Finding Your Peeps

When you're thrown in a group
For a day or a week,
Compatriots are
The companions you seek.

You scope out the crowd
Or engage in a chat
And you know who your homies are,
Right off the bat.

It might be their style
Or their background or views,
But meeting them sure helps
Enliven a cruise.

It's possible there
Will be friendships for keeps
For you make a connection
When you find your peeps.

Vacation Re-Port

The bus climbs twisty winding roads,
The scenery amazing.
For miles and miles the vineyards lie,
Attracting all our gazing.

The sky is baby blue; the air
Is crisp and bright and clean,
The cypress trees a living version
Of a Van Gogh scene.

We have a tour and when we're done,
We sample tastes of port.
As we relax, I wish our visit
Wasn't quite so short.

But then we head back to the ship;
The evening will unfold,
Embraced by what in Portugal's
The river made of gold.

Going Through a Lock

The masts come down, the walls close in;
We almost scrape the sides.
The crewmen yell in Portuguese,
The hull's hard-working guides.

At most, an inch of space remains
Between the walls and ship.
The captain's likely bored, but it's
A highlight of my trip.

And then we're slowly rising
As the horn lets out a blast.
With masts in place, the light turns green;
We're through the lock at last.

We sail on down the river
Heading for the place we'll dock,
But I am glad I got to see
Our journey through the lock.

A World Away

I'm a world away from everyone
I love or I hold dear.
Yet still, I am delighted
To be situated here.

My usual routines are all
On temporary hold.
Each day is like a big surprise
Just waiting to unfold.

I'm breaking bread with strangers,
Both enlightening and fun.
Perhaps a few will turn to friends
Before the tour is done.

A world away's a perfect place
For anyone to roam
As long as there's a ticket back
To those we left at home.

Local Fare

Some tourists stopped and asked me
How to get to a café.
Their hotel clerk suggested it
And they had lost their way.

This diner is across the street,
A block from where I live
And so directions were, for me,
The easiest to give.

A nothing-special eatery,
Yet that’s where they were sent.
I guess convenience had to be
The hotel clerk’s intent.

I’m traveling this week to where
I’ve never been before
And hope that strangers help me out
As I’m off to explore.

And if I am directed to
A restaurant close by,
Most likely I will thank them
And give local fare a try.

The Run-Around

Ever get the run-around?
It’s really most annoying
And ruins any stress-free time
You might have been enjoying.

You go online or make a call
And then they start you bouncing
From site to site or man or woman,
All of them announcing…

“I’ll be right back. Can you please hold?”
And then they’re disappearing,
While muzak of the most obnoxious type
You sit there hearing.

The minutes tick away and then
Your pressure gets to boiling,
While language leaves your mouth that has
All listeners recoiling.

At last the problem gets resolved
Or that’s what you are hoping,
‘Cause you’ve exhausted all the tricks
Which you employ for coping.

Toast

I worried about the weather;
I worried ‘bout what to pack.
I worried about the things I’d have
To do when I got back.

I worried about the flying,
My health and all the like;
What never crossed my mind was that
The airline’d go on strike!

So now we’ll make our phone calls
To see what someone knows.
Last minute aggravation
Seems to be the way it goes.

P.S. Our trip may now be toast.
I’ll update in a future post.