I’m sitting in a hotel room in Burlington, VT.  The view from my large window is beautiful.  Because of the cloudless day, I can see across Lake Champlain straight to upper New York state.  The ferry is running from the Burlington Bay dock just across the street from the hotel to who-knows-where upstream.  And the few sailboats on the water are minuscule in comparison to the expanse of water.  This beats Lake Travis in Texas, for sure.

What am I doing here, you may wonder?  Or maybe you’re not wondering because you have more important things to think about.

In 45 minutes I’ll be picked up by Everywhere Taxi service of Vermont and transported to the village of Middlebury.  I’ll be deposited on the Middlebury College campus.  I’m going “back to school”, and I don’t think I’m going to run into Rodney Dangerfield.

Middlebury College is known for their Language School.  In the summer, they offer 7 and 8 week programs in languages.  I’m enrolled in the 7 week French language program.  What distinguishes Middlebury from other schools is the Language Pledge.  The school has actually trademarked the Language Pledge.

On Sunday evening, I will sign a pledge saying I won’t speak, read, write, or listen to any language other than the one I am learning.  Yep.  I’m going undercover.  I won’t be able to talk to family or friends for 7 weeks.  This could be a blessing and a curse.

So, while Vermont is a beautiful state from what I’ve seen so far, and the campus at Middlebury is supposed to be lovely, I’ll be spending my time inside classrooms and the library.  And in my room crying into my pillow.  And sharing a communal bath.  And enjoying school cafeteria food.  This is the summer I’ve always dreamed of!

Some thoughts on Burlington before I leave:  I suspect that there is an international tattoo cartel operating in the city.  As I walked to the Rite-Aide this morning (to buy a fan for my dorm room), it seemed that everyone I passed was plastered in tattoos.  Especially the women.  The young girl at the coffee shop counter had two beautiful peacock feathers growing from her cleavage, fanning out toward her shoulder blades.  Her right arm didn’t have an inch of skin that wasn’t covered with ink.  The woman that I stood behind at the drugstore had two enormous bat wings across her back and shoulder blades with the inscription, “Bitch”, above the artwork.  This was also in addition to having both arms covered in tattoos.  It was graphic overload, if you ask me.  I kept thinking, “What happens when they get to be my age and the bat wings and peacock feathers droop?”  Are there tattoo lifts like there are face lifts?  There could be an industry for this if someone is entrepreneurial.

I’m anxious to leave Burlington–not only because I want to get to school–but mainly because I don’t want to be snatched off the streets, held down, and tattooed.  That is, unless I have a choice of tattoo.  Then, I’d probably have an eight iron printed on my arm.  I’m hitting that club pretty well these days.

A bientôt!

Debbie