Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Some people don't believe how utterly allergic I am to tall mountains.
"You live near the Swiss Alps! That can't be true!" they say incredulously.
My daughter caught this picture on her ipod driving home from Tuscany. It was the first time I had manifested so decisively against Alpine Oppression. Out of the Italian fields we drove, away from the wide open sea toward the Ticino Alps of southern Switzerland. And as we passed into the narrow mountain passes (that granted some say are breathtaking), I craned my neck to look out the front window.
"Ah yes...there's the sky...way up there...just a little patch...if I squint I can make out an inch of blue...how generous of them. For crying out loud!"
The car fell silent. All eyes on mom.
To my credit, I remained calm as I reached for the roll of paper towels. The Russian barreling down the road at 104 km an hour, I carefully ripped a strip of towel from the roll and tucked it behind my glasses.
"There. You see? Now I don't even have to look at them. Everything is as white as heaven. How serene. Don't mind me... carry on, carry on!"
I left my alp-protectors on until we pulled into town. And if you don't believe me by now... you never will.