Ursula and I are on a vacation in a faraway country, it's like in the American South, maybe Louisiana, definitely not in Europe. We are staying at a hotel that very much looks like an old, but expensively refurbished plantation home situated quite isolated in the midst of a forest. Since this seems to be a place de haute volée Ursula urges me to see to it that I'm dressed properly at all times. Although it's annoying to me I agree to oblige, but then we notice that we seem to be the only guests at this hotel.
We rent a car and drive off for a day trip into the hills above the hotel. It's a lovely hot sunny day, and we enjoy the views we get from several stops on the way. It's a long drive, and Ursula is worried whether we will make it back to the hotel before evening. All of s sudden the road isn't paved anymore, but is now gravel with large dice-sized rocks, and the car has trouble moving on. Finally I can hardly get the car to move any further. We're in a clearance on top of a hill. There's a fantastic view over the valley, a vast, very swampy landscape, it's sundown, and black clouds are hanging low in the valley announcing a tremendous storm. That's where we're headed to.
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