Tourist bus

... in uniform ...

We have been gone a week now. If I am away from the hotel for 8 hours I have to be ready for the change in the temperature. A coat if there is a wind off of the water. A hat if the sun is beating down. A scarf if the wind is blowing through the streets. A bag for my passport, my pesos, my sunglasses, my travel maps and some hand cream. Low runners, cotton socks, orthodics if one is old enough and needs them.  My hair has to be done above the level of my collar, but low enough that it doesn't interfere with a hat. I don't think about any of important things at home.

Wyona also worries about dust.  She was energetically cleaning off the seats of the tourist bus before Greg and I sat down?  "Now why are you doing that for us," I queried.

She showed me her hand.  Pitch black.  "I don't know why I had to feel the seats to see if they were clean.  But I found out.  They are not."  And she continued to scrub.

Not everyone has one of their party going before them, making the way clean.  But Greg and I have such a person. 

Arta