Can I Eat It?

Does someone own all these goats?
Are these tires taller than those potholes are deep?
What's this? Can I eat it?

For me, traveling is all about the questions.

• Is that really alabaster? (Alas, no: soapstone)


• What's frikandellen? (Ground sausages deep fried and dipped in peanut or curry sauce. Um. Yes, please.)


• How do you get an urchin spine out of a body part? (You don't, really.)

Sort of like Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, once the basics are handled (how much, how far, what time), up the pyramid I go (how long have you...? how old are your...? have you ever been...?).

And soon, the pinnacle - an actual discussion (what do you think about...?).

Curious? I'm the very essence.

Patient. Appreciative. At what point on the plane ride did that happen? I'm a traveling love fest. In Cairo, I realize there is no smile like an Egyptian smile: a fast, bright, dimpled invitation to get in on the joke, and I am smitten.

I like me so much more outside the confines of my suburban enclave, where I am testy with the Indian customer service reps for United. Who would want that job? And yet, I can't dig up a modicum of respect? Jeesh.

So, living overseas...would that more-patient me become more permanent, or slip away when the cable goes out for days at a time, as it did during our week in Bonaire? What if, instead of just missing the Mega Millions numbers, the outage caused me to miss a work deadline (or, worse! an assignment to travel to Palau for a month!). Could I have held my tongue and my temper?

That's the question.

Photos (c)Rick Collier (www.rickcollier.com) Take a look at Rick's site for more pics of Bonaire diving and Egypt dancing.