Guns and Russian Food

It wasn't even about the guns. It was about doing something different. Must of us don't own guns. But to tick that box that says "has shot a gun at the smith and Wesson factory," that seemed worthwhile. But I was wrong. Nobody showed up. Nobody.

Last Saturday while killing time driving around waiting for a party to start, I found a Russian restaurant. Which wasn't such a surprise because I live in the Russian/Polish part of the city. But this place was open late. Very late. And there were people inside. This place looks authentic (and like a mafia hang out). And I am desperate to go. I suggested it to a few co-workers, a few of whom seemed interested, but more than one said "but I don't even know what they eat."

And that's the point. I don't know what it feels like when you shoot a handgun. I don't know what it feels like to sit down in a Russian restaurant (where I may damn well stick out like a sore thumb), and order something that I may have no clue about. That to me, is the reason to do both.

I was able to leave work early this afternoon, a damn rarity these days. And all I really wanted was to be in Johannesburg. Thinking of the time difference, I knew that the guys would already have decided where to go for dinner. It'd be too early to eat. Maybe I'd be in the gym, or out for a run, thinking about which of my few shirts I'd wear to dinner. And then a few hours later we'd be gathers, and would be out for ages, trying new places to eat, enjoying a night out. Later on, as I was tempted to call my pals in Jo'burg, I realized it was getting a bit late. But as I thought about it, I imagined a Friday night in Jo'burg, it's summer, I bet they were sitting outside on the patio of S&S, on the umpteenth bottle of wine, listening to music, and just making the most of the night.

Fuck. Why can't I be there. Every single day I find myself thinking about where I was a year ago at this time. And every single day I wish I could go back. I have these great friends here, but the confines of residency, plus the effects of perpetual fatigue, and a cohort of friends who are mostly married/partnered (+ kids) doesn't allow for the randomness and social scene which I so dearly enjoyed last year. And that, I have realized was sustaining. This is not. I'm slightly disappointed in myself though, I must confess. I am a solo traveler, and so often have been more than content to strike out on my own, be it for a day, a week, or a month. I use to find things to do, places to go, and do them, and go there. But being back here, where I have a few great friends, and know tons of people, I end up feeling that it's not worth my time to go solo. When in fact, it would be much less disappointing to strike out on my own..

Recently, I've realized the need to take the above into consideration for jobs... The job that pays a boat-load, in the middle of nowhere sounds attractive, but the long term longevity of that job would be poor. Unfortunately one of the jobs which I thought was a sure deal has hit a bit of a snag-and that caught me a bit by surprise. I'm very close to tossing in the towel on the job search, talking to my locums (aka travelling fill-in doctor) agent, and going that route which will allow me the freedom to travel.

In the meantime, I'm going to go shoot some guns and eat some borsch. (Maybe on my own).

-

Running, Again? Running, Away?

I don't think it was a whim, but I don't know why I stopped out of the blue to buy new running shoes. I hardy run these days. But I did, and I shelled out the bucks for the new shoes (the current version of the shoes I've been running in since August 2004), as well as some fancy socks and a shirt. And then I came home, chatted with my flatmate, had a glass of wine, and pondered going to bed. Realizing that I should put those new shoes to use (if anything to justify the ridiculous price of 75 US$, I mean that'd do a long way for some friends back in SA), I abruptly stood up from the table, finished a generous gulp of wine, and went and changed to go running.

I put on my ipod to my running mix, the same mix of 164 songs that I've had for years, and set off. I turned the corner and headed down Route 5. I don't know what it was that took me back in an instant to that first night I ran in Dublin. Maybe it was running along a busy road (there, it had been South Circular Road), maybe it was the cool, misty night air. Maybe it was knowing that my legs were going to be sore in the morning, as I was biting off more than I should by hitting the pavement, but I felt like I'd gone back in time. And for a few blocks, maybe a mile (I wish I could say a few miles), I kept having flashbacks to my running progress in Dublin. After that first run, I couldn't run for a week. And then I ran around a park for a while, a meager few blocks, and then I was running more. Running along the River Liffey. Running through Dublin-no longer embarrassed to be out running. As I changed my running route, I discovered new areas to run in Dublin. New Parks I had never explored. New pubs which I made a mental note to check out, though usually forgot about once I got home. When a certain song plays when running, I can recall exactly where I was in Dublin during certain runs...

I turned the block, and ran past an Indian restaurant. And that triggered a flashback to a night when I went running during my intern year. A cold night. I'd run from my flat, down to the hospital, and around a neighborhood. I'd run past Gabby's house- and saw she wasn't home, and I wasn't sure why she and I had not talked in a few days-both busy I'd suspected. The Indian restaurant I was passing is where she took me for my birthday, and the conversation that night is permanently etched in my memory. We were going to make the world a better place. She wouldn't let me sell out, and as I ran, I thought what advice she'd be giving me now. "Fuck those job offers, are you kidding me, there are people out there who really need our help." She didn't hold back. And I miss that. She gave me coffee and a tie for my birthday. I don't wear that tie nearly enough. Maybe I'll wear it tomorrow.

I was lost in thought. Am I running to somewhere? Or am I running from something? For months I've agonized where my paths is going. I've solicited (both bluntly and circuitously) the insight from friends, sometimes hoping that one or two of them would pin me down and spell it out for me. Because I cannot see the path anymore. When my world crashed in July and August, all I could think of was Denver. On more than one occasion in the past 4 months, I contemplated flying out to Denver the following morning, fuck residency. Having the support from my family when I did see them in July, and the joy of hanging out with nieces and nephews, combined with the awesomeness of Denver made it clear, that Denver is where I thought I needed to go, and the ball was set in motion. On a Saturday in September, after Randall's memorial, I was sitting outside drinking margaritas and chowing down Nachos, surrounded by a great group of people; it was again evident that Denver is where I was headed.

I was lost in thought, until I saw a dodgy person on the sidewalk with a German shepherd. I'm in a residential neighborhood, in a safe part of town. This is not Johannesburg. I am safe here. He nods as I run past. More than once, in Jo'burg, I had crossed the street, or taken a turn and changed my path when I was running and saw a group of people on the street at night. It had taken me months to work up the courage to run there. I miss running in the nature reserve; I miss seeing zebras and wildebeests on runs. I miss Jo'burg, period. And then I heard Gabby again, and I wonder if I am running from the thing I really want to do, to oblige the banks who loaned me the vast sums of money so I could get to this point.

As I reach the driveway, the only Jewel song in this mix, Who Will Save Your Soul starts playing. I smile as I stretch. Maybe the answer is neither. I'm not running to nor from somewhere/something.

I'm just running...


BPB