The guy over there is still looking my way. I will not acknowledge him. I need this time to myself and I will not let him distract me.
He wondered who she was, where she came from. Italian or from Eastern Europe with the short dark hair, the slightly olive skin. Is she waiting for someone?
No one has come to meet her, though I notice many of the men give her a second look as they pass. She's beautiful.
I wondered what I should do, how to cope with the bad dreams I had over my parents and that loss and my need to belong. I have become friendly with an older colleague Jo. We fly together. During one of our heart to hearts she recommended I visit a psychic she had been to see. A psychic? I questioned her rather puzzled.
'I've never thought about that, Jo. Tell me more.'
'My experience is, you can go to shrinks but so often they replay what you tell them. Then you end up spending heaps of money for just talking to them. This lady, on the other hand is good. She goes straight to where she sees the problems are. She is able to tap into areas that you don't even know about.
'Carly, she will help you and clear away things that have been troubling you. She'll release stuff. She'll give you affirmations to say each day. They helped me. In fact she helped me no end to see why I kept getting into unfulfilling relationships.’
Jo drove me over to see this psychic after I'd booked an appointment, and she said she'd wait for me. 'Oh I've plenty to do. I have a good book and it's no problem waiting for you and take you back. You'll need space to process things.'
The psychic was a warm lady and seemed to be a lot of fun. We sat together and for about half an hour we just talked while she asked me questions, why I was there, what I wanted to know and everything.
Then she asked me to go into a meadow. There might be an animal there, she said. Then I should choose a tree I felt a connection with. I saw this scribbly gum. She said I should enter it.
Okay. I suppose I could. I entered it and found myself in a passageway with closed doors and she asked me if I saw a number on one of them. I told her I did, gave her the number and she said to go inside.
The room was like it was from another time, a past century. It was quite dark and a little gloomy. On the wall facing me I saw a large photograph. It was of a group of smiling people, maybe about fifteen, all standing outside a restaurant somewhere. I explained it to her and she said, 'Do you see two people, a man and woman in the centre of the group.'
I said, 'yes.'
'Well that man is your Italian grandfather. If ever you enter a house in southern Italy in the old style and see that photograph, you will then know that you are in the house of your grandfather. That is all I can tell you.'
'Can you tell me if he is still alive?'
'I have no reason to think he is not,' she replied.
She worked through some of my birthday concerns. She also opened up the possibilities of some of my past lives. Jo had mentioned she might do that.
I'd never thought about all that, didn't much believe it. I'm someone who tries to live for the moment and believes we've only one life to live. What would I do with another?
'It is a way to grow and learn,' the lady said. 'We all make mistakes and here is a chance to right things. I just put it there, but you don't have to believe me, dear.'
She gave me two affirmations to do daily eleven times for forty days. One was to help me overcome my horror of birthdays. 'If you miss one day,' she said, with a smile, you'll have to start all over again.'
I mentioned this to Jo on the way back and she said that it was true. 'Just do it, Carly. I have some Greek worry beads and I count them eleven times. That way it works. Believe me.'
It was an interesting journey the psychic lady took me on. She revealed things about me that I was unaware of and helped me no end. Bless her!
In Auckland my crew had cautioned me when they heard I was planning to go to Naples. The Captain, who was part Italian said, 'it's no different from any other large city. Just be very aware all the time and don't flaunt your possessions around.'
Thinking about what he said I was still aware of this guy across the way, pretending not to be observing me from behind his newspaper. I don't feel he's a threat. He looks interesting, Italian, judging by the newspaper. I'm not interested right now. I have this mission to accomplish.
The man across the way was thinking the same thing in fact, that the girl looked interesting; something about her puzzled him.
The local police had given me some directions regarding areas of the city which interested me. I opened up my iPad to see how to get to a particular street from where I was.
I like this city. People seem to be out on the streets from early in the morning till late at night. Sure there's a lot of trash around and they have tried to scam me with some dodgy phone or get money off me, but you can get that anywhere. I've kept my belongings close. I can understand this place. Maybe that's my Italian genes? Who knows? Clutter isn't quite the word to describe the place. It's busy with its narrow streets. Those ones where the houses almost touch one another. And everything is there: shops, washing lines, cafes, cars, scooters, a sort of organized chaos. But it works. I love the energy of the place.