Nothing Left But Wait

The lilac’s gentle fragrance drifts on the afternoon breezes under deep hues of blue painted with wisps of mare tails. Tulips past their prime. Lawns cut at least twice. Its spring in bloom, flexing its muscles toward early summer.

A day like today can lull the unwise to falsely think, “I like to live here.” Of course, paradise would feel so different if that person ventured to a nearby wood or glen to suffer under a cloud of black flies, nasty little buggers that relentlessly attack. They can land undetected and bite in places the noisy mosquito can only dream about – the place behind the ear, in the ear, the place on the face near the eye that sits behind your glasses' lens, four inches up your shirt sleeve or pant leg or by burrowing through locks of hair the tender white surface of the scalp. The pest can cause a camper in the Adirondacks to swear off the place until the snow flies.

The last minute need to reduce luggage size sent us to Wal Mart in search of miniature size hairspray for Dad who has the least amount of hair among us. I also got an electrical adaptor so I can plug my computer into the weird European plugs. I am thinking, “Wasn’t this a Ben Franklin thing? How come electrical outlets are all different?”

I also picked up a bar of soap. I read soap is not supplied in most European hotels. Nor a wash cloth, but I rarely use one anyway.

Ah, this will be an interesting experience. While I have traveled abroad before I usually go for the trekking routes. Services are limited. After camping for weeks, sleeping on the ground and going without a shower or a clean change of underwear for days, a hotel’s amenities no matter how sparse are always appreciated. This time I am traveling via bus, sticking to the road most traveled and staying in hotels. I’ll expect more and tolerate less in the differences.

So I am packed. For the most part. Getting excited. Nothing left to do but smell the lilacs, kiss the cats on their noses and catch a plane.