The first stage of a trip, the planning, is a bit like a honeymoon with travel. It is a lovely time with the best kind of dreaming and wishing and hoping. Everything is new and a bright future lies before you.

On this trip I was to learn all too quickly about the irritations and problems that comes as part of the package. I had thought I was ready for the challenges that lay ahead. I prepared for delays, illness, arguments, getting lost, hostel living, changes to my itinerary, cultural differences and language barriers.

When events unfolded otherwise, I could only laugh at myself. After all, part of the fun of travel is its unpredictability. Even on the hardest days on that trip, when I was bedridden with chicken pox in Mexico or melting down at the train station in Milan, I would remind myself of how fortunate I was to be able to travel.

If I had given up and gone home after a hard day, I never would have had gelato in Florence. Or watched the fountain show in Barcelona. Or attended a coffee ceremony in Ethiopia. Or explored the Pyramids in Egypt.

I would do everything the same all over again.