The thing about traveling is that things always go wrong. Don would argue that this makes things interesting- but being the control freak that I am, I find little to interest me but lots that irritates. Such as, discovering en route that I was being taken to the wrong airport, or finally arriving at the right airport only to discover that the man I had only five days prior committed my unwavering love too had left his passport at home. The fact that I had asked him three times if he had it was really the just the crux of my annoyance. They do say there is a fine line between love and hate and whilst Don dashed home like a scolded puppy, I sat and contemplated a line in my brother-in-laws wedding speech. It went something along the lines of: “statistically, you’re looking into the eyes of the person most likely to murder you”.
Needless-to-say, we made our flight to Costa Rica, which is lucky for Don really as I was intent on catching the plane regardless of whether he made it back in time or not. As far as I’m aware there was no clause in my vows saying I had to miss the plane on my honeymoon because I’d married a cretin. That said, nearly a week into our trip and I can hardly find a complaint- white water rafting down the pacuare river, swimming in crystal clear jungle pools, rappelling down waterfalls, relaxing in hammocks and body surfing in the warm carribbean sea. I could get used to this. The travel bug that had layed dorment in me for the past few years is officially back- bed bugs and flight bookings to airports further away from our next location than the one we just left included….