See Me Now

Now that our departure date is imminent, I’ve begun tying up some loose logistical ends: buying bus tickets to Galway from the Dublin airport, for example, and figuring walking directions to our first night’s lodging. I admire people who can just strap on a backpack and wing it, but that’s not me. I want to know where I’m staying, how I’ll get there, and even what it looks like. Google maps, especially its street view function, has made this kind of reconnaissance easy. For our several night stay in Marseille I rented an Airbnb apartment, all accomplished online of course, without any real communication with the apartment’s host. At some point I received a confirmation email that included a link to find instructions for how to get in the apartment after we arrive. I hadn’t clicked until today and had assumed we would get a phone number to reach someone who would meet us and hand over the keys. Alas, I am so old skool. The link actually leads to a QR code which directs my phone to ...

We live in an area with an extensive network of bicycle trails, and we take advantage of them regularly. The Hubs and I are out there several times per week, sometimes together, but often with other friends or by ourselves. When the pandemic hit, the good/bad news (depending on your perspective) is that people dusted off their old bikes or hikers and hit the trails, eager to escape the confines of indoor Zoom work and classes. Good that we have such a great outdoors resource for folks, but yikes–we were swarmed by inexperienced new riders and walkers not knowing the rules of the road. Despite posted guidelines, as well as a fleet of volunteer bike patrollers, it has gotten treacherous out there: walking phone zombies wandering cluelessly into oncoming bike traffic, bikers not knowing how to pass or get passed and, worst of all, new e-bikes speeding along with little control. We’d escaped injury all this time until this weekend when the Hubs got taken out by an e-biker. The e-biker (...

Supposedly, it’s much easier these days to pay your way as you navigate other countries and currencies. I remember back when you might visit your bank to get a stack of Traveller's Cheques before leaving town. There was some ceremony in this excursion which, along with the British spellings of Traveller and cheque , imparted a frisson of foreign travel anticipation. At the bank you’d sign each cheque in one space as a teller watched. Later, when you wanted to use one to pay for a swank dinner at a Paris bistro, you’d sign again in another space on your cheque as your waiter watched. If the two signatures matched, the restaurateur had a guarantee of sorts that the issuing bank would honor the cheque. They came in a variety of currency types, were no good unless signed, and could be replaced if stolen. All in all, a decent system for low-risk cash carrying abroad. How quaint. Or course Traveller’s Cheques went by the wayside as credit & debit cards and ATMs became prev...