That's right. I'm flying to Poland by myself. Ryan will already be in Poland, which will make him unavailable to fly with me. I'm not really worried about flying by myself. I've done it before. However, I do get occasional butterflies when I remember that I will have to switch planes in Paris and find baggage claim in Warsaw, when I speak neither French nor Polish. Oy vey! (I do speak a little yiddish. Will that do me any good?)
Ryan will already be in Warsaw, teaching a course at Warsaw University to Polish grad students with one of his colleagues. I will join him at the end of his teaching and then we're going to tour Warsaw, Vienna, and Prague. It's going to be an adventure, for sure, not to mention for my mom, too, who is flying out to stay with our kids when I leave. She assures me that she has no worries about managing the kids, but she is terrified of getting lost on the way to our mailbox. She comes from the land of wide, straight roads, and, well, we don't.
I've asked the neighbors to watch out for her, to offer directions and even escort her if necessary. The fact that there is a GPS in the car seems to bring her no comfort. The fact that the sun rises in the east and sets in the west provides no relief. The fact that I'm going to provide her with a list of addresses of any and every place she could possibly need or want to go offers her no solace. However, the bulk case of signal flares I ordered in the event of her getting lost is giving some peace of mind. I have also advised her to wear reflective neon clothing and to leave a small trail of breadcrumbs everywhere she goes.
I know it's not always wise to blog about upcoming travel. However, I am confident that I have taken all necessary security precautions. The house will be protected by our alarm company, our terrifying guard dog, and our short-tempered Samoan bodyguard, Mewannacutchoo.
Everything's going to be fine.