July 26, 2014, 21:19, Marseille, France (or there about)

We set sail this afternoon from France after a day of sand, sea, and fun. We sat outside for the sail away, which is thankfully much less of a party on this ship as compared to others. So far, I am an MSC fan.

Did I mention we saw dolphins yesterday?

Although it is summer, there are, thankfully, relatively few children on the boat. Maybe I’m old. Maybe I just don’t care much for children. Whatever the case, I am very glad the boat is not run rampant with either LSU fans or children. Both are a complete nightmare. That’s the one thing about porting from NOLA that drives me crazy – too many rednecks and too many kids. It’s like living next door to my old neighbor with all her parties, trapped on a boat for a week without relief. But enough about my hang ups.

We are sailing toward Italy. As in the country. Not “Italian spaghetti in Carino’s” but like the real country. Like where they make grapes and wine and really good cars.

We had a great day today. I knew at some point I would cry. It was as we were leaving. I thought about how far we had both come. How much further we had to come than some other people. People with wealthy families whose parents went to college and got accounting or stock brokering jobs out of college. Etc etc. Not us. Others.

There is a long way to the top when you’re on the bottom, or so said the late Bonn Scott. If you don’t know who he was, look it up. This isn’t Wikipedia. He had many other sayings, and like others, was taken far too soon due to drugs and drink, but a dirty minded little man was he!

I love the people you meet on a foreign trip. Today I met a couple from Australia. They were celebrating their tenth anniversary. I told them we were celebrating Sweetie’s 50th birthday. And that that made him really old. My new friend said that it was one more year than some other people get. He told me a story of a friend of his who is “ageophobic”. She doesn’t want to age. She’s afraid of “those” birthdays. He said he told her, pointing his finger in her face, that she should enjoy those as she has made it one more year than some other people got to enjoy.

I think he’s right.

I’m glad I met them.

That’s one thing that one cannot get from a book. An experience with some mine from a different country, a different viewpoint, a different way of life.

Sometimes a new beginning.

Tomorrow begins my journey in Italy. I am ready for it. And I will be better for it.