Because few things excite me more than being on the ground as a trans-national currency teeters on the verge of collapse and the threat of civil unrest hangs in the air, I’m headed to Athens tonight, where I’ll be spectacularly situated at the Hotel Grande Bretagne for watching the Molotovs fly in Syntagma Square. Just kidding. In truth I’m traveling with my thirteen year-old nephew on our first-ever international escapade, so that bit about the protests is just my humorous way of having a poke at his mother. This blog might become a bit more (gulp) child-friendly – or at least young adult friendly, I should say – over the next week. I’ve grown so used to traveling my-way-or-the-highway that this is going to be a very different experience for me. I might have to – dare I say it? – learn the fine art of compromise.
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