The Tourist of Doom strikes again

Not long after I got together with my beloved P, he nicknamed me the Tourist of Doom. I seem to have a propensity for flying into places and leaving a trail of death and destruction in my wake.

For example:

I flew into San Francisco on 10 September 2001, and the next day the WTC was attacked by terrorists.

I went to Barcelona for a weekend with P in spring 2004 and the Madrid train bombers struck.

I spent a weekend in France, flying in through Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris in 2004. On the return trip, Terminal 2 collapsed (we were flying out of Terminal 3).

While I was still living in the Netherlands, I went to Amsterdam for a weekend and stayed in a hotel with P. We went out for a walk and on our return to the hotel discovered white crime-scene tape cordoning off the square, cops everywhere, SOCO teams and two dead bodies in an abandoned cab... Turned out there was a local turf war between Bulgarian drug dealers.

These are just a few examples.

Our week in Crete proved no exception - 3 days into our holiday the curse struck again and northern Greece had its worst-ever flash floods.

Honestly, you couldn't make this up! One day countries will pay me NOT to go on holiday.

It looks like Santorini has been spared though. On the last full day of our holiday, we took a boat trip there as it's not far from Crete. The volcano has been dormant for fifty years although it occasionally emits a few puffs of smoke. An eruption is long overdue... All was quiet though and the most dangerous thing that happened was me taking a muleback ride down the cliffs to the caldera - I'm still saddle-sore.

Edited to add: just minutes after our plane took off for home, an earthquake struck off the south coast of Crete...