Group Travel/Peg the PITA

There was a time in my life when I couldn't imagine traveling on a group trip. Then one year Tom and I signed up for our first Wilderness Travel trip, and I began to appreciate the benefits. The trips are seamless; all the logistics are handled, and the group is most often accompanied by at least one local guide who can open a whole new window to the country we are visiting. We compare notes with other people who also enjoy traveling around the world and usually meet at least one couple we continue to communicate with and often travel with again. Sometimes we are fortunate enough to explore a little-visited area of a country, one that is not readily chosen by hordes of American tourists. Such is the case on this trip. But first I must digress to my game of "Peg the PITA."

The one challenge of a group trip can be the presence of what I have so fondly dubbed the PITA (pain in the ass). On our Inca Trail trip, it was Richard, the bumbling former Sun Microsystems engineer who believed cups of black coffee would cure his extensive GI problems. Holly graced us with her presence on the Futaleufu trip, demanding special treatment on a daily basis and drinking so much wine each night that she would repeat the same stories over and over and over to our ever-patient guide. Stumbling down the rocky trails in his wingtip-like shoes, miles ahead of the rest of the group, with no idea of where he was going was Pierre on our Haute Route trip. And, undoubtedly, the award went to Jim K on Aconcagua.

I am an expert at pegging the PITA. All it takes is one inane comment, one whining complaint, or one piece of evidence suggesting totally insufficient preparation for the trip, and I've got my PITA. Often this happens within just a couple of minutes of the first group meeting. And once I've pegged the PITA, I'm never wrong. Call it female intuition.

Thankfully, not every group contains a PITA. My ears were cocked when we all gathered at the airport in Ioannina (e-oh-AH-nee-nah) the other day. Not that I hope for a PITA, but it does give the rest of us someone to whisper about or roll our eyes at. Nary a sign of PITA-like behavior, I am happy to report. We do have one who speaks with a very whiny voice but doesn't complain much, except to say that the portions of food are too large. And we have a husband and wife who are far too amused by their own supposed wit, but they too are pretty harmless. We number 11 in all; it is a good group. Tom and I are the youngsters so we are learning much about knee braces, retirement plans, grandchildren, and analgesics. The piles of vitamins and pills plunked on tabletops at breakfast are far larger than mine. And though some are stronger hikers than others, no one lags too far behind. Never be the PITA. 

On to the region...