When we are young, we can’t imagine growing old. Most of us couldn’t see past the next clubbing event or party! When I was 24, I suddenly realised that I, too, could grow old. How ridiculous that sounds now that many of us are in our dotage!
After Europe, we didn’t know what we wanted to do. Spreading a map of the world on the table, we thought about going to Africa. A few nights on the internet made us realize that it would be too difficult to travel in Africa with a dog.
Traveling around the world was a lot of fun. But not every experience was. Sometimes a glimpse into another life leaves one feeling sad and helpless. Some of the things we saw were funny, some outrageous, and some shocking. But never boring. And each one opened another little window into another culture.
“How much do you want to pay?” the receptionist asked.
How much do I want to pay? No one had ever asked me before. I wish they had because I would not be staying in cheap hotels if I had a choice.
May I see the room first?
Bang! “What was that?” I said as something hit the canvas roof of our attached tent on the side of our motor home.
It was June in Puerto Vallarta, and the temperature at ten o’clock in the night was still over 95 degrees. We have purchased a television dish and set it up to watch TV while we waited to move on.
We entered Turkey at the end of January and began our tour of the country. The first thing we needed to do was buy some groceries. Ahead was a mall that looked like any mall in the world. We found a place to park and entered to find the grocery store. The first thing I noticed was the store windows covered in red Valentine hearts. Another window had men’s jockey shorts covered in red hearts and red Xs, and risqué red panties with black ribbons and little gold hearts hanging from a bow.
“Where are we?” Ted asked.
“I don’t know.” I answered. We were driving through the large Greek city of Petras, and the road signs were big and legible. However, they were written using Greek letters mixed with English letters. I was completely lost. Finally, he spotted a sign pointing our way out of the city.
“
We visited Peru, walked Macho Pichu and the streets of Cusco and Lima, and fought dysentery. We had been traveling for ten years, some time in motorhomes, some time in trains, cars, and planes. Now we were tired and depleted. We flew from Lima to Bogota, on our way to Mexico, where we were to live for the next six years.
“Let’s go camping.” my husband, Bob, said.
Visions of families around campfires flashed through my mind. Stories of camping families were everywhere. Why should we be different? It is almost un-American to deprive ourselves of the fun of camping. “Sure, I’d love to,” I replied. I would learn to regret those words.
