Travel Bug

At the end of last year, Simon and I decided that we were going to take some time out to see a little bit more of the world before it all starts vanishing. This time around we didn't revert to our usual stick a pin in the atlas method of location hunting, as we both instantly agreed on South America. Almost like...adults, actually. And so, the week before Christmas we booked ourselves open return flights leaving on the 4th January from London Heathrow to Rio De Janeiro. And then forgot all about it.

When I say we forgot all about it, what I mean is we bought two Rough Guides, one to Brazil and one to Peru. And, er, didn't read them. We also booked a hotel for two nights in Rio.

SUPER. ORGANISED.

It's no wonder then that upon arrival at Terminal 5 on that icy Sunday morning, we turned to each other as the lady handed us our boarding passes and said: "What the HELL have we done?"

Truth is neither of us actually wanted to go. I know that's a terribly stupid and ungrateful thing to say, but we have a lot going on in our lives and, dare I say it...we like our lives. The thought then of leaving our friends and our flat and our real life for six weeks wasn't something we necessarily wanted to do, but felt like something we should do. If that makes any sense at all.

Probably not.

Anyway by then it was too late. We'd checked in and were already tucking into a massive English breakfast, stealing anxious/excited glances at the sky (don't know why) and at each other. We knew, after all, that this would be a trip we'd never forget...

Before we knew it we were on Copacabana beach. Simon turned away for ONE SECOND, and I acquired some new friends: