Remember the photo I showed you of Jessica, the world's luckiest traveler? If you don't, here is another one:
Me and Jessica
in Townsville, NQ.
As I mentioned before, Jessica has the happy knack of simply turning up, all alone, in places she knows nothing about, and instantly bumps into old friends who take her around with them.
Thinking about Jessica got me thinking about how the world has Lucky Travelers - and I class myself as one of these, although not in Jessica's league - but that it also has Unlucky Travelers.
Miss Bubble was the latter.
We met Miss Bubble when we were children, doing a cruise around the top end of South America and the Caribbean Islands. Mum, who had a knack for spotting Lost Waifs, instantly befriended her and so she came into our lives.
To get a visual picture of her, think 35 years old, tiny, short hair so-blond as to be almost white, and a body that was almost as totally round as she was tall, and when we first spotted her, on her way to the Captain's cocktail party first night out, she was wearing a silver jump-suit all covered with sparkles. We kiddies started to giggle, "She looks exactly like a bubble." we said to each other, and when we found out her name was actually Miss Buble - like the singer - that was that! We all had to run away, spluttering with laughter. We weren't nice little kiddies, were we!
And, even after we knew her real name, we still always referred to her as Miss Bubble, although not to her face.
Anyway, Miss Bubble came from a small town in Middle America and had worked for nearly 20 years in a One-Hour Photo Shop in a local shopping mall ... and had never been anywhere else in her entire 35 years! All her life she'd dreamed of seeing the world, and saved up for it too, and suddenly decided "Carpe Diem" after seeing a special deal on a poster outside the travel agency opposite the photo shop, so booked this cruise as the first step of her planned adventures.
Her first step on foreign soil was some coastal city someplace in South America. I was a kid back then and I traveled all the time, so don't expect me to remember names. It's all a blur to me. Besides, I doubt any of these countries want me talking about them in the way I will be!
Anyway ... her first step on foreign soil was some coastal city someplace in South America. Mum, carrying Baby Jane on her hip, went with her and later said it started out so thrilling because Miss Bubble was deeply and viscerally excited and it was nice being around that. Together they walked to the local markets, and mum noted that Miss Bubble was desperately unfit. All red-faced, puffing and panting within minutes. Not good for travelers! "You really should have got into some exercise program before taking a trip." Mum told her. "But I don't like exercise!" said Miss Bubble. Sigh!
But they happily walked around the markets for an hour or so and, yes, Miss Bubble was also a stupid shopper; loaded down within minutes. Sigh! "You really shouldn't buy on your way into a place." Mum told her. "You don't want to be laden while sightseeing, so you should always shop on the way back!" "But it's all so exotic!" said Miss Bubble, and continued to buy more and more. Sigh!
This city, wherever it was, was famous for its cathedral, so, after the markets, mum consulted her map. "It's up that hill!" Mum said. "Oooh, I don't like hills." said Miss Bubble.
"There's an escalator to the cathedral just down that alleyway." a young man, lurking close-by, told them. "Oh, goodie!" said Miss Bubble.
"It's not here on the map." said Mum.
"But he's a local. He'd know." said Miss Bubble.
"Not all locals are honest." said Mum. "It's usually a better idea to go by the map."
"I don't like hills." said Miss Bubble. "I'll take the escalator and meet you at the cathedral."
Sigh! "Please stick with me." said Mum.
"See you at the cathedral!" said Miss Bubble and she was off.
Next time mum saw her ... well, she was screaming for dear life as she was dragged down the street behind a fast moving motorbike.
Seems that was the plan; rather than the promised escalator, there was a motorbike waiting down the pointed-out alley, and, as Miss Bubble puffed and wheezed along, laden with shopping, a young man riding pillion, grabbed her handbag and they took off fast. Miss Bubble, instantly losing her exotic purchases, wasn't willing to let go, and so ...
When she finally did let go, close to where Mum was standing, looking on in sheer horror, Miss Bubble was an awful mess. All grazed, bloody, bruised and so badly shaken-up. Mum, a nurse, checked her out and nothing appeared to be broken, so hoisted her up and took her back to the ship's hospital where she remained for the rest of the day, and so she never really saw anything of her first port of call. Nor did she ever get her many purchases back.
Next port of call: another place in South America. "I've learned my lesson." said Miss Bubble. "This time I'll just take planned coach tour. Stay on the bus. Stay with people. See everything that way." "Good idea." said Mum.
Yeah, yeah, since we're talking about The World's Unluckiest Traveler, it was again the worst case scenario: the bus got high-jacked by banditos up in the mountains, and all the tourists were stripped of everything, including their clothes, and the bus was driven off, leaving Miss Bubble and the others stranded high up in the mountains, totally naked and nothing but jungle for 10 miles around.
They had to make themselves clothes out of banana leaves and the walk down the mountain ... well, let's just leave it at that!
Oh, except for the bit about Miss Bubble meeting, during this nightmare journey, a fellow chubby Middle American, and, well, somewhere during this ten mile hike, the two of them fell in love.
I wish I could leave the story at that but ...
It happened somewhere in the Caribbean, on some island, when Miss Bubble and Chubby-Love were strolling romantically down some lonely beach, hand-in-hand, with a beautiful full moon above, planning their wedding, when they were set on by a gang. Chubby-Love had his throat cut, and Miss Bubble was gang-raped, had her face slashed up, and she was left for dead in the water.
Our ship had to leave her behind, obviously, but, before we left, Mum visited her at the hospital and said she never wanted to see anyone in so much emotional pain ever again. It was horrendous.
About eight months later, when we were back in Fiji, Mum got a letter from Miss Bubble. In it she said she'd learned her lesson and was never again going to leave her hometown and the Photo Shop. Not ever. She was done! "Some people just aren't meant to travel." she concluded bitterly.
Mum wrote a long impassioned reply, saying things like "The world isn't really like what you experienced." and "Please don't give up on your dream." and "Please give the world another chance."
After she was done, Mum read through what she'd written, sighed, then slowly ripped the letter in half. "I think Miss Bubble is right." she said "There are some people who simply aren't meant to travel."
Thinking about Jessica got me thinking about how the world has Lucky Travelers - and I class myself as one of these, although not in Jessica's league - but that it also has Unlucky Travelers.
Miss Bubble was the latter.
We met Miss Bubble when we were children, doing a cruise around the top end of South America and the Caribbean Islands. Mum, who had a knack for spotting Lost Waifs, instantly befriended her and so she came into our lives.
To get a visual picture of her, think 35 years old, tiny, short hair so-blond as to be almost white, and a body that was almost as totally round as she was tall, and when we first spotted her, on her way to the Captain's cocktail party first night out, she was wearing a silver jump-suit all covered with sparkles. We kiddies started to giggle, "She looks exactly like a bubble." we said to each other, and when we found out her name was actually Miss Buble - like the singer - that was that! We all had to run away, spluttering with laughter. We weren't nice little kiddies, were we!
And, even after we knew her real name, we still always referred to her as Miss Bubble, although not to her face.
Anyway, Miss Bubble came from a small town in Middle America and had worked for nearly 20 years in a One-Hour Photo Shop in a local shopping mall ... and had never been anywhere else in her entire 35 years! All her life she'd dreamed of seeing the world, and saved up for it too, and suddenly decided "Carpe Diem" after seeing a special deal on a poster outside the travel agency opposite the photo shop, so booked this cruise as the first step of her planned adventures.
Her first step on foreign soil was some coastal city someplace in South America. I was a kid back then and I traveled all the time, so don't expect me to remember names. It's all a blur to me. Besides, I doubt any of these countries want me talking about them in the way I will be!
Anyway ... her first step on foreign soil was some coastal city someplace in South America. Mum, carrying Baby Jane on her hip, went with her and later said it started out so thrilling because Miss Bubble was deeply and viscerally excited and it was nice being around that. Together they walked to the local markets, and mum noted that Miss Bubble was desperately unfit. All red-faced, puffing and panting within minutes. Not good for travelers! "You really should have got into some exercise program before taking a trip." Mum told her. "But I don't like exercise!" said Miss Bubble. Sigh!
But they happily walked around the markets for an hour or so and, yes, Miss Bubble was also a stupid shopper; loaded down within minutes. Sigh! "You really shouldn't buy on your way into a place." Mum told her. "You don't want to be laden while sightseeing, so you should always shop on the way back!" "But it's all so exotic!" said Miss Bubble, and continued to buy more and more. Sigh!
This city, wherever it was, was famous for its cathedral, so, after the markets, mum consulted her map. "It's up that hill!" Mum said. "Oooh, I don't like hills." said Miss Bubble.
"There's an escalator to the cathedral just down that alleyway." a young man, lurking close-by, told them. "Oh, goodie!" said Miss Bubble.
"It's not here on the map." said Mum.
"But he's a local. He'd know." said Miss Bubble.
"Not all locals are honest." said Mum. "It's usually a better idea to go by the map."
"I don't like hills." said Miss Bubble. "I'll take the escalator and meet you at the cathedral."
Sigh! "Please stick with me." said Mum.
"See you at the cathedral!" said Miss Bubble and she was off.
Next time mum saw her ... well, she was screaming for dear life as she was dragged down the street behind a fast moving motorbike.
Seems that was the plan; rather than the promised escalator, there was a motorbike waiting down the pointed-out alley, and, as Miss Bubble puffed and wheezed along, laden with shopping, a young man riding pillion, grabbed her handbag and they took off fast. Miss Bubble, instantly losing her exotic purchases, wasn't willing to let go, and so ...
When she finally did let go, close to where Mum was standing, looking on in sheer horror, Miss Bubble was an awful mess. All grazed, bloody, bruised and so badly shaken-up. Mum, a nurse, checked her out and nothing appeared to be broken, so hoisted her up and took her back to the ship's hospital where she remained for the rest of the day, and so she never really saw anything of her first port of call. Nor did she ever get her many purchases back.
Next port of call: another place in South America. "I've learned my lesson." said Miss Bubble. "This time I'll just take planned coach tour. Stay on the bus. Stay with people. See everything that way." "Good idea." said Mum.
Yeah, yeah, since we're talking about The World's Unluckiest Traveler, it was again the worst case scenario: the bus got high-jacked by banditos up in the mountains, and all the tourists were stripped of everything, including their clothes, and the bus was driven off, leaving Miss Bubble and the others stranded high up in the mountains, totally naked and nothing but jungle for 10 miles around.
They had to make themselves clothes out of banana leaves and the walk down the mountain ... well, let's just leave it at that!
Oh, except for the bit about Miss Bubble meeting, during this nightmare journey, a fellow chubby Middle American, and, well, somewhere during this ten mile hike, the two of them fell in love.
I wish I could leave the story at that but ...
It happened somewhere in the Caribbean, on some island, when Miss Bubble and Chubby-Love were strolling romantically down some lonely beach, hand-in-hand, with a beautiful full moon above, planning their wedding, when they were set on by a gang. Chubby-Love had his throat cut, and Miss Bubble was gang-raped, had her face slashed up, and she was left for dead in the water.
Our ship had to leave her behind, obviously, but, before we left, Mum visited her at the hospital and said she never wanted to see anyone in so much emotional pain ever again. It was horrendous.
About eight months later, when we were back in Fiji, Mum got a letter from Miss Bubble. In it she said she'd learned her lesson and was never again going to leave her hometown and the Photo Shop. Not ever. She was done! "Some people just aren't meant to travel." she concluded bitterly.
Mum wrote a long impassioned reply, saying things like "The world isn't really like what you experienced." and "Please don't give up on your dream." and "Please give the world another chance."
After she was done, Mum read through what she'd written, sighed, then slowly ripped the letter in half. "I think Miss Bubble is right." she said "There are some people who simply aren't meant to travel."
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