47. A few days before our big trip

I typically get anxious before a big trip, but not this time. (So far.) Today I had two chores on my radar: clean off the card table in the living room (done) and go to REI to shop for a pair of pants (done) and return a bear vault—the smallest model, it's not allowed in the Yosemite backcountry because bears have been known to pick them up in their jaws and carry them away (also done: $78 refund, baby). 

I keep thinking: I've got all the bookings—airport shuttle, flights, hotels, car—printed out and in my blue plastic folder; I've got my passport. I've even got 40 colorful Australian dollars, from a long-ago trip. What more do I need? Even if I somehow lost my suitcase, I could pick up whatever I lacked in Kuala Lumpur—which surely is a shopping mecca? 

Tomorrow I may clean out the fridge. Put away the jigsaw puzzle that's been sitting on my desk for months. (One of our housesitters came by yesterday for "the tour," and he noted the puzzle with interest. So maybe they're into jigsaws. I'll get the place ready for them in that regard.) Do some dusting. (Dusting is one thing we're pretty bad at, generally. Oh! Look at the huge pile of insect corpses under those lovely floaty webs! I will be investigating all the corners tomorrow.) Vacuum.

The housesitter who came by, Josh, didn't flinch at the "lived-in" look of our house. So whatever cleaning up I do will probably be more for me than for him and his wife. Something I'd like to come home to.

I don't enjoy the travel part of travel. (That is, I don't like being in-transit. I love being wherever I'm going.) This upcoming in-transit day will be very, very long—and I'm too cheap to spring for business class. I don't get on an airplane to be comfortable. Maybe one day before I die, though, if I still have any money left (a dubious notion in this country at this time), I'll book a luxury flight to... somewhere. The last place on my list, maybe. 

What would that be? What is my list? It's certainly changed over the years, as I've checked places off and as my boundaries have shrunk. Because yeah, I find that as I age, I'm less adventurous. I hate that. I'm glad Kuala Lumpur jumped into my face and yelled, Come to me! And then nudged me into continuing on to Western Australia—which I visited some thirty years ago, but that was on a tour, and this time we're winging it. Wheeee!

What is my list? What places would I still love to visit?

New Orleans
Prague
Spain
Greece
Tasmania
South Africa and the Western Cape (this would be a good destination for that first-class booking)
Namibia (again)
Berlin
Japan (again: in 1982 we spent two and a half months there on our honeymoon; I bet it's changed and hasn't, both)
the Maritime Provinces of Canada, and also Quebec (both Quebec City and Montreal)

There's still some exploring to do. And I'm not getting any younger. These ten places, before I die. It's a mission.