The Beige Republic

Reading The Great Mushnik's musings from her sojourn to the BRK (Beige Republic of Kansasstan) reminds The Great Plotnik that travel journals don't have to begin thousands of miles away from home. All they need is a home to get away from, and someplace else to go, for just enough time to meditate about what is different.

Once, when Plotnik and Ducknik lived in The Big Schmapple, they spent a weekend house-sitting for their friend in the Village. Though they'd only moved 40 blocks downtown, it was like waking up in a brand new city. They heard new neighbors screaming at each other, watched a new set of people having sex from different apartment house windows, saw brand new piles of poop steaming through the snow that had to have come from different poodles, smelled early morning Italian coffee cakes instead of sweet almond kolach, and learned to swear in Sicilian whereas their neighbors always swore in Croatian.

Once, Plotnik and Ducknik's neighbor, a woman with one tooth on the bottom that came in very handy with watermelon, made a wise observation about travel. Seeing Plotnik struggling home with a large suitcase, she said 'Been somewheres?'

This is the same woman who one evening saw Plotnik in a tux and Ducknik in a gown and high heels, standing on the stoop waiting for a taxi. 'Goin' out?' she said.

Kansasstan isn't so far away, but it's far enough. 'Is that house beige?'