Some Personal Observations about Travel

I took the four books recommended from the nice people on crimespace. Excellent, life changing books that would hold my interest. Instead, I read a romance novel (Marrying the Mistress)by someone called Joanna Trollope I found on the shelf where we stayed. If she is Anthony's relative, she has some 'splaining to do. It was quite bad but easy to follow, requiring no focus or commitment. You could open it on any page and be right at the same spot. Apparently she has never heard of the Page 69 rule or else applies it on every page.

I devoured it.

Budapest seems to be still in the thralls of Soviet bureaucracy. Buying a train ticket required two stamps from two officials and took twenty minutes. We paid huge fines on the metro system because we changed lines without buying a new ticket. A virtual army of citizens stood guard and pointed firmly to the sign that warned us that ignorance or misunderstanding of the law did not constitute an excuse. In free museums, we stood in line to get a ticket that said we could enter for free and then stood in another line to pass this ticket on. In one museum only the dome required a fee and that was guarded by two women more ferocious than any in a noir novel.

I am being evil here though because Budapest was just lovely: the people, the food, the sites.

In Vienna, our parsimony undid us as we discovered out flight on Ryan Air was actually in Bratislava, an hour away. It was Sunday and early so we had to pay a female taxi driver to drive us there. She spoke no English but talked the whole time. It turned out she had no idea where the airport was and spoke no Slavakian. We made it, of course and paid her the equvalant of $120. She tapped her inch long red nails on the window and sped away crying out...something.

In England, I fell down the stairs at Lilly Whites and was nearly rushed to hospital. Later on the bus a woman next to me spend forty-five minutes applying makeup. I doubt I have spent that time in my life. She also sniffed something called Oil of Alba. I got quite jolly by the end of the ride.

I bought my six month old grandson a football uniform but understand I picked a bum team. I couldn't resist the fetching colors.

Jetlag is setting in now but glad to be home. Forgive me for any errors here. I am truly loggy.