“We’re going to keep your passport in our office safe until September for your new stamp,” the visa agent messaged me.
That’s the second time my passport goes into a safe in fourteen months.
A year ago it was in a safe above coffee condiments stacked in a twin room at the Hyatt Regency in Yogyakarta.
My son had a school break, and I was jobless. Perfect mom and son opportunity to bond, climbing the world’s largest Buddhist temple.
Just like the previous Hong Kong trip, my ex was adamant that I should not be spending on international holidays.
I didn’t defend my decision. He breathes quantity. I sit on the opposite end of the seesaw multitasking in the sunset.