The end of every trip signifies the beginning of another. In the case of St. Petersburg we spent our last hours there by planning the next one, the trans-siberian railway, Georgia, Armenia and Azerbaijan (Eurovision did a good job) or any other place in the world. It may not be tomorrow or next month but it will happen, another one will certainly come along.
I was having a conversation with my boyfriend recently about the value of travelling. He made a fair comment that unlike everything else, the only thing you can’t do with holidays is resell them on e-bay after purchasing the latest one. ‘It’s very true,’ I replied but at the same time these holidays last forever and to be honest, even if I could resell them, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t.
I am a hoarder of memories materialised in pictures, tickets, receipts, chocolate wrappers, free post cards, stolen menus, leaflets, general junk and a lot of scribbling. All of these become part of the ritual that follows my every return to the UK, which is no other than sticking them in my special memory book. Unfortunately a lot of my trips were not included in the particular one but they are still with me as vivid as when they happened. So I wouldn’t be able to end the latest St. Petersburg trip without dedicating a few pages to it.
I want the holidays to be as memorable for the people who took part in them as they were for me. Occasionally, I make my friends travel journals from recycled materials or memories if you like. A few months ago I went on a surprise trip to Madrid with the very same boyfriend for whom I made the below travel journal.
It didn’t cost me anything apart from a little bit of time and a few pounds. It’s far from perfect but its value in terms of memories and shared moments is priceless and I know it will always bring a smile to his face, whenever he opens it, no matter what…