I'm visiting my Peace-Corps grandkids in Romania next week. We'll spend a few days at their place in Giroc, then on to Rome for the bulk of the visit. Then back to Romania for a day, and a flight home.
I've never traveled much before. And when we did travel before my wife's death, she did all the planning and made all the preparations. I've always been a home guy. Wherever Nancy was, that was home. We did a lot of traveling-around by automobile. And we flew to places like Jamaica and Hawaii for vacations. And we often attended educational conventions around the United States. But I never enjoyed the travel-part of such trips. I just liked doing the things we did when we got there.
I could get myself up for short trips and stays (in strange places) for Nancy's sake. But mostly, preparing for trips and doing the actual traveling felt disruptive to me. I only ventured forth to please Nancy. And being anywhere with her was always pleasing to me.
So! Even though I want to visit the kids, this past week has been unsettling for me. Six weeks ago we arranged all the flight-tickets and hotel accommodations in Rome. I say we, but actually the kids did most of that during one of our weekly Skype visits. They know that I am so reluctant about travel, and so UNtechy, that I probably would've been unable to manage the task myself.
They also know me well enough to realize that I can follow a clear itinerary, but they also doubt I can -- or am willing to -- plan one on my own. I always have this suspicion that expensive travel and everything related to it is something of a scam. Sounds old-guy stupid and grouchy, I know. I suppose that attitude goes clear back to my growing up as a poor kid. Early-on in elementary school, I loved reading National Geographic magazine. To this day, a nice juicy article or two on Rome and Romania would completely satisfy me. Except that then I wouldn't get to see the kids.
Skype is nice. Ahhhhh YES!
No rushing to make delayed connections,
no uncertainty about flight numbers and gates,
no canceled flights and discombobulation,
no searching for bathrooms or distant airport gates,
no idiotic stripping off of belts and shoes,
no submitting to wand body searches
when my artificial knee sets off alarms,
no desperate groping around to find my passport --
no problems to solve at all,
Thank you very much!
You're reading this, I know, and thinking: Geeez! What a boring old-guy!
I s'pose you're right!
But I say in my defense that once I agree to travel, I grit my teeth for a moment, then plunge in bravely. Mostly I put on my Oh-isn't-this-FUN-mask, and my face quickly grows to fit it. No one wants to be a stick-in-the-mud.
Still, the preparations are no fun at all. Marisa sent me this Ten-Step-Super-Easy-Travel-Preparation-List. All this past week I've been slogging courageously through the steps. For instance, I'm taking only a small carry-on duffel. It meets the recent size limitations: 24x14x8 inches. I've laid out Marisa's specified naked every-other-day clothing allotment, and everything just about fits in -- at least until the safety-guy tumbles through it at the airport.
One nice thing: Matt and I are about the same size. So I can buy clothing there and leave it for him, if need be.
I'm not taking any toilet articles. I'll buy that stuff in Romania. I speculate that on the way home, I will not be unduly troubled by talkative and otherwise engaging seat-mates. My plan is to read quietly while simultaneously stinking up several rows of seats on my return trip. Could be some enterprising flight attendant will smell me coming, forgo my assigned aisle seat, and place me beside an open window.
Actually, I'm thinking I'll buy new underwear and socks for the return trip, along with a small bottle of mouthwash. And maybe buy one on-board Scotch on the Rocks for a quick gargle.
SEE! This is the sort of thing I don't like about travel.
But all this is quite beside all the trouble I've had to face this week with dread preparations. Took me half a day and several long phone calls to establish that, indeed, my health insurance has an overseas travel arrangement -- in the unlikely event I may need health-care. And I had to find solutions for other problems, including making arrangements for my daughter to come in daily to visit poor deserted Gatsby-Kitty. Come to think of it, Gatsby's the lucky one. He'll laze around here at home all day enjoying familiar surroundings.
Some guy at Verizon took one look at my cell phone and decided I needed a new, much more expensive one to accommodate international calling. I managed to avoid that scam by finding a second clerk who went ahead and added the feature. Of course, I can't imagine who Marisa expects me to call while I'm in Europe anyway. I guess she thinks I may wander off and have to call her to come find me -- a likely prospect, no doubt.
With less difficulty I informed my bank I'd be in Europe using my ATM and charge cards, so they wouldn't put a stop on my requests for funds. And I had to hunt-up and buy a money-belt thingee just in case I have any money left to carry in it after the first few days in Rome. Thank goodness we prepaid our hotel accommodations there. Wouldn't surprise me, though, to find they'll have us sleeping on the roof.
I won't bother you further with my old-guy travel fears and woes. Enough to say I've spent the past week making travel arrangements and being pushed only slightly past the edge of sanity. And that's why I haven't posted.
Right this minute I'm wishing I could just stay home. But that's a good sign! Somehow I always have much more fun that I expect I will!
Now that I've posted all these complaints, I confess I started ten days early. I have more preparations to accomplish before I actually set forth late next week. Could be I'll post more pre-travel adventures over the next few days.
Soon as my sanity returns.
Be assured I'll issue a fun-filled travel report when I return -- IF I manage to find my way home.
Wish me luck and an early
Bon Voyage!
no uncertainty about flight numbers and gates,
no canceled flights and discombobulation,
no searching for bathrooms or distant airport gates,
no idiotic stripping off of belts and shoes,
no submitting to wand body searches
when my artificial knee sets off alarms,
no desperate groping around to find my passport --
no problems to solve at all,
Thank you very much!
You're reading this, I know, and thinking: Geeez! What a boring old-guy!
I s'pose you're right!
But I say in my defense that once I agree to travel, I grit my teeth for a moment, then plunge in bravely. Mostly I put on my Oh-isn't-this-FUN-mask, and my face quickly grows to fit it. No one wants to be a stick-in-the-mud.
Still, the preparations are no fun at all. Marisa sent me this Ten-Step-Super-Easy-Travel-Preparation-List. All this past week I've been slogging courageously through the steps. For instance, I'm taking only a small carry-on duffel. It meets the recent size limitations: 24x14x8 inches. I've laid out Marisa's specified naked every-other-day clothing allotment, and everything just about fits in -- at least until the safety-guy tumbles through it at the airport.
One nice thing: Matt and I are about the same size. So I can buy clothing there and leave it for him, if need be.
I'm not taking any toilet articles. I'll buy that stuff in Romania. I speculate that on the way home, I will not be unduly troubled by talkative and otherwise engaging seat-mates. My plan is to read quietly while simultaneously stinking up several rows of seats on my return trip. Could be some enterprising flight attendant will smell me coming, forgo my assigned aisle seat, and place me beside an open window.
Actually, I'm thinking I'll buy new underwear and socks for the return trip, along with a small bottle of mouthwash. And maybe buy one on-board Scotch on the Rocks for a quick gargle.
SEE! This is the sort of thing I don't like about travel.
But all this is quite beside all the trouble I've had to face this week with dread preparations. Took me half a day and several long phone calls to establish that, indeed, my health insurance has an overseas travel arrangement -- in the unlikely event I may need health-care. And I had to find solutions for other problems, including making arrangements for my daughter to come in daily to visit poor deserted Gatsby-Kitty. Come to think of it, Gatsby's the lucky one. He'll laze around here at home all day enjoying familiar surroundings.
Some guy at Verizon took one look at my cell phone and decided I needed a new, much more expensive one to accommodate international calling. I managed to avoid that scam by finding a second clerk who went ahead and added the feature. Of course, I can't imagine who Marisa expects me to call while I'm in Europe anyway. I guess she thinks I may wander off and have to call her to come find me -- a likely prospect, no doubt.
With less difficulty I informed my bank I'd be in Europe using my ATM and charge cards, so they wouldn't put a stop on my requests for funds. And I had to hunt-up and buy a money-belt thingee just in case I have any money left to carry in it after the first few days in Rome. Thank goodness we prepaid our hotel accommodations there. Wouldn't surprise me, though, to find they'll have us sleeping on the roof.
I won't bother you further with my old-guy travel fears and woes. Enough to say I've spent the past week making travel arrangements and being pushed only slightly past the edge of sanity. And that's why I haven't posted.
Right this minute I'm wishing I could just stay home. But that's a good sign! Somehow I always have much more fun that I expect I will!
Now that I've posted all these complaints, I confess I started ten days early. I have more preparations to accomplish before I actually set forth late next week. Could be I'll post more pre-travel adventures over the next few days.
Soon as my sanity returns.
Be assured I'll issue a fun-filled travel report when I return -- IF I manage to find my way home.
Wish me luck and an early
Bon Voyage!
I travel for travels sake; the great affair is to move...Robert Louis Stevenson
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