Travel Muscles.... 



Our Route

    Well, ours are certainly flabby.  Not since I visited Ireland for St. Paddy's day in 2019 have I been out of the county.  Paul has been even more landlocked.  His last trip was Africa in 2017.

    Covid was hard on everyone, to be sure.  Throw in a few health issues and in an instant three years have evaporated, taking with it more sand from our hourglass.

    We had long planned this cruise to see St. Petersburg and the Baltic States and each year we kicked the can down the road for another year.  Now we are scheduled to depart next week on a Regent luxury liner in a concierge cabin with only 450 passengers.  Sounds like heaven!  Then why am I so glum?

    I have always had a zest for travel fueled, in part, because I didn't begin traveling until mid-life.  For me, it is not just the trip but the process.  I love prepping with history, historical fiction and my personal favorite, maps.  Maps are my ultimate orientation. 

     One day the kids will be cleaning out our stuff and wonder what their mother was doing with a detailed map of the Vatican catacombs! However, one peek at my map and I'm back in Rome in my Mephisto sandals.

    The whole process has been fraught with indecision.  Should we, or shouldn't we go this year?  Regent has been holding some of our money as a future cruise credit for three years and while all the mandatory Covid testing and possible quarantines added a level of uncertainty earlier in the year we decided not to wait and complete the booking.  At least we don't have to test to re-enter the country now.

    Then came Mr. Putin and his invasion and war in the Ukraine.  Needless to say, goodbye St. Petersburg!  I can't fault Regent on missing that stop. We'll be looking for a documentary instead.

    Then there is the joy of trying to get a Covid test on the Fourth of July weekend.  We need one 72 hours in advance of embarkation and all the pharmacies are closed to testing then.  So we are having our tests at Fast Med four hours before we leave for the airport.  This last minute stuff is NOT how the Krupp's roll.

    Don't forget Heathrow where we will arrive on British Airways direct from Austin.  Everyday the English press is full of pictures of acres of luggage piled up outside the terminal, a luggage graveyard.   I wanted to experiment with carry on for a long trip so I should be okay...but the big guy needs to check his bag.  There is no amount of bourbon that could possibly smooth over his lost luggage.  So wish us luck.  









   

    




     Plus there are the recurrent announcements from Paul that THIS IS MY LAST TRIP!!  It's rather like those canned curbside airport warnings to not leave the luggage unattended.  It just keeps playing and playing.  Trust me, I got the memo.

    So I haven't been my usual enthusiastic self but a little sad, in fact, a little angry.  Angry that we've been essentially on hold for three years.  That's a big chunk of time at our age.  

    Sad because I can't help but ask,  Is this it? Are there no more adventures for us?   Sad, too, because after almost fifty years together only a fool would fail to realize that our time together is running down.  It's easy to ignore what the actuaries say about longevity until the first cracks in the façade of health and vitality appear.  It's only then that we begin to give serious thought about our futures.

    Certainly we are grateful for our blessings and they are numerous.  We've had a very charmed life filled with exemplary children and their spouses, grandchildren, new and lifelong friends and extended family.  

    I know that once we are actually on board, the clothes are hung up and we've tasted a little blini with caviar that all will be well.

    So I'm going to give myself a stern talking to while I make some guacamole with the remaining expensive avocados from our stash here in the age of inflation.  An attitude adjustment is definitely in order.

    



    

    

    

    

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