(Ladies and gentlemen, blogging friends, I must admit writing this blog yesterday afternoon in the middle of another day-long snowstorm which dumped–at least–another foot of snow upon our Little House in the Woods. Hence, this post smacks of Cabin Fever. You know, that crazy silliness you get when you’ve been cooped up in the house too long. Please forgive in advance anything that resembles giddiness, rambling or excessive dreaming…)
I am going to win a once-in-a-lifetime trip to Marrakech, Morocco.
You wonder how I know that?
Because every day for a week I have emailed an entry to Win the Big Trip in a magnificent travel sweepstakes. And shall continue to do so until March 31st, when a lovely smiling Vanna White-like employee of an Esteemed Company will pull my email address from a spinning wheel of names and telephone our Little House in the Big Woods to say, “Congratulations, Kathy! You’re going to Marrakech, Morocco!”
Sure, you scoff, what a dreamer! There are gazillions of people entering to win this trip. What makes YOU think YOU’RE going to win, anyway?
Umm, because I’m a blogger, and I will take all of you readers along, too! (Virtually, that is.)
Oh wouldn’t we love to see photos of Marrakech? (The appropriate answer required to support this ambition is: Yes, Yes, of course, Kathy, we are dying to see photos of Marrakech!)
But where, you ask, IS Marrakech?
(Wouldn’t you think someone who has been daily entering her email address to win an all-expense trip to Marrakech would know exactly where it is? Wouldn’t you think? OK, let’s guess. I guess that it’s in Africa, somewhere near Egypt. What do you think? This is going to be really embarrassing if it’s near Greece.)
OK, we are SO SAFE! Phew. Wiping brow. Almost humiliated in front of readership. It is in Africa. Please peruse the African map. Please say your prayers that Lake Superior Spirit finds herself in a Moroccan souk (you all know what a souk is, right? You’re savvy? A souk is–one moment please–a traditional market square) with Ms. Canon Rebel snapping wildly hence and yon, photographing marvels of acrobats and story-tellers, water-sellers, dancers and musicians. (Note to self: why is a water-seller a big deal? Must go to Morocco to find out.)
I would let you all in on the web location and promoter of this Magnificent Trip, but, alas. I would prefer your unmitigated support. Because, as we all know, if you enter the sweepstakes my chances will be less likely. And then the readership will not be fully entertained by Africa’s crowning glory and my itty bitty blog proclaiming its wonder.
There is one other problem. Daughter in NYC passed along the sweepstakes last week because she knows I am already salivating to travel again. It’s been a month since our trip to Nicaragua, darn it! Who knows when and where the wandering feet shall go next? One needs to dream, doesn’t one? One needs to plan future travel blogs, doesn’t one?
Back to the problem. The daughter enters me in the sweepstakes because, of course, she wants to share in the all-expense paid trip for two to Morocco. She wants to go as well. She passed along the tasty sweepstakes tidbit; she wants her share of the reward.
(I, of course, will oust her boyfriend if she wins the sweepstakes, suggesting that Mommy Dearest ought to accompany her.)
But what of Mommy Dearest’s husband? Wouldn’t he like to go to Morocco, too, since he could not fly to Nicaragua? Yes, he surely would. (Except if there are stairs or steps or mountains in Marrakech. His knees do not allow for climbing at this current time. We could postpone the trip until he has two artificial knees! Or he and daughter could duel it out, no, no, not a logical solution.)
I must win the trip, you understand, because there is very little possibility in God’s green earth or our bank account, that I would ever be able to afford a trip to Morocco. Although stranger things have happened. Did you ever hear the story about how I entered a Northwest Airline’s sweepstakes in 2008 and drove around virtual baggage carts every day for a month panting after some sky-in-the-pie prize? (Although the more embarrassing truth is that I liked driving around the baggage carts with increasing daily munching skill.)
Yes, yes, it happened! I recall it as a Pac-man like game in which we players pushed (or ate?) baggage carts, clearing the screen of carts before time ran out.
I didn’t win a grand prize to anyplace exotic, but if you keep reading, you might think that happened. I won a night’s stay at any Hilton Hotel. Yes, yes, I told Barry, where’s a Hilton Hotel within a day’s drive from the Upper Peninsula? We settled on a Hilton chain in Green Bay or Mackinac City, until the award arrived in the mail. It said THREE NIGHTS free at a Hilton.
Wow, I thought, this is getting good, and then set aside the award until an Appropriate Time to Redeem the Sweepstakes.
Then said daughter volunteered on organic farms in Europe. “Can you come over and visit me?” she emailed. Kathy laughed–what a thought, what nerve, of course we have no money to fly Mama to Europe!
When, suddenly, I thought, “I wonder WHERE you can use those three free nights in a Hilton?”
Sure enough–anywhere in the world.
To make this blog a tiny bit shorter (cuz I’m getting carried away now and typing so fast steam is coming off the fingers) I flew to Europe and we stayed three nights at luxury Hilton Hotels in the Netherlands. Almost all the other nights we stayed with old friends and new on-line friends and the entire trip (including airfare) cost maybe $1,000. (I could be completely wrong. It could have been $1,200 or $1,500, please do not quote.)
We even slept down the hall from where John & Yoko honeymooned in the Hilton in Amsterdam, yes, indeed, it happened, so don’t shake your head pessimistically and say that miracles don’t happen!
Excuse me. It’s time to enter the sweepstakes again. Only 27 more days to enter, you know!
Bet you can’t wait until we arrive in that souk and look for the water-sellers!
P.S. Don’t call me a Travel Hussy, please. I want to win this sweepstakes for you. OK, for all of us. So we can all enjoy Marrakech, which everyone knows exists in Africa, even though I’m still not telling where you can enter the Morocco sweepstakes…unless we can cut a deal about who you might choose as your companion if you win…