I love the excitement and enthusiasm you feel as you eagerly pack for a trip to an unknown and exciting location. The excitement mounts as you imagine the beautiful new scenery, delicious food and fascinating locals. Sometimes the locale lives up to your high expectations, sometimes it exceeds and ever so often it lags behind.

One thing I find interesting about travel is the anticipation of home at the end of the journey. No matter if it’s one week or one month, the last day always feels like it’s time to go. It must be a psychological defense mechanism to make sure you actually do go home instead of deciding to embark on a new life in your chosen paradise.

With two toddlers, it’s even more apparent when this time arrives.
By yesterday, every last piece of clothing was covered with puke, poo or snot. Jake had decided he was tired of the strange food and went on a hunger strike, Ava’s skin was covered in dry patches and felt like sandpaper and Jake was puking after every morsel that went into his mouth as he was overloaded with junk food.

Today our 6:30am bus to the airport was a no show and we were fleeced for our final pennies by the Easyjet baggage police in Geneva airport.

Tired and weary, we happily arrived in St. Albans this morning. The baba’s were delighted to see their old toys and eat food they recognized. I am eagerly looking forward to lying on the couch and catching up on American Idol episodes.

Home Sweet Home!