Travel, usually on my mind practically all the time, has been on my mind even more than usual lately.
Even doodles end up looking like compasses.
I draw maps, I make plans.
Like most people who love to travel, I love to travel.
Unlike most people (at least, as far as they let on) who love to travel, however, I also dread it.
It's so hard!
Who goes on one of those travel shows and talks about how they had to get to the airport in Rome for a plane at 5 am and there was no train that early so they had to take a taxi at 11 pm the night before only it wasn't an authorized taxi because those were all already off-duty, it was a very sketchy unofficial taxi and the only language you shared with the taxi driver after running through all the options was French, and yours is patchy at best, and you decided on a price before you got in and it was all you had but it was less than he wanted so you thought he might try to extract the remainder from you some other way (horror) and sure enough the whole way there he told you how "belle" you were and at one point even looked like he was about to exit the highway in some deserted location and you had your hand on the car door handle the whole time, gripping it, ready to fling yourself out of the car if need be, and you got there, to the airport, and then spent the whole night on an upper floor looking down at the people cleaning the floors below, and reading most of Anna Karenina...
Or about how they got stuck in a small room in a youth hostel with two young women with the longest and most mysterious night-time beauty regimens in the history of womankind and a serious case of jet-lag, the combination of which had almost murderous results?
In my complicated wanderlust, I dug up some old drawings that made me smile:
Eating is complicated for me when I travel. I want to eat everything. If I could, I would have 5 or 6 meals a day. Plus snacks, and coffee breaks.
Of course, I LOVE to travel.
LOVE LOVE LOVE
