A wandering bird's-eye overview of most things even vaguely related to travel, and an opportunity for writers, artists and photographers to contribute the historical, the hysterical, the quirky and quixotic... anything with heart.

helenpatrice
2 years ago
Travel planning for lunatics
Travel planning for lunatics

The Excellent Husband and I had a trip booked to Turkey this year with Aromatic Oddesseys.  All done and dusted.  Then, trouble in the Middle East.  What a surprise.

This morning, TEH tells me that the tour has been cancelled.  Do I sook?  Maybe half a second.  Crazy goat-leaping-about brain goes to ‘heeeey, what else can we do, then?’

Now, TEH is heading to Calgary to spend a week with friends, and then down to Kansas City for the World Science Fiction Convention, MidAmericon.  His 60th birthday present from the whole family.

I’m off to England just beforehand for a new age wanker tour around Wiltshire(my second such tour), that I’ve nicknamed:  Stonehenge II – This Time It’s Personal.

“Maybe you could come to Worldcon with me,” suggests TEH.  “But it’s only a few days you’re home from England before I head off…”
“I ain’t doing that,” I say.  “It’s four hundred hours from London back to Melbourne.  I’m not about to come home, have a wash, eat some Vegemite, and get on another plane.  I could go straight across to Calgary from London.  It’s about eight hours. I don’t know why people aren’t whipping back and forth all the time.  Eight hours.  It’s six hours to get out of Australia.  What people up there need is a good dose of living at the arse-end of the world. That would wake them up to themselves, and they’d appreciate the eight hours.”

“You could,” says TEH.  He is always highly entertained by my brain shenanigans.  He likes it when I riff.

“Although…. I did have plans if I got to Worldcon this year.”

“Plans,” he asks.  “What sort of plans?”  He snuggles close.  His beard prickles.

“Get off!” I say.  “Take your pointy beardy stuff back to your own pillow, sunshine.  Plans.  I had plans.  You don’t need to know. Everything in my head is on a need-to-know basis, and you don’t always need to know.  It’s like the X Files in here.  I had plans to go do The Things.”

 “The Things?”

 “The.  Things.  You know, things.”

“ Can I know what these things are?”

“It’s part of my world domination plan.  No, not really.  I’ve just never been to New Orleans, and I’ve always wanted to go to New Orleans, and I thought I could nick down after Kansas City and do The Things.”

 “Like what?”

“I don’t know.  Things.  Whatever people do in New Orleans. Sacrifice chickens in a voodoo ritual?  Eat swamp things?  Visit the vampire colony and say hi to Louis and Lestat?  I don’t know.  The Things.”

It’s this sort of travel planning that results in me weeing myself on Wearyall Hill in Glastonbury in 2012. Which totally didn’t happen.  At all.

TEH loves travel planning in the way that I don’t. I have big visions of the world, and he makes it happen.  He brings me a plan, and asks:  “What do you think?”

And I look at the carefully typed up itinerary that’s based on some wild idea I’ve had, and say:  “Hey yeah, that’s good, that’s good, nope that’s not going to happen, are you crazy, five days in military museums, go to hell!”

He goes away and makes adjustments, brings it back, and I say:  “Again with the military museums?  What is it with you?  No.  One day.  One. Or I’ll find a women’s trance blood moon workshop and enrol you, got it?”

And with our travel plans in disarray, off we go into the world to explore.

I’m still riffing on 2016’s travel possibilities.

“If we’re not going to Turkey, which is cool, another year, hey, we have the money to go to Finland in November and stay in those snail houses.”

“The glass igloos?”

"Yeah. Those.”

I pause for thought.  “I thought, if I blogged about it, I could call it Looking Through A Glass Igloo.  John Waters has a play about John Lennon called Looking Through A Glass Onion.  Glass Igloo.  Get it?”

He nods.

My mind leaps ahead like a goat on steroids now.  “Where does The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo take place?”

“Sweden.”

 “Damn.  Because if it was Finland I could get an igloo tattoo and called the blog entries The Girl With The Igloo Tattoo.”

 “They’re close to each other.”

  “Yeah, but those people are Vikings.  If I confuse Sweden with Finland, they’ll do terrible things to me.”  I think about the Neil Oliver documentaries on the Vikings.  “You aren’t going to take me to the Viking pub and make me eat rotted shark are you?”

I know TEH has Danish blood, and is keen to see the Viking Museum in Denmark.  He’s keen on things Viking. I vividly remember the Viking meal shown in the programme. Dear Gods, no.

“No.”

“Okay. That’s good.  Hey, we’re going to Finland to see the aurora..”

He smiles.  It’s one of those ‘we’ll see’ smiles.  I know better.  It will happen.  It WILL. Because the world is big and full of The Things, and they are waiting for me to act the goat around them.

  1. lostboys 

    Haha...oh for the plans of mice & men

    2/09/16

    1. uspandeyz 

      If I could be forgiven borrowing a phrase from that excellent plan for world domination, with subtly vested interests in quaint histories and geographies, my mind felt like a 'goat on steroids' as I read it; it is yet to become stationary as I write this. All thumbs up!

      2/09/16

      1. helenpatrice 

        Thankyou. Signed She-goat On Steroids

        2/10/16