Fortunately this did not happen until after my birthday trip to La Scala, a conference add-on. Someone got many points for managing to get those tickets. Many. We saw a new production of Turn of the Screw featuring my old favorite, Ian Bostridge. I am trying not to think about what a short plane ride it is between Paris and Milan. Paris has opera too, after all.
So then I came home and fell in my own kitchen. Bare feet, slippery floor. Traumatic. It took much codeine to get me on the plane to St. Petersburg but I managed to fulfil my accompanying person duties. Okay, I skipped out on the receptions, but the Hermitage was calling to me. I live 20 minutes from the Louvre, not a bad museum, as these things go. I could still see checking into a hotel just across from the Hermitage and visiting every day for a week. It stretches over a few huge buildings and is a bit of a rabbit warren but, as you can see, quite an elegant one. The paintings we ignored to keep pace with our guide’s highlights tour would be treasures in most other museums.
No, this is not me trying not to think about how much it will hurt when I try to get up. This is some other lady in Lisbon. I was about accompanied out by this time but at least I could get by on aspirin. Lisbon was new to me. It’s a lovely city with fantastic weather. I gather there are severe financial troubles in Portugal but at least people aren’t cold. I only wish we had had time for fado.
There was enough going on in the last several weeks for several posts but, sorry, I spent most of the time on drugs. I can’t recommend it, not the fall, not the drugs. I’m in the PTSD phase — I actually have dreams where I slip, though I wake up before I land — so I should be able to get back on topic soon. My little country house might be developing into a full-blown country life. If things pan out, I’ll be meeting some interesting people.