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Travel Story - Soundtrack of my life

The search for music for the soul on the road



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And then he smiled verging on laughter, "Oh, you mean Manu Chao?" the way he said it was so clear and so sure. The way he said it suggested that he, unlike present company, knew the difference between his ass and his elbow. I went to find the CD on the shelf. I still did not know how to spell it, but I felt pretty confident. I didn’t find it. He did. He did not give up on me. He found the plastic divider with the name on it. There weren’t any CDs there, but I had proof that it existed, and now I knew how to spell it. Then he departed; presumably to return to his phone booth.

The next three shops I went into did not have Manu Chao either. However, they did know who it was, or he was. I still did not know. I also went back to the first two stalls and they did actually know who Manu Chao was. I was just testing them, and it was I who failed.

Eventually I gave up. Today’s lesson was in humility and making a fool of oneself, not about getting what I wanted. I got on the plane the next day. There was an empty sleeve in my CD book that jeered at me. I finally found the CD in the LAX airport between flights. I paid $30 US for that CD and I would have paid more. There is not a price to be named for the soundtrack of one’s life. And I still don’t know if that is his name.