In approximately 9 hours, I’m flying to Iceland.
Well, in this case, the more appropriate question is “why not?”
For the first time EVER, the spring breaks at the various institutions where I teach actually coincide, leaving me with an entire week off. And since I have a habit of frequenting cold, snowy places during spring break (instead of say Cancun, like a normal person), I figured I’d go check out why Iceland is so “hot” right now.
Perhaps even more importantly though, I need to make certain that the man I’m marrying is okay with me up-and-going to a foreign country when I feel the need to put some travel back into my work as a travel writer. He says he is— I wouldn’t have agreed to marry him if he hadn’t—but saying and being are two different things. So I’m going.
And I’m going by myself.
Now if only my tear ducts would get with the program…
Because nothing says hip-and-cosmopolitan-jet-setter like lugging around the t-shirt your fiancé wore to bed last night because it smells like him, right?