Got Bangkok to Montauk on lock.

There is this feeling I get when I'm about to land in a foreign country. It's an exhilirating mix of awe, excitement, and reverence. It's incredulity. I am where now? And I get to be here for how long? And I am so fucking lucky I might burst from joy?

I get that feeling when I look at our pictures, or when I pass the time checking out our former hotels online. This sensation of unbridled happiness, mixed with a twinge of sadness, for it's never certain we will return to any one place. (Except you, Cambodia. Oh, we will be back.)

Picking a destination is emotional for me, even though, J will assure you, I want to go everywhere, and see everything. Literally. Last night we watched a "program" (as J refers to television shows, as if it is 1956. It is adorable!) on Stockholm, Sweden, and I got way overstimulated and screeched, "The city is made of 24,000 islands?!?!! Oh my God, I cannot WAIT! We have to go, J. Immediately."

But we won't go to Stockholm next (even though I need to get there soon, to visit Uncle Kurt and get down with all the HomeValleys).

Dudes, we are going here in October:

Istanbul or bust, y'all.