Sabbatikos

Twelve years ago, I created Sabbatikos as an introspective meditation on the luxury of a 15-year sabbatical, a dream fulfilled with family, friends, sailing the Greek isles. Since then, Sabbatikos has traveled with me like a faithful friend, chronicling our adventures around the world. Life flows on and I find myself at a new chapter. Now, two years later than planned, I’m embarking on my 25-year sabbatical, and a journey woven together by long distance friendships and the same spark of curiosity of culture and places that ignited my passion for travel.

This next chapter begins with reconnecting with friends and family in London before flying south to Malta, where old friends, good food, Maltese wine, and Game of Thrones filming locations await. In Malta, we’ll meet up with my daughter and her boyfriend and catch a ferry from Valletta to Sicily, where we’ll explore the historic cities of Syracuse and Taormina and dine on fine Italian pastas with Italian wines from the slopes of Mount Etna.

From there, we’ll head to Rome for a few days to revisit favorite places during a significant moment in the Catholic Church, as the Conclave to choose Pope Francis’s successor convenes amid a jubilee year.

After Rome, we’ll cruise by boat up the stunning Dalmatian coast, stopping at Dubrovnik, Korčula, Hvar, Vis, and finally Split to discover more Game of Thrones locations and savor the food, wine, and warm hospitality of Croatia.

Our journey will conclude with a flight north to Helsinki, where the late spring days will offer near-solstice light lingering well into the evening, allowing for a brisk and brief exploration of this Scandinavian city before we head back to Seattle.

We landed in London, unaware that it was a Monday Bank Holiday. It happened to be the 80th anniversary of VE Day, and while much of the city was closed, it was alive with the energy of parades, flyovers, and family picnics in the parks. We checked into our hotel early in the morning, and to our surprise, they provided us with a room right away, along with a very nice suite upgrade to freshen up. After a shower and brunch, we decided to embrace the patriotic spirit of VE Day by joining the crowd to watch the parade near Buckingham Palace, just a short walk away.

We made our way toward Buckingham Palace, surrounded by both tourists and locals waving tiny Union Jacks and dressed in red, white, and blue. Many roads and parks were blocked off, and we found ourselves herded like sheep toward the parade route, where throngs of people (and die-hard parade goers) must have been holding their spots for hours. We couldn’t get very close to the action.

The parade moved briskly, a procession from Parliament Square to the Queen Victoria Memorial at Buckingham Palace, where they would be greeted by King Charles and other members of the royal family.

We couldn’t see much beyond the backs of heads, and banners fluttering between outstretched iPhones craning for a shot (mine included). For us the parade was only the tops of Bearskin hats and the sounds of marching bands.

The air was thick with more than just the cheers of WWII nostalgia; it was saturated with a massive deluge of wind-whipped tree pollen from the towering canopy of oak trees. Among the crowd, eyes watered, throats rasped, and coughing and wheezing erupted everywhere, including from us. It felt like an overwhelming, collective allergy attack, and we knew we had to escape. We navigated our way through an alley and up a set of stairs, eventually making our way toward Piccadilly Circus, where we hailed a taxi and asked the driver to take us to Battersea Power Station.

A photo of Battersea Power Station with a pig flying above it is the cover of Pink Floyd’s seminal 1977 album, Animals. Once a smoke-billowing, coal-powered power station that provided London with electricity, Battersea Power Station isn’t what it used to be. No soot, no smoke; just the brick bones, those four towering chimneys, and its massive scale. Hollowed out and rebuilt, it is now a modern and trendy shopping center featuring high-end stores, luxury condominiums, a multiplex movie theater, and a variety of diverse dining options.

Inside, we went to Control Room B bar, a steampunk-art-deco-fever-dream. We sat beneath old dials, levers, and resisters once used to light half of London, now used to frame cocktail menus with names like “High Voltage” and “Fission Sour.” We opted for a glass of wine and a pint of cider.

After a drink and a little window shopping we returned to our hotel for an afternoon rest. I went out to explore the posh Mayfair neighborhood. Amidst Bentley dealerships and high-end whiskey stores, I found Mercato Mayfair, a deconsecrated church turned food hall and gin bar illuminated beautifully by the afternoon sun coming through the stained glass windows.

From Mayfair, I wandered over into Hyde Park. It was early evening, and dozens of families were sprawled across the expansive, rolling green, playing games and having picnics on this holiday. I wandered down to the Serpentine and imagined what it must have been like to hear the echoes of the last note when Pink Floyd played their final concert.

As I turned from the water to walk back across the great green lawn to my hotel, the words from the song Sheep on Animals drifted through my thoughts: “Harmlessly passing your time in the grassland away / Only dimly aware of a certain unease in the air.”