Oh man, a six weeks vacation in the dead of winter from cold-clammy-Copenhagen to sizzling-sunny-Sydney comes heavily recommended from this happy camper.

Returned friday with enough jetlag to stop a Koala from eating and went straight to a party at work, where I had apparently forgotten my boss’s name and somehow couldn’t quite remember what I did for a living. Now THAT’s what you call getting-away-from-it-all.

I touched a sea-turtle at ten meters down, I snorkled in a stinger-suit worthy of an S/M super-hero bad-boy, I spent three days on a huge sailing boat with enough cold beer to keep a navy happy, I surfed like a parkinson victim with a poisonous jellyfish down his shorts (but somehow survived), I jumped out an aeroplane with a crazy chechnian rebel on happy pills strapped to my back, I drove for 300 miles through the Australian bush looking for wild kangaroos in a bright yellow french convertible, and I crawled into the highest tower there with my acrophobia screaming that I was gonna die with every step.

But the thing I remember the most, and what is keeping me awake on this cold dark night as my jetlag is still wreaking havoc on my sleep patters, is all the great great people I met and who I already miss like crazy. Guys you know who you are