Thursday afternoon, 12:30 PM PST: carrot soup at Gabe’s mother’s house, surrounded by the warmth of family and a mild Californian winter afternoon.

Friday evening, 8:30 PM GMT: cenoura soup in our own cold, quiet little flat in Lisbon. Showered and shell-shocked, we at last sat down to eat a simple meal before collapsing into bed for the next 13 hours or so.

24 hours of travel, two worlds apart, all bracketed by the same soup (although of course the homemade kind was far superior.)

That’s right, ladies and gents, we’re back. And from now on your morning coffee will no longer go ungraced by daily reports of our antics.

But for now… to finish my own morning coffee before it officially becomes afternoon.

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