A disquiet feeling goes from my teeth down into my toes when I realize that it’s time to leave. It’s time for a trip – a new destination – and that means I will have to say goodbye once again. The house that became my home, our home, has to be cleaned and things need to be packed. Goodbye diners and drinks with the people we’ve met turn into a full agenda filler. People that became close friends in such a short time. Whether I’m staying somewhere for two week or for six months, it doesn’t really matter. Saying goodbye doesn’t get any easier, even though it’s not a farewell forever. The place where I have found my rhythm – a way to fit with the local style – now has to wait for my return.