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| So much for a quiet year at home |
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| Written by Ron Swift / Patterson Irrigator / | |
| Saturday, 01 September 2007 | |
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Publisher emeritus again bound for distant shores
 Ron Swift Every few years, HM (remember her, Housemate?) and I have hopped on a big plane and headed off to wild destinations — camel-riding across the Taklamakan Desert in western China, tent-camping for three weeks in Tibet, penguin-viewing in Antarctica. But this year, I said we were staying home, venturing only to Washington, D.C., (a first for HM) and to visit some friends in that area. Sorry, I lied. Unintentionally, but an untruth just the same. After scheduling a trip to the East Coast way back last spring, along came a travel brochure offering a trip to Albania, Macedonia, northern Greece and Bulgaria and the Black Sea. “Let’s go!” I shouted with glee while opening the mail over lunch. “Why?” HM asked quietly. “Because we’ve never been to Albania,” I shot back, joy in my voice. “Where’s Albania?” was her immediate question. “Must be right next to Macedonia and near Greece and Bulgaria,” I retorted with supreme confidence. “We’ve never been to Europe.” “Let me ask again: Why?” “Haven’t you ever wanted to see if the Black Sea is really black?” I responded, not really answering her question. “Can’t you look it up in an encyclopedia, since you hate the Internet?” she said. “And can’t we start Europe with maybe England, France and Germany?” At that point, I had to resort to my part-Scottish heritage: “Well, the trip offers free air travel from the East Coast of this country to Albania. Otherwise, we’d pay $600 more.” “And do we get to return to this country?” HM commented in a smart-aleck tone. “That, too,” I replied, trying to remain calm. At this point, I dusted off our globe of the world, found Albania just across the water east of Italy, located Macedonia right next door, and quickly spotted Bulgaria and the Black Sea. “There’s Greece, right next to Turkey,” I said cheerfully, remembering an old joke about greasy turkey. Unfortunately, the joke didn’t make a dent. But I continued: “The Black Sea is where the Russian czars went for rest and relaxation when things got hectic in St. Petersburg.” “Do you know anyone who has been to the Black Sea? Or ever wanted to go?” she asked. That’s the beauty about our travel conversations across the kitchen table. Our questions cut right to the core. No trivial talk that leaves either of us wondering where the other person stands. I recall HM balking at four weeks of tent-camping, with travel by 4-wheel drive, in the Chinese desert. But, when she went, she enjoyed the no-showers, sand-in-the-hair life so much that three years later, we returned for seven weeks, with spitting camels and plenty of walking thrown in for good measure. Then, Antarctica was her idea last winter, and I thought the penguins smelled just about as bad as animals can smell. Did I complain? No, I just tied a red bandana across my face to cut down the odor. After Albania, etc., got added to our itinerary, along came a letter from my high school classmates in Iowa. Because we had our 50th anniversary reunion two years ago, I was surprised they are planning another get-together for this fall. “Better get back here quickly or you can plan your own reunion of one out there in California,” was the message I got from the letter. Apparently, those cold Iowa winters aren’t as preservative as I remember. So what started out as a simple trip back East to see some friends and visit the Smithsonian and other historical spots has become far more complicated. And to have told some of you that we weren’t going anywhere this year was a falsehood for which I sincerely apologize.
Ron Swift is editor/publisher emeritus of the Patterson Irrigator. His column appears weekly in this space.
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