I read once long ago that you can be best of friends and not be able to tolerate travel together, and be mortal enemies who can endure otherwise withering cross-country car rides with nary a conflict over radio station or Cracker Barrel vs. Waffle House. Actually, that's not quite what I read, but more my own stamp on an old idea. I have a few friends that I travel with splendidly - we have the same interests, the same clean/dirty ration tolerance on accomodation, food and overall hygiene (in order: some bugs OK, no bugs OK, a little dirt never hurt.) Some of my dearest friends, however, who pull me out of despair, are indespensible at cocktail parties and receptions with a visiting Queen make me want to jump out of any mutually confining moving object after 2 minutes. This does NOT make them "bad" in any way - travel is a highly personalized form of self-expression. I loved wandering the interior of Azerbaijan and staying in a place with no lights, a walk to the loo, mosquitoes and a lot of gold teeth. Fabulous vacation! But lest you think I am ranting against those who are not strictly the Four Seasons, give-me-namebrand-soap-or-give-me death-types, I have a confession to make.
I am in Samoa. For the weekend I went to "the big island" of Savaii - normally a two day trip I condensed into one. I stayed in a "romantic" beach fale in Salelologa. Yeah, right. I arrived to find a rather run-down collection of grass huts (a beach fale has, by nature, no walls, just grass matting, so I expected that.) My particular "chalet" was very open, giant cockroaches, mosquitoes everywhere, an aggressive cat, and an amorous local staff member. Perhaps it wouldn't have been so bad if I hadn't stayed at Samoa's premier resort for the preceding two weeks? I was very unhappy, and if there had been a Four Seasons within 1000 miles, I would have been on it in no time flat.
I hate heat. Especially damp, humid heat. I get cranky and irrational. (Hey, stop nodding, you!) I have never performed well when hot, hence my penchant for Russia. And so I, too, am a fussy traveller. I thought I could handle "roughing it" and laugh off a tough time. But perhaps I am getting older? Or perhaps travelling alone is losing its romantic, introspective, Jack-Kerouac overtones? I just felt old, tired, sweaty and smelly. I fly out to NZ tonight, and can hardly WAIT to take a shower.
But I'm still up for touring Central Asia in a rented car if anyone wants the challenge - it'll just have to be in late Fall or early Spring...
The title is from Good Morning, Vietnam, FYI.
