone cottage up there
for my brother, Ivan,
he is long dead, poor fellow,"
Tom suddently said
watching a man on a small boat
carrying the building material
the only access is still
only by sea.
I had tears in my eyes
when I said goodbye
to the captain of my heart
and the man
of old fashioned values
and integrity.
We pay so much
for the comfortable life we live in
we expect so much
and we are so ready
to take and take and take...
but how much
are we ready to give away?
