That night, we washed our clothes and
Barbara packed the bags. She allows no help from me, and I'm fine with that. If
I helped, we probably could not have gotten everything in. She's an expert
packer. Now, I realize, from what I tell you about Barbara on our trips, you
who do not know us may get the impression Barbara wears the pants in the
family, but nothing could be farther from the truth. Barbara simply would not
allow it.
We
again, on our last night, ate at a Chinese restaurant, and bought a meat pie at
a pie shop. We had found these two places were always inexpensive. That's not a
general rule world wide. We found Chinese restaurants were one of the higher
places in Sweden, Norway, and Denmark. Every country has its places “Where the
poor people eat,” if you just find them. If not, poor people would have just
starved to death, or left, by now. Regular touristy restaurants would have sent
us to the Poor House, or sent us home way early. As it turned out, we traveled
45 days on about what a guided, ten day tour would have cost us, and we saw the
same things and so much more. However, we sometimes didn't know exactly what we
were seeing. But, they all spoke English, and Barbara could always find a local
“tour guide.” As a rule, always try to travel with a well dressed, pretty,
outgoing, nervy woman. As a bonus, we got to interact daily with interesting
people from “down under,” and from all over the world. Traveling alone around
the world is often stressful, But as long as I can carry “half of what we own”
on my back, and Barbara can get us there and back again, and bonus flier miles
and our meager funds hold out, that will we our MO. The danger factor lessens as we get older. If
we die in a foreign country, what have we lost? Six months, maybe a year at
most:) Our children began to realize,
years ago, “Don't be expecting a big inheritance.” It sometimes looks like we
plan to spend our last dime with our last breath, and I realize their
inheritance will probably be boxes of pictures from all over the world. Which,
no doubt, will be in the trash within the week. There will be time aplenty to
enjoy our beautiful scenery at home, out our nursing home picture window.
The large sign we passed under when
loading on the plane said it all. “Every flier who ventures across oceans to
distant lands is a potential explorer: In his or her breast burns the same fire
that urged explorers of old to set forth in their sailing ships to foreign
lands.”
We again had an overnight layover in Los
Angeles, and we noted a sign in the airport that advertised reasonable rates
and shuttle services, so we went for it. We got settled into our room, then
ventured out for supper. We soon realized we were in one of those places
foreign tourists “Just don't know not to venture into,” as our British friend
in Australia told us. All the businesses had guards, bars on all the windows,
cashiers in a cage, and we were the only tourist types about. Being the only
tourists around was a very bad sign, we had learned in Washington, DC and in
Mexico. We ate quickly, got back to our room, locked all the locks, and stayed
there. Welcome to Watts, California.
There was a very large project of some
sort right behind our motel, and people had to go through our motel lobby to
get there from this side. Screams emanated from there starting before dark, and
continued all night. Loud people ran up and down our hallways all night and
tried to get in our door. We were packed
by daylight, and we, along with all the other tourist types, were lined up,
waiting for the first shuttle out, early. Everyone had a horror story to
tell on the way to the airport. One poor lady was so happy to see the airport,
she hopped off at the first stop, taking no suitcases, strangly enough. We were
the last passengers off, and the driver had suitcases remaining, probably
belonging to that first lady to get off, several stops back.
Barbara gave the airport authorities fits
about letting unsuspecting tourists venture into dangerous areas after reading
enticing signs put up there, without fair warning. They were glad to see her
leave.
We spent most of the day in the airport,
again, then headed toward familiar country. Good old Arkansas had never looked
so good. As Dorothy says, “There's no place like home!” This feeling usually
lasts almost until our bonus flier miles build up enough to go anywhere in the
remaining world, once more.
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