So I came home a couple of days ago and I am still energetic and alert. I think most of my jet lag consumed itself. For the first time in many years, I’ve slept for 13 hours straight.

I’m in love.

With traveling and dreaming again. I want more than this, and I’m not just saying that because of that euphoria of different places and people (well, maybe a little). I was determined to make this year the one that sees life-turning changes and serious adventures. Instead, I signed up for more contracts and bought an apartment. It was my one adult thing to do. Unfortunately, I think I missed again. I don’t care about what others consider to be the milestone thing to do.

The remainder of my trip in the US was more of the same. Toronto was a little better. A friend suggested a Somali restaurant but I got lost and my appetite was gone by the time I got back to the hotel. Montreal was crazy as usual and I really wish people would drive in their own lanes. And three cars in two lanes just doesn’t work. It is a beautiful city and I hope to visit again midwinter when the snow fall is at its most heavenly.

I landed in Valencia less than 12 hours after spilling the contents of my HUGE tote bag in the Montreal airport. Taking off your shoes, turning in/on/off your laptop, exchanging looks of pure evil with Quebecois officers while jetlagged will make you do that. I must admit, I was pleased when a young, angular Eastern European guy jumped from his spot and helped me regain a tiny shred of my dignity.

Pens, a magazine, loads of paper, computer wires and what passes for make-up came tumbling out but my prince charming got on his hands and knees to collect them. Wonder if it was that superiorly stupid grin from fatigue that he had mistaken for a damsel in distress look. Whatever it was, I was grateful and thanked him profusely. I even offered him a piece of my lemon cake but he shook his head. Then he asked in a very endearing, Borat-like accent:

“What he want with you?”

“I’m sorry, who?” Said pathetic old me with cake crumbs on her face and red veins in her eyes.

“Him, him”, he points excitedly at a shortish officer with bizarre Julius Caesar bangs. “He stare at you long time, what he want?”.

It beat me. I didn’t know what he wanted and I also didn’t want to pollute this nice young guy’s mind with venom (I save it for my blog readers…tehe). I didn’t want to tell him that I emit an oppress-me, kick-me-down-a-flight-of-stairs, and then make-me-miss-my-flight scent. Only the officer became bored with my vacuous look and moved on to the next fellow scent emitter.

Happily, I had a wonderful time in both cities but nothing like the few hours I spent in Valencia. From the moment I stepped into the airport, I knew I would love this city. Colourful, happy, and very animated people were everywhere. Our client was gracious enough to arrange for pick-up for everyone, I could not lug anything at all. I was the only member of the team who risked a shorter stay in Montreal (and DVTs) to have a few more hours in Valencia.

More soon.