I’ve been out of the United States, as far as I know, only twice. Family legend is that when we moved from Schenectady, New York, to Pomona, California in 1962, the flight took us briefly into Canadian airspace.
To my knowledge, no jets were scrambled.
The second time was in the summer of 2006. I went with a group from Mount Mercy College to build houses for a group called Proyecto Azteca, a sort of Habitat for Humanity focused on colonias near the U.S.-Mexico border.
During that trip, we took an afternoon off and crossed into a small city in Mexico. At that time, you didn’t need a Passport to enter a Mexican border town.
Rules have changed and you need a Passport to go to Nebraska, practically. But, I’m ready. It came in the mail today.
Both Audrey and I now have passports. We can flee at a moment’s notice. We’re itching for some sexy visa stamps. From whence should such stamps come?
I’ve never seen Paris. Or Dublin. Or British Columbia. I’ve not yet eaten curry rice in Bombay, nor tasted a shrimp on the barby in Sydney.
Sometime in the next year, our first overseas flight should take us to the U.K., where our daughter and son-in-law and granddaughter will be living for several years. Dr. Moscou has a post-PhD (note, MA guy got it right this time) research position over there somewhere. Some town you never heard of because it’s in the U.K. and we’re in the U.S. and frankly we don’t give a damn. Except that Amanda and Matt and Lizzie will be there, so now we care.
Where else shall we go? Since seeing “The Motorcycle Diaries,” I’ve been interested in southern South America. Then again, I also recently enjoyed “Invictus.” I’ve never been to Africa. Finally, despite Celine Dion, I really like Canadian Idiot.
Oh Canada, our friendly frozen neighbor to the north, I hear it’s nice but I’d like to see it for myself.
Help me out, blog friends. Where in the world should Joe and Audrey go?