Readers, in 13 days I am taking the midnight flight out of Hong Kong and flying to Paris. This is my European itinerary: five days in Paris, three days in Siena/Florence/central Italy and two days in Venice.
George my adopted American uncle in Oregon thinks that I am superbly organized and that by now I will have listed the places I want to see, the things that I must do and that the undoubtedly incredibly lightweight and versatile contents of my suitcase will now have been organized in tidy battle-ready formation.
Well.......not quite. My travelling principle is composed of equal parts fly-by-the-seat of my pants any-old-way interspersed with bouts of extreme planning. I make lists of sights, lists of flights, shopping lists, lists of lists. But then I usually leave my packing till the last minute--as all my friends and family who have ever flown with me will testify--and I have, on at least five separate occasions, been the VERY LAST passenger to board. There I was, all red in the face from running, skipping down the looooooooong aisles while everyone looks on and would trip me if they could (no doubt). Mea culpa.
Gotta get my ass in gear and start checking out phrasebooks, bank ATMs and passwords, *list* clothes to pack, clothes to repair, shoes to clean, supplies to buy! Alert cleaning lady, park my anemic houseplant in the office so that someone will bother to water her, maybe buy some euros, memorize a few more phrases beyond "bonjour" and "buon giorno".
Oh, and improve my eye lash-batting skills in preparation for those famously SEXY Italians. Heh. heh. Hope my Mom's not reading this blog.
Right now there's a piece of cheese in the fridge with my name on it. Meanwhile, I leave you with this super-scrumptious picture of one of my must-see places in France. Note the large wedge of Livarot--I remember you well, Colonel!
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