Now that we're home and things have settled, I really do want to tell you some stories about our trip. Since I fell off the radar, we spent 5 weeks in the UK and Ireland. We ate and drank and loved all over London, we visited the medieval church where Jeff's parents were married and we saw more than 15 shows in 5 days at the Edinburgh Fringe. We drove 1000 kilometers around Ireland and then drove some more as we toured the South of France and Italy. Our transatlantic cruise, of course, was canceled, but our insurance company did fly us home first class. There's nothing like afternoon tea at 35 000 feet. (And nothing like self-administering a needle full of anticoagulants up there, either.)
And then there's life after the trip. A return to Toronto much earlier than anticipated, subletting one apartment while renovating two others. Considering a leap back into the rat race, and then deciding to be a manny instead. And I haven't had an ounce of alcohol in four months. Yes, there are stories in all that, too.
But when I think of our trip, my memories of the places we saw and the people we met cannot be separated from the maps created by my dear friend Paul. A Technicolor blast fills my brain every time I look at them, which you should know, is often. They're are as important to me as any picture I took along the way.