I’m traveling with my sister this fall to Spain. I’m over the top ready to travel to Europe where I’ve never been. I mentioned to sis I want to perhaps travel post-Spain by myself to another country – since I’ve crossed the ocean, you see.
It will be enlightening to travel by myself in another country. Again, a new experience. I’ve only done it once before, for 24 hours, in Mexico. But that doesn’t count. People do it all the time. They include escapades, excursions and excitement all rolled into one. I’m hopeful for all those, yet from the hinterlands of my mind come worries about “what if’s, how to’s, maybe it’s not a good idea” kinds of worries. How does one find a bathroom while roaming the streets of alleyways of Barcelona?
Yet that mundane kind of question, doesn’t limit travelers looking for adventure. Take Mount Everest, known for blustery frigid winds, vertical ice sheets and prayer flags. Take the Maldives famous for mostly white sands and crystal clear blue waters. Has the lack of toilet stalls kept folks away from these exotic and challenging locales?
Those worries that want to plague my travel planning this morning, don’t exist in the Now. They are not tangible. All that angst exists in a foggy and far-off never-never-land.
Maybe while I’m wandering the streets of Portugal (or Corsica or Greece) by myself, indulging in some wonderful Rissóis de Camarão (shrimp turnover – a holiday favorite) and listening to the beautiful portuguese language, I’ll be overcome with the need to find a bathroom. Armed with inherent and formidable human nature as my guide, I’ll ask, I’ll get out my translation book, I’ll smile, gesture or whatever it takes, to find that WC.
And like the matador who pulls out her red cape to ward off the advancing charge of that big, nasty, angry bull (looks a lot like all the worry and angst) I’ll stand tall and make a show of it. Wanna watch me?