Why do our Chinese visas have to go to Los Angeles? There are enough Chinese people here in Hawaii, enough travel to and from the Middle Kingdom, a desire to increase it, that there should be a consulate. I think we should be able to get Chinese visas at Wal-Mart.
Monday's New Moon seems auspicious. I hope my travel agent calls me. "Come pick up your passport. And bring $150 for the processing fee."
A week to go before I pack. Next weekend, a haircut and last minute shopping for anything I might need. (Lomotil, Band-aids, batteries.) This is beginning to feel routine. I love traveling, paring down my baggage to bare essentials (and I don't mean that complicated cosmetic that is touted as simple). On the road, you simplify, you live in the moment. When that plane lifts off, I leave all my cares behind. "Will you be accessible?" someone in my office asked. I hope not. The point is not to be. And I can use the Great Firewall as an excuse. Some years ago, when the Wizard was in Hong Kong regularly, he said the pleasure was the difficulty of communication. Now, with email, internet, and Facebook, the getting away is the difficulty. I want to vanish for a while. M'aider? Let me alone.