Several years ago my husband and I took off to Europe with a group of friends for a wonderful tour of Switzerland, Austria, Lichtenstein and the beautiful German state of Bavaria. If you haven’t seen this part of the world, it should definitely be at the top of your travel bucket list.
I always like to buy myself one special thing on a trip as a reminder of a place. Instead of useless souvenirs, I prefer something I can use or wear often to something that goes on a shelf or in a drawer already cluttered with things I don’t use.
Looking for such a treasure, I was browsing in a store in Bern, Switzerland, when I fell in love with a pair of crystal earrings in gold mountings. They were a little pricey, but since I was only buying myself one thing on the whole trip....
Then another woman on our tour joined me at the counter, “Oh, don’t buy anything here,” she advised. “Wait until we get to Austria or Bavaria. They have MUCH more beautiful things there.”
Well, I hated to miss out of a MUCH more beautiful thing, so I reluctantly put my less beautiful earrings back and left the store, anticipating our arrival in Innsbruck, Austria, the next day, where I would find something MUCH more beautiful than I had seen in Switzerland.
I did see many nice things here—wool jackets that you can’t wear in the South, Alpine cowbells for the cow we don’t have—but nothing MUCH more beautiful than my Swiss earrings.
Maybe the MUCH more beautiful things were in Salzburg, I thought.
In Salzburg I saw Mozart souvenirs, Sound of Music souvenirs, and cuckoo clocks that would have been the devil to get home on a plane. But no MUCH more beautiful earrings. The same thing happened in Bavaria later.
On the long flight home from Munich, earring-less, I had time to think about the advice we get in life. Some of it is good, of course, but just as much of it is hogwash.
I glad that I took my teachers’ advice about going to college. I’m glad I took my dentist’s advice about flossing my teeth. I’m glad I took my husband’s advice and took my cash out of the safety deposit box and put it in a checking account.
But I’m still mad at myself for taking that woman’s advice about my earrings. What did she know about what was MUCH more beautiful to me?
People who like to give advice are really only telling you what would be good for them. You are not them.
The guy who told me mid-way through my last diet that it wouldn’t hurt to eat a banana split once in awhile probably assumed I was a reasonable person who could get off her diet occasionally and get back on. I am not that person.
He didn’t know that one banana split would be the kiss of death to my 1000 calorie a day diet. After I took his advice, my diet focus was broken. I couldn’t look at another celery stick or bowl of fatfree, sugar-free, taste-free yogurt.
It was goodbye skinny jeans, hello Cookies ‘n Cream.
The friend who urges you to go out with her cousin may enjoy dating guys who just got out of the slammer for aggravated assault. Chances are, though, he won’t be your dream date.
The guy who leans over your table at Bubba’s Bait Shop and Buffet and tells you “You ortta get them stuffed possum livers” may not understand the delicacy of your personal digestive system.
In Gruyere, Switzerland, we toured a chocolate factory and learned the interesting history of Swiss milk chocolate. By the time we reached the last room on the tour, we couldn’t wait to taste some of the delicious candies arranged in rows all around a tasting table. We could have as much chocolate as we could eat! But with my overloaded jeans in mind, I was trying to be good.
“Oh, go on,” said a skinny friend. “It’s all free, and you’ll never have a chance like this again.”
That sounded that great advice when I reached the first pile of chocolate-covered truffles. But by the time I stepped up to the pile of caramel filled milk chocolates and polished off a dozen, I was beginning to feel the effects of my overindulgence.
Apparently there was a difference between all the chocolate my skinny friend could eat and all the chocolate I could eat. I think she ate about two pieces. I could have kicked her. But my pants were so tight by then that I couldn’t lift my leg.
Believe me, eating all the chocolate you can hold is very bad advice indeed. It definitely alters your wardrobe choices for the rest of your trip.
So I’ve decided that I’m through taking advice. The next time I hear “What you really ortta do is...” I’m grabbing up my crystal earrings with the gold mountings and waddling off in the opposite direction as fast as my big fat feet can take me.
