Greens sprawling twisting
Enveloping with breath
Greens sprawling twisting
Enveloping with breath
A few lil clips from that time an old friend spontaneously flew to Romania & we backpacked through there, Macedonia, Albania, Serbia & China. Next time I’m gonna get better videos. A few adventures to come soon, watch this space… ❄️
I draw inspiration from some great muses, as I nostalgically reflect on adventures been and journeys to come.
“We need sometimes to escape into open solitudes, into aimlessness, into the moral holiday of running some pure hazard, in order to sharpen the edge of life” George Santayana
Need is a strong word. And yet Santayana continues:
“There is wisdom in turning as often as possible from the familiar to the unfamiliar; it keeps the mind nimble; it kills prejudice, and it fosters humour.”
I’m all for a nimble mind, and a good sense of humour.
“Abroad is the place where we stay up late, follow impulse and find ourselves as wide open as when we are in love” Pico Iyer
I stay up late at home, but generally disappoint myself with the sensibilities of life.
“We live without a past or future, for a moment at least, and are ourselves up for grabs and open to interpretation…” ]
You could be anyone. I inevitably always am myself. I think this is a good thing.
“There are, of course, great dangers to this, as to every kind of freedom, but the great promise of it is that, traveling, we are born again, and able to return at moments to a younger and a more open kind of self”
It’s not being young per se that attracts me, but the sense of freedom and ability to frolic frivolusly.
“Traveling is a way to reverse time, to a small extent, and make a day last a year”
It is true. One the road days last forever. The stresses of life wither away. I laugh constantly.
Friendships created in days, felt like friends of old. I felt at home. Broad smiles, sun kissed tans and friendships built on beer pyramids. Many are transient, short and sweet. Yet a collection of people I’ve meet over the years stay with me, there faces etched in my memory.
“All good trips are, like love, about being carried out of yourself and deposited in the midst of terror and wonder….And that is why many of us travel not in search of answers, but of better questions”
Roses, a UFO, Spartacus and Communists. What do all these things have in common?
A rather sizeable country in South Eastern Europe.
I never planned to go to Bulgaria, but I met a Canadian and a French guy in Lithuania and they just kept going on & on & on & on about it.
I guess it sparked a flame of interest.
I did a teeny bit of research, but pretty much just stole the Canadian’s itinerary.
I was pleasantly surprised it was my kinda place. And that’s not just because it’s old Thrace – the homeland of mega babe Spartacus.
The subdued romantic in me loves roses, and Bulgaria is the land of the rose. It’s one of the world’s biggest producers of rose oil, and they sell an abundance of rose trinkets, perfumes, jam, soap, liquor, water and skin products. Just seeing it all made my inner romantic bloom.
I’d never call myself a die hard sci-fi fan, but even I can appreciate an abandoned UFO. If I didn’t know it was a communist relic from the 80s, I would’ve been convinced the eerily derelict Buzludza was left by aliens. Trespassing through a tiny hole in the wall and climbing 31 narrow rungs of stairs in the pitch black was straight out of a movie.
And I hate to go on about food, again. But, it was pretty fantastic. Bulgaria shows neighbourly love from the Greek and Turkish – with Mediterranean veggies, cheese, cheese, fresh juices, grilled meats, cheese, yogurt and tasty stews. Cheese comes with most things.
They also have this great salty yoghurt drink which tastes about as good as it sounds. It’s like Kefir and said to be good for the heat, digestion and hangovers. I got to put it to the test of several occasions. It’s a really hot place after all. Scientists discovered Bulgarian yoghurt has its own unique bacteria that elongates life. I drunk it in bulk.
Along with wine. And since they’ve been making it since Thracian times it’s pretty great. Except the one homemade batch we had that tasted like detergent, unfortunately we’d ordered it by the litre.
And then there were the only in Bulgaria moments.
Getting to see the restoration of a 12th century monastery in process.
Exploring the same monastery, and stumbling upon a creepy room full of skulls, and bones in boxes.
The homeless looking local collecting signatures in his book, trying for the Guinness book of records.
The bus that was full but the driver let me on anyway because he felt sorry for me.
The many fun moments trying to understand the Cyrillic alphabet. Which for the record it turns out the Russians took from the Bulgarians.
All in all it ticked the main boxes for me. Cheap. Friendly locals. Not too many tourists. Sweet travellers on the journey. I unfortunately didn’t run into any Spartacus dopplegangas, but hey, you can’t have everything.
And just like that, my journey home was before me. The only peculiar thing was I wasn’t going home. For those who knew me, this was actually nothing unusual. I was just as good at extending trips as I was at going on them in the first place. The art of life procrastination and travel maximisation.
Ironically, the days before I was originally flying home I no longer felt the pull to travel. 8 weeks on the road had left me tired. My senses were over stimulated. I was over making new friends each day. Over moving. Why was my backpack so full? And my toiletry bag, don’t get me started on that. I was going to throw it all out I kept telling myself, yet my shopping seemed to have the opposite effect.
I’d spent 4 days on the spectacularly beautiful Amalfi Coast. Sleeping in. Lazing about. Lying on the couch at the hostel. Lying on the beach. Willing myself to be more motivated to explore, yet mostly just motivated to try my next pasta dish.
I’d been away for two months, yet no epic travel romance has taken place. I now rolled my eyes at couples passionately making out on the beach. Didn’t they know I was trying to enjoy my lone wandering time and they were cramping my view? Did he actually just take off her bikini top?!!!
And since when was everyone in hostels like so young? And irksome? Had I gotten old without realising it? And did this mean I should perhaps throw in the travel towel? I’d had a good run. 50 countries. Perhaps it was time for the next phase. How did one go about getting a Swedish husband?
Moving to Sweden, now there was an original idea! Or Berlin. Or just go h o m e… For some reason going home never quite excited me as much as I wish it did.
I’d have to decide what exactly it was I was doing with my life. Whether to keep pursuing the film industry. Or something more creative? Writing? A business? And where to base myself for the near future? Auckland? Australia? Or further abroad?
And faced with the prospect of so many big questions was precisely when the next leg of my trip got exciting. I needed more time.
I began to research fervently and with extra care. Looking for hostels not just reviewed by the 18-24 age bracket. Two 25-31 year old Swedish men had stayed there in the last week? Very interesting.
My new itinerary was relatively slow and comparatively unambitious. Three counties, one month. 3-4 days most stops. 3-4 hours travel between places only. Plenty of time to take in the new sights and the sounds. Laze in cafes, meander about and contemplate life.
My budget was €1000 for one month. Easy for those parts I was told. Shopping was officially banned. Deluxe ensuite small dorms a thing of the past. Private rooms out of the question. The much loved Balkans were back in the game.
My last trip before I snapped out of Peter Pan syndrome and grew up! (Although that’s what I told myself before every travel adventure) but yolo’n my way through my 20s had served me well thus far.
The land of insomniac summer nights, medieval old towns, fir forests and tall beauties.
“You’re going where?” Everyone back home asked.
The Baltics. A trio of countries in North-East Europe wedged between Russia and the Baltic Sea.
Since gaining independence from the Soviets, these states seem to be swiftly gaining tourist momentum. And yet they still feel so old school Europe, like medieval times weren’t perhaps quite so long ago.
It’s still possible to dine out and get a beer for €2, and a meal for under €3.
The summer days seem to last forever with the sun up until midnight, disappearing only to rise again 4 hours later.
I had a mere two week Baltic teaser – zigzagging across all three capitals: Vilnius, Riga and Tallin, as well as Lithuania and Estonia’s small coastal towns.
My favourite country was for sure Lithuania. I may be slightly bias to the fact it’s renowned for having the best looking men.
Sure, anyone with an ever so slight perchant for tall, urban, bearded beauties will be in voyeurism heaven. But of all the capitals Vilnius is the most quaint, hardly touristy and has sweet bohemian vibes.
I wouldn’t be surprised if men preferred Estonia, as it’s rumoured here the women are the most beautiful.
A bit of eye candy certainly does help decorate the streets. But of course there is so much more to a country then beautiful locals.
And they definitely charmed me. I feel for the Baltics’ quaint aesthetics, folklore traditions, dreamy landscapes, colourful history and endless summer days.
This year felt different. I wanted to feel alive. Fresh. To explore. And so I wrote a list. I think I’ve done quite well.
TRAVEL SOLO TO COLOMBIA TO VISIT ONE OF MY BESTIES
GET MY HAIR BRAIDED ON A CARRIBEAN BEACH
CASUALLY FLOAT DOWN THE AMAZON RIVER
BOAT FROM ONE COUNTRY TO ANOTHER
DO SOME LONE WANDERING THROUGH CENTRAL AMERICA
TOUCH DOWN IN THE USA
In hindesight, I probably should have added these things to the list…
GET PAINTED LIKE JAGUAR IN THE MIDST OF THE AMAZON JUNGLE
DRINK COCONUT WATER AU NATURAL
POOP IN A TROPICAL TOILET
MAKE A HUMAN PYRAMID ON A DESERTED ISLAND
ACCIDENTALLY LIMIT ALL MY POSSESSIONS TO THIS
ADOPT A KITTEN IN A CLUB
TAKE A PHOTO LIKE THIS
Life is short. Make it sweet.