What a difference a generation makes. When our parents were cut off from the world it meant that they were stranded in some out of the way place because of a landslide, or something of that import.
Last week I was cut off from the world. In my world this means no internet. No virtual way out. No email, no Skype, no Facebook. And worst of all, no access to an online thesaurus. Is there a worse fate for a writer?
An addict in need of a fix couldn’t have been more agitated than I was.
My first trip to Peru was two months long, and I think I spoke to my family twice. I was immersed in the experience.
My last trip to Peru was at least that long, but email and cheaper calling made keeping in touch easier.
This trip? Well, haven’t I discovered this great thing called Skype? I brought a computer with me, the hotel has WiFi and don’t I find myself keeping in touch almost daily?
Seems to me the world is getting smaller. Until the internet goes down.
Then I am cut off from the world and I am forced to face the fact that I am in a foreign country.
Wait, isn’t that the reason I travel?
Hmmm.
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