“Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.” Khalil Gibran

I detest goodbyes. I realise that most people find it hard to bid au revoir to loved ones, but I have a particular weakness for it. I cry – a lot. You know the blubbing mess in departures who appears to be bawling for no reason (if you look closely, there’s always one)? That’s me.

Every single time that I would head back to Dubai after a holiday with the family, I’d have to go through the traumatic experience of bidding farewell at the airport. And you know, we’re Greek, so invariably the whole family would always decide to come along. This is especially the case in Cyprus when my mum, stepdad, sisters, grandparents, and occasional village random would all join for one final Greek tragedy encore. The tears. The sentimental sweet nothings. The hugs. If emotions could be measured by a barometer, this experience would score way off the scale.

You would think that after almost six years of living abroad I would be used to it, but the sad fact is that instead of the whole process becoming easier, it’s actually getting harder. So since I booked my ticket earlier this week I have been dreading today. In fact, I’d been dreading it before I’d booked to leave, which I think is one of the other reasons that I kept delaying my trip.

But thankfully, the goodbyes are now over; I’ve shed the tears, I’ve felt the gut-wrenching misery, and I’m now sat in Wetherspoon’s at Birmingham International Airport enjoying an Amaretto on the rocks, waiting for my flight to Dubai. I’m going to miss my family immensely, but it’s time to say bye – for now.

The journey begins here, and I’m finally very excited for what is ahead. So join me as I raise my glass to travel, adventure, living spontaneously, and you – my lovely readers. I hope you’re all ready for the ride!

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