Erika and I have said we think we’d have liked Lisbon a lot more if we’d gone there before Porto. As it was, we were high on Porto, and not ready to leave, so Lisbon felt like a bit of a letdown. It didn’t help that we left a fantastic AirBnb in Porto to go to a… not fantastic one. Sorry Ruth, we’re shooting 50% while you’re with us! Also, Lisbon is where I had one of my patented crashes,…
Paris is a city that’s always hard to leave. No, I mean, like, physically difficult to leave. The last time I was there, I had a flight out of Charles de Gaulle. I left the hotel 5 hours before the flight, and still nearly didn’t make it. This was on account of the train strike that stopped the train halfway there, throwing everyone out into the station and into mass confusion. On the bright side, I’ve never spoken nor understood…
“Oh, dear.” After traveling half the day, and lugging our bags up the hills of Montmartre, those were the first words Ruth softly spoke as we stepped into our new home for the next three nights. Erika and I immediately set about to doing what we do: checking out the bedrooms, finding the washing machine, exploring the kitchen. But Ruth was quite clearly stricken. “It’s just so… old, and… run down,” she clarified. Truth is, I don’t think Erika or…
