Tripping

Some hope for a Euroweekend here and there, and then there’s me, running a constant string of Euroweekdays.

Sipping Rize tea and crunching olives at an Istanbul airport lounge, killing time to move across the continent before midnight. This is one of my favourite cities; I’m leaving after having fun exploring bazaars and practising haggling in the best tradition of Monty Python.

Flight, ride, short sleep, another lounge or two and I’m in Gdańsk. Taking photos of the city which rose from the ashes like a Phoenix, I am more on my own than in a company; I only have a single serious business conversation in two days and nights, dining in a fancy Michelin restaurant overlooking the city. Hope that the message has landed.

I close my eyes and land someplace else again.

Playing badminton and getting to bed early for a week before I’m off again.

Taxi, lounge, flight, Barcelona, taxi, hotel. Paella with shrimps and sangria time. Days seem a bit longer here, summer is still summering, the sun is sunning, and I spend evenings in and by the pool.

One more dinner and I’m off again. Almost. A thunderstorm is thrashing the city and my red-eye flight is cancelled. So is the rebooked one. Third time’s a charm, so I finally fly back across the Alps. Just missed a series of meetings in Warsaw.

It’s cold, it’s autumny, it’s moody and so am I; driven to the office straight from the airport. I’m more tired than I hoped I’d be, but there’s still dinner to attend. Shaking hands, drinking water, eating salmon.

Two more badminton matches and I’m taking photos in Stockholm harbour. A day in the boardroom and an evening playing pool and darts.

Off again. Munching strudel in the lounge at Vienna airport and composing a long list of things to take to and do in Prague. A weekend spa getaway and I’m in Vienna again. And then a lunch in Maribor, a coffee and tiramisu in Trieste and two days and nights on the Croatian coast.

A quick day organising work at my weekend house and back to Barcelona. W, pool, meetings, walks, talks, dinners, drinks.

More flights. More meetings. A fleeting kiss and hug here and there. Phone calls every morning, she’s driving, I’m waking up.

We’ll ride along Highway 1 soon, my love.

Hopefully.