I decided to drive this time, because I felt like it. And it was very nice. But the odd thing was when I drove through the border. “Whose car is this?” My father’s. (He prefer I drive it for a long trip than mine. I’m not sure why, but ok: it has heated seats!)
“Does he know you took it?”
Off again for another day in the car.
The problem with this vacation is that there are too many ways I want to relax at once. Nap? Do one of the multiple puzzle things I have? Read? I can’t do them all at once, but I want to. It seems somehow backwards and not relaxing — almost anxiety about getting in all the relaxing things I would like to do. But on the beach — even the windy, inadequately warm beach[1] — this is not the worst of all problems. And in the end I am getting lots of reading done (though I am stalling a bit on a book about Nascar) and a fair bit of other things done and no, I don’t have a list exactly, it just seems like it because I do have a large pile of books.
[1] I acclimate really quickly to warm, unlike cold.
Ah, so nice. I got to sit on the book, finish the newest book by Jeanette Winterson — Weight, which will need rereading. Much reading is happening now — good books, too, which is so lovely, so lovely. Relaxed, sleepy, sunny, sand and water.
Leaving on vacation today. I am really, really tired. I barely slept, and haven’t quite finished packing. Clothes are done, but nothing else. I want to leave in an hour. So what am I doing? That’s right! Playing online.
I never quite got around to posting my travel pictures. Maybe I will eventually. Until then, one of my favourite pictures.
So Sheepish asked if I feel safe napping on the side of the road. I always pull over to rest areas to sleep, where things are at least well-lit, and since usually I am driving a main shipping route, there are usually trucks there too.
Once, when I was driving through the Northway (America’s most scenic highway? Who knew?), I stopped to use one of the rest areas. And as I am walking from the car to the lodge thing, a van drives up. A van that says on the side something about prisons. A van that is in fact transporting prisoners. Prisoners who need to pee.
I walk into the rest area (there are a lot of them, but at any point some random set will be closed and it always seems to be just when I desperately need to go to the washroom) anyhow, spend a while (I was not feeling well? I had my period? I don’t remember, I just know I took quite a while) in the washroom, come out, see two marshals walking the handcuffed prisoner into the men’s room. I think I tried a half-smile.
I have always assumed the marshals wanted to wait for me to be done, but that I just took too long. I always appreciated it.
This weekend I am supposed to go to New York. Plans kept changing, so I will be driving alone (612 km, says Google). I am tempted to offer on Craigslist, but when I need to stop to take naps, I will not be able to do that with a stranger in my car (and am uninterested in having a stranger drive me). Time to get some books on tape. I am not excited about this: I dislike driving in New York. But it is a holiday weekend, so I cannot fly ($$$), and the bus is terrible, and the train is 14 (!) hours. Driving it is. Plus, I am bringing much stuff: books to lend, books to return, bagels[1], croissants, challah, whatever all else I am not thinking of offhand.
[1] This is totally not bringing coals to Newcastle because Montreal bagels are better.
Why they ask you to open the window shades on the airplanes when you’re landing.
I got some time walking around the city alone yesterday, and though it rained, well, I had an umbrella. I feel much more balanced now, more like myself: I think I needed it, and wasn’t really able to explain it, or perhaps felt odd asking for it. But it was wonderful.
I’m not sure if I’m ready to return to Canada or not, but I suppose it doesn’t matter: I am going back there Sunday. I hope I can get a window seat.