I am spoiled by summer. It is as miracle-embraced for me now as it was for most of us when we were six and had our first long, uninterrupted break from school; a break we’d previously been living but never fully appreciated until Kindergarten sounded the alarm and gave us a Monday-to-Friday routine. As a teacher, I still get that luxurious stretch of time. But now, instead of spending hours climbing trees, I’m climbing planes and getting the absolute thrill of seeing a different part of the world each year.
Who owes who in an expat/nation relationship? Does the expat owe their newfound residence eternal gratitude? Does their new country owe them for bringing over their mad dog skills? Or does the balance lie somewhere in between? (Hint: the PC answer is always in the noncommittal negotiated answer).
The caves were a-callin’. For years JD and I had heard about, and been interested in, the Phong Nha caves. The world’s biggest network of nearly untouched caves surrounded by dense jungle and Ha Long Bay-esq dramatic mountains, with a sprinkling of indigenous tribes sounded too exotic to resist. So we didn’t.