And so the day finally came.
After 12 years of full-time living on the sunniest island in all Europe, the time had come for me to spend at least a month away. This, an island of extreme beauty, which had become my adopted home. Which has changed me, shaped me (and not just from the beer) and transformed me from a one-time world traveller of 95 countried and jobs in Africa, Asia and Europe, into a true Dalmatian, time-keeping and all. Could I really go back into the real world and live in a city?
There was time for one last coffee on the terrace to beat all terraces. A trademark Jelsa blue sky had appeared to bid me farewell.
The sleepy harbour, for me all the more attractive without tourists in early January, was a reminder of the charm which had captured my heart on my first visit from Somalia some 13 years ago.
And while then the ferry and catamaran were the only modes of transport, today's departure was one in style with the first scheduled seaplane route in modern European aviation history. And while I might have been looking ahead to the new project, there were others on the passenger list who were expectant at the prospect of their first ever flight.
A seaplane to take me to Split! The entire notion sounded all too ridiculous, but it was an established - and successful - fact, and I was proud of the small role I had played in bringing the seaplanes to Jelsa.
A final goodbye to Jelsa, one of the true hidden gems of tourism in Europe, and a destination which will hopefully see better times very soon.
And what better way to say goodbye (even a temporary one) than by air? The 13-minute flight to the sea port at Split Airport was a steal at the special winter price of just 13 euro.
Split, which is fast becoming the new tourism star of Dalmatia, was in full flow, its waterfront Advent show still a huge hit after Christmas.
Heading north to Zagreb, and plenty of time to reflect of the past and the challenges ahead, reflections which were accompanied by another trademark Croatian sunset.
After 12 years on a sunshine island, there is nothing quite like a train journey through the snow with a cold one to keep you warm. The view from inside the dining car of the lake at Zell am See.
Rather than head directly to Munich, there was a small diversion to the temporary Total Munich command centre in northern Austria, where an evening of discussion and preparation ensued.
There was alcohol involved. Is this not the beer label of all time? And the beer was Fxxxxxx good too. By way of explanation there is a village in Austria with a very international name beginning with 'F'. An enterprising German thought it would be fun to build a brewery there and brew lager (the German for lager is 'hell'). The rest is history.
And then the final leg, the motorway to Munich South. The abundant snow of Austria became patchy as we approached the Bavarian capital.
And, with a little help from our GPS, we soon arrived at the first temporary Total Munich home in a very posh part of Trudering, complete with garden. I only discovered how posh it was when I picked up the key from the neighbour who answered my question on information about getting to the nearest train station with:
"No idea. We all drive around here."
Sticking to the local driving theme, we headed to the local supermarket for emergency supplies, where I learned the first steps of Michael Schumacher's journey to become a world champion, although I hope he had a little more luck navigating the cases of beers through the aisles of his local supermarket.
It feels great to be here, and the start of the re-discovery of Munich begins in earnest tomorrow. It promises to be quite a ride - why not follow the Total Munich story on Facebook?
