Cheers and thanks to Texans, Wyoming Mamas, and all who extended invites to stop by while “on the road.”
But I now confess that “road” was a slight misnomer.
I am in furrin parts. The only “road” portions of the trip were the three-hour drive to the airport in the dark in a storm (have I mentioned before that I hate to travel?) and the hair-raising drive from the airport to a B&B with a driver to whom my language was as furrin as his was to me. (“Donde you?” “Vengo Washington state, USA.” “Ah, Barack Obama, El Presidente!” “No, el otro Washington.”)
I had the opportunity to come here for next to nothing, checking out another potential “offshoring” destination. So here I am.
That’s the view from my room at a B&B.
Of course, there’s a resident dog.
Actually there are two resident dogs, but the second is hiding — horrified by the hyperactive toddler* belonging to the other guests (a very nice family determined that all their children will travel to Latin America and start learning Spanish before they’re two).
This is my room, where I’m also hiding momentarily from the toddler (and from more socialization than my hermitty heart is ready to handle, despite everybody being very interesting).
That first photo, with the fountain, mosaic, and miniature pool, is actually the middle of the house. Outdoors, but still basically the living room. The guest bedrooms border it, and we guests have actual walls, though not actual glass windows. The family that lives here comes up short in the wall department. Their bathroom and al fresco kitchen is at one end of the courtyard, and there’s a shady sitting room with a hammock at the other, both wide open to the atrium.
I’d find it rather weird to have strangers swimming between my TV room and my kitchen, but everybody here seems to consider it quite the usual thing.
I haven’t been out of this deliciously cozy courtyard home since arriving yesterday so sleep-deprived and travel weary that I could scarcely remember my name.
I intend to remedy that situation shortly. And will keep on reporting as long as the slightly iffy wifi holds up.
As I did last time, I’ll reveal the Secret Location after I return to “Barack Obamaland” next week. Meantime, you’re welcome to guess and I’ll probably drop some pretty obvious clues without even realizing I’m doing it.
*Is there such a thing as a non-hyperactive toddler?
Thanks also to the near neighbor in these furrin parts who offered to meet up, hang out, and tour around with me. I didn’t mean to snub you, as I hope you understand. You’ve been more than helpful. But I’m mainly here to rest. It’s been nearly a year since my life has felt like my own & I just needed a time without commitments.
Oh. And being warm. In March. You know, that’s a glorious thing.