(continued from Pt. I) To my beloved wife I entrust most of our travel plans. The sole exception to the rule is our planned return to the Land of Smiles, to which she has never been (outside of Don Mueang airport) and which I know as well as my home country of the United States, at least geographically if not culturally (the cultures of all Far East Asian countries being nearly impenetrable to the Western mind).
Ah, Ben!! Thank you again for making me feel so happy that I don't travel. I say to those who do, "Go forward, men and women of the traveling world! Conquer those sights in front of you!!" I always note the highlight of any tourist adventure is meeting the local gringo or apothecary who can render a significant cure for their current malady. I believe I'm jaded. My 6-month body left West Point in 1949 to journey for many years through post-WWII Europe in Heidelberg, Salzburg, and Florence. Indeed, I learned Italian before English...so I could demand more parmesan in my minestrone. Then, at 8-10 we dwellt in the pre-tourist age Taiwan of 1956-58 as described in Part 1. Milk made from powder; Velveeta only; no TV (Alas!! I bid a fond farewell to Zorro!); rice paddies as the new jungle gym; stories of escaping mainland China; etc. Today, I just finished a delicious homemade Sloppy Joe on a toasted, buttered brioche bun. Later, I'll have some fresh strawberries and blueberries on organic vanilla ice-cream. All of which is the height of luxury as I sit here chuckling over alpaca and llama poop and extortionist grandmas.
I always thought llamas were rideable.
Huh. Who knew
Thanks for sharing your trip
Ah, Ben!! Thank you again for making me feel so happy that I don't travel. I say to those who do, "Go forward, men and women of the traveling world! Conquer those sights in front of you!!" I always note the highlight of any tourist adventure is meeting the local gringo or apothecary who can render a significant cure for their current malady. I believe I'm jaded. My 6-month body left West Point in 1949 to journey for many years through post-WWII Europe in Heidelberg, Salzburg, and Florence. Indeed, I learned Italian before English...so I could demand more parmesan in my minestrone. Then, at 8-10 we dwellt in the pre-tourist age Taiwan of 1956-58 as described in Part 1. Milk made from powder; Velveeta only; no TV (Alas!! I bid a fond farewell to Zorro!); rice paddies as the new jungle gym; stories of escaping mainland China; etc. Today, I just finished a delicious homemade Sloppy Joe on a toasted, buttered brioche bun. Later, I'll have some fresh strawberries and blueberries on organic vanilla ice-cream. All of which is the height of luxury as I sit here chuckling over alpaca and llama poop and extortionist grandmas.