Heathrow Terminal 5. One-way tickets. Four backpacks and a slightly nauseous family. The proper beginning.
Three months in the northern hills. The slow start to slow travel. The boys' first proper friends abroad.
Two weeks of bureaucracy, flooding and overpriced taxis before the country properly let us in. We deserved it.
A yellow town between rice paddies and the sea. The longest we've been anywhere. The boys have a school of sorts. We have a fruit man.
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