I sold my boat. I had it for three years and with my older son moving to another island for Uni, she was just going to rot in front of our house.
I leave in New Zealand. Pretty cool down here, wouldn’t move elsewhere for good. Yet my other family, my first, are back there in Europe, most of them all the way up in Romania. I don’t see much of them, haven’t seen my only sis for ages and she’s got a baby now, my first nephew. There are a couple of parents I might miss and a bunch of ex-mates. So the boat chose to split-reincarnate herself in a few plane tickets.
NZ to Romania takes at best three long haul flights and two days, there are 12 time zones in between, it’s a lovely Climate Warming summer here and a bloody Cold War winter over there.
I looked for tickets on the net but it seemed my boat had not been big enough to fly my all the way and back plus to allow me a glass of vodka in Bucharest and a Kiwi beer on my return, three weeks later.
I shall tell you the story of my trip to the old side of the World and back. It starts with an Emirates booking.
