The last ten years, travels – even holiday travels! – have made me more and more nervous. I used to be so cool about travel. We lived abroad and travelled so much. And now I’d prefer to just stay in Switzerland all the time. But my wife still loves to travel and once I’m there, wherever it is, I feel OK again.
I can’t say what it is. A vague anxiety about everything. From the smallest thing like it’s spring and I’m going to miss the next two weeks of flowers, and the bees are all emerging from their reed tubes and I hope our friend is OK with watering the gazillion plants we have and I hope we didn’t forget anything and I hope security checks are going to be OK and foreign dictatorship and secret services are going to stay out of our lives and out of our phones and I hope we have enough money for tips and how much does one tip again?
Back when I was about thirty I argued that equipped with a credit card nothing else mattered. I’d just buy whatever I was missing. These days we start our “packing mound” days beforehand.
Look how happy I am about the bees!
Look how happy I am about the bees
#Life