The Camino Gypsy Chronicles: Aren't There Flemish Mountain Lions?

On our honeymoon road trip through Italy, Hannes and I listened to an audiobook outlining the dangers of traveling in Australia - the salt water alligators, box jellyfish, poisonous spiders under toilet lids, even more poisonous snakes in your car's wheel well, getting lost in the outback, and believe it or not... killer seashells. While the book goes on for 20 days of driving as to the splendor and beauty of the country, all I could think of was, 'never ever will I ever ever go to that island,' as I replayed a nightmare in my head in which I was bitten by a venomous snake while walking without a map under the blistering sun of the outback with a souvenir seashell in my tote bag just waiting for its chance to strike.

I'm not normally a worst case scenario person. As my Belgian husband can attest, we Americans have an unusually, delightfully and often disturbingly positive outlook on life. 'So we can't afford to pay our doctor bills, and we'll have to foreclose on the house... next week's 4th of July BBQ is going to rock!' I do, however, draw the line at things that can possibly kill me, like winding cliffside roads and toilet seat spiders. I have never witnessed this paranoia from the other side of the aisle, though, until just recently, listening to my husband tell/warn/brag to his family and friends on several occasions while in Belgium of the many horrors that can befall one in the wild frontiers of California. Let's go over the list, shall we? And if you're a Californian yourself and don't by the end of reading this want to quietly (but quickly) pack up and move to safer territory (let's say, the Siberian tundra or the Middle East or some impenetrable jungle somewhere) then you, my friend, are one seriously tough cowboy. The list is as follows:

Bears that rip off car doors.
Mountain lion attacks - mainly of lone joggers.
Black widow and recluse spiders.
Earthquakes.
Floods.
Rattlesnakes bites.
Wood houses (aka, homes made of kindling.)
Skunks/possums/raccoons.
Great white sharks.
Poison oak.
Droughts.
Coyotes that roam city streets.
Hanta and West Nile Virus.
A former action movie governor (which can be either horrifying or unbelievably cool depending on which European you're speaking with.)

As he was listing these off last night over fries with stew sauce at his family's local frituur, I actually heard myself say, "Yes, the bears will rip your tent apart with you inside at a whiff of Chapstick, but don't worry, they don't want to eat you." Anytime you tell someone that a bear attack is no big thing, you're either badass or very very stupid. Of course, all that said, California is my favorite place on the planet, and other than a run in once where I mistook a skunk for a kitty cat, I have never spent time actively fearing any of these things, and will no doubt continue telling foreigners, "Yes, we have some earthquakes, but only, like, once a month."

So here's my point: next time you tell yourself you can't go to Africa because of stalking tigers or South America because of anacondas or Thailand because of tsunamis or the Mojave because of scorpions or France because of dubbed episodes of "The Mentalist", just think about your own backyard and how terrible it would be to miss out on such history, culture and beauty because of the 'what ifs' that will probably only ever stay 'what ifs.' So while I may not be booking my trip to Australia anytime soon, I am indeed considering the possibility, as I really would like to see Uluru Rock. That also reminds me... I need to tell my husband to add Mojave scorpions to his list.

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Some final pictures of our Belgian wedding adventure...

A typical Belgian frituur (fry shop) where we enjoyed our last meal in Flanders.

Dog and boss waiting patiently for the frisbee to be thrown back from the cow pasture. In case you're wondering, "boss" is the word Belgians give to a pet owner, which leads to whimsical imaginings of poodles taking clerical notes while border collies round up everyone for a meeting.