Julia doesn't always know the way...

The Alps were out in all their glory. The country side a patchwork of color from beige hay to green vineyards.

We breezed through small villages with flower-filled window boxes.

The only problem. We weren't where we should be. Our destination was Marc's restaurant, a last second decision where to have lunch.

We had known Marc for years first at Marro where he was a waiter and than at the Frontier where he had been manager.

We, being Julia and me, had known each other for decades. We'd traveled together through Switzerland, France, Germany and Iceland. She is the driver with a sense of direction that rivals a GPS.

How she had made a wrong turn off the autoroute was a bit of a mind boggle except if you consider whenever we're together we talk-talk-talk and then talk some more. There's always things to catch up about.

Timing was only a minor problem, although Swiss restaurants tend to close by two. We'd called ahead, but we didn't want to inconvenience Marc and his staff.

"I think it's the next right" or left Julia would say. Her natural GPS had kicked in, but as the clock ticked, she did put on her phone's directions. In reality, we found we were only minutes away.

My sense of direction isn't. I can get lost going to the bathroom in my own home. I always get found, but since I've gone hither and yon, to recreate the voyage to a destination is nigh impossible.

I've always admired Julia's directional aptitude. I still do. But it is nice to know she's human and not just a pre-programmed GPS system.

And our friendship has created another memory.