Remember the good old days of travel?
I don't either. You somehow hope for that 1950's Pan-Am clipper class service especially when traveling to Paris. I'm sure it would cost a small fortune in today's dollars to have that experience, but hope springs every time I go. Kind of like hoping for that Ozzie and Harriet family experience at Thanksgiving. You know it's not going to happen, but that doesn't keep you from trying.
It was late when I finally finished packing my bag at the last minute last night. Not knowing where I'm going or what I am doing complicated the effort, but allowing for spontaneous life to happen; to have some sort of the amazing and unexpected experience I had on the Camino, I delayed even marking a single hotel reservation until 11pm last night. I decided to go straight from Charles de Gaulle airport down to Boudreaux after I land on my way to San Sebastián in Spain. I have my first plan, which if lucky, will have something unexpected for me.
Thanks for all the good wishes I got in reply to my blog email, especially the one from Paul who thought my blog looked like i had a chip on my shoulder ;-)
Buen Camino
Dàvē
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