So we've been out of town for a while. First we were in Lake Las Vegas and then in San Diego. I'll be the first to admit I am not a great traveller, but I love to travel. I've already admitted my mad love for Rick Steves and anything else involving new strange different places, but I also have OCD which can make for a very difficult time when traveling.
I need my Rice Crispies, my chocolate milk with dinner, I need an Embassy Suites (preferably), and I need my HGTV to fall asleep to at night. If there is any interruption in my very detailed night time and day time rituals I get a little antsy and irritated. I can't handle not having my regular foods. I can't handle not having what I need when I need it.
So I can wish and hope and plan my European travels all I want, but when I think back to the two weeks I spent in France in 1993 all I can remember is how uncomfortable I was. I didn't think I would ever make it home. I lived on french bread and ice cream from street vendors. The hotels sucked and I hated the thought of all the weird creepy people in the streets who smelled. It was very traumatic in a way.
I'm torn. I would love to see the world, but I just don't know how well I could handle myself. I had a hard time at my sister's place last week. She was missing a few basic kitchen implements and a trash can in the bathroom and it was hurting my brain to think how she could live without those things. It just seemed unfathomable to me. It's weird little things like that that make my brain freak out.
Sure I keep it to myself and it makes it seem less strange, and yes it will be easier for me to travel when I'm older and not toting around small children, but for now I'll stick to planned vacations at Embassy Suites where I know the room layout and I know they have all the Rice Crispies I need right downstairs in the free breakfast buffet.