Travel Ruminations

My crochet hook was confiscated in Paris.  The agents assured me they were obligated to do so by the Americans.  The hook will be sent away to be destroyed.  This object was 1 millimetre in diameter and about 5 inches long but its pointiness led to its demise despite my obvious grandmotherly age, gentle protest and evidence of actually crocheting also in the bag.  While some people are stealing metal objects for the value of the natural resource, others are throwing them away.  Fortunately I had verified during my last trip that 1 millimetre hooks were indeed available at the local craft supply store in the US and was able to buy another one.  On my return trip, no notice was taken of this object. 

Sitting in the waiting room after going through the formalities for my return trip, I noticed a gloved agent going around the room proposing an object in what looked like a dog’s water bowl.  A man claimed it—apparently it was his toiletries in a Ziploc bag.  Such a fear of germs being demonstrated and yet their gloves could transmit anything from one person to the next!  They seem to be cultivating fear of our fellow man.

There was a bit of a wait at the second airport which lengthened as the plane was delayed.  I decided to eat a little something and went into a bar-grill type place.  There were many television screens showing things I didn’t care to watch but the sound system had on something else altogether.  I ordered hot shrimp.  They arrived swimming in a tomato based sauce accompanied by a few small thin slices of bread and a fork.  After poking at them a bit with the fork, I asked for a knife.  When it arrived, I realized both utensils were plastic.  Well, yes, I was in a “safe” area but have you ever tried to eat hot shrimp in a tomato-ey sauce with plastic utensils?  Fortunately, I had plenty of time and a locally brewed beer with victory in its name to wash them down. 

When I left the restaurant and returned to the airport gate, I felt overheated and wise that I had declined the waitress’ offer of a second beer.  After re-checking in, I got out a bit of chocolate from my backpack, well, I could almost have used a spoon, it was so soft.  I noticed other people fanning themselves—it really was too hot in there.

Meanwhile my two suitcases were on their way.  I usually try to travel light, but I wanted to take a few things that were my mother’s and we found an old suitcase to put them in.  I kept tossing little things in there, put in some photo albums and some odds and ends of yarn to protect the albums.  This is an old-style suitcase with the kind of locks that might pop open if hit, and then I had trouble getting it closed (I had to sit on it and wiggle and push for about 10 minutes) so I put several rounds of tape around each lock and also around the sides as it was gaping a bit.  When I recovered this suitcase, it had different tape, only around the middle, and a bit of yarn was sticking out.  I don’t know why they felt they had to go through my stuff.  I don’t know if any little things were lost; they would not be of great value but could have been of use to me.  I know better than to actually lock a suitcase; the little card they put in there when they inspect the contents says too bad if you locked this ‘cause we had to bust it open.  I guess I should be thankful they taped it.

 

Current state of suitcase:


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About djdfr

Daily life experiences by a Franco-American woman living in the Breton countryside form the basics of this blog. Gardening, watercolour, choral music, food, are some of my interests. I seek to balance the physical, mental and spiritual. I am a free believer praying from the Bible, the Qur’an and The Revelation of Arès. In 1974, with Jesus as the messenger, and in 1977, manifesting as a stick of light, Our Creator spoke directly to a man in Arès, France, named Michel Potay. The message is in the book “The Revelation of Arès”. It is a call for us to change, to practice love, peacemaking, forgiveness, to free ourselves from all prejudice, to develop our spiritual intelligence, the intelligence of the heart.

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