I am recapping, excruciatingly slowly, the two-week trip we took to South Africa last year. Here is part one, about our layover in Paris, and here is part two, about Cape Town. Expect me to be finished with this sometime in 2014.
First of all, I'm just going to put it out there right now: South Africa is my new favorite country. Apologies to Vietnam, which has now had to cede its title, and my condolences also to Paris, which I must ask—awkward though it is; we've got some history—to surrender its sash, gown, and baguette-shaped trophy, and hand over that personalized "Holly's favorite city" plaque to its new rightful owner: the wonderful, gorgeous, glorious Cape Town.
Okay, let's start at the gate. We should really start a little bit before the gate, in the line going through airport security, but I'm going to give That Person Everyone Hates On The Plane the benefit of the doubt and assume that he or she hasn't watched the news or got on the Internet in the last five years, because that is the only excuse he or she has for trying to bring through that 10-oz bottle of Banana Boat sunscreen.
A very exciting thing has happened and it is this: Sean and I have booked a vacation. We've been talking about booking this vacation for about eight months now and the destination, in that timeframe, has changed twice.
A few weeks ago, Sean and I went to Maui for the weekend. I think you'll find that there are a couple of crazy things in that sentence: the first being "Maui" and the second being "for the weekend." (Well, technically it was a three-day weekend, since we left early Friday morning and came back Sunday, but still; I think that's the largest amount of ocean I've crossed for the smallest amount of time.)
I told you all about the Royal Wedding and the spontaneous 12-hour side trip my sister and I took to Paris, but I didn't really tell you about the rest of my time in London, which is something I only realized yesterday when I found a batch of pictures on my camera I'd forgotten to download and thought "oh, right!
I am back from my trip to Savannah and Charleston and I am tired. Seriously, I don't know what's wrong with me: I am just KNOCKED. OUT. See how I put the periods between the words "knocked" and "out" like that? That is to show I mean business! That is to show you how serious I am about being tired!
Bagel, one. Purchased from a bagel shop in what I have affectionately come to refer as "my old neighborhood," given that I stayed in a hotel there for a week back in January. Got lost on the way to find it, walked ten blocks out of my way, wished I hadn't just thrown a sweater on over my pajamas and had maybe also included some supportive undergarments or something.
