People always assume that I get to travel to fabulous, far-off places for my job. And why wouldn't they? Just this Spring we have installations in London, Venice, and Korea - all places I would truly love to go. Unfortunately, there seems to be something about me that just screams, "Please send me somewhere with unbearable heat, oppressive sun, great expanses of sandy desert and air-conditioned malls." Is it my pale skin? My dust allergies? My propensity for sweating? I'm really not sure, but so far, the only places this job has sent me are Las Vegas and now Kuwait.
I'd be lying, however, if I didn't admit that's I'm just a little bit excited. I mean really - who gets to go to Kuwait? Of course, the correct answer would be that nobody actually "gets" to go to Kuwait. In fact, I'm pretty sure that there's not even a box on the Kuwait customs questionnaire to check "vacation" as a main purpose of travel. Regardless, having lived in the same place my entire life, I'm always facinated by being somewhere different - even if the differences include oppression of women, lack of alcohol and a concrete blast wall around my hotel.
From one exiled person to another, I feel for you!
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