The Journey Begins

The author, her love muffin and their “in-just-9-short-months” teenage being are off on a life enhancing travel experience to a far away exotic land. Their “boondoggle” is opening the eyes of our commonly quiet, reserved girl and feeding fodder to her hard-hitting journalistic column. Her incidents and encounters will unfold before our very eyes.

I am not in Kansas anymore.  My eyes and ears are finding the sights and sounds to be quite different from what they are in our little village.  The smells are uniquely “city”, and what I am high-stepping over appears to be… hmmm… doggy-doo. I have had to pick up the pace knowing that if I don’t, the herd behind me will mow me over.  The language is foreign to my brain and the only sentence I have committed to the native tongue and my memory is “where is the bathroom?”

Local delicacies look tempting.  Their names are mysterious and alluring, but my comfort zone is dictating to my brain to stay close by and stick to choosing bread, cheese, chocolate and wine. Familiar foods that are compatible with, shall we say?  the old digestive track.  The meal tempo is very pleasing and one doesn’t feel rushed when dining.  The servers do not announce their names when they greet you and no eyes peer down at you to finish quickly so another group can be seated.  Large quantities of libation can also be consumed at this poetic pace – and at a fraction of the cost of what it is in the states.  Even the check has to be hailed down and can take 15 minutes to arrive and another 15 to return the adjustment. Every meal is a celebration and since I want to immerse myself in the culture, I go along with it all so as to not offend… I know, very sociable of me.

When a girl has to go, a girl has to go.  I have found the commodes, the WC’s, the toilette’s, the baño’s, the serveis’s, the john’s, the lavabo’s, the bathroom’s, the aseo’s, the holes in the ground with two feet markers rather challenging, to say the least.  Public facilities seem to have an “all for one and one for all” communal sort of approach.  I have opted for the “no eye-contact” method and happily pay when I can for a private, lockable stall.  The toilet paper has gotten a bit better in distant lands from how it was years ago (I know folks who travel with their own private stash from home tucked safely in their pockets), but it isn’t exactly Charmin.  Take away our double ply and jumbo rolls and Americans get pretty nasty.

A puzzling piece of common apparatus seems to be the bidet.  Very European.  Where only the seemingly rich and famous in the USA employ such a device, this foot bath of sorts is in establishments of varying shape and size – people are willing to do without many things but not this.  It would probably be helpful, though, to supply an instructional guide for those of us who are unsure if you attack the thing head-on or back up for optimal efficiency and minimal splash.  I find it is the little things that make the difference when adapting and immersing oneself into the customary habits of those around you.

Since “living” here, I have delved into the monotonous tasks of home and hearth but with a new appreciation for eggs kept in the refrigerator, frozen chicken, peanut butter and clothes dryers.  I have found going to the 4-aisle grocery, walking or riding the metro instead of getting into a car to go everywhere, finding my way as I maneuver new territory, “everyday” chocolate, afternoon tortes and finding that the people here are not much different than they are anywhere, all pretty inspiring.  Add that I get to spend all this great time and togetherness with my family, things just can’t get any better… well, actually… if I can find a salon that could take care of this nagging dark root problem (and betraying my natural blondeness), a few minutes of non-together time would be nice… a hot bath, an In-and-Out Burger and Tivo… then I would be set.

Cynthia A. McClelland, curious observer of the obvious with interpretations of the oddities of daily life.  Mother, wife and lover of the furry, resides in the north Lake Tahoe area.

Cynthia A. McClelland © 2003-