Vacation Roundup

The pictures from my Milan trip one week ago are finally on the web (and by this I am insinuating that you should see them, especially since I took great pains to write descriptive captions for each and everyone one). Since I've been back, I've done nothing besides work and pine for my next opportunity to escape the "Ville de Merde" (or the locals' nickname for Toulon). Fortunately for me, my next vacation starts this weekend! Starting Saturday, I have a full two weeks of paid vacation ahead of me. I am currently in travel guides up to my eye-balls (aparently all that time I spend brooding and pining was not, actually, productive). Two weeks may seem like a long time for you stationary, non-migratory types, but for the world traveler with a wad of euros burning a whole in her pocket (euros do so ressemble play money, don't they?), time is not on my side. At the moment, I have committed to a full week in Barcelona, traveling with four other language assistants, and then it's on to Paris to meet up with Zoe and then head... who knows? Only problem is, I've got a gap of about three or four days in between Barcelona and Paris. I am (understandably, I think) loathe to return to Toulon. The city will be even more miserable since everyone (and I mean literally everyone since anyone who works get's time off at the same time as everyone else. That's what the french call "equality." It doesn't literally mean, in the democratic sense of the word, that we are all endowed with the same inalienable rights. No, it means we all go on vacation at the same time, probably to go skiing in the Alps, where we will all wear the exact same thing, and try not to become confused about who is who exactly, because we are all so very "equal." But, I digress...). Yes, it would just be me, and people who don't get off work, probably because they don't HAVE work, i.e. the homeless. But, my only other alternative, it would seem, would be to travel... alone. [Cue dramatic music.] I avoided the soul-searching question -- am I constitutionally capable of being in a foreign city all by myself? -- by doing some research. Google "women traveling alone" and there are lots of helpful advice columns and message boards (bordering on support groups) for women venturing abroad solo. Their suggestions include what to pack, ways to occupy your companion-free hours, and of course, staying safe. I read their advice, and now I'm back to the soul-searching question, only now it's a bit more fleshed out. Am I constitutionally capable of packing light enough to always have at least one hand free -- just in case? Ok. What about staying in a hotel room alone -- always make sure the person who knocks on your door is actually hotel personnel! Alright. How would you feel if someone propositioned you for sex -- it's not unusual to expect that a woman alone is a prostitute. Well, it wouldn't be the first time, I guess. But, usually I at least have a companion to laugh off the incident with me. Am I prepared to act as though I am the next victim of every person I meet, whether it be theft, rape, murder, or all three? How do I know the consierge at the hotel isn't really the mastermind behind a ring of internal organ thieves? What's to stop the man from driving the taxing from taking me to an out-of-the-way location and having his way with me? No! Not alright! Fear is the number one reason that keeps women from traveling -- it's certainly mine. Coming on the heels of V-day, and I don't mean Valentine's day, I mean the "V" that brought each and every one of us into this world, a day that passed sadly into history without celebration or acknowledgement on the part of the French, chauvinist bastards as they (mostly) are, I want to stand up and grab my suitcase and liberties in hand, and go wherever my heart desires and show my male oppressors that they cannot hold me down! But, then, I am forced to confront reality... Even if all the horrible things that could happen NEVER happen, could I even enjoy myself knowing all the while that they might, and they have (to other women). I don't know, dear readers. Are my fears irrational? Or, would I be a real Pollyanna to venture out alone?

I'll await the advice of my readership, of course. but as it stands, I'll probably still have to spend one miserable weekend in Toulon, deadbolt and chain securely fastened. And, that's why God created books, and anxious, introverted women who love them!