That's just Barbara

Barbara has a problem with straight and crooked, something we worked very hard to control while we were in the photography business, with lots of cropping and tripods. When we were in Italy, and finally found the Leaning Tower of Piza, Barbara took a picture. In the photo, it was standing straight up! She quickly deleted it, knowing I would get a lot of mileage out of that little jewel.

      When we checked into a little villa in Austria, we could not communicate with the owner, who only spoke German. The only other guest there quickly started interpreting, speaking perfect, even southern, English, as well as perfect German. Barbara just had to know what was going on, and soon found out he could speak pretty well any language, and also regional dialects. Barbara made friends with him and quizzed him mercilessly. He offered to buy us dinner, and we accepted. We never pass up free food. After he had several beers, he finally decided we were harmless, and told us his story.

      He was a citizen of the world, he said, claiming no country as his home. He was a free-lance spy. His specialty was, he could become anybody from anywhere. Starting with the first Gulf War, the United States has been the highest bidder, since he looked Arabic, and spoke it perfectly. He told of making a number of military friends while training in Colorado Springs. His scariest night ever, he said, was when he and his friends accidentally wound up on the wrong side of the tracks in Colorado Springs. Seems we had heard many stories similar from visitors to the US, from countries all over the world. The good old USA was a great place to visit, the stories went, until you went to the wrong part of town. And they often did not know where those places were. Some said they had traveled all over the world, but would never dare go to the USA for that reason.

      When he went to work in Iraq, he was in his Arabic dress. His friends arrested him one night. He told them, “It’s me, guys.” They would not believe him, and he had to show his USAF pants on underneath his Arabic dress before they accepted his story.

     He walked us out to our car as we were leaving the next morning. He had a small lecture for Barbara. “You travel far too lightly about the world. People will entrap you. You should have never have let me in your car yesterday. “

       Barbara looked at him a moment, then said, “We had you out numbered.”

       He laughed. “I wasn’t worried.”  He waved Barbara’s camera away, would give us no phone number, no address, no e-mail address. He said he would e-mail us. We’re still waiting.

       While visiting Kenya, we decided to ride a bus to Tanzania one weekend. Upon getting ready to return to Kenya, we were told our visa was a one-way thing. We would have to buy a new one, $200, to get back into Kenya. They would only take US dollars, and we didn’t have enough. I was in the early stages of another panic attack, but Barbara said, “Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.”

     When we got to the border, she watched each of a dozen or so border agents carefully. She finally chose an agent who seemed to be friendly, and sometimes smiled. She chose his line. When we got up to the front, she started flirting with him shamelessly. Told him all about us being missionaries, laughed and joked. She passed the old visa, not valid now, over to him with a friendly smile. He was totally won over, and he stamped it, and smiling, said, “You have a good day.”

     We got gone quickly. Barbara just seems to have the ability to have her way with any man. Of course, she never uses that ability unless I am at her side. At least, I think so……….just kidding, really!

     Arriving in Denmark in the middle of the night, we looked for a rental car we would need for 30 days. Turned out the insurance on the car would be over 1200 dollars. We thought our credit card company might help us out on that, because they did in Ireland, but it was 1 AM.  Barbara pulled that company's phone number out of her head, called our son-in-law in Arkansas, he called the company. He soon called back, said they would cover all the insurance. At 2 AM, we had our car and headed out.

     When we arrived in Australia, Barbara searched for a way to call home affordably. She found a way, if one did not mind having to dial 30 numbers, to call home all we wanted to, that was cheaper than in-country.

     Standing in a very long line at a toilet at a festival in Sweden, absolutely nobody spoke a word. Barbara, of course, did. “You Swedish people are an awfully quiet bunch.”

      An old man, way up the line, replied, “Yes, we have always been a very stoic people.” That broke the ice, and by the time our turn came, Barbara knew each of them personally, and left  dozens of new, smiling friends behind when we left that toilet.

     Returning by train from Monaco to our car and motel in one of dozens of little towns on the Italian Raviera, we knew we must be about there, and Barbara asked, “Now, what was the name of our village?” I didn’t have a clue, and it was now getting dark. We strained to see something familiar as the train slowed for a village. “There’s our car!” Barbara screamed, and we bolted for the door. She was well ahead of me, and she had the door open before the train stopped. But she was on the wrong side, and she was about to step out onto a live track. Those trains are totally silent, very fast, and they run about a foot apart. Stepping out could quickly bring about an instant, silent death. The way Barbara remembers it, she instantly realized her mistake, and quickly shut the door. The way I remember it, half a dozen people grabbed her and dragged her back.  Funny how each person has their own way of remembering things!

Driving through Australia, we noticed a nice clubhouse with a beautiful green lawn surrounding it. Dozens of old men, all dressed up fancy with broad-brimmed hats, were rolling black balls around on the lawn. We had never seen anything like this. Barbara said, “Park the car. I’ll go see what’s going on.” I stayed in the car, pretty well knowing what was about to happen. Barbara walked onto the lawn, and started asking questions. Every game stopped, and every man gathered around Barbara, all anxious to explain the game to her, many wanting to hold her hand to insure that she rolled the ball properly.  Barbara quickly learned a little about lawn bowling, and a lot about old men.

     If one just has to travel the world, Barbara is the kind of woman to travel with. Were it not for her, I would probably still be stranded in Italy, begging for pizza scraps to stay alive. Or in Australia, marking lambs for a living.