Kamping

Well, as far as spending the night in the trailer goes, I'm no longer a virgin.

My original plan was to "boondock" for free and spend the nights at truck stops, but my friend George made me all paranoid about getting attacked in my sleep, so I stayed at campgrounds during the harrowing journey (more on that later) to Denver.

And I didn't just stay at campgrounds, but sometimes at "kampgrounds." Run by KOA. The Kadillac of kampgrounds.

They were nice places, as campgrounds go: clean restrooms, hot showers, decent food.

But then as the KOA motto goes, "It's not camping, it's 'kamping.'"

OH! And I almost forgot the most important part: the electricity in the trailer actually works, and it didn't burn down in the night.

Anyway, that first night, in Terre Haute, Indiana (after spending six hours of highway driving, constantly fighting to keep the trailer under control, on the road, and in my own lane), I slept comfortably. . .

. . . until I was awakened in the early morning by a sound like this:

"HWAWH! HWAWH HWAWH HWAWH HWAWH!"

My first thought, coming out of a deep sleep, was that it was some kind of alarm.

Something was on fire.

Or we were being bombed!

Then, being the grandchild of Kentucky farm folk, I realized what it was.

A donkey.

Braying "good morning" from a nearby field.

Like they say, "It's not camping, it's 'kamping.'"

Finally!

After multiple delays, cosmetic changes, and a cancer scare, I'm finally ready to hit the road!

Another Cool Person I Met Traveling--Angela

When I was traveling in Greece several years ago, I met Angela, one of the coolest people I've ever known.

She was beautiful--but not in the least vain or even aware of her appearance. She was a talented dancer and artist. I showed her some of my writing, and she was encouraging, upbeat, positive. She totally got what I was trying to do with the novel I was writing. No one else got it, but she did.

She was intelligent and fun and utterly impractical. For example, I had the efficiency of streamlined, lightweight backpacking down to science, while she was carrying around a thick, heavy, hardback copy of the I Ching, plus a bulky sketchbook and watercolors, brushes, a Rapidograph pen, and a large glass bottle of India ink.

We danced on the sands at Crete and later explored the Minoan ruins. She had an Australian boyfriend with her named David, and he really seemed to be an equal partner--at a time when guys were a lot bossier and more demanding than they are now. Sometimes he was around, and sometimes he went off and did his own thing. I thought they had a great relationship.

It seems like I knew her for months, but it was really only about two weeks.

After those two weeks together on the beach and in Iraklion, I had to get back to Paris, and she and David found jobs and had to spend all day working.

So we went our separate ways. I had her home address, but for some reason didn't keep in touch.

Even though I didn't know her for very long, she had a tremendous influence on my life. I wanted so much to be like her. Back in the U.S., I bought an Indian dress like one she wore, I bought a Rapidograph pen, I began throwing the I Ching, and when I went back to Europe a few years later, I took a sketchbook with me.

Years later, when I was living in Bel Air, California, I saw some handbags in a boutique in Brentwood with her name on them. They could have been from someone else with the same name, but I instantly recognized her style.

I looked her up on the Internet and found she was living in the SF bay area and had her own line of purses. I wanted to call her, but didn't know what to say. I was a little afraid she wouldn't remember me. I called and got an answering machine. I can't remember if I even left a message.

Then two years ago, I saw someone on a TV show who reminded me of Angela. I went back to her website, but it wasn't functioning.

I did a Google search.

She'd died a few months earlier, I learned.

I managed to track down and phone her aunt, whom I remembered hearing about from Angela. She was Angela's age and was like a sister to her. The aunt's voice reminded me so much of Angela's. Hearing that voice was pleasant, like eating candy. I cried as I spoke to the aunt about this person I hadn't seen or talked to in many years, and whom I'd known for only two weeks.

I wrote her parents a note telling them about how Angela had made a huge impression on my life.

I learned that she and David had married, and had had a son. I corresponded with David for a few months, but lost touch when he and their son moved to Australia last year.

Angela, you died too young, and I wish I'd known you better.

The More Things Change, the More They Stay the Same

Now I'm back in the same situation I was in a couple of weeks ago.

Packing and moving.

I've been in a hotel since moving out of my house in late July. Of course, I've got millions of things here that I have to sort to decide what goes into the trailer and what goes into storage. Plus I have to sort through the stuff in storage to decide what stays and what goes.

And of course I haven't done anything.

I plan to check out of the hotel next Thursday, but fortunately, I've got a huge time buffer before I have to be in Colorado.

I found out I don't have to stay in CO while the trailer is being worked on (they'd probably prefer that I not be there looking over their shoulders), so after I drop the trailer, I'm heading to Sedona for a month, to a cheap hotel where I've stayed many times with my dog and cat (even though now I'm pet-free, alas!).

I love Sedona.

Mon Ami Francais

I love traveling because you get to meet such cool people, and I can't wait to hit the road next week.

Here's a photo (and a video, below) of my friend that I met in Cancun last winter. He was a fellow student at the school where we were both trying to learn Spanish, and he and I lived in the same apartment. It was fun because even though I was studying Spanish, I got to practice my French, speaking to him--although his English is way better than my French. He says I have an American accent--gee, ya think?


Anyway, since then, we've kept in touch. We e-mail back and forth regularly--he tells me about his adventures in Europe, and I tell him about my preparations for my "voyage en caravanne."

He went to the Cannes film festival two years in a row, I guess to hobnob with Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie. Anyway, here's an interview that French TV did with him this year during the art show in which his "galerie" participated during the film festival. I think they did this English version for the international audience. (It's interesting, because he looks so much more professional and clean cut in the video from Cannes than he did in Cancun!)

Countdown to Departure

Six days!