My wings have been clipped. Make no mistake about it. I used to be a traveling man. In fact many moons ago I owned a travel agency. I know many people who have done far more traveling than I have. A friend of mine has been to almost 150 countries. Who is counting? (I guess he is)
I have been to Argentina, Indonesia, Australia, New Zealand, Fiji, South Africa, much of Europe, virtually 30 islands in the Caribbean, but no matter how I do the math, it does not add up to 150 countries, not even close.
I used to love to witness the different cultures, eat the varied foods, soak up the landscapes, but all of that has changed, and why you might ask, has all that changed. Although I am getting long in the tooth (that is how you can determine the age of a horse), I would still be on the first plane out if it were safe. But with the pandemic in force, I am not about to board a plane, and many countries do not want us bringing the virus to them.
I am currently renting a home in the eastern part of Malibu awaiting my house rebuild in the western part of Malibu. I now consider a car ride to Pavilion’s a significant voyage, and if I really want to go all the way, I drive over the hill to visit Agoura or Thousand Oaks. It is not exactly like going to New Zealand, but apparently it will have to do given the current circumstance.
In the name of full disclosure, I must confess that a few weeks back I did drive up to Santa Barbara to visit a close friend. As I drove along the 101 looking out at the Pacific Ocean, I imagined I was in Tahiti or Bora Bora,—not quite as exciting, but I consoled myself by saying I had no close friends living in Tahiti or Bora Bora.
My Dad was fond of saying, “This too shall pass,” and so hopefully this time next year I will be boarding a plane to parts unknown.