I’m not sick. I am feeling great. I’ve had an epiphany about my move abroad. I have officially decided on a country. And that country is.., NO COUNTRY! The new, new, new, new, new, new, new, NEW plan is be a nomad. Start at your favorite Paris hotel the K+K in the seventh, and then figure our a place to plop down for a month or two. Then got to Croatia or Prague or Istanbul for a couple of weeks and come back to Barcelona, or Paros or Sienna or Cairo or Dubai or Zurich. Then plop over to some other non EU country for a couple of weeks and come back.
When I was raised in Libya, I knew that we had to leave every so often for our visas. I didn’t understand what a visa was at the time. I just knew that my mom would tell my dad we had to “go everywhere” because we were going home at the end of his one year contract. So we literally went to Europe and Greece and Lebanon and Tunis for like ten minute each every time. Because mother wanted to go back to the US ASAP. But the money was good so we kept on staying for five years.
I was raised a nomad. I shall die a nomad in some foreign country. Perhaps if I am lucky it will be under some old European man with a pot belly who proudly wears his speedo to the beach.
Problem solved. Except, you know. Please send money. And by please send money I mean keep reading here. Because I will keep writing. But if you don’t like my whiney posts about me, this might be a good time to bail. And I don’t blame you.
But yeah, I am calling in sick. I think Pop Culture Kelly is going to write a Married to Med recap for you tonight. I probably won’t get that up until tomorrow, or like 3 am. I am in a very weird sleep cycle. For now, I am going to feed Banjo and drink my merlot Kumbucha cocktails.
Love you all! Talk amongst yourselves. That is code for OPEN FORUM but only for GOOD THINGS! Back soon.
PS I searched my photos for “happy” and these were two that came up.