Thinks Thought While Sitting in a Foreign Cafe

Money belts are a terrible idea.  They make you look fat and scared.

Do the locals wear them?  Do you wear them at home?  Of course not.

To assume that all foreigners are thieves is inherently rude.

And that thing that you do?  Where you carry your backpack on your front with your arms crossed over it? 

Paint a bullseye on your back why don't you?  You are so obviously expecting trouble, it makes me want to run out and mug you, just so you can get it over with.

Getting lost in a new city is all part of foreign travel.  And maps are so difficult to unfold and read.  But you aren't really doing yourself any favours by standing in the middle of the sidewalk while you try to situate yourself.

And those guidebooks? 

Should stay in your suitcase.  They make great bedtime reading back at the hotel.  No one ever intended that they be read, out loud, while walking past the destinations they describe.

And reading them in a shouty voice to your companion who is  trying to situate herself on an upside down map while strangers bump into her (again - I'm so sorry about that) really doesn't help the situation at all.

Just fold it all up and let yourself be lost in a new city for awhile.  You'll get home eventually.

As to clothing, please remember, it's courtesy over comfort.

And if you don't like foreign food/foreign customs/foreign people,  why are you travelling?

Bonjour Docteur

On our recent trip to Paris, we had occasion to call for medical help.  Alan's Dad had had a fall on the Metro escalator and also had a bad cold and a few other unmentionable complications.  Fortunately, there is a visiting doctor service in Paris, perfect for these situations.

We phoned them up and asked, wildly hopeful, "Parlez-vous anglais?"

"Non."

I rolled up my sleeves, took a deep breath and somehow managed to get through the next few minutes, telling the very kind, very patient woman at the other end that I needed a doctor for my 80 year-old father, our address, our access code and what the trouble seemed to be.

Whew!

Would we like a doctor who spoke English? 

Enthusiastic agreement that that would be a good idea.

The doctor showed up quickly.  Much, in fact, earlier than we had expected.  He checked Dad out and prescribed a huge bag of pills.

It was only later that I realized I may have inadvertently told the operator that Dad was dying.  Or possibly dead.

Note to self - a French vocabulary that consists almost entirely of food and cooking terms is of very little value when travelling with crumblies.