A 37 day imaginary travelogue of a trip to Rome (with a few scattered other places such as New York). This is written to match the journey I am actually taking, and so each post is concurrent with the more or less actual day my wife and I are experiencing in Rome.
What day number are we on?:Two
Level of writer's drunkenness (in real life, scale of 1-10): Maybe two, if I'm lucky.
What am I eating (in real life again)?: Nope.
Map or picture?:
Any other notes/Status: Experiencing technical problems that are annoying re: pictures, but refuse to burden you by telling you that it's happening. I'm restrained that way.
Wow, wasn't it just yesterday that I was regaling you with tales of my equanimity regarding travel? Today is considerably more complex. We found some eggs to eat somewhere that surprisingly were entirely worth the 3,500 percent New York mark up. In almost all cases there are few horrors equal to the life of industrial food animals. However the chickens providing these eggs somehow dodged all that to live exquisite lives. We should live lives like that. And we will, if we are very good and keep working our way up the Karmic chain.
Of course, I'm sure one can do even better in this world than having one's eggs stolen. I'm pretty sure there's always room up that Karmic chain, even from chickens.
The airplane food wasn't as good. And the airplane seats have gotten even smaller. I'm pretty sure the seats are growing smaller even as I write. And that is how we end day 2, over the same Atlantic where the Titanic sunk, amid shrinking seats, racing into Europe and dawn.