Expecting the Unexpected

The Christmas I was in the third grade, Daddy decided to see if we could drive all the way to Costa Rica. We only made it to Guatemala City before car problems and Montezuma’s revenge forced us to turn around. But I will never forget Mexico in all its Christmas glory. On Christmas Eve, we were staying in a small guesthouse in a remote village. Groups of children my age came around  carrying branches that held nativity scenes. They would sing and dance for us. I was enchanted. In Oaxaca, I saw weavers and potters for the first time in my life. We stopped at a hot spring resort—the smell of sulfur still assaults me when I think of it. When I was in the fourth grade, Mrs. Jones taught us geography for the first time. I embraced all the lessons as we pretended to travel to Japan, India, Ecuador, Norway and Egypt. I even made a sari for myself. Our family would go on camping vacations every year to New Mexico so Daddy could fish the pristine waters of the Rocky Mountains. I loved follow...

After traveling solo for over a decade as a “woman of a certain age,” I have an overwhelming number of stories to share. (I won’t even mention the photos.) Is it possible to organize all this into some kind of book? This is the place where I will find out. Vignette by vignette, I will publish little sneak previews here. If you are a follower of my blog, CathleensOdyssey.com, you probably read some of these escapades over the years. But many more tales are like children running around inside my head—just screaming to escape. So, I will let them out to play on this informal blog. I don’t know how long it will take me to decide if the “book” is finished—or if it ever will be. Maybe you can help me decide. I invite you join me as I revisit 10 years as a traveler, story-by-story.