This morning, memories of various travels are wafting through my mind.
-The clever bathroom in Naples, where the long doors opened on to the street and the bay and Vesuvius in the far, purple distance, a mountain with a bite out of the top.
–The moppet of a youth who was learning how to lead hikes on Mt. Wellington (Tasmania) the day I went to see what it was about. A headful of curls, an amiable manner, a climber who wanted to live outdoors. He told me about all the ants that would would see if it was summer, including a variety that can hear you coming and will jump on you. It made me glad it was winter, even if the top of that mountain was the coldest wind I ever felt.
–Flying in the quiet of a long overnight flight. The lights low, everyone slumped and trying to get some sort of sleep while watching endless movies on the 4? 6? inch screen on the seat back in front of you. Breathing Thieves Oil soaked into a handkerchief because so many people tell me it works.
–The shock and pleasure and terror of realizing that no one here cares that your morning routine ordinarily includes cheerios and a banana, that they won’t even know what you’re saying if you tried to say that, and so instead you try the tomatoes which taste like a hundred days of sunshine and rich hot earth; and a reddish fruit that is incomparably delicious.
Must be getting time to start planning a trip again. The soles of my feet want to walk in a new place.
Tell me one of your travel memories.