It has been a trying week. At some point I will write about it all, but for now I’ll just say that I start a new job in 3 weeks and that I am very much enjoying my garden leave from my old employer. In the meantime a weekend away with good people (and happily completely unconnected to my work) was a definite good thing. There was much drinking, and even more laughter.
Compared to the unending misery of Auschwitz, the visit the following day to the salt mine was a joy. Except that I forgot I don’t like being in a) small spaces and b) underground. Apart from that, all good.
And so it was that we found ourselves on the return flight from Beijing to Shenzhen, considerably less drunken but considerably more travel sick (me). This was compounded on the ferry trip to Macau, which resulted in a happy ten minutes retching into a paper bag by the ladies toilets alongside other miserable travellers. Rarely has there been a more glamorous arrival into Macau.
After finishing the beers and pizzas, we finally called it a night at just gone 4am, agreeing to meet at 10am. Of course the boys didn’t show, so I decided to go out and explore. Plus I was very hungover and in need to liquid and sustenance.
Now here’s a thing – I can actually remember the moment I decided I was going to travel for the first time. I don’t remember all the details, but it was in High School Geography. We had a text book that had a picture of Hong Kong from a hillside. I looked at it and thought “I’m going there”. I turned the page and there was a picture of LA, with the mountains behind. I thought “I’m going there as well”. Continue reading