I fell in love with Moroccan tea last week. It’s minty and sweet and green and delicious. And so, after only 24 hours of friendship, the precious couple that hosted us in Rabat gifted me with yet another perfect metaphor…
My teapot runneth over.
It just does. It has. Time and time again.
My dad flew over from Virginia to join me for the last two weeks of my trip. And like the rest of my 7.5 month jaunt, the time overflowed in all of the ways:
- Driving along the beach with the windows down, only to stop for happy hour with a view, feels like all of summer’s goodness. Perfection.
- The castle in Sintra looks like Disney came to life. Magical.
- There is no greater ‘office’ than a beach cabana in Portugal’s Algarve. Inspiring.
- A box of Crayola’s exploded all over Chefchauoen, Morocco. Fact.
- Portuguese bull fights are the most bizarre spectacle imaginable. Dislike. I❤️Bulls.
- The leather tanneries and hand-made fabric weavers and pottery artisans in Fez are mind boggling. Souvenirs.
- Germany feels more like home than I remember it feeling when it WAS home 10 years ago. Perspective.
- The Lowenbrau Haus at the Munich Oktoberfest on opening night is where sobriety comes to die. Lethal.
- I am now fiercely independent and so in that way, more like my dad than ever. Headbutt.
- Despite headbutts, the irony is not lost on me that I was inspired to explore the world because of a man who broke my heart. And I’ll return home with one who would do about anything in his power to keep it whole. Grace.
Portugal and Morocco and Deutschland in two weeks…What else would you expect when traveling with the Colonel?