Tourism begins at home
There’s probably a rule: “Tourism begins at home”. If not, I’m claiming nibs. This afternoon, caught up in the spirit of the moment, we set out to explore, while never getting beyond a ten kilometer circle of our own driveway. On the list of things to see… gift shops. It’s the end of the season, and the product (often on consignment) either has to sell or be packed and returned to the owner. Perfect timing, given my new interest in bargains.
Not that I spent great sums. A few local magazines and books for the library, a bottle of hot sauce (it helps when the mid-winter chills set in, and we won’t be heading for a southern beach), some fudge of indeterminate origin. Nothing more than a nod to the local economy. We took the time to savour the atmosphere of places that were shoulder to shoulder with other “real” tourists a few weeks before.
And, in passing, talk with the staff in two locales. People I know, slightly. A chance to make my face more familiar before we hide away for a season or two. I tell myself that we won’t be snowbound for at least one hundred more days; then I remind myself that we could be snowbound, in about one hundred nights. With the weather today positively summerish (is that a real word), I was out in a tee and sneakers.
Stateside, Hillary now thinks that a cross border pipeline is too risky. There is still a grain of common sense in the circles of the rich and famous!
