Once upon a time, I had the fickle wish to visit a Wadden Island. Hotel Dolores the accommodation, King's Day the decor and Ameland the location. A belated gift for my #birthday in January. The rented double occupancy tandem, sauna in the backyard and seas of the sea. That's where the idea arose to broaden my new year of life to include the horizon. Alphabetical, obvious. This is how an unforgettable Christmas followed in Barcelona, complete with a frivolous violin concerto and a smooth skating rink. Curaçao was born out of need - although that sounds worse than it was now. World champion France on the banks of the Seine around the fourteenth of June while we stay in arrondissement X, with the 'd' by dix. Very suitable as a headline photo, we thought.

Milan with an “e” which in this case means “European destination”. A short flight, but then you also have something. An ugly hotel, for example. Or the rear slum in the slums of Milan. A tram, that in turn. Eataly, and wine, lots of wine. Florence's' f 'for all the beauty there, and a first when it comes to running. Due to the fact that running is in our being, we started running there. Up and down the river, sighing as you cross. A full kitchen at my disposal - and a roof terrace!

The 'g' went to Athens, Greece. Short pants, weather and snow. View of the Acropolis from our AirBnB. Well located to visit the various districts of the city. Walking and also running where it all began. The Olympic stadium as a silent witness to all the effort. In the evenings, adventures with drinks (Alfred Hitch Cocktail Bar) and delicious food with obscure waiters in declining taverns.

With COVID-19 behind me and now that it's no longer Coro for and Corona either, I look back with joy on the festivities for my 48th birthday in Burgh-Haamstede. At my request, no longer postponed due to exit difficulties, adjusted to a special location within a proverbial walking distance. An environment to get lost after kissing him. This part of the Netherlands is also ideal for a relaxing run, and where people have a birthday, there is cake.

So all the trimmings. Now location I is coming. India, Ireland, Iritrea or Indonesia. Istanbul, Izmir, Iceland or Italy. Secretly dreaming about Rome. Three more weeks and we'll know. Wherever it may be, it is certain that we will raise a glass there, a second one, almost certainly and, between numbers three and four, will proudly and unabashedly look for a well-deserved snack to accompany all that goodies. That the eve of my birthday is bright and overwhelming during the training day after. That the baker gets impatient because I can't choose from all the cozy pastries and then notices that it wasn't necessary to get impatient because I end up taking ten anyway. Or eleven.

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