Spur of the Moment
We were just going about our normal lives when a call came in from RCI: we had a week of time-share that was about to expire; wouldn't we like to use it somehow? Never ones to let something go to waste, we decided that it was time for another visit to Europe. But where could we get to on such short notice? France? Non. England? Nothing. Italy? Niente. Germany? Nichts. Spain? Nada. OK, where did you have something? Hmmm.... How about Austria? Where in Austria? Kaprun. I actually knew where that was: right in the heart of the Austrian Alps. So Kaprun it was.
But that was just one week, hardly enough to make the flight from California worthwhile. How about a quick look at Provence while we were there? I called Club Med and booked four days at their resort in Opio, near Cannes, and we were all set.
All set except that the bargain fares on the airline left one extra day that Club Med couldn't accommodate. A bit of time browsing the web and I was able to exchange a couple of e-mails with a lady who ran a bed and breakfast halfway between Avignon and Aix-en-Provence. Now we were all set,... or so we thought.
On our way
The flights from San Francisco to Munich were uneventful except for the fact that when the seat ahead of me reclined, it pressed a metal bar into my kneecaps rather painfully. The stewardess got me into an aisle seat where I could get my knee into the aisle, away from the seatback. She then slammed into it every time she rolled a cart up or down the aisle. The passenger ahead of me told me I should have flown in business class. I keep forgetting how disagreeable transatlantic flights can be!
(c) Copyright 2005, F. W. Schneider, all rights reserved.