There’s a slight chance I’m already dead by the time you read this, because I scheduled it in advance. Alex and I are (hopefully) in Spain right now and you know what Bilbo says—it’s a scary business, flying coach to Europe when the (supposed) leader of the free world is trying to start wars all over the place.
We’ve both done our due diligence to be prepared.
… Googles the entire history of the country
… Learns the seasonal weather patterns of the region
… Signs up for State Department travel warnings and notes the nearest US Embassy
…Selects the most raggedy “I don’t have money I’m not worth it” clothing in her closet
… Backs up iPhone because it’s probably going to get stolen
… Hides money and weapons all over body
When it comes to travel, Alex now does most of the major planning. I only have a few basic questions:
How much safety/personal liberty/dignity must I sacrifice to save $10 a night?
Is it a bad idea to wade across crocodile infested waters?
Should I accept rides from strangers I meet on the flight over?
How many times do you think I can re-wear this same pair of pants before I have to throw them away?
Beyond that, the majority of my planning comes in the form of deciding which audiobooks and actual books I’ll be taking along. I’ve abstained from binging S-Town for this very reason and am waiting to start A Torch Against the Night until my seatbelt is fastened and my tray is in its upright and locked position.
I guess it’s a good thing I married someone like Alex. He buys travel insurance and forwards our itinerary to his parents. I’m not sure why his parents need to know where we are, but I assume it’s so they can start an IndieGoGo if we’re captured or imprisoned or something.
I mean, if I’m going to be held hostage then Spain seems like a good choice. I’ve seen Chocolat, I know what tapas are.
Also. We’re spending a couple days in Morocco. Which is in Africa. Rains might get blessed.
Want to keep in touch? Find me on Facebook.