I'm still in Maryland right now, trying earnestly to finalize plans to head to Africa later this month. It's taken much longer than I ever thought to plan something, partly because Africa is so big and I had no idea specifically where I wanted to go -- other than the fact that I wanted to see elephants and giraffes.
Now that I finally have my act together and have an idea of budget and locales, I can't get the travel agents to plan something fast enough. I'm ready to leave as soon as possible. But, it takes forever to work out even the most basic details, because I email the travel agent, and they have to talk to their people in Africa, and so on. And, I'm driving the travel agent crazy with my frequent comments on their proposed itineraries. (Things have changed a lot.) The current plan, which I suspect will ultimately work out in the end, but not before I end up pulling my hair out, is to leave for South Africa in the next two or three weeks.
In the meantime, I'm planning to cool my heels over a long weekend at the beach with my family...and possibly another sojourn to the beach next week with a friend.
It does amuse me somewhat, though, that I'm completely stressed out right now about trying to plan this trip. I'm worrying out about planning all the details of the trip with the same fervor previously reserved only for worrying about old cases or crushes. It's kind of ridiculous, though, when your largest concern is whether you can get a reservation at the "nice" game park in South Africa, or whether the trip to the passport agency for extra passport pages will infringe upon a night out with old friends. These are the kind of worries I should always have.
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
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2 comments:
I'm so glad things are rolling along for your next trip! I love that your worries are things that it's sort of fun to worry about. Someone once said to me that thier ideal day would mean that the biggest decision they would have to make would be how much tequilla to put in their marguerita. ;)
Yeah -- it's kind of like worrying over the fact that you might run out of tonic for your sundowner. It's truly a ridiculous, bourgeois anxiety.
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