My last days in the country are well spent in a monotonous yet necessary routine of a series of meals around extensive chats and laughs with friends and family members.

It is a holiday in which not many places have been seen, or many kilometres have actually been travelled, but a holiday rich in family warmth, and rich in the rediscovering of the pleasurable experience of remembering anecdotes from the past, done whilst enjoying a good cup of coffee and a pastry.
Or even experiencing a relaxing afternoon lying on a hammock hearing the frogs sing and the distant thunderstorms brewing, or the exciting happiness of sharing a cup of ice cream with my nephew and nieces, whilst I silently admire how intelligent and beautiful they are turning into, because life goes on, despite the distance.

Despite having left the nest some ten years ago, the bittersweet feelings of good-byes never really get easier. 

Eleven days in this part of the world seem to have flown by and just as the small airport terminal witnessed my arrival which concluded a long two-year absence, it is now becoming the setting for one of the toughest moments I regularly endure: that last tight hug, and that last eye contact with my parents waving good bye as I try to smother the anxiety with heavy grasps of air and I clear security, with the sole promise of seeing them again ‘sometime soon’.
This time however, no crying is involved. 

Although tough and stressful, the last two years have also served as a time to progress and succeed, on both sides of the Atlantic, a true Ocean of Changes. 

I leave with the mind clear and in peace, knowing that I am traveling from one home to the other.

The plane departs shy of 3:00am and I score three seats which work as a lovely bed for the five-hour flight to Panama, destination we reach as the sun rises over the isthmus’ mountains and stopover for a couple of hours before boarding the plane to Miami, which I reach some four hours later in between a dark thunderstorm.

I am picked up by my aunt, which I haven’t seen in over ten years, and I am driven to Downtown Miami for a glimpse of that famous Floridan lifestyle, parking the car right in Ocean Drive.

The heat of the (winter?) day is quenched by an Olympic-sized strawberry daiquiri, whilst having a grilled tilapia and contemplating the vibrant colours of the omnipresent art-deco buildings in this district. A landscape that seems to have come out to life from a magazine.

Next is a trip through factories, swamplands and flat neighbourhoods on the modern Tri-State train to the West Palm Beach station, where another cousin of mine picks me up and takes me through straight-lined broad avenues to what it seems to be a countryside village, where my other aunt lives.

A journey of reconnecting with familiar faces begins as I get a tour of her house and I am introduced to her lovely family, whilst the pine trees outside roar at the touch of the wind and approaching rain.

Indulgence is next around copious amounts of pizza and a walk and drive through the rich area around Palm Beach, stopping for a Cuban coffee with ‘tostado’ and before retreating for a long sleep.

The last day of this eventful holiday unfolds with long drives along the peninsula, with a quick morning retail stop and a delightful visit to Hollywood Beach, finished with a succulent family steak lunch before saying good bye to most of my newly-reconnected family in the United States.

The weather has turned a bit grey, marking the mood for the drive to the airport and the last round of good-byes in this trip.

Virgin 006 departs with a two-hour delay, a time which is guaranteed to be recovered by the captain once we are in the air and have cleared the heavy downpours, crossing back the Atlantic in a record time of 7 hours, landing in London Heathrow just at about 10:00am.

I spend the day in London catching up with an ex-colleague from Qatar Airways, an encounter which took nearly six years and a time in which many things have also changed, also turning it into a nice opportunity to remember old friends in common and the times in which this blog was officially started.
A few hours later, I take the train to Paddington Station, and continue strolling along the Serpentine on Hyde Park, through Buckingham and finally to Victoria Station, where a train strike has created a stand still situation on every platform.

Two attempts of boarding a train later, I finally make it to Gatwick Airport, boarding almost immediately for the final leg of the trip.

Exhausted, I fall asleep immediately only to wake up on approach to Dublin, whilst a powerful winter storm brews outside turning our landing into a colossal crosswind roller coaster. Landings are cancelled only ten minutes after we land due to poor weather conditions.

The trip comes to an end just as I wave my Irish passport through the eGate and walk through the streets of Portobello, sheltering from the heavy winds and the light drizzle, a scene that I have probably described many times for a particular reason: it is my home.