“Faraway places with strange
sounding names,
Faraway places over the sea,
Those far away places with the
strange sounding names are
Calling, calling me…….”
(Song written by Joan Whitney
and Alex Kramer)
I’ve been told that travel is an
excellent way to stay young in
spirit. I totally agree; however,
it’s not the spirit that’s a challenge
– it’s the container it’s in – my
body! My travels years ago when
I was not only young in spirit but
in body were limited to nearby
locations with my family. I loved
those times and eagerly looked
forward to them. No Queen Mary
whistling in the background and
no confetti falling as we sailed off
to some exotic place. Nope. Only
pigeons waving to us as the Staten
Island Ferry left St. George Terminal
and the additional thrill of
passing the glorious Statue of Liberty
as we sailed to Battery Park
in Lower Manhattan. When we
disembarked no one was there to
greet us with a lei or a welcoming
hug, only the organ grinder with
a monkey on his shoulder. That
was exotic enough for me. Don’t
judge! I still love White Castle
hamburgers.
Lately, I think I’m trying to make
up for lost time. I’ve started traveling
to places I’ve thought about
but never dreamed I’d have the
opportunity to visit, especially at
this point in life. Even though I
still happily plan from trip to trip,
I’m starting to hear a small voice
nagging at me saying, “Be careful of
what you ask for!” With my hearing
steadily declining, I guess I don’t
hear this advice, along with many
other things, loud enough. Anyway,
I decided I’m going full steam,
maybe half- full steam, ahead. A
trip labeled “The Pearls of Arabia”
caught my eye. I thought of how
much I loved pearls – so simple and
yet so beautiful. How bad could this
trip be, plus I’m feeling great these
days so why not? I must admit here
and now, that for me there really are
different levels of great.
Level 1: Ready to get up and go!
Level 2: Almost ready to go!
Level 3: Where am I going today?
Level 4: Why am I going?
Level 5: Stay home and go with
a friend for lunch to Buffy’s.
Well, with all my enthusiasm
about my impending trip I did
not know about or pay attention
to some of the requirements that
needed to be met before I could
visit “The Pearls of Arabia” and if
I didn’t, the only Pearls I might see
would be on “The Pearly Gates of
Heaven.” If you think the world is
scary these days, preparing to travel
can be scarier. Now all of a sudden I
need to go to a Travel Immunization
Center. What is that? Is it supposed
to prevent me from wanting to travel?
Well it almost did! It seems you
have to go there for immunization
shots and “advice.” What is becoming
of my “exotic, fairy tale trip?”
Who needs all this?
The conversation between the
doctor and myself sounded more
like the reading of a will. “I, Being
of Sound Mind and Body Do
Hereby Declare…” and that was
only the prelude to the shots and
prescriptions and advice. I have to
admit the doctor was adorable and
I would have liked to have traded
shots with him--at a bar--except he
was young enough to bounce on my
knee. Oh, well!
First came the shots. I was immunized
against Typhoid and Tetanus
and a few other diseases that began
with a T. Then I was given a prescription
for a zillion malaria pills,
which I need to take every day.
What’s with the tropical diseases?
The first and only time I ever heard
of any of these illnesses was when
I was in the third grade learning
about the Panama Canal and disease
bearing mosquitoes. Now,
after all these
years, I have
to worry
about them? I’m not
even going near the
Panama Canal! (I
know, I know – a mosquito
is a mosquito
wherever it is.)
Then came the
advice: “Be careful of
the food you eat to
avoid cholera, encephalitis
and dengue fever”
which sounds like
some kind of plague.
Wait! Plague! Doesn’t
that discussion happen
around Passover? The
last time I checked the
calendar, Passover is in the spring,
not winter. Next came: “Don’t
kick at rocks because there may be
snakes under them. Don’t eat salads.
Don’t buy from food vendors
off the street and drink only bottled
water. Don’t forget to take along
Dramamine, Deet, Immodium and
a pith helmet.” That advice seemed
doable, but the ensuing warnings
impressed me the most: “If you
get more than ten mosquito bites
in a malarial area, call Northwell
hospital.” What? From India? Is it
still a 516 area code? However, “If
all else fails, remember to have the
phone number of a private ambulance
service in each country you
visit.” How does one yell for help
in Indonesian and Sri Lankan? In
a moment of lucidity, I started to
think two things, “Is this supposed
to be an exotic trip or a medical
symposium and why am I paying
a small fortune to pick up these
diseases in a strange land when I
can walk through some neighborhoods
right here in New York and
get the same things?” You really
can’t blame me.
Okay! Finally, we’re ready to
travel. I plan to have my usual two
oversized suitcases with me. The
largest one, as you have been told
in the past, is now filled with all of
my medicines. What’s different is
that the carry-on is now being used
for my medical equipment and my
clothes are now being transported
in my back-pack. Don’t laugh. I’ve
since discovered it’s good for my
posture.
After diligent research, my friends
and I found a great airline carrier
– “A Wing and A Prayer.” Its appeal
is that it’s half the price of most
planes flying that route. So, we
booked business class. Why worry?
(The rest of this story is based
purely on imagination, not fact. The
facts are difficult enough.)
How can I describe what we discovered?
The bad news was that
the discounted plane has only one
bathroom on board. The good (?)
news was that it was in business
class. Makes sense! You pay better,
you get better. However, was
business class supposed to be the
luxurious part of the plane, or maybe
in this case, called business class
because that’s where people were
going to do their business? I’m glad
I brought along my pith* helmet.
Did someone have a lisp when they
named this head covering? Let me
say, in that case, with one bathroom
aboard, a lot of people were going
to have to be pithing in their pith
helmet! Oy vey!
I noticed that someone behind
me brought his service animal with
him, a mini-horse. I was told that
mini-horses can be housebroken
and that they can hold their bathroom
needs for up to six hours.
In that case how could I have the
nerve to object? But I’ll tell you one
thing, the horse was going to have
to stand in line for the bathroom
just like the rest of us. No pith
helmet for him!
Another interesting thing I discovered
about this rock-bottom
airline carrier was that they didn’t
use radar. Instead they had a “land
detection dog” and its job was to
bark when we approached land.
The dog’s name was “Lassie.” This
wasn’t an easy job for “Lassie.” On
our way back to NY, instead of a
direct flight we were now scheduled
for 24 stops in 48 hours (or
was it 48 stops in 24 hours?). Not
sure! After the first dozen it all
became a blur. So, an additional
bargain added to our trip was that
on our way home we would have
the opportunity to take a world
tour even if it was only the airports,
and true to the movie, “Lassie” did
finally come home.
*Pith is the spongy white tissue
lining the rind of an orange or lemon
or other citrus fruit.
“FAR AWAY PLACES………”
December 2019 ¢ NORTH SHORE TOWERS COURIER 29