No Cure Like Travel

Summer, in this part of the world, is fierce, and I don't mean in a RuPaul/Shakira sort of way. It is, therefore, accompanied by an annual exodus, of foreigners and nationals alike, to cooler climes.

Come July, you could throw a bowling ball down the center of the biggest mall here and only hit the cleaners (they don't get a summer break, but that's another story).

Even though Mr. Muscato and I hate to be such clichés, we, too are heading out, and about time, too. It's been a mad year, and this will be our first real break since last summer (glam mini-breaks excepted). So it's off to Cairo for us; then several weeks in the States (restaurant and going-out tips for Provincetown gladly accepted); then back via a final fling in Europe.

I am very much hoping the Gods of Technology are with us. Egypt, for example, in what should be a lesson to the region, offers relatively good dialup to anyone with a phone - and no censorship. Still, things may get a little quiet at the Café. I wouldn't worry, though; I'm sure it will be madness as usual over on Fabulon.