As one (quite possibly the only) reader has noted, it’s been very quiet over here.
The main reason is that it’s never easy going from free-spirited adventuring back to reality. This holds particularly true when reality involves never-ending, weekly forecasts of email blizzards. Note to self: never, I mean never, more or less ignore your inbox for five months and expect everything to be ok. (P.S. if I owe you an email from long ago, give me a poke. It
probably got buried.)
I might be handling things better than some people, but I haven’t particularly wanted to dust off those months of memories and write about them. So instead I’ve been writing about Jennifer Aniston‘s beauty routine and giving your hair a spa treatment. Which tbh, pretty great too.
Today though, I wanted to share one of my favorite spots. Copenhagen‘s Nyavn is touristy as hell, and good luck grabbing a seat along the harbor once the summer season rolls around, but it’s also devastatingly charming. On my second trip here, I spent hours dangling my dusty shoes over the canals, killing time before catching my flight out. The sun scribbled gold all over the water and melted my Rajissimo cone (one scoop raspberry sorbet, one scoop hazelnut ice cream) so quickly I thought I wouldn’t finish it in time (obviously, I rose to the challenge).
It was a dreamlike moment—and I would have many more of these still in store—when I knew without a doubt that I had received an inordinate excess of luck.