I feel a wind out here in the desert on my figurative walk to New York City. But I can see the bright lights--well, perhaps the sign of two old stiffs selling gas--up ahead. So I walk and think more on the 2003 trip to Wales.
After getting through immigration, we walked down a long hallway to the baggage claim. On the way, we past a money exchange. While Bob and Sharyn had given us a few pounds from their last trip to England, and although I planned to sue a credit card almost exclusively on this trip, I thought that we could use a few more pounds for those “just in case” times. So at the money exchange, we traded 60 pounds for about two pounds. Okay, the exchange rate was not quite that bad, but it was pretty horrible. I think that we were getting about 1 pound for a $1.75 U.S. The dollar had dropped over the months to this ridiculous level. As with everything that is wrong in my life, I blamed George W. Bush. He was, after all, our village idiot at the time. Admittedly, a lot of things that were wrong in my life bear no seeming causal relationship to George W. Bush, but he was a handy target. I mean, who has time to discover all of the causal relationships for all of my problems. And as to this outrageous exchange rate, he might just be the reason. Of course, exchanging money at the airport is one of the stupidest things one can do, because as with most things at the airport, it costs more to do it at the airport than anywhere else in town. As Jerry Seinfeld has said, “Where do these people at the airport live? Does a bottle of aspirin cost $13.00 in their neighborhood?” But then again, I was concerned that we could not get from the airport to London without more cash, so what was I to do.
Dorey immediately became enamored with the British coinage and legal paper system. You may remember a Seinfeld episode (two references to Seinfeld in two paragraphs--do you think I need a hobby other than watching television?) where Elaine and her boyfriend are in Europe. Her boyfriend is fixated with the currency of each country, especially Norway’s coin system. “This is one kroner, this one with the hole is a two kroner,” the boyfriend kept saying. Dorey was much the same. She spent about three minutes staring at the various coins. From that point forward, she was able to count out change for everyone as if she had been dealing with British coinage her entire life. I on the other hand could never quite do it. I could handle the paper money, but they also have coins for one and two pounds. I could never adapt to these or other coins. I often just held out my hand to the sales clerk, hoping that the clerk would remove the proper change from my hand. For all I know, I lost millions of pounds following this system of paying for things. Shortly into the trip, I decided that Dorey would be responsible for the real money, and that I would be responsible for the credit card. Somehow, I suspect that was Dorey’s scheme all along.
As long as we are on the topic of money, I should explain one more thing. One quickly gains an illusion in a foreign country that the money is not real, and that the piper will not have to be paid. Hence, in a foreign country, one will spend as if one is spending Monopoly money. It is not, I can assure you, Monopoly money, and that the piper will have to be paid. We spend months paying off the piper in spades.
After getting our money, we picked up our suitcase. We had packed in one suitcase, knowing that while we were there, we would have to get a second bag for the goodies. We then walked out of the airport, without having to take our bags through customs. This was a very odd moment to me. In the U.S., you always have to take your bags through customs. Here, they just let us through without a second glance. A wonderful system.
At about that moment, it hit us. It always hits you at some point on vacation, unless you are vacationing someplace that you have been numerous times before. But here it hit us with a whomp. It is the feeling of “we are someplace foreign, and we have no idea how to get where we have planned to go from where we are currently.” In this situation, I always try to act so cool, looking as if I have done this thousands of times before. I tend to watch and see what others are doing and follow them. I of course have that uniquely American Male disease of being unable to ask a question. Happily, I travel with Dorey, who is the world’s friend.
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I have walked 659,246 steps since leaving my home in Alameda 54 days ago. This is, I have walked 312 miles. I will reach Lovelock in two more miles.
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