Once upon a time, I was in Japan staying at a Kyoto ryokan in January. It was so c-c-c-cold I could see my breath. There was no central heating (as is often the case there). In the middle of the night, I needed to go down the hall to the toilet. I put on my kimono, which was about the size of a lady’s medium. It was comically tight. I slipped into my hallway slippers with the heels hanging over the edge. Dark and very cold. I shuffled on creaky floorboards down the hall and past balsa-wood-like walls. I didn’t want to wake anyone. It was really cold. When I reached the bathroom, I slipped out of hallway slippers and into the awaiting bathroom slippers. Just as small. Dreading the frigid toilet seat, I jockeyed my big body into position. I could still see my breath. Sat down gingerly. The toilet seat…was heated. I love the way different cultures can surprise us…whether in Europe or beyond. I’m heading off to Greece and Turkey tomorrow…anticipating lots of fun and, I hope, a few hot toilet seats. Anne and I will actually be on vacation (but I’m sneaking along my laptop). (By the way, I’ve enjoyed writing this blog far more than I imagined. I enjoy the community of travelers that is part of our conversation. I’m thankful we’re not all in agreement on things that I write about here. I try not to get involved in the back and forth, but I need to respond to some people on the last entry. Before you say that I favor children smoking pot, take a moment to understand my position, and the thinking behind it. When I try to inject European-style pragmatism into an issue we find controversial in our country, I do my best to share my thinking on my website. Simply go to the Social Activism corner and snoop around.)