Left the U.S. last night for Europe, Germany specifically, for the first time in 18 years – almost to the date. When we left back in April 1995, I had been away from the States for a decade. Caroline, on the other hand, had only been to America on two relatively short vacations, one of those so we could get married in Sin City – Las Vegas, Nevada.  *Please note: if my photos are not up to the quality I would expect, rest assured they will be fixed upon my return to the U.S. when I have a proper monitor to work on them with.

The southwestern edge of Ireland is seen from 33,000 feet.

A good part of my previous time in Europe was spent in a near-constant state of bohemian decadence. That past is not following me into the Europe of the 21st century. Back then, we lived on a divided continent. The Cold War that blanketed these lands would fall some years before our departure; in fact, it would play a small part in convincing me to move back to the country of my birth. And in any case, I tend to believe that it’s a good idea to move on from time to time – even if it’s not a physical move. Should you wonder how detente played a role in motivating that relocation, well, this is not an autobiography, so I’ll spare you the narrative.

Snow-capped mountain in the western English countryside.

So here we are a full 18 years later, recovered and still alive after our drift into debauchery. We reenter Europe with a burning curiosity in things not only defined by altered states of consciousness. More than ever, we are driven by all things relative to the intricate workings of life, history, science, and culture. We look through the unclouded eyes of rational clarity, well as much as one can muster after the antics of indulgence we thrashed about in. Today, though we are not coming back to dip our toe into that nostalgia, our return after this nearly 20-year hiatus is not for purely selfish reasons either; sadly, Caroline’s mother fell and broke her hip less than a week ago.

Starting our descent into London, England.

At the moment I wrote this, we were sitting on the outskirts of London at Heathrow Airport finished with our trans-Atlantic crossing. We were waiting for the short seventy-five-minute flight over the North Sea and France before landing in Frankfurt, Germany, the city of Caroline’s birth and the place we first met. Finally, at the Frankfurt airport, we rented a car, drove to my sister-in-law Stephanie’s place, and had some dinner delivered from a local pizza and pasta shop that she enjoys before talking into the middle of the night. Details were fogged over by jet lag and a blurred focus brought on by exhaustion. And it was through this sleep deprivation that I attempted to pen this. Edits for the photos may not be the only thing that gets repaired at a future date.