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nach 4 Wochen konnte ich heute endlich den noch fehlenden Dia-Film abholen. Hoffe, das wird zukünftig nicht zum Normalfall...
It's difficult for me to dissociate this photograph, and others I took that day, from recollections of illness. I've managed, touch wood, to steer clear of illness ever since I retired four years ago, probably because I am not so often exposed to contagion. There were two exceptions, however, each of disease contracted on cruise holidays. This was a particularly debilitating palsy resulting, I suppose, from exposure of my delicate northern immune system to beastly Mediterranean germs. It took me a month to get better. So here I was, groggily tramping around Valletta between sneezing attacks, and suffering from what medical dictionaries describe as "a feeling of lassitude". Beautiful place though, and I am dissuaded from returning only by fear of another bout of indisposition.
One of the few liberal impulses that come naturally to me is a liking for foreigners, but I am more ambivalent towards "abroad". Eschewing Fuengirola and Ibiza, my early trips abroad were to the near continent, but the further afield I went, the less enjoyable it became. It wasn't too bad if you could hire a car, but not understanding the public transport ...I mean, which bus stop did you wait at? ...the only means of getting around was walking, and one soon became hot, tired and footsore. Flying ...the ghastliest form of transport yet invented... was an additional horror. The pleasure of foreign travel seems to reside mainly in the anticipation and the recollection; the actual experience was often pretty vile. It is commonly said that travel broadens the mind. Can this reasonably be claimed of an all-inclusive two-week package to Bodrum? If you fancy a change from your own culture you'd be better off with a day in Weymouth, where there are more foreigners and you can return in the evening to your own stuff and sleep in your own bed. The missus talked me into two cruise holidays after I retired. For the first time in decades I became quite unpleasantly ill, both times. This was Mykonos. It was charming, charming, but one wearied of revolving racks of sunglasses and shops selling souvenirs made from olive wood (not a durable material) in alleys crammed with selfie-snapping crowds in tee-shirts and shorts.