Reykjavik, Iceland: I’m thirty, thirsty and I only want to hear Ja Ja Ding Dong.
Marrakech, Zagora and Ouzoud, Morocco: I bless the rains down in Africa
So it’s finally my turn to visit the land of Argan oil and pretty blue-tiled pools, but unlike everyone else, that’s not the kind of thing you’ll see on my Instagram. Although I am arguably a bit of a flashpacker, dinner and drinks at luxurious roof top restaurants and sleeping in a bed without a ladder isn’t really my thing – neither personally or budget-wise. Terese, Aga and I got together to decide on destination for a little getaway, and I kind of voted against Morocco at first. Being unemployed, I’m running out of funds to spend on lavish things such as flights to Africa. Besides, haven’t I gotten my dose of harem pants and desert in India?
Albulena, the peanut butter to my jelly for the past 20 years, is getting married. The lucky fella in this incredible love story is Dardan, whom I only just met very recently, because of obvious reasons to people who know us (like the whole moving to Australia thing). Due to a lot of their family living in Kosovo, it’s time for a destination wedding.
