Been There, Done That
Internet travel: it’s inexpensive, you never have to sit in a middle seat, and, your clothes never wrinkle.
Hotel sites in Bermuda make me salivate. My favorites are the ones where a desk clerk takes a video camera for a 360: there’s the ocean, pause, the pool surrounded by the plastic deck chairs you can’t get out of, pause, the double-stacked pastel bungalows waiting for you, pause, the thatched restaurant, with the cute bartender smiling, waiting for my drink order. “Ze Diet Coke, with ze limon and ze lime? We have nevare zeen zis drink!” They’re French.
Why not spend an hour visiting rental villas in Tuscany? They’re so cute and so old and so stone-wall-rustic. If you lived there, you’d have long legs and great hair and naturally glossed lips all the time.
And, wow, you can’t be too careful about the rooms: antiques? hard wood floors? One time, I visited, in a cyber way, this hotel in Mexico that had all these great Aztec artifacts. Boy, it was so cool. You could be like that Spanish don in Zorro that was Catherine Zeta-Jones father.
I am also fascinated by the history of places, especially when it’s summarized in about 15 words or less on the country site. It’s a bit of an interruption of my fantasy when I have to get stuck in things like geography and the history of the slave trade. Should I get a private balcony or would I like one of those places over the water where I could hear the fish jumping at night?
Africa? I know I would just love it there if it wasn’t so hot and there wasn’t so much danger from those 12-foot worms that climb through your skin. I think I’d prefer no real contact with the actual earth, actually.
My husband thinks it’s dopey that I do this. He comes in and wants to know “why you’re doing this to yourself.” I’m doing it partly because he thinks the Lord put us in Zion to stay and if He wanted us to go all over the world, He’d announce it from the pulpit, “Everyone is supposed to go to take their home-teachees to Paris this week to shop.” Directly from the bishop to the waiting congregation. Like Brigham telling people to go to St. George, only better.
What did people do to waste time before sitcoms and satellite radio and the Internet? According to my friend Rachel, they sat around at night doing wholesome things like playing the guitar and planning the next ward party. Talk about me having an imaginary life. I’ll bet they really got on each other’s nerves.
Hotel sites in Bermuda make me salivate. My favorites are the ones where a desk clerk takes a video camera for a 360: there’s the ocean, pause, the pool surrounded by the plastic deck chairs you can’t get out of, pause, the double-stacked pastel bungalows waiting for you, pause, the thatched restaurant, with the cute bartender smiling, waiting for my drink order. “Ze Diet Coke, with ze limon and ze lime? We have nevare zeen zis drink!” They’re French.
Why not spend an hour visiting rental villas in Tuscany? They’re so cute and so old and so stone-wall-rustic. If you lived there, you’d have long legs and great hair and naturally glossed lips all the time.
And, wow, you can’t be too careful about the rooms: antiques? hard wood floors? One time, I visited, in a cyber way, this hotel in Mexico that had all these great Aztec artifacts. Boy, it was so cool. You could be like that Spanish don in Zorro that was Catherine Zeta-Jones father.
I am also fascinated by the history of places, especially when it’s summarized in about 15 words or less on the country site. It’s a bit of an interruption of my fantasy when I have to get stuck in things like geography and the history of the slave trade. Should I get a private balcony or would I like one of those places over the water where I could hear the fish jumping at night?
Africa? I know I would just love it there if it wasn’t so hot and there wasn’t so much danger from those 12-foot worms that climb through your skin. I think I’d prefer no real contact with the actual earth, actually.
My husband thinks it’s dopey that I do this. He comes in and wants to know “why you’re doing this to yourself.” I’m doing it partly because he thinks the Lord put us in Zion to stay and if He wanted us to go all over the world, He’d announce it from the pulpit, “Everyone is supposed to go to take their home-teachees to Paris this week to shop.” Directly from the bishop to the waiting congregation. Like Brigham telling people to go to St. George, only better.
What did people do to waste time before sitcoms and satellite radio and the Internet? According to my friend Rachel, they sat around at night doing wholesome things like playing the guitar and planning the next ward party. Talk about me having an imaginary life. I’ll bet they really got on each other’s nerves.
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