Katy's Asia Adventures (plus Mexico!) |
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A haphazard chronicle of my inevitable misadventures during a year in Vietnam and points east. p.s. I'll be pitifully grateful if you send me email during my exile: TravelerKaty@hotmail.com October 2002 November 2002 December 2002 January 2003 February 2003 March 2003 April 2003 May 2003 June 2003 July 2003 August 2003 September 2003 October 2003 November 2003 February 2006 March 2006 May 2006
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Wednesday, February 22, 2006
![]() Day 1 - Travel Day, Seattle to Puebla 2/11/06 Had a bit of a close call the morning of our departure. I’m not what one would call a “morning person” and generally try not to recognize that any hours before 7 a.m. even exist. However, when a flight leaves at 7:01, and when the flight is to a foreign destination for a most-expenses-paid family vacation, I’m willing to make a few sacrifices. Yes, I’m just that generous. My wake-up time, consequently, was 4:25. Still not a good time – I am not at my best in these situations. Just a couple of months previously I had suffered a similar wake-up time in order to catch the Amtrak, which rolls through my town at 5:45 am (ugh). I planned to get up at 4:45, take a shower, and finish my packing, which I naturally had not done the night before like a normal responsible person. I woke up without the alarm, glanced at the glowing digital clock and leaped out of bed in panicked horror. OH MY GOD I HAVE 7 MINUTES UNTIL MY TRAIN WHERE THE HELL IS THE DAMNED CAB DRIVER!?!?!?!? I galloped through the house pulling on mismatched clothing and stuffing random items into my luggage, and was simultaneously brushing my teeth, checking the Amtrak website, and flipping through the phone book with the intention of making a screaming and semi-profane call to the taxi company, when I heard, from somewhere in the distance, the soothing tones of Steve Inskeep, introducing the next NPR Morning Edition story. Yes, you guessed it. I had indeed awoken 7 minutes before my alarm went off. Sadly, before 7 am I am seemingly incapable of accomplishing the most basic tasks, including, obviously, telling time. What’s even sadder is that I have a digital clock. What’s sadder than that is that this wasn’t the first time I had made a similar mistake. I digress, of course, but that tale is illustrative of my previously introduced premise that early mornings are a frightening and dangerous time, none more so than on the first day of a trip. So to recap, it was 4:25 am, and I staggered to the bathroom semi-blind, having misplaced mi glasses. A shower was clearly in order. How was I to know the dangers that existed in A’s guest bathroom? Hair suitably dampened, I reached for the shampoo and squeezed a dollop into my palm. Mmmm, apple scent! I’d be the freshest smelling gal on the plane. It was only as I returned the shampoo to the shelf that I caught a glimpse of a blurry german shepherd on the bottle. At first this just seemed an oddity that my brain only semi-processed, but just before the green blob got dropped on my head, I had the sudden AWAKE realization that I was using dog shampoo. Aaurgh. Did I really need to protect myself from any fleas and ticks that might be hopping about the airplane? This was clearly All A’s Fault. It’s just irresponsible for a hostess to subject her guests to such early morning trauma. I mean, for crying out loud, that shampoo was indistinguishable in color from the herbal Cucumber-Melon Body After the morning trauma, the journey went quite smoothly for the most part, although oddly, we got to see the paramedics come onto both our flights, something I’d never seen. On the first flight the kid directly behind me was practically puking up a lung and looked like he was in the later stages of consumption. Naturally, I noticed nothing amiss, as my attention was fully captured by a series of New York Times crossword puzzles, the remainder of my book-on-CD, and the adorable baby girl with the strawberry hat sitting just ahead of me. We landed in
The other regular visitor to the plaza was the parade of sirened police cars and trucks with armed cops leaning on roll-bars military-style, who would periodically careen through the festivities for no apparent reason. Maybe to show the folks they mean business -- we wouldn't want all those grandpas and marimba players to get out of line. They might end up popping some balloons without government clearance or something. That's all for today -- here are a couple more pictures of the lovely Camino Real: ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() © 2006 Katy Warren
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