In Anne Tyler’s book, The Accidental Traveler, the main character writes travel books for those who must travel on business outside of the United States. In the book, he details where to find the nearest Holiday Inn or its equivalent. He guides the reluctant tourist to American fast food chains. The goal of his travel books is to provide as little change as possible. It is easy to mock the main character and the readers of his books. Still how much sameness is important on a trip?
People, no matter how much they deny the concept, are creatures of habit. Even the freest spirited person has a certain routine. Discarding everything familiar will lead to disorientation and a general unease.  How do we merge routine with travel abroad?

Examine the routine of your life and decide what you can take with you. I know I’m a tea drinker, a daily exerciser, and I read before bed.  I can easily take these things with me, especially the tea. Within the United States, it was almost impossible to get a good cup of tea. Often the hotel or restaurant could sometimes find a Lipton tea bag, but that was it.
A small baggie containing my various teas became a staple in my domestic travels.

Abroad, I’ve found a variety of teas that I want to taste. I’ve taken something that is part of my routine and expanded on it. Tea ceremonies can be huge in other countries. The high tea was definitely out of my price range back in Indiana. One hotel offered high tea for a hundred dollars. I decided there was much more I could do with a hundred dollars than drink tea. However, I’ve enjoyed high tea in The Chocolate Box Lounge complete with finger sandwiches and pastries for around ten dollars. I doubt any character in Downton Abbey received more conscientious service than I did. I took the comfort of the known and stretched it some.

Exercise is important anywhere you go even if it is only walking the stairs as opposed to using the elevator. Zipping across time zones confuses our bodies. Exercise keeps them humming appropriately. It provides that balance and fights off jet lag too. Hotels often have gyms even exercise classes. If yours doesn’t try swimming, hiking or possibly renting a bike. I’ve even done floor exercises in my room. This keeps some continuity of regular life interwoven with vacation life. There won’t be the hard shift when back home.

Not everything you did at home can translate to your new location. I have a pet at home, but I’ve been warned not to touch any the animals roaming the streets. They could be vicious and diseased. A trip to the hospital is unwanted. Decide how much new you’re willing to try. Don’t base your opinion on anyone else’s actions.

A news story detailed a first date of a couple who traveled the world for two weeks with no luggage. While they did have fun, they didn’t make a love connection. I can say without any hesitation that I would not be cool with a two-week transcontinental date or no luggage. It is way out of my comfort zone.

Comfort zones are exactly that. Outside of everything, you embrace as known and familiar are the uncomfortable zones, better labeled fear cesspools. One or two helpful people heard about your travel plans and gave you their expertise. There were tales of kidnapping, mugging, car accidents, becoming deathly ill, and pickpockets. Their helpful advice has you biting your nails before you even stepped onto the plane.

There is good advice and advice from people who had never traveled the country where you intend to go. Examples of good advice I’ve received include:

• Drink lots of bottled water on the plane and eat the vegetarian meals.
• Air travel is drying. Make sure to sure a moisturizer and lip balm in flight.
• Put the tiny airplane pillow in the small of your back for more lumbar support.
• Travel with tissues and germicide wipes.
• Make sure you have the appropriate outlet adapters and transformers for where ever you’re traveling.
• Read up on where you’re going to so you’ll know the customs and culture.
• Try to incorporate the native clothing into your wardrobe. (This makes you a less obvious tourist and observes cultural expectations too.)
• Accept that people will stare at you especially if you’re in an area that doesn’t receive many tourists.
• Be patient. Often those you deal with have just as a hard time understanding you.
• Finally, expect differences. It was the whole reason travel is broadening.

 
Know the possibilities, and then decide what new thing(s) you might try when you’re abroad. An author, whose name I’ve forgotten, said that who you really are is when no hometown locals are around to observe.

​The mother, with one child planted on her hip, managed to snag the speedy youngster about the same time Donna replied. “It’s not the dead body that’s the issue. It’s the location of it.”

A small gasp drew their attention to the mother who held the toddler against her body with wide eyes as if she and her brother would turn into brain-hungry zombies. Daniel, always faster on people skills, remarked, “She’s a mystery writer.”

“Oh.” The woman’s arm, banding her son against her lower body, relaxed as the hunted look left her eyes, replaced by interest. “What have you written? Maybe I’ve read something of yours. I’m a big mystery fan.”

Yeah brother, what have I written? Daniel recovered well, never letting his distress show even after caught in an out-and-out lie. “Oh, nothing’s published yet. Still, I’m sure an agent will pick up her latest book.”

“Oh.” The minor excitement at meeting an author fizzled out of her as quickly as air escaped an untied balloon. Her husband called, giving her the excuse to leave without any more conversation.
Donna watched the little family leave and head for a minivan. She’d be willing to bet it had a stick family on the back window complete with a dog or cat. “Couldn’t you have made me a successful author?”

The server returned with two thick white stoneware cups and an insulated coffee carafe. She placed them on the table without pouring as she headed off toward an arm-waving patron.

Daniel angled his head in the direction of the server. “I love it when a waitress fusses over me.”

“Yeah, you probably do, but I’m more concerned about the dead man in my inn.” It was hard to solve issues if you couldn’t stay on topic. She picked up the coffee pot and filled both cups. Sweetener packets had been laid on the table, but no cream. A saucer of creamer pods sat on the table the family had abandoned. Using a bent index finger, she pointed without speaking. Daniel retrieved them, proving their connection.

Daniel stirred the cream into his coffee. “Did you get a good look at the man?”

“I did.” The man’s pale face transposed over her brother’s, making her shudder. “He was face down, which made me think he might be sleeping off a drunk. When I couldn’t shake him awake, I ended up rolling him over. Even attempted CPR. Yeah, I got a good look at him.” The stranger’s face faded, leaving behind her brother’s contemplative one as he sipped coffee.

“Was it anyone you recognized?”

He sounded like the police. “Of course, it wasn’t anyone I knew. I could have ID’ed the man if I knew him. No one I knew. Just as well, too. If I had known him, then I’d have a possible motive.”

 Her brother glanced over her shoulder, causing her to turn as the server arrived with their breakfast. Daniel’s plate landed with a clatter. Luckily, the eggs had congealed enough not to slide off the plate. Her plate received equally rough treatment along with the added benefit of a glare for each additional side dish. Bowl of grits, stare, pancakes, even more put out, and the bottle of hot sauce, which came with an I hope you choke on it look.

No stranger to snarky attitudes, Donna smiled sweetly. “It all looks so good. Thank you so much for your excellent service. It was a delight being served by you.”

The waitress slowly backed away, picked up her round tray and headed for the kitchen. She threw a backward glance as she went.

“Donna, that was mean. You messed with her head.”

“Yep,” She stared at her hash browns, then the table. “No ketchup.”

Daniel reached over to the other table and retrieved a bottle. “Doubt that the server will come back now. She’ll probably have someone else bring us our bills.”

“I wasn’t scary.” She chewed on the mouthful of sausage, savoring the spicy pork patty since she had lost the conversational thread once she started eating. Fixing, eating, and even analyzing food numbered among her favorite activities. Lucky for her a fast metabolism and being on her feet all day counteracted her hearty appetite. Although lately, she’d noticed a tightness in her uniforms that hadn’t existed previously.

“Un-huh.” Her brother took a bite of his eggs before continuing. “Even though you were smiling, you had that don’t mess with me look in your eyes. The one that lets people know you’ll rip their arms off if they cross you.”

 She gave the ketchup bottle a vigorous shake without any result. “I think you got me a dud bottle.” The continual shaking didn’t help.

“Use your knife.” Her brother waved his knife. Did he think she couldn’t figure out what a knife was?

Her hand grasped the knife similar to a chimpanzee in some nature video about apes using tools. The knife served as tool, but not in the usual fashion. After several scrapes against the glass, ketchup trickled out in red splotches. The bottle exhaled, spitting out a bit with each breath. She looked at the red dots coating her potatoes when a realization occurred with such explosive clarity that it resulted in her volume increasing. “No blood.”

A couple of patrons turned their heads, and Daniel kicked her under the table. “Lower your voice.”

A spark of anger flared. She had a strong desire to tell Daniel what he could do with his foot and advice. She tamped it down once she realized a diner was not the place to shout her murder observations. In a sotto voice, she leaned across the table. “There was no blood. Nothing to indicate homicide, but they still put it down as a homicide. The body was still warm when I touched it.”

The fork dropped from her brother’s hand. “I lost my appetite.”

She hadn’t. Picking up the syrup dispenser the server actually brought, she doused her hotcakes. Something was missing. Apparently, the medics had come in and noticed it was a murder immediately. That could just be the blood leaving his skin. “Poisoning.”

​​

Chapter Four
 
A police cruiser made a leisurely turn at the corner before she opened her car door. No rush, no urgent matter to attend to, it was just time to move on. Apparently, the entire force wasn’t needed for the issue of an unknown dead man. A quarter of a mile later, the sight of a smiling, oversized egg perched on the edge of the restaurant roof announced her destination. As a kid, she used to confuse The Good Egg with Humpty Dumpty.

Daniel stood by the entrance, holding the front door open for two blue-haired ladies. One even patted his cheek. Donna chuckled at the action, knowing it would annoy her brother. She turned off the ignition, cutting the singer off in the middle of a word. Weird, she didn’t even remember turning the radio on. Her chaotic thoughts, including a mysterious murdered man and the possibility Taber found her attractive, made enough mental noise to drown out anything else.

“C’mon, slowpoke.” Her brother gestured in her direction. “I’m not going to hold this door open forever.”

Actually he probably would, but the diners inside wouldn’t appreciate the inflow of frosty air. Donna jogged to where her brother stood, but pointed the key fob back in the direction of her car. The horn beeped indicating the doors had locked. Good. She didn’t need any more surprises today.

They grabbed a table in the back, leaving an empty table between them and the next diners, where parents battled with three youngsters under four. Their primary goal consisted of keeping the children seated as opposed to being under the table. No worries about the parents eavesdropping. They would be lucky to eat.

A bored college-age female brought them water and laminated menus. She muttered something about a breakfast special before pivoting away. Donna didn’t quite catch the special, but she did notice Daniel’s perplexed expression. Oh yeah, a female he didn’t impress. That happened now and then. The menu hid her amusement. Could be her handsome brother had reached a cut-off age where he no longer appealed to the younger set.

“Lesbian.” Her low-voiced comment reached her brother as she had intended. He nodded once, concurring.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too.” Daniel worked his chin to one side, then to the other side.

Faded color photographs of huge breakfasts complete with hash browns and pancakes absorbed her attention. Usually, she told them to hold the pancakes, not feeling the need for such a substantial meal, but the unexpected murder had a way of working up an appetite. Probably would go with the pancakes then. Sure, she was feeding her anxiety, but it was hers. Made sense that she’d feed it.

Her brother grumbled about something. “Un-huh,” Donna acknowledged, without listening.

“Yeah, you see it too. I wonder what the numbers are.” Daniel squirmed in his chair, craning his neck to view all the diner’s occupants. “What do you think the statistics are?”

“What statistics?” She didn’t have a clue what Daniel was yammering about. “Dead men in vacant houses?”

He held out his flat palm next to his face shielding his words from the nearby lively children. “Lesbians.”

Her eyebrows lifted as she realized she’d lost the conversational thread somewhere. “Daniel, I don’t think there are any more or any fewer than previously. People are just more open.” What did this have to do with anything? If she were a cartoon character, a lightbulb would have materialized over her head and flickered to life. Her casual comment meant to save his ego started it all.

Her brother would be forty-three in two months, not old, especially for someone who just turned fifty. His job and a gym membership kept him in shape. As a natural blond, the gray wouldn’t show as much. As for his skin, a little weathered, probably from not using sunscreen as much as he should have. Still, he carried it well, and it gave him rugged appeal. He had a good five to seven years before most women would see him as too old to be interesting. Would it devastate him when his good looks no longer merited superior service or enhanced opinions? Would the halo effect, where people assumed attractive people were smarter, kinder, just better than average people, dim as her brother aged? She remembered reading about it. At the time, she wondered if ugly people were meaner, more stupid and vicious. Didn’t seem fair considering neither group could determine their parentage.

 “What?” Daniel swept a hand over his face. “Is there something stuck to my face? Toothpaste, a bit of shaving cream?”

Shaving cream? The man actually shaved before he came. No wonder he was late. “No, I was just thinking how lucky Maria was.” Good thing she wasn’t Catholic. That whopper of a lie would be a confessable sin.

A huge smile stretched his lips and reached his eyes. Her off-handed comment made him happy. Maybe she should lie more often. This might be the secret to getting along with people. Besides, it wasn’t a real lie. The server came back while Daniel was still beaming, but she kept scowling down at her pad. “Whadya have?”

Another flunkie from charm school. At least I’m not the only one. Her brother gave his order while inserting an inquiry about the server’s well-being. She ignored it. Daniel’s smile slipped a little. The server turned to her.

“I want the lumberjack breakfast, eggs over easy, sausage, wheat toast, grits, and pancakes. Bring hot sauce and a coffee pot, while you’re at it.”

The server scribbled down the order and turned without a comment. Daniel watched her go with a perplexed expression. “She must not be feeling good, or she’s still asleep.”

Was he still stuck on why he didn’t get his usual response? Seriously. “Dead man in my upstairs room, remember?”

He shook his head vigorously, trying to rid himself of his funk. “Of course, I remember. It was impossible to overlook the police cars and the medics wheeling out a body bag.”

“Wish you would have got there earlier.”

“Me, too.” He covered her hand with his warm one. “It must have been hard for you seeing the body.”

She kept her hand under his, which reminded her of their connection. Often as the older child, she thought of her brother as a guest, an interloper, not part of who she was. Her role was to look out for him, not terrorize him. She managed a few practical jokes, but that was the extent of it, especially when all he did in return was idolize her. Geesh, no wonder people liked him.

“The body wasn’t the problem. I see dead bodies all the time.” The mother wrestling her toddler gave her a startled look that had her amending her statement. “I mean, occasionally people don’t survive the surgery. A few stroke out in recovery.” She was sure that didn’t sound like a stellar endorsement for the hospital.

Chair legs screeching and childish laughter heralded the departure of the nearby family. One child escaped his parents and ran around their table screaming in the process. The curly-headed boy smiled as he lapped their table. Cute, probably another Daniel, who’d already discovered the power of good bone structure and great hair.

Want to read more immediately? Murder Mansion is out in paperback. Ebook form is coming soon.