Where Am I? A Travel Writer’s Life of Confusion

Toronto

I Think I'm Here

Okay, physically I’m in Toronto. I know that because the view out of my window shows highrises and trees with dingy gold coloured leaves ready to fall. Mentally, I’m still on the island of Grand Bahama thinking about pirate treasure and the burial sites of the Lucayan people who onced lived here. There. Whatever.

Bahamas

My Head is Here

At the same time I’m thinking about Switzerland where I’m next heading and trying to plan spa treatments in Lausanne (oh, poor me!), thinking about the history of Switzerland in the Olympics, and wondering what the heck to wear to a Swiss fasion show and after party. And how to get a window seat when I’m told British Airways won’t let you book your seat in advance. Is that true? I think I’d better check it out for myself.

Normally I like to give myself two weeks at least between trips, but it doesn’t always happen that way. When a good destination comes up, how can you turn it down? But it messes with your head and your body. Travel is exhausting, even if I did carefully avoid the shots-of rum-at-two-in-the-morning-on-the-beach activities.

The worst cross-over between destinations was when I was staying at the Four Seasons Tented Camp at the Golden Triangle where Thailand, Burma and Laos meet. An editor suddenly wanted a rewrite of a story I’d just done on Puerto Rico. So I was riding elephants in the jungle by day, and doing all-nighters writing about Puerto Rico at night. That really sucked, because I was only given two days at the tent camp and didn’t want to spend half of it in Puerto Rico.

They say a soul travels at the speed of a trotting camel, and you know what, I think they’re right. At that rate, I should be back from the Bahamas just in time to catch my flight to Geneva.

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One Response

  1. Well put! And now I learn you’re off to Switzerland? It never ends.

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