So my camera’s broken. Dead. Kaput. No return. My third arm as a travel blogger – gone. And it’s all my own stupid fault.
Picture it: Düsseldorf, 2010. American girl tries to balance her camera upright on a shaky wooden table in an attempt to perform a feat of self-timer derring do. It was a maneuver she’d performed countless times before, so what could possibly go wrong? Yeah; rickety wooden table, hastily balanced machinery, and a cobblestone street. I just wonder what.
It’s been about three weeks now since the camera broke. My upcoming Three Five States in One Month Visit Home Clown Show* has put a crimp in my finances so I’ve put off getting a new machine for a little while. Me without my camera; if you know me, you’ll see the flaw in that sentence. And, yes, my hands itch when the bus bumps over the Grand Canal, when I pass the Ha’penny Bridge, or when a family of swans waddles into the pond at St. Stephen’s Green. I think about my remaining time in Dublin and the sights I want to remember – what it’s like to walk through the centuries-old portals of college or peer down a newly discovered side street. And what if I should run into Craig Doyle, Simon LeBon, or John Taylor while I’m on the 128 bus? With no camera? IT COULD HAPPEN.
*(nervous to fly, much?)
But I’ll tell you something. Being camera-free for this short period has been strangely liberating. I now focus on memorizing the things I see instead of relying on my camera to do it for me, and as such, I’m actually in the moment. For the first time since arriving in Dublin, I feel like part of things, like a resident instead of a traveler. Or could that be because I’m finally making friends – getting dinner in Rathmines, visiting the beach at Sandymount, attending poetry readings, grabbing drinks?
Whatever it is, I’m glad it’s happening, even if a little late in the game. But that’s just the way, I suppose. I should know how it goes by now.
Anyway. On to the Clown Show.