I'm baaa-aaaack

I'm sitting at Rolador on the Northern end of Beaumont St, it's 8 am and I've been awake since 4 to travel down to the place I just can't get away from.
A little pick me up in the form of their "Lychee Lounge" frappe is exactly what the doctor prescribed. It's fresh, sweet and bitey.
I open up my laptop, see $666 sitting in my bank account and quickly confirm payment on my travel insurance to put a dent in that unholy number.

I'm insured.
I'm going to Europe.
I'm so unbelievably excited in this moment that I bang my knee underneath the table and send my drink rocking from side to side.

Now if I can just figure out how to convince some lonely travelers to hike from Montenegro through to Romania with me, we'll have the ball rolling at an even faster speed.