The dew is off the rose for going overseas; I can't pretend that it will change much of anything. An exotic romance would at best be a matter of losing myself in translation.
I don't really even want to go anymore, but I've painted myself into a corner and now I'm out of choices. It's simply not within me to care about seeing exotic sights; I've seen enough of the world's history to find it pale beside the written word. I've stood on the tombs of kings, walked on ancient battlefields; as much as I love history, all but one such site has left me indifferent.
It's too late now, of course. The tickets are bought and the arrangements are made. I'll go.