J and I are in the early stages of planning our next big trip. In late May – early June, we explored Greece (plus one night in Paris). Some day soon I will begin to write about how insanely wonderful Greece was, from the Acropolis in Athens, to the small island beaches of Naxos, to the delicious octopus and cheap wine I consumed each night, to the spectacularly beautiful (and likely indescribable) Santorini, the island formed from a volcanic eruption (And J and I stood next to the mouth of that volcano! We are awesome and fearless.), to the whirlwind adventure of Paris in one night (seriously, you haven’t lived until you’ve trekked from the Invalides, to the Eiffel Tower, to the Champs d’Elysees - or in J-Speak, The Avenue of Champs -, to the Arc de Triomphe, to the opera house, to the Louvre in like, 3 hours. I am not kidding. That is one intense 9 mile loop, kids.).
* Have just drifted into a Greece-induced dream state, and will likely begin the process of depicting our journey tomorrow, because it was just that awe-inspiring and fantastical and fucking wondrous.
Our next ambitious trip may be Thailand, which I hesitate to talk about because 1.We are not totally sure we can go at the appropriate time (i.e. not in typhoon season); and 2. We are not completely confident we can afford it until we gather how much it will actually cost.
And also: 3. We really need someone to tell us where not to go. Yesterday J sat intently reading the travel guide we purchased this weekend, and matter-of-factly suggested we skip Bangkok, head to Chiang Mai, and then perhaps country-hop to Burma or Laos.
“Sounds great!” I say, but I usually smile and think everything is awesome and wonderful. I am useless in trip-planning in this respect. I also take helpful notes where I transcribe things like, “Bangkok = crazy sex trade” and “Must remember to tell J not to point feet towards Buddha in temple.” All the important things.
J continues reading. “Hmm,” he says, “Maybe we won’t visit Burma (or Myanmar).” He reads aloud from the book, depicting a border conflict that can intensify and result in HomeValley and J getting hit by pieces of shrapnel or other weaponry.
“Fun!” I assert. Thailand is going to be an amazing adventure and I love it already.
Later that evening, we continue to peruse the handy travel guide. “Hey!” I perk up. “Do we need any, like, vaccinations?”
“Hmm,” J scans the pages seriously. “Only diphtheria (got it), tetanus (have it), hepatitis A and B (hmm...), measles/mumps/rubella (MMR – money), polio (I guess?), typhoid, and varicella (WTF?)."
“Awww, honey,” I say. “We can get our vaccinations together!”
Who wouldn’t want to visit Thailand with this girl?