So, I failed in continuing to post while away. Apologies. Travelling was harder than I thought it would be. My expectations were that, for three weeks, I would remain captivated by everything I saw and would be unflinchingly happy and enthusiastic all the time. Oh, how I laugh at my naive former self. I have been back in merry old England now for three days and I am still feeling the effects of excessive eating and drinking and insufficient sleep. (I actually spent an entire hour last night staring into the distance, only raising myself out of my stupor to put my slippers on and down a tepid cup of tea. This is what sadness looks like.) Of course, it’s not all doom and gloom. I had an absolutely amazing time and, given a couple more days of recovery, I would do it all again.
I cannot include everything I want to say about my travels in one stint and so, I will follow through with the plan determined in my last post – to read a book from every place I have visited, and attempt to also discuss my own experiences of the place. Each post will thus become a weird amalgam of book review and travel journal.
Next post: ‘Alone in Berlin’ – Hans Fallada
And now, to bed.