Back.... and off again

Once there was a time when going on a journey entailed a visit to my travel agent who sat behind his computer, gave me the choices, booked the tickets, made any reservations I wanted, handed it all over to me, & I went home to pack my bags.

Now the travel agent has gone out of business, & it’s me at the computer, researching plane tickets, train schedules, car rental companies, playing with mileage bonuses, promotions, discount offers, comparing rates, watching prices fluctuate daily. I feel like a commodities trader, or Madoff’s accountant. The process takes weeks; it leaves me exhausted, and wondering if I couldn’t have done better.

Packing & airports ain’t what they used to be either, but neither am I. My carry-on is filled with pills & potions, there’s a laptop in my back-pack, & my check-in has wheels. But one thing hasn’t changed: the thrill of setting out, the excitement of a new journey, anticipation of adventure, meeting strangers, encountering the unknown. These things always stir my blood & make me feel like a kid again.

This Friday, after a celebratory departure dinner at Mario Batali’s Pizzeria Mozza, I’m flying to Geneva, my old hometown, where I’ll take a nostalgic look at the lake and mountains, then choo-choo over the border to France where I’ll visit friends in Perpignan, & then return to that ancient house in Meynes, in the Provence, amid the sunny vineyards and olive groves, with the wacky next door neighbor who thought I used her computer to look at porn sites, & the tiny, sleepy village where I spent many happy months in years past.Driving 20 km. to find an internet station in rural France is all part of the fun. I hope to be sending my regular missives, and looking for yours.

love & kisses,