Kathy's Travel Tips My tips aren't nearly so practical as Kara's are, but they might be useful in some instances. Travel with friends. Have at least one friend travel with you. Not only are they good for company, but they are also very useful for watching your luggage when you need to use an airport bathroom. Smuggle Bunny. Try not to smuggle illegal goods into the country; you might get caught. If not, the guilt may make you crazed. Well, it made me crazed once. I went to Canada with Andree last August. Up there, Cuban cigars are not illegal, so they are sold pretty much everywhere one looks - in pharmacies, in supermarkets, and of course, tobacconist shops. My dad is a cigar smoker, so I thought I might buy a few to bring back for him. We visted a tobacco shop and I picked out three inexpensive Havanas. Back at the hotel, I carefully stashed them in my dresser drawer for safekeeping. I worried that they would get crushed or ruined the entire time we were up there. Thankfully, it was only a few days. But that wasn't the worst of my worries.

When the time came to return to the US, I decided to put the cigars in the top right-side breast pocket of my jacket. The wait to go through customs was interminable. I grew nervous, knowing that I would be caught smuggling these cylinders of tobacco into the country. I began to perspire. Finally, it was our turn through customs. The agent asked me, "Are you transporting any produce or tobacco products?" to which I replied, "no." A bald-faced lie. I could smell the cigars in my pocket, and hoped the Customs agent could not as well. I also hoped she did not notice the beads of sweat which had formed on my forehead and were threatening to roll down my nose and give away my state of panic.

"Welcome home," she said after inspecting my passport. I sighed in relief and thanked her. The cigars in question had no labels on them. Had they been found or had I admitted to carrying them, there was no way that they could be proven to be orginally from Cuba. I hope not, anyway... :::shuddering at the thought of the fines involved:::: Good thing Dad enjoyed them. That almost made the stress involved worthwhile. :) When In Rome... or any other European country, don't try to fool anyone into thinking you are a native. Especially in Paris. For one thing, even if you do speak French fluently, there is no way you can match the snobbishness of those people. Even *I* could not, and that is saying something. Public Transportation. When in a somewhat civilized foreign place, I recommend getting to know the public transportation system. (This of course does not include the city of New York.) Riding the Metro, Underground, Subway, or El can be a cheap and easy way to get around town. The bus system in Seattle is fantastic - the buses are always on time. (I think that it's run by German engineers or something.) My favorite public transportation system in the world is the London Underground, or the Tube. Not being able to afford a luxurious taxi for my many jaunts around the city, I instead chose the subway system. There is a stop almost anywhere I needed to go; if not on the exact corner, then only a block away. A one-day pass cost just a few quid (slang for Pounds Sterling) and was very useful for a power-shopper like me to get from Kensington High Street to Harrod's to Carnaby Street and back again. But not only was the Tube useful but it was also entertaining - street musicians, or buskers, inhabited each station, serenading commuters with any and all sorts of music. People watching is a must; London is full of strange, bizarre, and just plain ugly people, and they all seem to congregate on the Underground. Plus, the trains have insulated glass windows. Ok, you might wonder what is so entertaining about that. Apparently you have never caught your reflection in a poor-quality window composed of two or three panes of glass spaced several milimeters from each other.

I would usually try to sit in a window seat and pretend to watch the scenery go by. There is not much scenery at all underground. But as I looked at the window and moved my head slightly from side to side or up and down, I could magically change the number of eyes and noses that I have, distort my head entirely, give myself a Jay Leno-like chin (thus making myself feel thoroughly British). I would giggle at my ridiculous appearance in the glass...and I am sure other commuters thought I must have been right bonkers. Can I help it that I am easily amused?

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