I am pondering where Kay is right this minute. With no phone contact at all, I am left with just a sketchy written itinerary of where she will be on any given day. It does not even tell me whether she is sleeping comfortably in a hostel bed or surrounded by malaria-ridden mosquitoes in a tent. How ever did we manage before mobile/cell phones? I suppose my mother could tell me how she coped in 1960 when I went off into the sunset on a two-week primary school trip to deepest Devon with only snail-mail as contact. The teachers stood over us making sure we wrote our letters home dutifully telling our parents what we had for tea and sending our love. With the advent of mobile phones, we have been spoiled. We can usually reach our children with the push of a keypad and know that they are safe or what they are doing. So right now I am going stir-crazy with a vivid imagination. All I know is that yesterday she climbed this
in a thunderstorm (according to the weather forecast for that region.) Thanks to the internet, I can call up pictures of the place, the weather, the satellite shots and all. So I am not completely in the dark. Furthermore, Wikipedia and other websites will give me even more information that I actually don't want to know. For example, they say that this particular volcano still regularly spits molten lava over its sides and care has to be taken by tourists when walking over it, as their shoes can melt!! They also quote the whole region as being prone to armed gun attacks on tourists, though that has subsided a bit (a bit?), because tourists now take armed guards with them (what?). Now, call me a worry-guts, but I am now chewing my fingernails down to the knuckles. If the molten lava doesn't kill her, a stray lightening bolt or an errant bullet will. That's assuming a rabid jaguar hasn't got there first. Who'd be a mum?