Normal being a relative term, I am beginning to wonder what the socially acceptable parameters of normal are. The reason why I wonder is because I suspect I do not fall within those parameters.
In exactly one week from today I will be packing to go to Europe for a month.
After all our hard work (and I am taking some credit for it), Flyboy is one of the pilots representing our part of the planet earth at the World Championships. We have our South African colours, tracksuits, shirts, caps, all with a little protea (I miss the bokkie). I am going to get to take lots of photies. It is all very exciting…
I am so NOT looking forward to it. There are honestly few words to describe how much I really do not want to go.
Naturally the first part of the journey will be spoilt by that less than charming phenomenon called International Air Travel. Now I know there are people in this world blessed with the amazing ability to corkscrew themselves into a comfortable position in an economy class coffin that doubles as a seat and wander off into Slumberland the minute their head falls back on to the headrest and their mouths fall open. Sadly (for myself and Flyboy), I am not one of them. I need a bed, I need my special pillow, I need my duvet, I NEED horizontal!
This of course means that sleep will be very limited and any REM status that is attained will be followed up with severe neck and back aches. Being anywhere within a 10 kilometre radius of a sleep deprived yours truly is similar to playing with toxic waste. There will be dire consequences.
Of course, there is also the assumption that the flight will be a safe one, that all those ghastly little niggles flaunted on Aircrash Investigation and Seconds From Disaster have been given the necessary attention and modification. For some reason I always find myself in front of a telly shortly before I am to embark on a long flight and my aviation obsessed Flyboy seems to have a morbid fascination in wanting to know all the possible ways we could possibly meet our untimely ends.
It is not that I am afraid of flying, it is the possible crashing part of the programme that makes me somewhat uncomfortable.
So, let us assume the flight is a safe one, the customs officials decide that we look like charming Africans who will sod off back home after the visit to Europe and our luggage firstly, appears on the conveyor belt and secondly, contains all items. One would hope the hell ends there – wishful thinking!
After luggage has been collected we will have to negotiate a large international airport, find our way to the LONG DISTANCE TRAIN STATION* and lug ourselves and our luggage (is that why it is called ‘luggage?’ Lug, luggage… makes sense) onto a train to some outlying little town. All this while I am tired and crabby enough to bite the heads off newborn kittens.
The madness however does not end there. No rest for the wicked tourists because the very next day we embark on 1500 kilometre road journey from one side of Europe to the other. Attached to the vehicle will be a very long trailer and because of this, travel speed may not exceed a mind blowing 80 kilometres an hour. Can you imagine driving from Jo’burg to Cape Town clocking 80 kilometres on the speedo, all the way?
At the end of the two day 80km/h mad dash we arrive at an airfield where we will spend three weeks. Oooh, goodie! Another airfield!
What is really breaking my heart is having to put my four-legged fiends in a kennels/cattery for a month! Oh, I know, “they will be fine,” “they will be so pleased to see you when you get back” and all that but it isn’t normal to stick your children in jail because you are going on holiday, is it? The guilt is killing me.
So, there you have it. I am going to Europe, I am going to see at least three countries (albeit from a car)… and I really don’t want to go.
That can’t be normal!
* Because of the non-tourist friendly website through which you book your train tickets, we originally booked our departure from the wrong station and donated 82 non-refundable Euros to two ghosts whom I hope will be comfortably seated.
I am exhausted and that was just reading it. What a schlep. Normallacy is overated.
Nooooooooo. Kattya. Think of all the fab tales. The interesting drinks. Just give up your free will and enjoy the ride.
Oh. And two words: sleeping pills.
I’ll go instead, if you like?
I love to travel.. national and international.. being in europe, everything is international !!
82 euro is a lot for a train ticket.. are you sure you are not going to Italy by train
okay- if you were travelling in luxury for all the time you are there, and you didn’t need to put your furbabies in a kennel- then i would think you’d be looking forward to it. otherwise, i don’t think i blame you!
strongs…
I know how you feel. I would be racked with guilt too. I struggle to leave for work in the mornings… I know it is the owner that breeds codependancy, but I am guilty of that. Have fun. If I lived closer your fourleggies would have been welcome to stay on my farm for a month. Wish I could help you out
I dunno. If you could put your kids in jail while you’re on holiday, I reckon more people would go on holiday.
Adventure! Embrace it!
Experiences are all a frame of mind.
Also, I would be fascinated to see someone driving from Jo’burg to Cape Town clocking 80 kilometres *in* a speedo.
Although that’s probably not relevant….
Have you recovered yet? Was it brilliant? Have you caught up on your sleep yet?