It’s that first morning.
The first morning when you pull back the curtains of your room and think to yourself, “We aren’t in Kansas anymore..”.
Most of my flights are overnight and lengthy so I’m usually arriving somewhere in the late evening or very early morning. It’s room, unpack and bed without seeing anything of the city or the place you are in.
And then you get up in the morning and realise there’s a heat in the sun as it comes up. A heat you don’t get back home. The city (I live in a rural town) comes alive before your eyes. Shopkeepers open up, the roads get busier (usually manic) and there’s a hustle and a bustle; a vibrancy about the place.
Through the windows you can hear cars moving and hear horns blaring and the general hubbub of life.
It’s that first shower and shave in a strange bathroom and the ritual checking of what you will need for the day; camera, money, hat etc. Picking the right clothes and realising that today you won’t be making breakfast because somewhere in the hotel that’s all being done for you.
It’s the first morning…and it’s magic!