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Tokyo happened the way a lot of our trips do — completely on impulse. We were out downtown with friends on my wife’s birthday when my buddy mentioned he had to fly to Tokyo for a mining convention. Without even thinking I said, “We’re in,” and within minutes we’d quickly booked a WestJet flight. After years of wandering around Europe, suddenly we were headed for our first Asian city. While he was tied up at the convention, I spent five days showing my wife around — the food,

Barcelona took a turn I wasn’t expecting. I ended up at a clinic run by a British doctor something like “English Doctor in Barcelona.” Original. He hooked me up to a nebulizer right away, and it felt like someone finally pried my airways open. For the first time in days I could breathe properly. He sent me for X‑rays, checked my oxygen, and told me things were borderline. What started as bronchitis had slipped into pneumonia, and he explained that at 35,000 feet your O₂ dr

Toledo wasn’t even part of the original plan — more of a “we’re here, why not” day trip. It turned out to be a great call. The whole place sits up on a hill, and it really does feel like you’re stepping into a walled medieval city. Parking was easy enough a few blocks out, and from there it was just a short walk in. Narrow streets, old stone everywhere, and that classic Spanish hill‑town layout where you’re either going up or down. It was an easy, no‑stress wander, and one of

Madrid (with a Base in Getafe) By the time we got to Madrid, we were both a bit worn down. My wife’s cold/flu came back, so she ended up seeing a doctor just to be safe. And my own bug still wasn’t going anywhere ...one of those annoying things that never fully hits you but never leaves either. We kept things easy. We did the open‑top bus tour, sat back, let the city roll by, and hopped off a couple times to see the big sights. Prices in 2024 were actually pretty reasonable:

Nazaré: The Day we Went Looking for Giant Waves Nazaré had been on my radar ever since a buddy back home showed me a video of surfers riding those ridiculous, skyscraper‑sized waves the place is famous for. I remember thinking, I’ve got to see that with my own eyes. When we finally made the day trip, the ocean was calm — no monster surf, no daredevil surfers — but it didn’t matter. The cliffs, the lighthouse, and the whole edge‑of‑the‑world feeling were still worth the trip.

By the time we reached the Algarve, we were running on stubbornness more than health. We settled into Porto de Mós, using it as our base while we plugged along day by day. My wife was finally starting to feel a bit better, but I was still dragging myself around like a half‑charged battery. We took a day trip into Lagos, wandering the old streets and coastline at an easy pace, just taking in the warm air and slower rhythm of Portugal. It wasn’t a high‑energy stretch of the tri

Málaga was exactly what we needed: heat, beaches, and the kind of sunshine that feels like it’s trying to burn the germs out of you. The city isn’t overflowing with deep cultural sites — and honestly, who cares when you’re sick and running on fumes. What it does have is Brits. Lots of Brits. British pubs on every corner, fish and chips served with absolute confidence, and that familiar banter that instantly felt like home. I loved it. Being surrounded by British accents, Brit

We flew from YVR to Frankfurt — a route we’ve done before — so this time it was just a quick overnight and then back on the move. The next morning we jumped on the train to Basel, finally trying to get close to the Swiss Alps after being so close on a past Milan trip and never making the detour. In my head I had this perfect picture: big open alpine meadow, sunshine hitting the peaks, and me doing my best Chevy Chase “The hills are alive…” moment. My wife would’ve done the pr