The day before our much-anticipated trip coincided with the Easter Bank Holiday Monday. The weather was mild, with no sign of rain, and all our bags were packed and ready. As is often the case before a big journey, I felt a slight nervousness — a good, productive nervousness stemming from the need to plan and organise everything properly. This trip felt different; I was slightly more nervous compared to previous travels, probably because our earlier adventures were confined to the UK, a place of familiarity and shared language. Those trips felt more relaxed, even when the timelines were tight. Now, with this journey, we’re more organised, heading to four major cities across four different countries, each with its own language and character. Some destinations are true mega-cities, which adds to the anticipation and excitement.
The night before the trip we stayed at Grandad Shay’s house. Shay kindly arranged our early morning transport — Dessie, the quintessential Dublin taxi driver, was booked for half four in the morning to bring us to Dublin Airport. The usual pre-trip nerves often set in, reminiscent of that Christmas Eve feeling from childhood.I pride myself on being organised and tend to pack light, embracing the convenience of a minimalist approach.
With everything digital these days, my tickets for Ryanair were safely stored in my Google Wallet — a relatively new system for me. Although I was initially sceptical about digital tickets, our last trip across the UK proved their worth. Having all the tickets in one place was truly a lifesaver. For this journey, my Eurostar, Ryanair, and Stansted to London Liverpool Street tickets were all stored digitally. Lisa my wife, ever dependable, printed off the remaining tickets and important documents for our train journeys, tours, and accommodation, neatly filed away in a Polly pocket.
There’s always a definite sense of stepping outside our comfort zone when on these trips — and that’s part of the appeal. Our itinerary takes us through the epic cities of Europe: London, Paris, Berlin, and Amsterdam — all reachable by train. The Eurostar from London to Paris is a long-held dream, and we continued from Paris to Amsterdam, then on to Berlin using the Euro Sleeper.
We planned to spend the longest stretches in Paris and Amsterdam, while London and Berlin will be whirlwind visits. Despite our familiarity with London, we were determined to discover something new, aiming for unique experiences in each city. Hop-on hop-off tours were planned for Paris and Berlin, given our limited time there; they’re generally reasonably priced and offer a practical way to see the sights.
Travelling with Dylan, my eldest, is always special. At ten years old, he’s at a transitional age, moving from childhood towards early adolescence. I hope to continue these trips with him for as long as possible. There’s also a practical side: at ten, Dylan qualifies for child prices on flights, museum entries, and train tickets, which makes a big difference. Once he turns eleven or twelve, prices often jump to adult rates. I want to make the most of these opportunities while they last.
This will be our fourth trip together. We’ve developed a strong connection, a nearly unspoken groove and mutual respect that shines during our travels. Dylan is energetic, has great stamina, and rarely complains. He truly appreciates the joys of travelling, exploring new cultures, and navigating city life. He loves using underground systems and understands the value of budgeting and practicality. We’re not aiming for luxury — our accommodations are always basic and modest, chosen for necessity rather than opulence. The goal is to rest our heads and be ready to explore each morning.
Our approach is always flexible, with loose plans for each city but an openness to going off the beaten track. This sometimes brings a measure of anxiety, particularly for safety, but it’s balanced by the wonderful moments of discovery. Dylan still holds my hand as we wander through cities, a comforting gesture that I cherish. He even keeps a teddybear in his bag — a beautiful reminder of his innocence.
The night before departure can be a mix of excitement and mundanity. Sometimes, you just want the day to hurry along so the adventure can begin. The evening, we arrived in Dublin early, around three o’clock, to a lovely spring day with a slight chill. The Grand National was on, adding a festive buzz. I ran errands for everyone, placing bets on horses — Lisa’s father backed “Better Days Ahead,” fittingly named for our journey. Strangely, there was another horse called “Better Times Ahead.” “Better Days Ahead” finished sixth, so he was paid out, while Dylan’s aunt, Ciara had backed “Soldier from Milan” which won the Irish Grand National at six-to-one, earning her a tidy profit. There was much laughter as we celebrated these small victories.
Sleep didn’t come easily the night before our journey, as both Dylan and I lay in bed giggling with anticipation. The excitement was reminiscent of Christmas Eve, as though we were waiting for Santa’s arrival. Despite setting the alarm, I found myself constantly checking the clock, unable to fully relax; adrenaline and anticipation often override tiredness, especially on the eve of travel.
Eventually, we rose from bed at quarter to four. The quiet of early morning lent a certain charm to the ritual of brewing a cup of tea. Downstairs, we exchanged hugs and kisses with Lisa, while the other children remained asleep. Dylan, ever enthusiastic, declared his excitement straight away. I double-checked our belongings and arrangements, ensuring nothing was forgotten.
Our taxi driver, Dessie, arrived promptly at 4:20, even earlier than our scheduled half four pick-up. He recognised us from our previous trip to John O’Groats to Land’s End and was keen to hear about our new adventure. True to form, he shared a few early morning rants, discussing anticipated strikes in Dublin due to fuel issues, and lamenting the Irish government’s spending priorities.
At the airport, we picked up a smoothie called “Strawberry Kiss.” The flight itself was smooth and uneventful, with a beautiful sunset as we left Dublin. Upon arrival in London, I nearly spilt milk over Dylan, but spirits remained high. With pre-booked Stansted Express tickets, we travelled directly to Liverpool Street Station, passing through Harlow Town, Tottenham Hale, and Bethnal Green.
Armed with a travel card, we navigated several tube stations and lines, making our way to North Greenwich via Canary Wharf. The Millennium Dome, now known as the O2, stood out as a landmark on the Thames. We opted for a ride on the cable car, taking advantage of clear blue skies that offered panoramic views of London. From the cable car, we could see Canary Wharf, the Shard, the Millennium Dome, and even London City Airport in the distance.
The cable car journey was both affordable and enjoyable, costing £6 each for a return trip—well worth the money for the experience. The ride lasted approximately 15 minutes in total. Dylan thoroughly enjoyed the excursion, and I found myself appreciating the unique vantage point it provided over the city.
After returning to Greenwich, we considered walking to London Bridge, though the distance was significant. Instead, we decided to use the tube again and walk around the city, making the most of the day. The weather and atmosphere made it a perfect day for sightseeing before our planned visit to Kings Cross St Pancras around four o’clock.
Our morning was capped with a stop at Greggs for a bacon, ham, and sausage bap by a lady with a distinct London accent—a detail that added to the authentic London experience.
After our cable car adventure, we made our way to London Bridge via the tube, making good use of our travel cards. At £15 for the day, the travel card proved excellent value, allowing us to hop on and off public transport with ease. The walk along the River Thames towards London Bridge provided picturesque views, with the Tower of London standing proudly across the road. The city was bustling with people, the sun was shining, and there was a lively, cheerful atmosphere as Londoners enjoyed their morning coffees and strolled along the riverside. Feeling slightly weary from the morning’s activities, we popped into McDonald’s for a strawberry milkshake to recharge, a little ritual that would repeat itself throughout our trip.
We continued to explore London Bridge, taking in the impressive structure up close and snapping the customary photos with the city’s skyline in the distance. From there, we hopped back on the tube and travelled to Westminster. Emerging from the station, we were greeted immediately by the imposing sight of Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament—an iconic image Dylan recognised from photos but found even more impressive in person. As we ascended the steps, Dylan’s curiosity was piqued by a statue of Winston Churchill. Our conversation delved into Churchill’s legacy, discussing his role in Britain during the Blitz and his leadership against the Nazis, but also touching upon his controversial history regarding Ireland and India. Dylan’s inquisitive nature meant our discussions often led to follow-up research in the evenings, whether about Churchill or the catacombs in Paris, which we later learned about through a short documentary. This pattern of curiosity and learning was a defining theme of our trip.
Walking towards Trafalgar Square, we passed Downing Street and reflected briefly on the current political climate, noting the changing nature of leadership in the UK. Trafalgar Square and Piccadilly Circus served as central points for our exploration, both bustling with activity and vibrant atmospheres. At Piccadilly Circus at a large sports shop, the display of football jerseys for every team participating in the World Cup stood out, although Dylan noted Ireland’s absence and the inclusion of several lesser-known countries, which made the tournament seem a bit farcical.
Our walk continued down Regent Street, following a route we often took in London. Dylan was keen to visit Hamleys, the famous toy shop with its six or seven floors. Although we rarely bought anything due to the prices, it remained a paradise for children, full of demonstrations and new gadgets. In search of a deck of cards for our blackjack games—a favourite pastime —we compared prices at different shops. Hamleys charged a staggering £15, while Piccadilly Circus offered them for £6.99. Eventually, we found a street stall on Oxford Street run by an Indian vendor, who sold us a pack for £3.99 after a brief haggle. It was a small victory, and I reminded Dylan that bargaining for a better price is always worthwhile when travelling.
Feeling hungry, we sought out a Wetherspoons pub near Baker Street—a reliable spot for affordable food in central London. The lively atmosphere and impressive building added to the experience. We ordered two small fish and chips, followed by dessert, which hit the spot. Notably, all staff wore high-visibility jackets, with signs warning of bag theft, a somewhat sobering reminder of the realities of central London under Mayor Khan. As we ate, I observed the presence of slot machines and witnessed a young man, appearing troubled, trying his luck but leaving disappointed. The experience highlighted both the charm and challenges of city life, including visible mental health struggles among some patrons.
After our meal, we strolled along Euston Road, taking in the grandeur and diversity of central London’s architecture. Our journey brought us to Kings Cross St Pancras station— London’s most impressive transport hubs, blending historical significance with modern design and serving as fitting symbols of the city’s importance. The station as ever, were bustling and vibrant, encapsulating the energy and history of London
Before embarking on the Eurostar trip to Paris, we anticipated that prices would be high on board, so we took a practical approach. We visited Morrisons to stock up on sandwiches, drinks, and other treats. Dylan treated himself to a doughnut from Greggs, a small pleasure before the journey. The Eurostar experience itself felt much like an airport, with a check-in system, queuing, and a dedicated waiting area at St Pancras station. We encountered two rounds of security: first, British officials checked our passports as we exited the UK, then French officials did likewise as we entered France. The process included typical airport-style security checks, such as placing bags through scanners and raising arms, but everything was efficient and swift. The waiting area was quite cramped, with only a small bar and bakery, so we found ourselves sitting on the floor with our bags. We noticed a significant Rentokil presence, a reminder of rodents in busy stations, and even spotted a mouse, which amused us and a group of nearby French travellers.
Departure was at 17:31, and as we settled in, I noticed there were no charging points for phones, which seemed unusual given modern expectations. Across from us sat an American family, whose loud and animated conversations became a recurring theme throughout our travels. The children were pleasant, but the parents were boisterous and somewhat grating. The father sported a fanny bag and was meticulous about hygiene, prompting his children to use sanitiser before meals. Their lunch plans and subsequent discussions echoed throughout the carriage. Dylan found this amusing; meanwhile, he was engrossed in reading Roald Dahl’s “Going Solo”, which sparked a conversation about future solo adventures and the importance of independence. I shared my own plans for a train trip to Tibet in October via Beijing and a series of journeys across six continents, highlighting the value of fulfilling personal dreams alongside family travel.
We watched the English Channel pass by as sunset approached, discussing the remarkable engineering and history of the tunnel—subjects we would later research together. Card games passed the time, and behind us a French family sat quietly reading and talking, in stark contrast to the Americans with their iPads. News of a nearby train accident in northern France came through, adding a sobering note to the journey. In the café carriage, we encountered a friendly staff member and overheard Liverpool accents, which reminded us of the Champions League quarter-final between Liverpool and PSG the following day. The Eurostar was filled with business travellers, tourists, and football fans, creating a vibrant mix of personalities. Upon arrival at Gare du Nord, Paris greeted us with the hustle and bustle of travellers, the scent of marijuana, and a diverse crowd. Fortunately, our hotel was only fifty metres from the station, and we were welcomed by a blunt but ultimately friendly French hostess. The family-run hotel had a charming, old-world feel, with lovely décor and warm blankets, reminiscent of a stay at a grandparent’s house. The traditional key system added to the sense of authenticity.
Our first night in Paris was spent at a local bar, watching football—Real Madrid were playing Bayern Munich. The price for drinks was steep at €31 for three pints and a coke, but the experience was enjoyable. After a good night’s rest, we prepared for a full day of sightseeing, waking early and enjoying the quirks of the old-style shower. By 7:30, we left our keys in the post box and set out in the morning sunshine. Paris impressed us immediately with its architecture and vibrant atmosphere, even off the tourist trail. Saint Vincent’s Church, bathed in sunlight, was a highlight, demonstrating the city’s understated beauty. As we approached the Champs-Élysées, I explained its history, while Dylan was more interested in its role during football celebrations. The iconic Arc de Triomphe monument roundabout and early morning quiet allowed us to savour orange juice and croissants, a quintessential Parisian breakfast.
Dylan was eager to see the Eiffel Tower. We navigated our way using maps and instinct, reinforcing the importance of traditional navigation skills. The Eiffel Tower, quiet in the early hours, allowed us time to explore and take photographs. Breakfast at a nearby restaurant—cheese omelette—was expensive but enjoyable. Dylan’s curiosity made the experience more rewarding, as he asked questions and absorbed the city’s history. Paris still had a few locals amidst the crowds of tourists and “new arrivals”, a reminder of how European cities have changed in recent years. We utilised the hop-on, hop-off bus tour for a whistle-stop journey around the city, enjoying the scenery, architecture, and culture from the top deck. The city’s traffic soon picked up as we navigated its endless streets.
We visited the PSG football shop, where excitement was building ahead of the football match against Liverpool. A nearby park offered respite from the city’s bustle, filled with tourists, workers on lunch breaks, and Dylan enjoying a waffle with chocolate. Notre Dame Cathedral was next, notable for its recent fire; queues were long, so we settled for some photos. As my phone battery dwindled, we relied on common sense and memory to navigate. While wandering through central Paris, we explored local markets and noticed something remarkable—a fashionable young French man briskly walking while reciting the rosary. After a brief interaction, I gave him a miraculous medal that I had with me. Witnessing this act of faith was uplifting, especially considering the evolving religious climate in France. Inspired by the encounter, Dylan shared his desire to pray the rosary with his grandmother. Throughout the trip, we made a point to visit churches, noticing a strong presence of young French people, reinforcing the vitality of faith in the country.
The resilience of Christianity in Europe was a recurring theme, offering hope for the continent’s future. Europe, with its rich history and culture, remains a source of pride, despite its troubled past. Travelling through cities like London, Paris, Amsterdam, and Berlin reinforced this sense of European identity and the importance of guiding Dylan through these experiences, encouraging curiosity and independent learning. Back at Gare du Nord, we took some time to relax before the football match, speaking to a trainee pharmacist from the hotel—a member of the family running the establishment. The hotel’s thoughtful touches, such as tidying the room, added to the overall positive impression.
In the evening, we explored the backstreets near Gare du Nord, witnessing the gritty reality of Paris. The city’s underbelly, with its diverse ethnic neighbourhoods and lively street markets, added depth to our experience. We encountered various communities—Indian, Afghan, African—and observed the hustle of daily life. Despite being the only white people in certain areas, we never felt intimidated, recognising that this is an integral part of urban Europe. We also saw the vibrant nightlife, with young people gathering outdoors, children playing near fountains, and a church hosting a concert for young musicians.
We finished the day at a local pub across from our hotel, run by a Parisian man named Philippe. The pub was adorned with PSG memorabilia, and Philippe, a true Parisian patriot, managed everything himself—from pouring pints and cooking chips to keeping order with polite firmness. Locals gathered to watch the PSG match, creating a passionate but friendly atmosphere. Dylan loved the excitement, the French expressions, and the camaraderie, making it the highlight of his trip. The prices were reasonable compared to previous bars, and the experience of bonding over football was deeply enjoyable.
After a restful night, we awoke around quarter to five. In accordance with the hotel’s requests, we left the key on the table and wrote a handwritten note of thanks to the family running the hotel, expressing our gratitude for their help and the pleasant stay.
Returning to Gare du Nord, even at that early hour, the usual characters lingered outside the station. The sound of broken glass being kicked around echoed through the streets, and, at 5:00 AM, the scene included a shoeless man begging. Although stark, such sights are common at train stations worldwide now especially in Europe. Our train departed on time, bound for our next destination: Amsterdam, with a scheduled departure at 06:18.
During the journey, I noted I was the only person with a paper ticket, an ongoing struggle in the age of digital IDs. While having tickets in Google Wallet is convenient, I still prefer the tangibility of paper tickets. It brought to mind concerns about the push towards digital identification, especially for those, like my mother, who do not own a smartphone.
The journey itself was relaxing. The night before, Dylan and I had bought supplies from the shop—rolls and drinks for the morning. As we crossed the border into Belgium, we witnessed a beautiful sunrise. The French countryside was flat, and as we entered Holland, windmills appeared, delighting us with their quintessential Dutch charm. Passing through Brussels, I experienced a cold shiver, triggered by thoughts on the city’s history and its associations with the EU and other troubling events. It was a relief to leave Brussels behind and reach the Dutch countryside, where Dylan, tired from days of walking, slept soundly. Though the train was delayed, we arrived in Amsterdam around 11:00, greeted by sunshine and bustling streets.
We strolled around Amsterdam, immediately struck by the beauty of its canals and vibrant atmosphere, even at midday. After locating our hotel—pleasantly situated within the red-light district but far from seedy—we dropped off our bags and prepared for a visit to the Van Gogh Museum. Our initial impressions were overwhelmingly positive: the city felt safe, clean, and typically Dutch, with people of all ages cycling everywhere. The culture appeared relaxed and tolerant, and despite occasional quibbles over map reading, using the free map from the hotel lobby enhanced our bonding and navigation skills. I encouraged Dylan to rely on traditional map-reading, a skill that could impress his future wife.
The Van Gogh Museum, located within the museum quarter and surrounded by a beautiful park, was impressive with its five or six floors of exhibits. We viewed many of Van Gogh’s works, including Dylan’s favourite, “Sunflowers”. Sadly, “Starry Night” is in New York, but the museum offered deep insight into Van Gogh’s life, relationships, and the recognition he received especially after he died. The Dutch are rightly proud of their cultural and artistic heritage, and the museum reinforced their reputation for producing great artists.
The city’s population was notably Dutch, a contrast to other European capitals, and the atmosphere was lively and civilised, especially around the canals and outdoor cafes. We also walked by the Anne Frank House and walked through the red-light district, which, contrary to expectations, felt quite civilised. There were some moments requiring distraction for Dylan due to his innocence, but overall, the experience was positive.
Our evening walks showcased the city’s beauty, with illuminated bridges, abundant flowers, and tulips. We wandered without a set plan, following signs to Central Station, and always felt safe knowing we could navigate back. These walks gave us a chance to chat about the trip, home, family, and future aspirations. Dylan’s curiosity about the Dutch, their height, and their diet sparked lively conversation. He enjoyed comparing prices in local supermarkets, remarking on bread and milk costs across cities.
The next morning, we discovered breakfast was included at the hotel—a classic continental spread with cheese, ham, bread, and juices. The staff, friendly and relaxed, spoke English with a Dutch accent tinged by an American twang. Our plans for the day included a canal cruise led by a young Dutch guide, whose relaxed humour and bluntness embodied Dutch culture. Seeing the city from below the bridges, we learned about Rembrandt’s home, the famous Seven Bridges, and even received recommendations for unique attractions like the Cat Museum.
After the cruise, we ventured outside the city to Oosterpark, using the map to navigate. The park was lively, with secondary school children paintballing and playing, all in great spirits. Dylan enjoyed the playground, and I booked tickets for the Cat Museum, founded by a previous owner who decided to dedicate his home to his love of cats. The current owner still resides in the top floor, and the museum featured two cats, a ginger and a black one, roaming the beautiful old Amsterdam house. The visit was reasonably priced and offered a charming glimpse into local history.
As the city grew busier on Friday night, we noticed an influx of visitors from Central Station, creating a different vibe from the quieter Thursday. Despite the crowds, we found another park—Vondelpark—which was spacious and inviting. The hotel we stayed in continued to impress, allowing us to store our luggage until late evening, a thoughtful touch that made our last day in Amsterdam more comfortable.
We boarded the European sleeper train to Berlin at 10:30 PM on Friday. The train’s final destination was Prague, with Berlin as one of its stops along the way. Our compartment had six seats and two upper bunks, which we shared with a friendly young couple who were likely Russian or Ukrainian and spoke little English. Dylan was initially concerned about spending several hours in a chair, but he managed to curl up and sleep. Meanwhile, I stayed upright and did my best to cope with the cramped space.
Reflecting on our journey, I feel we were fortunate to share a compartment on the sleeper train with such a lovely couple. They were quiet and considerate, content simply to rest, and there was no fuss at all. The lights were turned off early and, after a bit of whispering with Dylan and some reading on my part, we all drifted off to sleep by around midnight. My main concern was that Dylan felt comfortable and relaxed, and I was pleased he managed to get a few hours’ rest, despite the occasional discomfort—sweaty socks and the odd bit of snoring from our new companions. At one point, Dylan began sleep-talking, repeatedly saying, “look at that,” which woke the couple, but they just smiled kindly, and I explained he was talking in his sleep.
We arrived in Berlin at 6:00 in the morning at the city’s enormous central station—one of the largest interchange stations in Europe and reminiscent of a mini airport or shopping centre. Our first stop was McDonald’s for breakfast, where we passed the time until sunrise. Having the city to ourselves that early was magical; we strolled through Berlin, discovering the Reichstag, the government buildings, and the iconic Brandenburg Gate in near solitude. These peaceful moments left a lasting impression, although I couldn’t help but reflect on the historical significance of the area, knowing figures like Hitler once walked these very streets.
Our initial interactions with Berliners revealed a certain German directness—my attempt to push open a door was swiftly corrected, and we soon realised that jaywalking is frowned upon here. Unlike Amsterdam, where people cross freely, in Berlin people strictly obey the traffic lights, waiting even when the street is clear. We waited for the hop-on hop-off bus at Alexanderplatz, a bustling shopping district. Tiredness caught up with us; Dylan actually fell asleep during the tour while I took in the city’s unique character. Berlin, though not as outwardly beautiful as Paris or London, possesses a grandeur shaped by history. Its architecture is a blend of restored pre-war buildings and striking modern structures in the brutalist style, reflecting a city rebuilt from the ashes of conflict.
We visited the memorial to Holocaust victims—a vast, sobering field of slanted blocks. While I understood the intention, the impact was both powerful and perplexing. Berlin’s many parks also provided welcome green spaces, though exhaustion was setting in for both of us. We got off at Checkpoint Charlie, another iconic site symbolic of Cold War tensions and diplomacy between the Soviets and Americans. Dylan was fascinated by the history and keen to learn, but we didn’t linger long, mindful of our need to return to the airport for our flight home.
As a gesture to the city’s largest Turkish community, I enjoyed a kebab that cost 6.50 euros and was definitely worth it. Dylan appeared both embarrassed and disgusted since it was only half past eleven in the morning when I started eating this delicious kebab.
Our journey home was not without its challenges. Our flight from Berlin was delayed due to strong winds in the UK and Ireland. After finally taking off, the pilot attempted to land in Dublin three times, including a near landing close to Dublin airport, but each attempt was aborted. After several circles over Dublin, we found ourselves out by the Irish Sea, awaiting further instructions. The pilot eventually announced we would be diverting to London Stansted which was full circle for us on the trip. Dylan, fast asleep through most of these events, woke up confused, expecting to be nearly home, only to find himself in London again. There was considerable uncertainty and some agitation among passengers, understandably so with work and other commitments looming, but I tried to remain calm and reassured Dylan that all we could do was wait.
Upon arriving at Stansted, we had to wait for new crew and then disembarked briefly for security checks and further paperwork. After reboarding, we finally flew back to Dublin, arriving around 02:30 or 03:00 in the morning. Exhausted, we found ourselves needing to spend a few hours at Dublin Airport before our pre-booked bus at 07:30. We settled in a quiet corner with a fellow traveller, laying our bags on the floor to rest. Dylan, ever adaptable, slept soundly while I made the most of the insomnia café, sipping tea and jotting down notes from our trip. I was heartened by Dylan’s resilience—he never complained, taking the whole ordeal in stride. I emphasised to him that this was all part of the adventure, a story to share in the future, perhaps even with his own family someday.
Looking back, each of the four cities we visited was unique, shaped by its own history yet interconnected through art, culture, and the scars of war. All were expensive in their own ways, and while Amsterdam felt the safest, Paris delivered the biggest ‘wow’ factor, and Berlin stood out for its rich, complex history. London, where we began, remains a favourite—if you’re tired of London, you’re tired of life. Despite the challenges, Europe continues to offer so much, and these iconic cities remain vibrant and resilient.
We travelled on a budget, choosing the lowest-priced hotels via booking.com and cheapest train tickets, yet these accommodations turned out to be some of the most memorable. Their character, the people we met, the personal touches, humour, and quirky rules made them far more appealing than any cold, corporate chain.
Most of all, what made the trip special was the time spent with Dylan. He is a beautiful, innocent soul, often spontaneously holding my hand, telling me he loves me, and expressing genuine appreciation. His curiosity for travel, interest in local cultures, and willingness to explore off the beaten path enriched our experience. As I watched Dylan throughout the journey, I was often reminded that he will soon grow into a young man soon. These trips, these shared adventures, become all the more precious as time goes by, creating lasting memories for us both.
Looking ahead, we plan to continue our travels together for as long as possible. Dylan has said he wants to keep going on these trips, even suggesting we might share a pint in Paris someday. For now, I cherish the memories we’ve created and look forward to wherever our next adventure might take us.
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