Our Grand European Tour

August 10, 2023: Hip hip, hurrah! We’re here in Phoenix. Back from the marathon return by car to the airport in Frankfort and then flown direct to Phoenix by the heroically understaffed Condor Airlines.

Yes, our driver in Austria seemed to know but one word of English (“sorry”) and probably had never been to the Frankfort Airport, but — gloriosky — he got us there and we found the plane. It involved a lot of walking between terminals — international and national.
The whole event once we were dropped off was best captured by my asking an agent to whom I showed my passport: “Will I need to show this again?” Her answer: “Yes. Many times.” (She left unsaid the many miles of walking we had ahead of us.)
But yes. Back home with diarrhea and no sense of what day it is, how much time we may have lost, may have gained. But, of course, it’s hot. It’s overcast. It’s Phoenix in August.
Poor folks are falling over, getting stuck to pavements, going to hospitals with sidewalk burns. What right do I have to complain about a little confusion and dependence on Pepto Bismol. I’m home. And Bruce’s coughing has subsided. A little.
I can lie in bed reliving the river cruises from Budapest through Austria to our Frankfort departure. A two-week trip (Check out Viking Tours “Grand European Tour”) Two weeks away is all we can tolerate, apparently. And yes, it is still very hot. Last time I looked it was an all-time historic record of days over 110 degrees (31).
Who am I to complain? We have air-conditioning.