There’s something sad and yet comforting about unpacking the suitcase. First, there is the toss,  get rid of the stuff that…. well has smelled better. Then there are the little treasures one picks up on the route to adventure. They say age kills adventure with wisdom and experience. I’ll let you know if that’s true when I am old and grey.

For me, travelling isn’t about the latest thing to see, it’s about unpacking a place, learning its history, mingling with the locals, going into the local chemist and grocery story to marvel at the diversity we share. You learn loads from the local grocery story, for instance, in St Germain Des Pres, there are mushrooms galore, tins and jars of pates,  and some awful packaged food, but what an amazing wine selection! In Provence, there was a section full of lavender goodies. In Holland there was liquorice, and a Nespresso machine just waiting to be used! Coffee was free! Oh, oh, oh, that is so lekker!!

Not forgetting to mention a hunt for Parrot Soup in Amsterdam!

Travelling is also a sad affair.  There are the goodbyes to family, friends, new and old. There is a sense of loss of what if? What if I stayed? What kind of life would I live here? The possibilities are endless, but..nothing feels as good as walking into your own door, creaks and all. It’s just like putting on an old wooly jumper that you just can’t let go to the charity shop no matter how many moth holes let in the cold night air.

Back at home….well for a week or two that is…