It's been far too long since I left the country, not counting all the times I leave the country (and the planet) in my mind. I've flown to Oregon and Arizona in the past two years, which hardly counts as barely leaving the state. But in ten days I will be on a jet blazing across the sky to Europe and I must admit I am equally a bit fearful and excited.
Flying is an unnatural act: humans were never built to soar thousands of feet about their habitats. Wings, anyone? Nope. But some crazy person was determined to lift off of the terra firma and stuck to that dream until a flying machine was created, which then got bigger and bigger and possibly safer and more accessible and now we have the ability to have breakfast in California and dinner in a foreign land. (And by foreign land I don't mean Arizona.)
Off I go. Visiting Paris for a week, my favorite city. And then up to Copenhagen, of which I know very little other than what's online and in a guidebook. A new city always presents a quandary: should one read up on the place and scout out where to go, what to do, who to see? Or just wing it, arrive, get a map and start walking? I'm in that second camp. Copenhagen will unfold before me, what I see and discover will be great and what I miss will be unknown to me. All of that suits me fine.
