Sunday, June 27, 2010

The Trip Begins... (a blog preview)

Barcelona, Spain, March 2010

I exit customs control, laden with little bags because I don’t own a proper suitcase. I’ve got a small, wheeled number, a bulky suede overnight bag hoisted over one shoulder and a computer/book bag slung over the other. My walk is ungainly as I try to tug, roll, and keep my balance. Of course, none of the bags matches: one is royal blue, one brown and the piece de resistance (or the Peep de resistance) is Easter candy lilac. Who let me out of the house like this?! Did I not say I was going to Europe?! Like my mismatched bags, my flow-y yoga pants do not suggest chic but at least they show some planning (unlike the bags) in that they were chosen for comfort. (Gawd: I sound so American when I say that.) I do not look like a world traveler, more like a busker who makes balloon animals. Which is perhaps good because my traveling companion, who is waiting for me on the other side of the barrier, looks like a homeless person.

He sees me as I come through the cordon and smiles that sheepish smile/smirk of his. “I am not going to let on that I am happy to see her,” he is thinking. Somehow to show that would mean he’s given up some emotional control and he is loath to do that. Of course, he could just be laughing at how ridiculous I look. He is your basic twenty-something backpacker who has spent a month working on organic farms in Normandy and Brittany and who has just flown in from a week mini-tour of Eastern Europe. His hair is greasy and his jaw is sprouting reddish tufts last seen in a Dr. Seuss book but which he calls his beard. His clothes have that ground-in dirt sheen and he wears a mustard yellow knitted scarf that, I am later to learn, has not been washed since he got it several months ago and was worn throughout all of his farm chores, including the birthing of a calf. He is my son. And we are about to embark on a two-week journey together.

The next few blogs will be dedicated to my dinners with Andre… in Barcelona, San Sebastian, Lyon and Paris. If you’re thinking about traveling with your adult child, you might want to read these before you hit the “submit” button to purchase those airline tickets.

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