It’s early September. I’m home alone and, surprisingly, very well behaved. I’m enjoying the last few hours of peace and quiet before the madness begins again. I’m sitting by the pool, under yet another heatwave, reflecting on July and August with a glass of sparkling water beside me. Because before every big chunk of the season, I rediscover healthy habits. It’s the only way I’ve found to survive this profession - impeccable health habits and sleep habits.

Two weeks earlier, at the farewell dinner, I had handed Satis a small handwritten card, just as I do for every traveller at the end of a trip. It has become one of my little rituals. Twenty cards, twenty different messages. I try to write about the thing I'll remember when everyone has gone home—not the places we visited, but the person I met along the way.

Two days ago, I opened this blog intending to write the next chapter of this little series, only to discover that the last entry dated back to March. Which, in itself, tells you everything you need to know about April, May and June.