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The Journey Needs to be the Destination
When traveling, things go wrong. I’ve spent all night trying to get across the mountains in California thanks to an ill-placed mudslide (You went over Sonora Pass for the first time at NIGHT?). I’ve been stranded in Chicago overnight on the 4th of July. Resenting these experiences is no fun. It really helps to learn to appreciate them.
Which takes me back many years. More years than I like to think about. Back to my very first trip that needed a passport…
Trying to Get to Corfu, An Adventure
My dad chose the destination; the Greek island of Corfu. He reasoned that as a place that had been owned by the British for many years it would be less of a cultural jump than going to, say, Rhodes or some place in Spain. (not the “Costa del Brit” NEVER the “Costa del Brit”).
This being well before the internet (I was a teenager), we booked a package deal through one of Britain’s store front travel agencies; not Thomas Cook, but the Co-Op Travel Agent, which helped us select a smaller operator. The deal included our flights and a “self-catering” apartment on the island. My parents were not fond of traditional hotels (and when we tried that on another occasion we got a reminder of why that included getting stuck in the elevator).