Nancy and I have been traveling together lo these thirty-three years. We've seen London, France, Greece, Mexico, Chicago, New York, Philadelphia, and now Aruba. On our honeymoon, we went by train to New Orleans - it was the first time either of us had ever been. We were such babes - we gawked at everything, marveled at everything.
The pleasure of traveling isn't so much going somewhere as going somewhere with someone. We are inveterate people-watchers and make up little stories - not always very nice stories, I'm afraid - about people we meet. We work together to puzzle out whatever conundrums travel brings us - the street signs on Crete, the money in England - it may be different since the Euro, but when we were there, you'd feel like you had a pile of dough, and it'd turn out you hardly had any at all.
It is a pleasure, of course, to fill your days with pleasure; we eat too much, drink too much, play too much, and when we come back to our room, we - well, here the hand of propriety will draw the curtain of modesty over the scene, but you get the idea.
But as much as pleasure for pleasure's sake is nice, what really gives it spice is the little awkwardnesses and perplexities; where's a good restaurant - we parked too far and have to walk, oh dear - let's go inland and get lost for a little while - followed by little discoveries and triumphs - that's what this little switch is for! Say, there's a grill, we can cook for ourselves - look at that beautiful lizard!
Vacation is a playground where you get to do the mock-serious enterprise of being adult and together making decisions against a backdrop of paradise. I hope in heaven, there'll be angels who don't speak English or confusing road-signs, or a tricky currency to master. Those things are the essence of delight. Those things and being with someone you love.
