Grasshaff

M. and I decided we needed a travel companion who would fit the following requirements:

Number 1:     S/he would be seen and not heard;

Number 2:     S/he would remind us of ‘home’;

Number 3:     S/he wouldn’t mind bottoms of small backpacks.

Introducing Grasshaff!

And he fulfilled all our requirements for the following reasons:

1. You can press his belly all you want, but you won’t get a peep, wail, snort or deranged laugh out of him.

2. Grasshaff is Swiss German for ‘grass monkey’. It’s what M.’s mother sometimes calls his father. It’s supposed to be a term of endearment (at least that’s what she tells me). There is an Indian variant of this term that is also used with equal affection among members of my family. At any rate, as you can see monkeys feature prominently in all our homes.  

3. Okay, so the bottom of my backpack does not classify as luxury travel. But Grashaff knows that if he doesn’t like it he can get stuffed (ha!).

Follow Grasshaff’s travels on his interactive map!

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