So I have been afraid of heights my whole life. It was a really good thing that our drive through the hills of Vietnam was in the dark, or I might have gotten out to walk. When I was little, we used to drive from Texas to Arizona which involved a lot of mountain passes, some of which were really scary because my Dad hated freeways and always took the back roads and I spent the entire time on the floor of the van with a blanket over my head yelling "is it over yet?" I had nightmares for years that Dad drove us off a cliff. Seriously. Years.
This is a picture of the road my Grandpa would always tease me that he would drive me down someday. I told him I would get out and walk. I threatened that a lot. But honestly, who would want to drive down that?
Fast forward to when I was an adult and Husband first took me to Hong Kong--a trip he had owed me for years after Korea tried to kill me and we didn't get to go even though we had tickets because I was in the hospital and then we went home to America. So he had this idea that we would take the funicular up to Victoria Peak. (Go ahead. Look up "funicular." It is actually a word. I'll wait. . . . Are we good now?) He thought it would be very romantic and it would have been, if I hadn't been sobbing the whole way. One well-meaning British gentleman looked at me and said "it's not that bad," and I seriously wanted to punch him right in his smug British face because that is the stupidest thing ever to say to someone having a panic attack. Of course it is that bad or I wouldn't be crying! Seriously. Hmph.
So when we went to NY last summer, I was looking up at the Empire State Building and it didn't bother me, which was weird because another of my most terrifying memories was driving in between the World Trade Center towers and thinking they were going to fall on me and no, that wasn't a premonition because I thought the same thing about the Statue of Liberty. So why didn't standing in the middle of Times Square frighten me anymore? Now fast foward again to Santorini where we took a bus up a bunch of switchbacks and Husband was certain I was going to freak out but I was just enjoying the view. And then we took the cable car down and I wasn't scared. At all. Husband was a little nervous, but I was completely fine and not bothered a bit.
See? Beautiful view, isn't it? It was really weird, but I seem to be cured. Who knew that sending your husband to Afghanistan could cure your biggest fear. Husband now says I'm ready for roller coasters, but I'm not so sure because there is still the whole nausea thing that I'm not sure would be helped by being whipped around, but maybe. We'll have to see.
My friend "Genevieve" is having a worse day than me. She has been experiencing the worst move ever. I told you that she was moving to Armpit, China, and it's not going well. First, the pilot wouldn't let her cat on the plane so her husband had to stay behind in Korea until they sorted it out while she went on with the 5 children, one of whom is a very tiny baby. Then the next day, she slipped on the ice and hurt her back. And she doesn't have a car and doesn't speak Chinese and is running out of groceries. So not fun. Genevieve, any time you need to run away back to America, you can stay with me and I will feed you all the chocolate you can eat (or all the chocolate I can't because someone should be enjoying chocolate.) Seriously, just come back and move in. The Dog will get used to the baby. Eventually.