#have never once wanted to live the dorm/hostel life and being made feel left out about it

[celestial-sapphicss]

home school is frustrating to watch not because the show is bad (i love the show i have so many thoughts) but because despite the wildly different reasons (and stakes and intensity), seeing the education institution systems making students do things without any explanation or logic or reason just because they can and being absolutely unreasonable is very real of them.

[dzifasblog]

Chapter 4

Read from Chapter 3

It would be a bit of a stretch to say no one had ever rejected me . Yet, it did not happen often and it did not happen when I like like someone. Not only was I rejected but I was also friend zoned. Which is crazy because I usually did the zoning. Everything comes back full circle indeed. It had been a week since I had my ego bruised and I have to say, I was being a big girl about it. With Darcy's friend shooting the cheer "movie", she was left alone a lot of the time. Time she usually spent with me....because we're friends now.

Kill me now!!

Not that I don't enjoy her company. Au contraire, being near her all the time. Listening to her silly jokes, hearing her laugh and the way she would get pa Her boyfriend is one lucky bitch.

I was currently sitting in the house's common room, making use of the uncharacteristic quiet. Seemed like there was some party I was not invited to because the whole house was almost empty. It didn't bother me much; but as time ticked on and Darcy still hadn't made an appearance I became more and more curious.

Darcy did not strike me as a party girl. and her friend could not have dragged her because she had a meeting with Mimi today. (Yes I had learnt the schedule to see what times I could be with Darcy, yes I am a simp.) It took everything in me not to barge out and go look for Darcy: 1. We hadn't made any plans and 2. It would be plain weird. So I stayed my ass in the chair.

A couple of minutes after trying to focus of the copy of Shakespeare in my hand. The door to the common room burst open to reveal Kaitlyn, one of the girls in the opposite dorm. Putting her hands on her knees (thot shit), she tried catching her breath.

"Boys, " she panted. "The boys are here."

So this is why she ran?

All of a sudden it hit me. Darcy hadn't ditched me, she was busy with her boyfriend. I wasn't sure how to feel about that. On one hand, she hadn't ditched me and that gave me semblance of peace(??) And on the other hand she was with her boyfriend, someone who I didn't need to see to hate.

I was so engrossed in weighing the pros and cons of my love life. (if you can even call it that) That I hadn't realized Kaitlyn had been speaking until Darcy's name came up.

"What did you say about Darcy, sorry I'm hard of hearing" I needed to not come of as too curious.

"Her boyfriend came in a car and brought her a bouquet of flowers," Kaitlyn swooned.

"How do you know that?" It wasn't strange for guys to bring presents to their girlfriend. But I doubt Darcy announced it to the whole school.

"He came in a car, with his friends. He's like a year older," Kaitlyn spoke so animatedly. "He got out of the car with this huge ass bouquet and got on one knee and everything." After narrating the story complete with hand gestures. she fell onto the chair opposite me with all the drama of a Disney princess.

"How romantic," I deadpanned.

"I know right" Kaitlyn sighed completely oblivious to the sarcasm. "I wish someone would do that for me." Men would do the bare minimum and hetero girls would swoon. The bar was in the absolute pits of hell. Also, I doubt Darcy liked all the fanfare around the bouquet of flowers and their delivery. I needed to go see all this for myself.

Standing up I dusted imaginary dust of myself and moved to put the book back in its place. Kaitlyn was still sprawled in the chair with a goofy smile on her face. I do not know what would have happened if she been the one to get flowers. I wanted to say goodbye to her but I doubt she would have heard it over her self-excitement, so I made my way out of the room.

I had not made it far when I heard someone calling my name. I turned to find my longtime friend and partner in crime Robin jogging towards me.

"Where the hell have you been? I've been looking for your bitch ass everywhere." Robin and I had been friends for as long as I can remember. Our mothers had been bestfriends and roommates in the same sorority house. Our friendship was a given. We lived on the same street, went to the same school and did almost everything together.

We even came out together, him as bisexual and me, as lesbian. This broke our parents who had hoped we would end up together hearts but they got over it. Or at least I think they did.

Ignoring his question, I asked one of my own. "Why is my school crawling with degenerates from your school?"

"Wait you didn't know?" He furrowed his eyebrows in genuine confusion. "We're having some lame ice breaker. Never wrote to you cause I thought this was something you'd have been all over."

"I've been busy," I shrugged.

"Busy doing what?"

"You knowww....this and that" He looked confused. I wanted so desperately to share this whole Darcy thing with someone else but the thought scared me. I don't know what of, but the thought of another person knowing terrified me. Maybe it was the shame of being friend zoned.

"Is it a girl?"

"Wh..what...no" Hesitating and stuttering through your answer is never a good thing. I cast my eyes to the ground to avoid Nico's.

"Uh huh" Was all he said, not buying my bull.  "You know what I think?..." I didn't get to find out what he thought because just then the loud revving of a motorcycle cut through the air, demanding everybody's attention. I looked down to the park in front of out hostel to see one big motorcycle flanked by two smaller ones. I guess the big one belonged to the head honcho.

"Ghost riders," Robin said, coming to stand beside me. "Ninja name, trash guys."

I giggled at that. "I'm guessing they don't tickle your fancy." I teased.

Robin just rolled his eyes at me. "They are bad news, like really really bad news. Like gang shit, and not in a cool fun way but in an you could probably get killed way." My brows shot up at his statement. Gangs were nothing new but high schoolers in a gang would be pretty bad. Imagine being this hormonal and having the equipment necessary to kill.

"That sounds bad,"

"Bad? Try awful. I stay 5 feet away from them all the damn time, I will not be caught up in any of their shit. Not even by accident." Robin was usually very dramatic but something told me he wasn't exaggerating.

Suddenly, the girls seemed to burst out in cheers, I looked down to see the head honcho lip locking with Darcy.

My Darcy! My grip on the railing tightened hard, and I tried leaning forward to get a better look but I felt a hand pull me back. I turned ready to give Robin a piece of my mind before catching myself. Did I really like Darcy enough to yell at Robin?

Robin had one eyebrow arched at me. "I know I said some stuff but you look ready to end him"

I cast one more look at the park and grabbed Robin's hand and started dragging him to the common room where no one would see or hear us. There I spilled my guts about everything till now. Robin sat there quietly listening to me ramble on and on. It felt good to get it all out.  When I was done, he had a very Joker like smile on his face and for once I was grateful he would eventually have to leave.

"I've seen a lot of strange things in my day," he started. "But I have never seen anyone get under your skin so fast."

"You don't get it, she's just amazing" I argued.

"Look at you with heart eyes," Robin teased. I punched him in the arm. "Stop it"

"Ok, ok," he laughed. "Look, I know you think you've met the love of your life but you might want to pace yourself a little. I mean do you really know this girl? Like know know her? She was kissing one of the ghosts for crying out loud."

"I know her," Sort of. "I know she would never be mixed up in some illegal shit." Robin had raised some good points but I knew Darcy would never get mixed in any illegal activities. Or would she?

"How do you know?" Robin asked

"I....I just do, ok?" But did I?

"All things you know about Darcy are very surface level things-"

"I wouldn't consider knowing the way she looks when she comes surface level," I interrupted.

Robin shot me a look but continued anyway. "Why don't you take sometime to get to know her better, like where she's from and where she met her terrible boyfriend." He was right, I knew he was right and judging from the look on his face, he knew that I knew he was right. "Besides," he continued. "You and her are not together so use this friend zone wisely."

"Gah, fine." I hated playing the waiting game, I'm not known for my patience.

"Good," Robin pat my head. " Let's go, I need to get back to school as soon as possible."

"Alright" With that we left the common room and made our way downstairs. I walked Robin over to his ride, a 6'5 muscular guy I was 85% sure he was fucking. "See ya later, alligator." Robin yelled as the car took off.

"You're such a loser." I yelled back as the car disappeared behind the gates.

[choco-glow]

Dance With Me Pt. 1

Traveling over the Nibel mountains, past the heartache of five years ago, the death, the destruction wrought so callously…Tifa never wanted to see those mountains again. She was glad they’d met Vincent, found a formidable ally in the dour gunslinger and his hatred for Hojo, for Shin-Ra…But she hated those mountains with a passion. She was glad when they came out of the last tunnel to find that the clouds that had been dogging their journey since Gongaga had finally broken up, sunshine pouring down richly on the northwestern coastline. The scrub-forest that had filled the mountains faded here, leading to rolling grasslands that stretched as far as the eye could see.

Green grasses, a green as bright as any materia, and full of wildflowers, Tifa paused to breathe in the aromas of a thousand blossoms, Aerith doing the same next to her. The grasses mimicked the sea, waves of soft greens and silver rolling gently over the plains under the sunshine, and for a moment, Tifa forgot about Midgar, Shin-Ra, everything… Even Cloud looked a little stunned; small wonder, they hadn’t seen this much…well, life in far, far too long, save for Aerith’s home in Sector Five. This was glorious though, and it was Barret’s voice, soft and full of longing, that brought them all back. Even Red’s eyes were closed, drinking in the aromas, and Tifa imagined that he was remembering Cosmo Canyon.

“…I could stare at this for hours…but we gotta keep goin’, guys. Sorry…” He murmured, and of all people, it was Cloud who patted his shoulder, shaking himself.

“Nah, you’re right…this is just…this is really gorgeous. Rocket Town shouldn’t be too far away; we can restock there, I think. I don’t see a reactor, which is just a plus at this point.”

“We can, I’ve had traders from Rocket Town come through Nibelheim in the past…” Vincent’s voice, dark and quiet, nonetheless carried, and Yuffie gave him a raised eyebrow, one he met with one of his own. It was rare to see him speak up, and Tifa gave him a faint smile, encouraged when he smiled back, just a tiny quirk of his lips, but it was there, nonetheless, and despite his cool demeanor, he was noticeably friendlier now that they were out of the mountains. Small wonder, given the horrors he suffered; I think being down here on the plains is healing for everyone.

“I thought you stuck to the mansion, Spooky.”

“Not as often as you might think, though I did stay there more than I would have liked. I do know this area, for all that it’s been so long; we can cut right across the plains.” He stared her down, clearly unamused by the nickname, and Yuffie threw her hands up with a sigh.

“Fine, fine…I’ll take point, but I doubt anyone or anything will bug us…” She muttered, stomping into the grasses almost as tall as the ninja herself, and the rest of AVALANCHE followed, taking their time and basking in the sunshine. There was a cool breeze off the coast, much to Tifa’s relief, and the grasses were soft and velvety, rather than saw-edged like some of the places they’d visited. The sun wasn’t too hot here, either, and with fluttery white clouds passing over, there were little patches of shade. The path was clearly a walking trail, well kept with gravel that crunched under their boots and kept free of overgrowth.

Lunchtime found them in a small creek hollow with a few willow trees overhead, a welcome bounty of shade after the trek, because even Tifa was feeling warm, and Vincent looked positively exhausted. The only ones who still looked fresh were Red and Cloud, who looked the most content that Tifa had seen him in years. They settled at the base of a gnarled, ancient willow and worked through the jerky and journey bread without a fire, taking time to test the water before everyone refilled their canteens. This close to the mountains, Tifa was glad to see that most of this was glacial runoff, which meant only one purifying tablet was needed to keep them safe.

Tifa was surprised by the quiet; no one really felt like talking, but there again too, they were all exhausted, and so she settled back in the sunshine with Aerith to nap for a little bit while the boys took care of the water. When Yuffie woke them half an hour later, Tifa felt a little more revived, and Aerith looked positively energetic, and so, they continued on. Yuffie found a road soon enough, and that made their trek to Rocket Town even faster. By the time the sun was heading into the west, they had arrived, and to their surprise, the ‘town’ was…well, less a town, more a tiny, bustling market and a sprawling Shin-Ra tourism base.

The tourists looked wealthy but somewhat vapid, and Tifa breathed a sigh of relief, because no one looked askance at them, nor did anyone challenge them for coming off the road. And they weren’t the only travelers by foot, so that helped them blend in…even Barret was keeping his head down, and Cloud had quietly removed his more obvious SOLDIER gear and stowed it in his pack, looking like a true merc with his sunglasses hiding his glowing green-blue eyes.

However, just from what Tifa could see, the base itself was clearly focused on the enormous rocket and launch pad, with technicians and engineers scuttling all over both like busy bees. Cloud was eyeing them curiously, and so the group decided to split up to get intel. Vincent and Cloud headed towards the rocket, while Barret and Aerith hit the market, Yuffie vanished with Red and Cait Sith, and with a sigh of relief, Tifa started towards the main part of town. The town itself wasn’t big, of course, but it was definitely well established, with three large dorms for the Shin-Ra techs, and a group of well-built houses that led to the main square.

There stood the largest house in town, a manor house, by the looks of things, that had clearly seen better days…But it was in good repair, with a sturdy wrought iron fence, soft blue clapboards the color of the sky, and bright white trim, clearly freshly painted. The garden wasn’t in bad shape either, if a little sparse, but the wild dusty pink roses growing over an old trellis were clearly trimmed back, and sea-irises, a trademark of this area, bloomed in bright teal and pink clusters with their long silver-green leaves all around the house, and to Tifa’s surprise, the yard was clover, rather than grass; the hardy coastal groundcover probably never needed mowing.

A sign at the fence read “Mayor’s House”, and since she still hadn’t seen an inn or a hostel anywhere, Tifa steeled her nerves and opened the gate, making her way across the flagstones to the huge wraparound porch, admiring the tall windows with their half-moon transoms and the lovely set of double doors in front, inset with stained glass in every shade of blue to form fantastical birds. With a deep breath, she raised a fist and knocked sharply on the white-painted wood, stepping back and clasping her hands together before her. Please let the Mayor be kind…

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’, hold yer horses…” A loud male voice, raspy and with a heavy drawl, sounded from inside through the propped open transoms above the front windows, and the door swung open, revealing the owner to be a shirtless, tanned, handsome blond man with an unlit cigarette between his lips and goggles holding his shaggy hair back. He froze, blue eyes widening, and Tifa couldn’t help but stare. In admiration; he was taller than her, though not as tall as Vincent, and built like a model, if a little rougher around the edges. His dark brown leather belt hung undone, which let his jeans slip low over his hips, and she blushed furiously, painting a smile on her face even as her cheeks burned because oh that V-line is too delicious to ignore…

He blushed just as scarlet as she felt, having clearly given her a once over in her short skirt and tank top, eyes lingering on her legs and hips and chest, and normally? She got angry about that. With him, though…Well, it’s not like I didn’t just do the same to him, so turnabout is fair play, she thought with a faint smile, and the Mayor of Rocket Town swiftly pulled on the blue tee shirt that had been dangling from his hand, swearing faintly as he tugged the almost too small shirt down over his chest. “Sorry, miss, I uh, I didn’t mean ta stare at ya…”

“No no, you’re fine! I didn’t mean to interrupt your day, but my friends and I just came over the Nibel mountains, and we were wondering where the best place to stay the night might be? We have camping gear, we just need food and supplies. I’m Tifa, Tifa Lockhart, by the way.” She babbled out, and to her surprise, he listened, which, honestly, was a first, and his blue eyes brightened now, lips curving up in an easy smile that made her smile right back in return, eyes crinkling a little in the soft wrinkles from a life lived in the sun. He was even more handsome with that smile, dark blond stubble softening his strong jawline, and though Tifa had always known she’d had a thing for blonds (Case in point: Cloud), this…was new. New and kinda nice.

“Well then, ya came to the right place, Miss Lockhart; name’s Captain Cid Highwind, and I run Rocket Town; we’re mostly the main aeronautics test range for Shin-Ra anymore, so we don’t have an inn since most o’ the tourists head up into Nibelheim at the end of the day, but y’all’re welcome to stay at my place for the night, Gaia knows I got the room. Our market gets a boost ev’ry Thursday mornin’, so if y’all wanna wait till tomorrow, that’s the best time ta get yer gear. Care for a cuppa tea? Ya look a little parched.” In more ways than one… Tifa thought to herself, but she nodded, happy to finally get off her feet, and as Cid welcomed her into his home, he led her to the kitchen on the left. The living room was clearly storage at the moment, though it opened nicely into the kitchen and an office area that had taken the place of his dining room.

Cid motioned to the table for her to sit, and Tifa eased into one of the wooden chairs with a sigh of relief, moreso when he motioned for her to kick off her boots. “Th’ floor can take it, an’ ya said y’all came over the mountain?” She peeled off her socks and settled her bare feet on the cool tile with a faint groan that made him chuckle, and she caught a glimpse of him tugging his jeans up on his hips and buckling his belt, only a little disappointed.

She watched as Cid puttered around his kitchen, barefoot and obviously on a rare day off, but nonetheless, a gracious and kind host. His kitchen was a little beat up, but lovely, marble countertops were clean, if a little scratched up, and the cupboards were well-made and hung right, even if they were just basic plywood. A battered wood-fired stove crouched in the corner, crooked pipe propped up by several long pieces of rebar, and the tile under their feet was faded, but spotless. From what she could see of the rest of the place, it was much the same way; built up from scratch, and pride, even if it wasn’t the prettiest. She liked that; it reminded her of the bar.

“We did, two days of solid hiking. We tried to rent a truck, but there was no hope for it, and we’re…not exactly doing this for pleasure, I’m afraid.” Cid glanced over from his post at the stove, one eyebrow quirked up, and she sighed, giving him a faint smile…and deciding in that moment to trust him. “I’m sure it’ll come out, so I want to give you a head’s up…but how loyal to Shin-Ra are you?” His other eyebrow went up at that, but Cid brought her the tea as promised, in a lovely red mug that was clearly for special occasions, wrapping his own hands around his cracked dark blue mug as he settled across from her.

“…Enough to do what I want in this life, but otherwise, not terribly; I’m sure you’ve noticed there’s no reactor here.”

“…We have…” Blue eyes, hard as steel now, burned into hers, and she swallowed. He knows who we are...but he won’t betray us. They studied one another in that long moment, Cid’s eyes peering into her soul while she did the same to him, and after a time, he nodded, sharp but resigned.

“An’ there won’t be…but I also ain’t gonna get my whole town burned up fer AVALANCHE.” She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat at the realization, and he motioned for her to drink, sighing as he took a long draught off his own mug. “Palmer’s due here tomorrow afternoon; I’d suggest that you lot get out of here before he shows up so that y’all get a headstart. Bastard’s supp’sed to get me clearance on th’ rocket…but I don’t trust ‘im. But I heard about y’all…an’ I ain’t disagreeing with ya. But I ain’t watchin’ my people get hurt fer a cause, or worse, because Palmer sees a quick an’ easy ‘get outta Heidegger’s bad graces’ card.”

“…I promise, Captain, we won’t cause you any trouble. I swear it. Thank you for being so kind, and opening your home to us, but if you’d like, we can camp outside town…?” His eyes softened at that, and Cid shook his head, settling back with a groan as he stretched. Tifa tried not to watch, but it was hard as that tee shirt crept up, showing off the golden dusting of hair on his lower belly, his jeans sliding down just a little farther…she felt a blush touch her cheeks, and busied herself with her tea.

“Nah, yer all welcome here still; Gaia knows I hate th’ bastards as much as th’ next person. Ain’t gonna make a pretty lady camp outside town just ‘cuz I’m a surly fuck.” She blushed again at that, giggling as he winked, and though she felt warm all over…it was a good warmth. A welcome warmth. Certainly, it was much nicer than what she felt from Cloud at the moment…and seizing the courage, she decided that two could play at that little game. She gave him her best flirty smile and batted her eyelashes, playing up her bartender personality a little more.

“Well, I knew when I knocked that I’d find someone here, but I gotta say, meeting a officer and a gentleman is a rare treat.” Cid paused at that, then threw his head back in an honest laugh, blue eyes glittering with delight as he toasted her with his mug.

“Miss Tifa, that’s th’ best thing I heard all week; yer welcome here anytime. Now then, I think some barbecue’ll do the trick for supper if ya wanna call yer friends.”

“Gladly, Captain. Gladly.”

[ours-is-feral-love]

Summary: Steve is surprised when Bucky returns from the Decimation desperate to find someone.

* * *

‘Love is not a choice’

* * *

The battlefield is slowly clearing and she is all he can think about. Since the fighting stopped, since Tony Stark sacrificed himself for them all, she has been the only thing on his mind. He sees her, clear as day, standing at the balcony window of his shitty apartment in Bucharest, wearing one of his sweaters because she didn't think to bring any warm clothes. Because she didn't think Romania got cold in the winter.

'It's Europe,' she said. 'Don't people come here for the clear skies and warm weather? To escape the frigid American temperatures?'

She was thinking about Greece. Southern Italy. The Caribbean islands. But a ticket to Bucharest was cheaper, and she wasn't in a position to pay extra for one of the fancy European getaway destinations. It made him nervous when she stood so close to the glass. To the grainy, translucent square that would shatter to a hundred million pieces with the slightest amount of pressure. A bullet would go right through, facing no resistance. Then it would go right through her.

'You're here,' she said, turning away from the window and coming towards him. All of those bloodied thoughts drained from his head. He sat on the mattress in the middle of the shitty, tiny room, wondering instead how things had managed to get this far with this random girl who was not just a random girl anymore. 'You'll keep me warm,' she said and she got to her knees in front of him, her glasses sliding down her nose, and she kissed him like he was a normal man.

That was the danger of her. She made him feel normal. She made him, for those seconds, minutes, hours that she was with him, forget himself. His struggles to recall the last seventy years of his life vanished when she was in the room. And the more time he spent with her, the more he wanted to let those parts of him slip so far away he could never retrieve them.

'Something’s on your mind,' she said, pulling away. He reached up without thinking, the metal of his left arm clinking lightly against the frame of her glasses. She didn't even blink as he pushed them gently up her nose.

'Something’s always on my mind,' he said.

'Yeah, but this is something bigger,' she said.

'How can you possibly know that?' he asked as she climbed into his laps. Her legs went either side of his hips. Her heels joined at his spine. It was like she was trying to permanently entwine their bodies. Wrap herself up in him, like she couldn't get enough. It felt strange. Nobody had touched him like this in so long. Maybe no-one had ever touched him like this.

'Don't question me,' she said. Then she curled her arms around his neck and pressed her forehead to his and he thought for a second that he might suffocate—she wasn't giving him any room to breathe—but after that second the feeling passed and it was replaced by a sprouting warmth that unfurled in his groin and spread everywhere inside of him. His wrist, his fingertips, his toes, his lips all pulsed. 'So,' she said, 'what's on your mind.'

And he smiled. Actually smiled at her, his mouth going up either side, automatically stretching. It hurt—his mouth was so unused to the strain—but he didn't stop. 'You're relentless,' he said.

'I know. Now tell me,' she said grinding her head into his. She matched his smile.

'I just feel,' he said, gripping her waist, careful not to press too hard (he wasn’t yet used to having to be careful with the people he touched—his natural instinct was to break them, and he was trying so, so hard not to break her), 'like I’m being watched.'

'You are,' she said, and his eyes widened before she finished by saying, 'I’m watching you.' And she kissed him again. One of those all-consuming kisses that threatened to suck the soul out of his chest, and he pushed away his paranoia in favor of pushing his sweater off of her body.

From where he sits, Bucky watches T’Challa huddle with his family. Their gratitude and happiness and love is written all over their faces. He sees the annoying spider kid sitting by Tony Stark’s body, his arms wrapped around a blond woman’s shoulders. Together, they shake and sob, and Bucky feels their grief like grit in his teeth.

Did the purple thing take her as well? Bucky buries his face in his hands. God, he can’t think about that. But it’s all he can think about. Her body fading, turning to dust. Her life put on hold for, what? Five years? Is that what the magician man said?

Wherever she is, even if she didn’t get taken, is she looking for him? The last thing he told her—

“Old man, we did it.”

The bird. Bucky lifts his head. Sam stands in front of him against the backdrop of the murky, thick sky, a smug smile on his face.

There’s too much death in the air for that kind of smile.

“No, we didn’t,” he says, looking again at the kid. He’s small. He looks as small as Steve did before they injected him with the serum.

Sam turns his head, following Bucky’s gaze. “I guess you’re right. But we did some things. I definitely kicked some alien ass today.”

Bucky gets it. This is Sam’s way of dealing with things. Jokes and gallows humour. But he can’t hear it, not right now. Not when she’s so far away from him. Getting to his feet, Bucky wobbles slightly before walking past Sam and heading for where Steve stands a few paces from Tony Stark. His tears have cut through the grime on his cheeks. He wipes them away and clears his throat thickly when Bucky makes himself known.

“Buck, I”—

—“I need to find someone,” Bucky says, cutting Steve off.

Steve steps back and tilts his head in confusion. “What?” he says, frowning. “Who do you need to find?”

“A girl,” Bucky says, his heart pounding so hard and loud it drowns out the kid’s cries. “Darcy.”

He found her the first time cursing out a taxi driver on the pavement outside of a hostel, her hair and clothes and suitcase soaked from the cold rain that had just stopped. The old man was giving it right back to her in Romanian, although it seemed like neither understood what the other was shouting. It was just a jumble of swear words.

And he watched it all unfold. He had never seen such a short woman scream such angry, hate-filled words at an apparent stranger. It was mesmerizing. Until the older, much larger man placed his fat hands on her shoulders and shoved her backwards. She stumbled, her next round of insults knocked out of her as she hit the brick wall of the hostel. Her glasses almost slipped right off her nose.

Bucky was supposed to be keeping a low profile. HYDRA was looking for him. SHIELD was looking for him. He was a man on the run. But he couldn’t stop himself from going up to her. The taxi man jumped in his car before Bucky could cross the street. He ignored the squealing tires and instead focused on the girl, tilting the rim of his baseball cap down to cover his eyes. He asked if she was okay.

'I’m okay,' she said, but when she rubbed the back of her head blood smeared across her palm.

'Okay, maybe I’m not okay,' she said. She pushed her glasses with her bloodied palm. Red streaked up her nose. Taking a shaky breath and letting out with a shaky laugh, she went on, 'I didn't think I was okay, but I wasn't sure, and I wanted to seem completely unfazed by the scary dude who just decided to push me against a fucking wall for fun, but nope. I'm bleeding. And I'm pissed. And I'm sorry for talking so much. There's no way all of that needed to be said.'

She said all of that with blood running down her neck.

And he wished it had dawned on him then, right then, that he was following the white rabbit. That he was falling, falling, falling into a world he would never be able to escape. Maybe he would have turned the other way immediately. Or maybe he would have done nothing different. She had that strong of a pull. But he didn't know anything. All he wanted to do was help, and he didn't think twice when he tipped up his cap and revealed his face to her.

There was no gasp of realisation or recognition. Of either fear or fascination. She just looked up at him with her doe-like eyes, her stare sharp from the pain.

'Let me help,' he said, surprised by how easy it was for the words to get out. It shouldn't have been so easy. He was meant to be in self-preservation mode. 'My apartment is just down the road.'

'Your apartment?' she said. 'Are you going to murder me once we get there?'

Bucky went still. He wanted to say something to assure her he was most definitely not planning on murdering her, but he was struggling to push down unwelcome memories filled with cries for him to stop. For him to spare their life.

'It's fine,' she said, and her unbloodied fingers pressed against the fabric of his jacket, right at the centre of his chest. 'I don't actually think you're going to murder me.'

Flinching out of his past, Bucky said, 'So you'll come with me?'

She looked for a brief moment like she was going to refuse. She started shaking her head no. But the jerky movement made her whole body wobble and the silent no quickly turned into a verbal yes, and Bucky Barnes found himself guiding a stranger through the streets of Bucharest, his eyes scanning every corner and side street for suspicious faces, to his shitty apartment, careful to not let her see his left arm.

'This is where you live?' she said as soon as the door shut behind them. She sounded almost amused. 'It looks worse than the inside of the hostel. Worse than my first year dorm.'

He ignored her comments, pulling the sleeve of his jacket down over his left hand as he rummaged through the shelves by the front door for the first aid supplies. She sat on the lone sofa in the apartment, the one with mismatched cushions, when he told her to, and she only swore for a few seconds as he started cleaning her wound. It was like being back on the battlefields in Europe. What he could remember of them. Foul language and blood. But no pretty girls with big eyes and lips. That was different.

The gash was shallow and easy to fix, and it didn't occur to him until she stood and faced him and said 'Thank you, by the way my name is Darcy' that they hadn't exchanged names.

Then she looked at him expectantly. Without the blood on her face, she was pretty. And there was a glimmer in her eyes. A spark of something that told Bucky she always had a snarky comment waiting for its opportunity to burst forth.

'I don’t do names,' he told her. He turned away from the sofa and threw the bloodied cotton balls in the bin.

'You don’t do names,' she said. 'What does that mean?'

'It means I don’t do names. I don’t give out my name.' Why was he explaining this to her? He shouldn’t be explaining this to her. He should have just left her bleeding at the side of the road.

'Are you a criminal?' she said, and Bucky’s heart thudded hard. 'Are you a criminal on the run?'

Turning on the tap, he stared ahead at the cracked tile. He washed his hands, hoping she couldn’t hear the clinking of his left hand. He scrambled to think of something to say. 'What if I am?' was what he settled on. Switching off the water and mindfully drying his hands, Bucky turned, leaning his back against the sink.

Darcy’s head tilted a centimetre to the side. Her lips parted and her eyebrows moved ever so slightly together, like she was trying to decide if he was joking. 'Well, she said, you haven’t killed me yet. You’ve not even tried. So, either you’re biding your time, or you’re not as bad as all that.'

'As all what?'

'As all the other criminals on the run.'

'Do you know many?' he said, and it was the first thing he said that made Darcy Lewis smile, and he thinks that was when it was all over for him.

'I’ve known a couple. They were quick to go for the throat. But look at me,' she said, dragging her pointer finger across her neck, 'everything’s still intact.'

Steve paces the designated computer room of a random stranger. Everyone near the battle site is making use of whatever place they can that wasn’t touched by gunfire. This is the third day they have camped out in the room. The woman—Bucky keeps forgetting her name—who owns the house keeps saying they can use her desktop for as long as they need, but Bucky is hopeful he won’t need to take her up on the offer. And he never hopes. For anything. But he needs to find her. What is the point of surviving the purple man’s plan to wipe out half of humanity if she isn’t here?

Sitting at the computer desk, Bucky refreshes the state’s reunification website and scrolls the new page searching for her name. Two days ago he didn’t know what a mouse was. Steve had to teach him how to use it. And a computer. And then the bird had to jump in because apparently getting two men who survived the Second World War to try navigating a 21st century technological device never works out.

Thousands of new names are added to the list every minute. Bucky’s gut lurches every time he sees the letter D. There’s a constant pounding in his head. A tension headache that refuses to go away, like his skull is cracking under the pressure.

Steve still doesn’t understand. He keeps saying it. And Bucky understands, because Bucky is refusing to talk about it. About her.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Steve says now, his body moving like a blur around the room behind Bucky. Bucky continues scrolling. “Why didn't you say anything about her? What was she doing while you were in Wakanda? What was she even doing in Bucharest in the first place?”

He repeats these questions. Maybe in the hope Bucky will snap and explain. But he doesn't want to. He wants to protect her from this side of him. The Steve side. The warring side. Back when he first was getting to know her—stupidly getting to know her, letting her in, telling her things—he was set on never disclosing his true identity because of how badly he wanted to ensure her safety. And her knowing was a liability.

But she had a way of getting him to talk. Even when it was the last thing he wanted to do.

He knew it was her by the way she knocked on his door. Several hard, loud bangs in quick succession. He hadn’t necessarily been expecting her, but he wasn’t surprised by her sudden appearance.

'I know who you are,' she said as soon as he opened the door, and Bucky’s heart had never dropped to his stomach so quickly.

'What?'

She came inside and closed the door when it was clear Bucky no longer had use of his arms, flesh and otherwise. Turning around slowly, his breaths shallow and painful, he watched as she took off her red scarf. She set her things on the sofa and headed right for the basin. She always washed her hands when she first entered the apartment. He wasn’t sure why. He’d never asked. They knew nothing about each other really. Nothing important.

Darcy silently rinsed and dried her hands before facing him with a single eyebrow arched. Then the eyebrow fell and she slumped a little at the waist. 'Okay, fine, I don’t know who you are,' she said. 'But,' she said, pointing a finger at him, 'I recognise you. You’re someone.'

Still with his back to the door, Bucky considered running. Just taking off and leaving everything here and never returning, not even for the notebook. But that impulse faded as quickly as it overtook him, and he was left with a decision to make. Darcy Lewis stood a few paces in front of him waiting for him to speak. Her glasses were wet with melted snow. Her teeth captured her bottom lip.

His mouth filled with ash. Bucky tried swallowing, but his throat was not working. It was rebelling against him. And he didn’t know how he found himself in this situation. All he wanted to do was help the poor American girl with the bleeding skull. It was never supposed to turn into this. But it did, and he had done nothing so far to stop it.

He wanted to tell her. He needed to. Of course, it was so clear to him now.

'Bucky. Tell me who you are,' she said.

'It’s a long story.'

'I’ve got nowhere to be. Vacation, remember?'

'You might not like it.'

'Try me,' she said, her voice wavering.

And it was that easy. It shouldn't have been that easy. He told her. And he showed her—his arm, his scars, the notebook, the backpack buried underneath the floorboards.

Instead of fleeing or calling the police, she listened. She stayed. She tucked his too-long hair behind his ear and ran the pad of her finger down his jaw, the curves of her fingerprint catching on the stubble.

'Bucky Barnes,' she said, his name coming out like a long exhale. 'I like you Bucky Barnes.'

He didn’t know how, but he knew she meant it. And he didn’t know why, but he liked her too.

“Do you boys need anything?”

Bucky jerks away from the computer. The kind woman is in the doorway. She calls them boys as if they are not at least fifty years older than her.

Steve stops pacing. “No, thank you, ma’am. We’re doing alright.”

Steve is not alright. Steve has just lost Tony Stark and has not had the time to mourn. Steve has lost Natasha Romanoff and has not had the time to mourn. His team is splintered and cracked, and nothing can repair it this time.

And Bucky is not alright. Bucky is never alright. But especially not now when his bones feel like wet cornstarch. Not when he still has no idea if Darcy is alright.

“Okay,” she says, smiling warmly. “Just let me know if I can do anything. Good luck with your search.” She says the last thing staring directly at Bucky. Then she walks away, leaving the half-mechanical man to return to his draining task.

“Just tell me,” Steve says, coming up to the computer, “why she was in Romania.”

Bucky’s numb fingers move the mouse’s wheel. His eyes are so tired. So bleary. He can hardly make out any of the names on the screen. It’s like he’s staring at the monitor through a flurry of snow. “Something happened to her,” he says. He might as well give Steve something. “She was working in London with an astrophysicist when she saw something. It was bad enough that she needed to get out of there.

'Things don’t normally shake me,' she had said to him the night she explained her trip east. Their sweat-soaked bodies were still recovering and her words came out like heavy pants. 'But that did. Jane understood, but I’m sure she’s wondering why it’s taken me so long to come back.'

'Did you say you would?' he asked. He didn’t want her to leave him.

'Yes.' She turned onto her side and pressed her mouth against his chest. Her tongue gently swam through the moisture gathered on his skin. 'But I’m not going. Not now.'

He knew what she meant. She was staying for him. For them, really. His heart swelled. His belly fluttered. She had the strangest effect on him. With her, he was a teenager again. Experiencing everything for the first time. But then, he had never experienced anything like this. Not before HYDRA. Certainly not since.

Holding her to him, he found her mouth and kissed her, sucking the salt from her tongue.

Bucky is so busy remembering—good things this time, not the bad things—that he almost scrolls past her picture. He stops breathing. He stops scrolling. There she is, at the top of the computer screen. Name: Darcy Lewis. Location: Brooklyn, New York, United States of America. Status: Alive.

Alive.

He sounds the word out in his head slowly. A-L-I-V-E.

“I’ve found her,” he chokes out. God, he can’t breathe. Really and truly cannot get his lungs to work. “She’s okay. She’s in New York.” She’s close. Mere hours away from him. And she's alive.

He scans the number below her picture and shakily asks Steve for the nearest phone.

“New York?” Steve says, handing Bucky the computer room’s landline. “Why isn't she in Romania?”

“Because,” he says, his eyes stinging as he tries to punch in the phone number, “I told her to get back to America the day you found me.” He finishes putting the number in and double checks it’s correct before taking as deep a breath as he can manage. He presses the CALL button.

They were together that morning Steve came to him in Bucharest. They were both being lazy. He hadn’t been so relaxed since before the war. But soon Darcy would need to get to work. She had started helping an old woman she met shortly after arriving in Romania. Darcy still barely spoke any of the national language, and the woman spoke absolutely no English, but Darcy was never in a bad mood after she returned to Bucky’s apartment.

He missed her when she was gone. It had gotten that bad. When she was out, he forgot what he used to do with himself before she bled her way into his backwards, fucked up life. Search for the past. Push the past as far away as he could. Rinse, repeat.

'We need food,' she said that morning. Her hair was fanned over his chest. The strands kept drifting into Bucky’s mouth whenever he breathed in. 'You could go to the market downtown.'

'You’ll already be out.'

'I’ll be busy. Too busy to worry about grocery shopping. Besides, the vendors can never understand me. It’s better when you get the food.'

'They don’t understand you,' he said, scraping Darcy’s hair from the inside of his lip, 'because you don’t speak their language.'

'But I speak English!' she exclaimed, throwing her arms up in the air. She nearly whacked his face with her elbow. 'Doesn’t everyone speak English? Why don’t they speak English?'

'They probably do.'

'Then why don’t they speak English to me?'

'Because you are so very American,' he said as her arms came down. He clipped their hands together. Wove their fingers together. Just because he could.

'So, the system is rigged against me. Nothing that I do will make my life in Romania any easier?'

'Fine,' he said, bending his neck down and pecking her temple. She was already smiling. She already knew what he was going to say. 'I’ll get the damn food.'

'Thank you, Bucky.' She squeezed his hand. 'I think I saw plums yesterday. They looked yummy. Get me some of those plums, loverboy.'

'Plums,' he said, this time going for her mouth. 'Check.'

The phone rings. And rings and rings. Bucky’s tongue dries and swells inside of his mouth. The tips of his fingers, of his toes, go numb then start fizzing like he has a bad case of pins and needles.

Steve looms over him, his face contorted in concentration and a small amount of betrayal.

“What's happening?” he asks when Bucky, his hand shaking violently as if he has no control over it, removes the phone from his ear.

“She didn't pick up,” he croaks.

“What? Why?” Steve must be tired of asking these questions. Of not knowing. He runs a hand down his face and holds his jaw like he has to stop himself from screaming.

Bucky has to stop himself from screaming too.

“She never picks up when she doesn't recognise the number.”

If he's honest, he likes that part. Usually. But not now. Not when it is so important. The most important thing in the whole universe.

He swallows past his thick, sandy tongue tasting nothing but bile and dials again, the memory of that day in Bucharest climbing inside his head again.

He had not been on such high alert in months. Darcy had made him soft. Weak.

Why didn't he just leave her at the side of the road?

The image from the newspaper burned every time he closed his eyes. Had she seen it? Did she think it was him?

Searching the deserted backstreets, Bucky came across a battered payphone. Keeping his eyes trained on every unseeable corner, he walked up to it, tipping his head down and hiding his left hand. He pulled random change out of his pocket and shoved them into the coin slot. He didn't stop until there was almost nothing left.

He knew this was going to happen eventually. It had to. He couldn't just happily live out his life in Romania without consequence. The world wasn't going to forget the Winter Soldier.

He had a plan for this sort of thing. The backpack was there for a reason.

But Darcy.

Oh, God, Darcy. She was never supposed to happen.

Bucky pressed his cheek against the receiver. Then he banged it against his forehead. He couldn't change things now. She was in his life—buried inside of him. Nothing could sever their tie.

Digging the phone into his ear, Bucky punched in Darcy’s mobile number. He nervously chewed on his lip, a habit he picked up from her, as he waited.

'No, Darcy, pick up,' he said aloud through gritted teeth. 'Please, don't you see how important this is?'

Holding the phone between his shoulder and ear, Bucky hurriedly redialed the number.

'Hey, whoever this is, if you could just go ahead and fuck right'—

—'Darcy, stop talking.'

'Bucky,' she gasped. 'What’s happened?'

'It's not good,' he said. 'It's really not good. Are you near a TV?'

'Yes.'

Bucky steeled himself. 'Turn it on. Find a news channel. Any news channel. Have you got it?'

'Yeah, but Bucky, what the hell is this?'

He pulled away from the handset and bit hard into his lip. His throat ached. 'Darcy, it's not me. I don't know who it is, but it is not me. But,' he said, 'it's someone who wants people to think it's me, and that means I have to leave.'

'No,' she said, the word turning over in Bucky’s stomach.

'Yes. And it means you have to leave too. You can't go back to the apartment. You have to get out of here.'

'No.'

'Yes, Darcy,' he said firmly. 'I can't let them find you.'

'But I know SHIELD. I know these guys'—

—'Not anymore. Listen to me Darcy. It has never been more important. You have to trust me. Get out of Romania. Get out of Europe. Wherever you go, tell no-one you were ever here. No-one, even if you think you can trust them. When you leave this place, I no longer exist. And don't listen to the news.' He broke off, coughing to dislodge the blockage in his throat. 'I'm me,' he said. 'I'm not him anymore.'

'I know,' she said, and it sounded like she was crying, and the sound broke his soul in half. 'I love you. I'll get out, I swear.'

He closed his eyes. He shouldn't have, but he didn't have the strength to keep them open. 'Good. I’ll contact you when I can. I—I love you.'

He didn't let her respond. Hanging up the phone, he checked his surroundings and headed for his apartment.

“Hello?”

Black spots invade Bucky’s eyeline. His head fills with static. He clenches his jaw so tight his teeth could snap.

“Hello . . . Bucky?” she whispers, her voice so small—so, so small. He hasn’t heard her say his name since he first found himself in Wakanda. How many years ago was that now? So many. Too many.

“Did she pick up this time?” Steve asks, but the words are muffled against Bucky’s ears.

“Darcy,” he breathes. His face feels wet. And hot. His lungs burn, as if he has been running in the Italian summertime wearing his military uniform.

“Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Bucky.”

Steve vanishes from the room. It is only Bucky and Darcy who remain.

“It’s me,” he says, “I’m here. I’m okay. Are you—are you okay?” he asks, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth and biting so hard he tastes blood.

“Yes.” She’s crying again. He is too. “I’m okay. I am so fucking okay. Where are you?”

“I’m close. Still near the battlefield. But I’m coming. Where are you?”

Stumbling over her words, she eventually manages to give Bucky her Brooklyn address. He repeats it out loud with the blind expectation that Steve is still in the room and writing it down.

“When can you get here?” she asks.

With the help from the guy with the magic hands, instantly. But he won’t ask him for help. Even though he wants to. “Soon. I’ll get a jet with Steve and we’ll be there soon.” He is about to hang up—he is too excited; he is sick with excitement—but she says something that halts his movements.

“It’s been so lonely without you,” she says. “It’s been so lonely and so long. Just, get to me, Bucky.”

So long? Does that mean . . .? “I will,” he says, and it is her who hangs up on him.

Steve acquires a jet within twenty minutes of Bucky putting the phone down. The kind old woman gives them both hugs before they leave her house for the last time. “I’m glad you got through to her,” she says. There is a sadness in her eyes. Someone from her life must not have made it back. Bucky nods, squaring his shoulders as he follows Steve.

“I’ll get us there,” he says. Bucky nods again. His vocal cords aren’t working.

Darcy survived the Decimation. She has been waiting for him for seven years. With the time he spent frozen in Wakanda, the time he spent as dust, the time he spent fighting, to him it has been a blip. A passing moment. Agonising, yes, and tortuous, but hardly any time at all.

But for her. For Darcy, it has been so many years. And still, after all of this time, she is waiting for him.

“You didn’t tell me about her, Buck,” Steve says once they’ve reached cruising altitude.

Bucky stares ahead out the window. He loves Steve like a brother. They are family. If it weren’t for Steve believing in him, trusting that he was battling against HYDRA with all of his might, he would either be in jail or dead. But he will not defend his silence. “I didn’t tell anyone,” he says. “I couldn’t risk it.”

“If you couldn’t risk it,” Steve says, and Bucky knows exactly what he will say next, “then why did you get involved in the first place?”

“It wasn’t like I sought her out. I didn’t plan this. It just . . . happened. I tried to stop it, but there was nothing I could do.”

“Nothing? Buck, you could have cut ties. You could have told her it was too dangerous and made her leave. You could have done”—

—“I didn’t want to, okay? I found her and I didn’t want to let her go. I was so sick of running away from everyone and everything, of feeling like an alien, that when I met her, and she made me feel normal again, like I did before the war, I made the decision to be with her. I know it was stupid, but I don’t care,” Bucky says, releasing his clenched fists. He hadn’t realised he had closed his hands. Leaning back against the seat, he wipes his face.

“You really do love her, then?”

Bucky looks at Steve out the corner of his eye. “I do,” he says, and it is the first time he has said this to anyone other than Darcy, and it feels good.

“Then I can’t wait to meet her.”

“You’ll like her,” Bucky says. It’s strange talking about her in the open like this. “Not everyone does, but you will.”

“I already like her.” Steve means it. Bucky knows, because Steve only ever says what he means.

Steve lands the jet in an empty field. There are lots of empty fields. Bucky wonders if they are where demolished buildings, playgrounds, schools once stood. Maybe the survivors couldn’t live to see them knowing their children or parents or lovers were no longer around to enjoy them.

The address Darcy gave him is near the field. It isn’t an apartment like he assumed. It’s a house. Single-story, detached, with a front and back garden. There are flowers in pinks and purples and blues either side of the front door. Bucky’s entire body vibrates the further up the driveway he gets. She is going to make such fun of his hair. She already thought it was too long when they first met. And his beard. She hates the beard. Says it scratches her face when she kisses him.

God, he can’t wait to kiss her again.

He doesn’t make it to the door. He doesn’t make it, because Darcy bursts through before he can reach the patio steps.

It isn’t like a film. They don’t come to a halt and stare at each other, breathing heavily until someone snaps. No, it is nothing like that. Darcy runs straight for him and throws her arms around his neck, bashing into him so hard he almost loses his footing. He instantly wraps himself around her. His body starts fizzing again. Each breath feels like someone has poured a carbonated drink down his lungs.

He hears someone crying, and it isn’t until he hears Darcy whispering soothing words into his ear—soothing words interrupted by hiccups—that he realises he is the one crying. And he realises he never thought he’d see her again.

“I’m alright,” she says, taking his face in her hands. She strokes his cheeks with her thumbs. Wipes away the tears. She is crying too. Her face is red and swollen and drenched, and he can only imagine how much worse he looks. “You’re alright,” she says. Tears splatter the inside of her glasses. He bets she is looking at him through a kaleidoscope. Getting to her tiptoes, Darcy crushes her forehead to his. She kisses him. Her lips taste like salt. Like grief. Like honey. All of the good and all of the bad. She pulls away smiling through her sobs. “We’re alright.”

* * *

you were the light in my eyes/

you're the answer

* * *

She is wearing his sweater and sitting cross-legged on the bed, staring down at him. Her fingers trace the bruises on his collarbone. She has never seen him after a battle. She winces at the sight of every new patch of discoloured skin.

“Does it hurt?” she asks, poking his sternum.

Bucky’s breath hitches. “Only when you press it,” he says. She smiles guiltily, moving her finger to his left arm.

���No star,” she says, a stray droplet marching down her face. Bucky reaches up and wipes it away. “Sorry. I am happy. Too happy, I think. My body doesn’t know what the fuck it’s doing.”

“I’ve never cried this much,” Bucky admits, pulling on the sweater’s sleeve to get Darcy to lie down again. “I didn’t know I could cry this much.”

“I’m not surprised, you poor, repressed thing.”

“Not repressed anymore. Shuri cleared me of all of that,” he says.

Darcy rolls onto her side. Lifting herself up by the elbow, she places her head in her hand and stares at him. “I loved you before,” she says. “I love you still,” she says, “but I want you to know that I loved you before. Before you were ‘fixed’ or ‘cured’ or whatever,” she says, using air quotes to make her point. With her free hand, she smoothes her pointer finger over his lips. “I love you.”

He could burst. He thinks he might. With everything bubbling inside of him, he will not be surprised if he explodes. Sitting up, Bucky leans forward and takes Darcy into his arms. He kisses her lips, just because he can. Because he has missed her mouth.

This is like coming awake. Coming alive. Finally. After more than seventy years of being shackled to death, Bucky is alive and breathing.

“I love you,” he says into Darcy’s neck. He pinches the hem of the sweater and pulls up.

[wildlyplanted]

Part 1 of 3: “The Paris of Eastern Europe” – Budapest | Prague | Berlin Travels

Hello! Grab yourself a cup of coffee or tea and if you fancy, a treat too. I hope you enjoy this blog post (the first in a three-part series) about my trip to Budapest, Prague and Berlin. In the series, I share my hosteling and general overall experience in all three cities, the challenges, randomness and realizations I came to along the way of this splendid journey.

Hosteling. Anyone who truly knows me, knows that me, staying in hostels, means I have come a long, long way. During my recent trip to Budapest, Prague and Berlin, this past February, my travel buddy and I opted for the hostel life.

After staying in a hostel for the very first time, while traveling solo around Ecuador in 2017, my fears melted away and I understood the many benefits of hostel life, especially for those traveling alone and for extended periods of time.

Here are my top 5 reasons to hostel: 

The PRICE! Hostels are cheap, leaving extra cash to spend on excursions, day trips, and experiences that interest you. Also, you can have that nice dinner and evenings out on the town while staying in or under budget.

It puts you among fellow travelers. You can get great tips and the low down on where to explore, especially off the beaten path. Additionally, they can offer tips for one or more of your next destinations because some may have already visited where you're going.

A number of hostels offer free walking tours, their staff are highly knowledgeable and usually have time to provide you with extensive information on things like public transport, touristy areas to avoid when wanting to dine or shop, and they can point you to more authentic experiences.

You can socialize with people from different countries and backgrounds without having to seek it out.

You can team up with other travelers for day trips outside the city or to another city or region. While staying in Quito I joined 5 others on a day trip to Mindo Valley and I am so grateful I had this opportunity; I know I would not have visited that gorgeous region if I hadn't been staying in a hostel.

With all of that said, I must point out that however great the benefits of hosteling can be, it's not for every destination, and it must make sense depending on where you’re traveling and why. For these three cities, it made sense because my friend and I wanted to be among other travelers. This leads me to where I stayed; which first begins with an unplanned overnight in Berlin.

That morning, Feb 20th, it began to snow and our evening flight (Newark to Berlin) was delayed, by more than 5 hours! We had a connecting flight to Budapest two hours after our scheduled landing in Berlin, and needless to say, we knew we would not be in Budapest by the next afternoon, as planned. We landed in Berlin, late afternoon, to ultimately discover that we would not be making it to Budapest at all that day.

Our Budapest hostel was more than accommodating and moved our check-in and check-out dates. This is another great thing about hostels. As long as they are not fully booked, they are super flexible to change around your arrival and departure dates, even lengthen or shorten your stay, with no hassle or added fees. More on Budapest in a moment.

Once we agreed to stay the night in Berlin, we checked Hostelworld for the cheapest hostel within city limits. I learned during my travels in Ecuador that the price is not an indicator of what the hostel will be like—additionally, Hostelworld breaks down how travelers rated things like cleanliness, atmosphere, location, etc.

The cheapest hostel I stayed in, during my Ecuador travels, was my best experience, so, I was not surprised when our choice, PLUS Berlin, turned out to be great!

They had thousands of reviews, a great rating and we liked what we saw in the photos. We did not book or make a reservation; we saw that they still had a decent amount of available beds, so we just headed there. If you want to be on the safe side, you can always call or email the hostel and let them know you’re on your way and how many beds you need. I feel like most hostels would be fine with same day reservations without asking for payment until you arrive.

PLUS Berlin is located in east Berlin’s Friedrichshain neighborhood, a short walk from the Warschauer StraBe (Street) S-baun stop. From TXL airport we took the airport bus (TXL) to Hauptbahnof station (Central Station) and from there we took the S-baun to Warschauer StraBe station.

*Tip: If you have a suitcase don’t take the short-cut down the stairs. Take the walk along the wall and make a left under the bridge and then another immediate left (or take the 2nd set of stairs leaving you closest to the hostel). Our suitcases were light and small, so we were ok to carry them over the cobblestone until we reached smoother ground.

PLUS Berlin has an artsy, cool vibe. It matches the neighborhood and attracts guests with those similar qualities. We stayed in a 6-bed mixed gender dorm with an en-suite separate bathroom and separate shower room.

The atmosphere is relaxed and social. The lobby area is large, yet comfortable, and the building looks like it used to be some sort of campus at one time. The front desk is staffed 24 hours. Also, they have a restaurant and bar on premises, and get this, they have a pool and sauna (which unfortunate for us, they were closed by the time we returned from dinner).

We got to check out a bit of the neighborhood while looking for a restaurant to have dinner in, and I couldn’t be more excited about returning to Berlin, in the future, to see more. The best part about our unplanned stay was how nicely we connected with two of our roommates. The conversation about our travel plans, and about life in general was wonderful. For me, that human connection, however brief, is the best part of traveling and something money can’t buy.

PLUS Berlin is a thumbs up, and I plan to stay here on my next trip to Berlin.

Finally, we made it to Budapest the next day, where we stayed at Hostel One Basilica. Getting there from the airport was very easy. We took the 100E bus to Deak Frenec stop and walked a block to our hostel. I booked our stay here through Hostelworld a couple of weeks before our trip, but I could have also booked directly with the hostel.

The location is very central, across the street from Budapest Eye, and we were able to easily walk to other areas of the city. The hostel is housed within a large courtyard apartment building where they have an entire floor. There are tons of eateries and bars nearby which came in handy for our first night there.

Hostel One Basilica is a very social hostel, but it’s not noisy. They have created a very friendly environment that starts with the staff. Everyone said hello and I had nice chats with several other travelers and a couple of the staff. They have a 24-hour desk, a common area and a large open plan kitchen with tables and chairs. Use of the kitchen is open to all and it comes with free coffee and tea. 

Something great about this hostel is that they have a free family meal every evening, to encourage socialization, and it’s delicious. I ate family meal two out of four nights – Vegetarian goulash and a Vegetarian Colombian stew. You should still plan to eat before or after since the portions aren’t huge, although, we got lucky the night of the Colombian stew because not as many people showed up to dinner and we got to have seconds.

Our room was a spacious 10-bed female dorm. With people arriving and departing often, the room was never fully occupied during our stay. There were six of us at the most during its fullest (with two being myself and my friend). The bathrooms are all full, private rooms with toilet, sink and shower.

Our first night in Budapest, we had dinner at Drum Café, about a 15-minute (or less) walk from the hostel. The atmosphere was lively, the food was just ok, nothing to return for; however, the service was good. They serve typical Hungarian dishes such as goulash. I had a whole fish (I don’t remember what kind), along with pickled cabbage and vegetables.

After dinner we ran into a group of travelers from Netherlands, Germany and Israel and spent the rest of the evening at a nearby bar talking about everything under the sun – life, relationships, family, love. It’s something quite remarkable, to travel thousands of miles from where you live, to find that people can understand and relate to you, and you to them; and for people to share with you, a stranger, their fears and wishes. The best conversations I’ve had in a very long time was with them and it was special. My first night in Budapest was one of the best experiences of 2019 so far!

From the evening and afternoon walks across Szechenyi Chain and Szabadsag hid bridges, seeing the Hungarian Parliament building lit up at night, watching the sunset over Hosok tere (Heroes’ Square), enjoying great coffee at Madal Coffee Co., to dancing the night away at Froccsterasz Telikert and Szimpa; Budapest was a wonderful experience and I loved every moment. We ended up extending our stay by an extra day.

Coincidentally, during our visit, my friend discovered a friend of hers was also in the city, and we met up with him. He described Budapest so perfectly, “it’s like the Paris of Eastern Europe.”

Final Notes:

The bathrooms in our hostel could have been cleaner. They weren’t gross, but they weren’t the cleanest. I’m always prepared for this scenario and I share my tips in part 3 of this three-part blog post series.

Currency exchange – The money exchange just around the corner from the hostel (Valutavalto) has some of the best rates, and there’s often a line. We were warned to go at least a couple of hours before closing because they’ve been known to run out of money since they’re popular.

Szechenyi Hot Springs – This place, for me, was disappointing. Although they had 18 pools (2 huge outdoor ones), none of them were actually hot. They didn’t even range in levels of hot. They were all either just warm or very warm at best. Maybe this has to do with its popularity and needing to be comfortable for just about anyone who visited, I don’t know. Next time, I’m going to seek out one that isn’t so popular with tourists. They do have a steam room and sauna. Very small, but nonetheless, they have them.

*Important mention: I purposely took this trip with no concrete plans. Although I looked up main attractions and browsed through blogs, I wasn’t tied to any particular thing I needed to do or see. The only thing I wanted, was to walk around and see as much of the cities, and their architectures, as possible. That I did.

Look for the next blog post in this series:

Part 2 of 3: “Bus Station? Dog Bar? What ever happened to Eagle Eye Cherry?” – Budapest | Prague | Berlin Travels

Where you can find me/how to contact me:

IG: wildlyplanted (check out photos)

YouTube: Wildly Planted ( I uploaded short video and photo reels)

Email: wildlyplanted@zoho.com

[riverdaleroundup]

Riverdale Roundup: 2x14“ The Hills Have Eyes”

Oh hey. It’s me. That bitch you hate. It’s been a hot damn minute but i’m ready for some fresh ass teenage angst. The journey to get a link to watch this god forsaken show has been TREACHEROUS! The lord has been punishing me for not having basic satellite in my dorm room and not having the patience to wait for midnight for this shit to come on  Netflix. Like I feel like Jesus is pressuring me to go down to my communal living area and watch TV with the plebs who live on my floor but I would rather shave off my eyebrows than interact with these people. So after YEARS of looking for a good link I've finally made it. I would like to thank not only God but Jesus.

First off we need to address that Chic is just so damn creepy and also a truly awful house guest. Like don’t drink out of the juice carton and don’t use Betty's shower. ��He’s going to get written up in page six for being an ungrateful house guest. Also him standing on the stairs waving will haunt my dreams for weeks to come.

Cheryl is not that pleased that her mom is still pimping herself out to the men of Riverdale. Penelope is pissed that Cheryl ruined her chance at happiness with Hal, but really who loves Hal? Penelope comes for her 15 year old daughter over having never been in love. Like she’s in 10th grade but whatever.

Hiram offers Veronica and Archie the lake house for the weekend and i’m like ummmmm. What father sends their child out on a romantic getaway? Also Veronica demand's not to have a chaperone and Daddy just agrees? Like I’m 20 and I feel like I need a chaperone still. If my mom isn’t coming with me on a trip I feel unsafe. Like excuse me where are the adults? Who is going to hold my passport?

Oh so it’s a safe house. I get it now. He’s not just looking to facilitate his daughter getting dicked down.

FP and Jughead need a new place to live since the whole of Sunnyside trailer park is getting evicted. Tragically there is minimal affordable housing in Riverdale and FP works at a diner. Yikes.

All of my hopes prayers have come true and Moose has finally graced our screens. I think he got hotter.  Like his face thinned out a bit and his hair looks good and he’s got that jean jacket and i’m INTO IT.

So is this whole scene just an ad for Love Simon? We get it. The movies coming out. Are Moose and Kevin secretly hooking up or like? What is Midge supposedly so cool with? Or is it just that she knows that they went down to the river to hook up and casually found a dead body?  

I honestly just want Moose and Kevin to be together. Who cares about Midge? Not I.

Veronica is like our lake house is “rustic” and i’m like really bitch? I doubt that. Do you want to see rustic?  Would you like to see my canvas tent complete with plywood walls that my father built and a composting toilet? It’s a yurt bitch. Look it up. But like not a mud hut. Don’t get it twisted.

Jughead is only into going to this cabin so that he can get some Intel on the Lodges. Betty like doesn’t love that idea. She needs to get away from her creepy ass brother and i’m like girl he has caused so much trouble just send that bitch back to the youth hostel where he belongs.

So if life was normal Alice would never let her kid go on an over night sex weekend but I guess now that they are covering up a murder she’s a little more lax with the rules. It’s hard to lecture your daughter about responsibility when she witnessed you mopping up the blood of a drug dealer.

Chic is so damn creepy. I’m done with him.

What I want to know is why would the Lodges go to this lake house for the summer? They are so Hampton's people. They should be off rubbing elbows with Ramona Singer and Luann De Lesseps.

Can I just say that Andre is honestly hot. Homebody can like get it.

Archie is shook that Andre has a gun as if he wasn’t walking around locked and  loaded only a handful of episodes ago.

Lodge Lodge. Really Veronica? How clever.  Florals? For spring? Ground breaking.

Cheryl  is pissed that she couldn’t come on the couples weekend so she calls jughead to ruin their getaway because she’s a petty bitch and I adore it.  Stir up the shit girl. Stir it up.

Jughead is pissed. This is why Betty should have come clean before. Like you kissed Archie. You didn’t have a secret love child together. It’s not a big deal.

I adore that Cheryl introduces herself with her twitter handle. She’s looking to gain followers. She’s ready to be a social media influencer.

Toni tries to play therapist to Cheryl and she is not having it. Like don’t touch her sans consent.

I know that i’ve said this before but Archie has the world's largest head. We know it’s not holding a big brain so like what’s up there? Extra storage space? Room for activities?

Why do they need to unpack their stuff? They’re staying there for like 2 days. I don’t unpack when i’m staying somewhere for 2 weeks. I just rummage through my suitcase like a drifter looking for cans in the trash bin .

Jughead and Betty promptly make up about the whole Barchie kiss thing  and then hear Archie and Veronica getting it on.A friendly reminder that these children are 15. This feels wrong.  Jughead has a point. All Veronica and Archie know how to do is fuck. Like what do they actually talk about?

Jughead goes digging for info and Betty does not love it.  Veronica assumes that they are still pissy about the kiss so she suggests that they all unwind in the jacuzzi.

So everybody is going hot tubbing. I miss my hottub. If my dad could just like do a girl a solid and fill that ish back up again I would be very grateful. Give me all the chemicals.

Veronica is like “ just so things aren’t awkward I think that Jughead and I should make out just like really quick.”   Very sound logic. See this is actually something that 15 year olds would do. Although under normal circumstances they wouldn’t be on a sex getaway in the woods funded by one of the girls fathers.

All of these characters are way to self aware with their ship names. Jughead just used bughead and Vughead all in one sentence.

Veronica and Jughead kiss and it’s awkward for all. All that’s left is for Archie and Jughead to kiss and everything will be Gucci. Honestly at this point who hasn’t Archie kissed?

Betty puts on her awkward ass cam girl outfit and then her and Jughead get it on real quick.  Evidently she watched the new fifty shades of grey movie and is feeling very sexually liberated. Someone needs to oil the bed springs in this house. Just saying.

Archies doesn’t want to talk or have sex so really he and veronica are at a loss. Talking was a stretch in the first place.

Archie chops wood the next morning so he can get out some of his sexual frustration about watching his best friend make out with his girlfriend and then he scampers off to meet Andre in the woods

Why does Veronica have an umbrella? It’s not raining.

Joise is pissed that her mom is sniffing around the Sheriff. She’s not down for this whole affair thing.  Oh so Josie's dad knows about Sierra and ‘Tom’. Did we know that that was his name prior to this? Did I just miss it because i’m always referring to him as Sheriff Silver fox or Hot Dad?

Oh so is the sheriff really going to leave his wife? You know what they say….They never leave the wife.

Juggie and Archiekins  chat about the time that their girlfriends made out and then Archie is like btw really sorry about making out with your girlfriend. Jughead points out just how incestious their group is and predicts that they are probably going to explode at some point. Foreshadowing my dudes.

Also why are they sitting four feet across from each other throwing a football? Is this what boys do?

Josie spills the beans to Kevin about the affair and it’s a very Cheryl move. Throwing out all that drama. Destroying families one step at a time.

Veronica confirms with Betty that she and Jughead have been doing the deed and she literally praises the lord that Betty and Jughead have moved past holding hands and hugging. She didn’t want to be the only non virgin female of the group. Betty also admit that she likes to dress up in the worst wig ever known to man to make their special time together more exciting. Maybe keep that to yourself girl.

So Hiram bought the trailer park for the serpents but really what's good? Jugheads detective senses are tingling.

I love Moose so much. If Midge could just go away that would be ideal. She can go do jingle jangle with someone else and leave Moose to Kevin.

“ I’m just going to this gay rom com alone.” Same Kevin. Same

Midge is like “ we need to find you someone” and Kevin is like “ yeah how about your boyfriend?”

I’m confused. Does Midge know that Kevin and Moose like got it on once upon a time or not? I’m feeling like it’s a no tbh.

Are there really so many desperate men in Riverdale that Penelope can keep a steady stream of business? Does she have to scour Greendale for potential suitors as well?

So glad Josie and Kevin are friends now. It will make being step siblings so much easier.

Riverdale has moved from being sponsored by covergirl to being sponsored by upcoming teen rom coms. This is only slightly more subtle than a focus in shot on the lash blast mascara.

The Lodges are so rich but they can’t even afford the monopoly with the credit cards? Shame.

Hiram bought the riverdale register? What the heck Hal? You fool. I’m also confused because I thought that the Lodges were fresh out of cash. They supposedly “risked it all” building to Sodale thing but yet they can afford to buy Pops and the town paper + a trailer park? These New York investors must of come in hard with the cash.

Oh there is mad tension in this friend group rn.  Jughead is like : Archie you’re really stupid” which I mean at this point is a well known fact. Archie calls Jughead and Betty boring and paranoid .Betty calls Veronica sexually manipulative. Veronica kink shames Betty. This is relationship health. Have they finally reached the point in high school where all your friends turn on you and nothing is ever the same?

A bunch of townies break in to defuse the tension between the ‘ core four’. We all know it’s you under that hood Cassidy. I recognize that flannel.

Veronica hits the panic button in her room because of course she has one of those. That’s honestly my dream.  Give me a panic button. Give me a panic room. Please.

The townies run off when the alarm goes off but one of them steals Veronicas necklace and for some reason that really sets Archie off. Like is this necklace significant? It’s not even her pearls.

Andre really casually shots this guy. Like same. Hope he got grammas scone recipe first.

Josie and Kevin call a family meeting of their new little clan. Honestly blended family goals. Adam Sandler would be proud.

Cheryl  kind of comes out very casually Toni. Toni is Bi, Cheryl is not straight.  It’s the beginning of a love story. Tale as old as time.  Are we ever going to address Cheryl being creepy with Josie or are we going to just let that slide?

Hiram asks Archie if he’s pissed that Andre shot a teenager and Archie is like  “ Nah fam. I regret not shooting the black hood. Shoulda never threw my gun in the river”.

Hiram reminds Archie that all those who hesitate are lost so like don’t pussy out next time.

Jughead is really creeped out by Chic and i’m like same bro. Get that crack addict out of here. The issue being that Chic has really nice bone structure but he’s too gaunt to be truly hot so it really takes away from the appeal of his character. At this point he’s just some freaky kid who hangs around the house and eat cereal while making full eye contactt. It’s a no from me fam. Also he constantly looks constipated. Get some smooth move tea girl.

[seecourtneytravel]

October 3rd and 4th, 2018 (Wednesday & Thursday)

Teaching and Cebu. Cebu was epic!

Both of these days I feel like putting into one writing. I’m sure you all are getting tired of reading my day to day posts that have been a week off so here’s a way I can catch up. I was able to miss a day at both TabonTabon and LPH for teaching which was a nice break.

I met up with Jude to head to Northern Tacloban high school to teach basic life support to 9th, 10th, and 11th grade kids. I didn’t know what to expect and didn’t know if the kids would grasp the concept or understand me speaking semi fast English. I had 40 minutes to talk about cpr, drowning, and choking in the baby and the adult. I think I made a world record class in timing. I talked loud and fast.

The room would fill up with about 30 kids, they were all in uniform and I think they gave me the time of day because I was someone different. When I told them I was from New York everyone in the class “oooo” and “ahhhhh” ‘d. Then I would show them pictures of my friends back home who were American but Chinese and Filipino in appearance. They were confused why they were in the United States. I felt like that in itself was a great exposure point. When I was about to show them how far I lived from NYC in the next slide, I soon realized that all the work I did the previous day didn’t save. It was okay because I still had 40 slides.

The first class, I was feeling nervous and not really knowing how my timing would be. To get through the slides and demonstration in 40 min was tough. I had the principal in the back watching my teachings as well which was nerve wrecking. He didn’t know what Basic life support was either so maybe he learned a thing or two.

After teaching the kids ABC’s (airway breathing and circulation) and responding in the order of CAB, I would demonstrate on my water gallon the steps of CPR. The kids were very shy and were not used to me being so loud and forcing them to demonstrate. I would give them test questions along the way and a chance to demonstrate. I gave random candies that I think really helped keep them in focus. Sometimes it was obvious when they didn’t understand, but demonstration and numbers they picked up quick. They especially liked when j started singing “ah-ah-ah-ah stayin’ alive stayin’ alive” singing.

After five classes back to back to back I was pouring sweat it was embarrassing. I was also losing my voice. The volunteer for the visayans worker Rico was at standby watching my presentations and taking pictures. Jude had left after the first class.

On my way back, when I left from a multicab to a jeepney I had my phone on my lap that only dropped when I went from hunched to standing as I was getting out of the vehicle. My phone went flying forward landing face down. Some bystandard called me over and picked it up for me. The scary moment when they are about to reveal the front of your phone to you happened and it happened to be my worst nighmare. He turned my phone over and it was super smashed. But the touch screen still worked.

I went directly to Robinson’s mall to see how much it would cost to repair. I went to five different stores who either said no or they didn’t have it in stock for my iPhone 6+. Finally I found a real phone repair spot that said it would cost 6,500 pasos. That’s like $110. Pretty expensive but also they typically don’t have iPhones here. My second concern was if they fixed it would they put a shitty screen on it that’s not compatible.

I went home and was all sad about my phone. I had dinner then headed out to see Ronja and Jacob at cafe Lucia. I was so burnt out from the day I almost didn’t want to go but it was the last time I would see my volunteer friends. They will be on vacation for several weeks in the upcoming weekend.

We went out and called and had our usual relaxing time at the cafe. Ronja and Jacob had their usual San Miguel light, I as some kind of smoothie. We all walked home and we said or goodbyes. I’m not usually good at goodbyes because in my head I intend to see that person again in the near future. Even if I might not ever see them again. The truth is you will never know!

The next day, Thursday, I taught 6 classes of BLS. I had packed my bags already for Cebu and had to leave to the airport right after dinner. The six classes had me actually lose my voice, it sounded hoarse and more manly than usual. It’s absolutely exhausting teaching the same thing over and over again. But I believe, even if they didn’t get everything I was explaining, the exposure of the class is what is important. The class teaching and lecture is actually what has made me feel I’ve made the most difference in my volunteering and it felt like it was the hardest I worked during my stay here in the Philippines.

As I headed home it was nearing 5pm. My flight was at 820pm. I had dinner and had some more fine tune packing for my 3 night adventure in Cebu. I stayed in contact with my friend Kevin I met in Guiuan at the ABCD surf camp. He advised me about staying at hostel 7, saying he was a friend of the owners.

I booked at hostel 7, was super appreciative of Kevin’s advice. I told him my flight itinerary and he said he would

Meet me at the hostel. I was pretty shocked he was actually going to meet me at the hostel, it made my trip right away not feel so solo.

I made my way to the airport and my nanay walked me o where to wait for the jeepney. I had already known but she is always worried I would take a wrong turn or get on the wrong bus. I let her show me but felt bad because I knew how far away it was. I kept trying to send her back home and she insisted.

I got to the airport with plenty of time to spare. Once we took off the flight would only take 30 minutes. “Ms.Bishop, I have your ordered meal.” The flight attendant handed me a sandwich and a drink. I didn’t remember ordering a meal… but I wasn’t complaining.

I had the company of a woman from the states who was visiting her friends and family in the Philippines. She made the fast flight even faster.

After getting out I ordered a grab car, I didn’t trust the taxi’s, a lot of them had a really creepy presentation about them. I waited for 20 minutes before I cancelled and got another grab car. It works the same as uber at home but not really as efficient. After waiting another 15 minutes my grab car made it through the long taxi line. I texted Kevin I was on my way. He said he had already arrived at the hostel.

After almost thirty minutes, I made it to Hostel 7. It was very sociable, people were already drunk, laughing and singing. From the outside it looked very modern and inviting. Right in the doorway was Kevin who was talking to the DJ. I gave him a warm hello hug, it was great to say I had friends that would come hang out when I come i their hometown or city. Sometimes it’s hard to get friends to drive down the street to hang out. The check in desk was also right there, I checked in and was shown my room.

I was given the choice of what bed to pick and I picked the bed directly next to someone on the top bunk. Why I did that I don’t know, maybe I thought the top bunk was the best bunk but I forgot it’s not. I met my bunkmate Prince who was from the Philippines but in town for a few days on vacation. He said he was meeting a guy on a date but he was stood up. I invited to come down for some socializing or to have a drink if he felt like it, he said maybe.

I went back outside and hung out with Kevin. He bought my first drink which was a refreshing gesture. We awaited his friend the owner to come through the door. After about 20 more minutes, the owner came in by his car with his 6ft tall French girlfriend who was really sweet. They dated for the year she has been in the Philippines and now she will be leaving to Australia.

The owners name is Michael. He is extremely personable and knows how to mingle and get crowds together. Kevin, Michael and I sat at a free picnic table outside and socialized over a few drinks. After sharing a few laughs, Michael quickly changes paths and asks, “Have you ever tried Bolut!?!”

Kevin encouraged me to try it. What was funny is that Kevin and Michael both didn’t want it at the time but was super eager for me to try it. For the experience of course.

The internet definition of Balut is “A developing bird embryo that is boiled and eaten from the shell. It originated from and is commonly sold as street food in the Philippines. Often served with beer, balut is popular in Southeast Asian countries, such as Laos, Cambodia, Thailand and Vietnam.”

I guess I can check this off my bucket list. For the record, I do not recommend eating Balut when you’re trying to impress a guy. It is not attractive and leads to many high fives and friend zoned.

A little bit after the Balut, we headed over to the somewhat noisier crowd and tried to pass the Balut on to other foreigners. Michael was telling people “she’s a vegan and she did it!” While pointing to me. They knew that was an absolute lie and still refused. I’ll never forget the noises this gay Filipino man made while eating it haha he made it sound as bad as I made it look.

After a little bit more socializing I headed back to my dorms. I met a few more dorm mates. One from Vancouver Canada and another from England. Both solo traveling around but not really solo like myself. Always running into people on the same path.

I fell asleep pretty hard, had my ear plugs in and eye mask on. In my 8 bed dorm, some asshole turned off the air conditioning and I woke up at like 7AM boiling in my bed. The heat was unbearable. I asked someone who was on the lower level to turn it back on. I stayed in bed until my body temperature regulated.

[blessed-but-distressed]

This is a thing that I wrote a long time ago.

It isn’t fanfiction. It’s just fiction. 

I will be posting here until I think of what to do with it.

FERNWEH

 When Becca decides to shake off those shackles and get the hell outta Dodge, she doesn’t have many regrets. She won’t miss those late nights folding baby clothes at her local All Baby Needs SuperStore. She won’t miss her distant parents or her uninspiring classes for her useless degree. The only person she will miss is Jack.

Jack is stuck in the post-university, pre-real job wasteland of delayed adolescence. He doesn’t know if he is a socialist, or an anarchist, or just reads too many books. He stacks vegetables, he haunts libraries and he chases girls. But now his best friend is leaving town, and he doesn’t know if he can handle being left behind.

A story about growing up, leaving home, staying behind, sad bastard music and the people who make everything bearable.

Chapter One: 

Becca

Truthfully, I can handle all of it. The cloying stench of mouldy socks and clove cigarettes. The scratchy, standard-issue woollen blanket that wasn’t quite enough to wade off the night-time chill. The oddly masculine snoring that would make any trucker proud. The clanking of pipes in the wall beside my bed that had me sat bolt upright on my first night, half convinced the ghost of Jacob Marley was coming for me, dragging the chains he’d forged in life. All of this didn’t bother me. Not really. But the weeping. I couldn’t handle the fucking weeping.

I’d been sharing a room in Berlin’s cheapest youth hostel for a week with Ilonka, from Hungary. Ilonka the weeper. And we aren’t talking about girlish sobs here, with intermittent hiccups. Oh no. Not Ilonka. Beautiful, heartbroken, weeping Ilonka. She didn’t do anything by half measures.

She’d told me her life story on the first night, over a Midori and lemonade in the bar downstairs. I was quickly coming to the realisation that this was how it was done. Nothing in Backpacker World got done without a bit of Dutch courage.

Ilonka’s story was that she’d come to Berlin to intern at one of those ridiculously trendy, ridiculously contemporary art galleries in Kreuzberg. Which made sense. With her extensive collection of very cute multi-coloured berets, long, lean legs encased habitually in skinny jeans, and her Franka Potente in Run Lola Run hair, she certainly looked the part. She made me feel inadequate every time she entered a room, and I was convinced that was at least half of what contemporary art was all about.

Which is why it was so disconcerting when halfway through her third Midori and lemonade, big fat tears began to slip down her perfect, Eastern European face, and into her drink, which she continued to sip through her straw, unperturbed. Then, without much warning, she keeled forward, and a high-pitched noise of distress began to rise from the back of her throat, not unlike that of an ambulance leaving the scene of an accident. The barman, cute and Irish though he may have been, gave us that ‘You’d better clear the fuck out’ look perfected by cute Irish bartenders the world over, and I bundled her upstairs before he summoned over the bouncer, who was significantly more intimidating.

Once I’d gotten her settled on her twin bed, she pulled herself together enough to relate to me the rest of the story. On her third week into her internship, she’d rung up her boyfriend, Kolos, back home in Budapest, and her best friend had answered the phone. Turns out they’d been screwing around behind her back for the last six months, and they had used Ilonka’s absence to move in together. Which you have to give points for, if only for the sheer brazen cowardice of it all. Were they going to keep up the charade until it came time to ask her to be the Maid of Honour at their wedding?

Ilonka was a wreck. She’d keep it together all day, every day at work, but as soon as she got back into the room she would just lie on her bed, crying inconsolably for hours, until she eventually, mercifully, fell asleep. If she wasn’t weeping, she was sitting on the window sill, where she had pried the window open, and was smoking her favourite clove cigarettes in flagrant disregard of our dorm’s no smoking policy, and my (fabricated) assertions that I was an asthmatic. She’d hold her cigarette in one hand and her mobile phone in the other, and yell obscenities in Hungarian to whoever was on the other end, in between puffs. I don’t speak a lick of Hungarian, but you can always tell an obscenity, no matter the language. It’s about the force behind the delivery. The venom behind the words.

The hostel had been chosen for its location, just off the Ku'damm, not for its internal décor or sterling customer service record. Which is just as well, because I’d been in cancer wards with more cheer; the grey-speckled institutional style walls hinting at the building’s previous life as an insane asylum perhaps, or at the very least a reform school. My polite request to move to a different room had been met with a coolly raised eyebrow, and an unconvincing promise that they’d see what they could do.

It wasn’t exactly what I had in mind for my first foray into the world of international travel. But it certainly made for interesting anecdotes for my emails sent back home.

I’d say things were going much better for me outside of the hostel, but that was a matter of some debate.

A few months back, embittered by my slow slide from promising Journalism student to person-who-straightens-cans-of-baby-food-in-a-budget-department-store-for-a-living, I’d stayed up until four in the morning one night, researching methods of escaping the monotonous retail hell that my life had become.

My unlikely salvation was with a company that would pay for me to fly to Germany to work as an Au Pair for a year. They’d even put me up in Berlin for a month, so I could brush up on the language, before they dispatched me to the family they would pair me with. All of those weekend evenings spent wrangling my neighbour’s kids to bed when I was sixteen had suddenly come in handy, and I had signed on the dotted line.

Of course, when I say “brush up on the language”, I mean learn from scratch. Of course. German had never been an elective at high school. I’d learnt Italian, although that data had almost been completely rewritten in my mind, replaced with an intricate knowledge of song lyrics by a particular favourite band of mine, who specialised in what my friend Jack liked to call “Sad Bastard Music.”

The total sum of my German language proficiency before my departure had been restricted to numbers one through ten, hello, good bye, thank you, and handful of random phrases one picks up after a lifetime of watching World War Two dramas, none of which were suitable for polite company. My knowledge of German culture was mostly restricted to a general appreciation for Daniel Brühl’s face, and a vague recollection of having read Faust when I was fourteen.

It was not until I took a seat on the first day of classes, that I realised what a grave mistake I had made. There was no way I would be able to wrangle children, even relatively small, uncomplicated ones, in four weeks time, with absolutely zero grasp on the language. It was impossible. Unfathomable.

Our teacher was a jovial fellow called Hans-Peter. He had the kind of white bushy moustache and knitted jumpers which made him look rather like a benevolent tug-boat captain, and kind eyes that encouraged students to take risks where they might otherwise have kept silent. He was a good teacher. I could tell. But there was no way in hell he was going to make me semi-fluent within a month.

Every classroom in the language school was named after a particular river in Germany. Our classroom, Donau, which I later discovered was the German word for the Danube, was right at the top of three dizzyingly uneven flights of stairs, in a converted attic where every inch of wall space was dedicated to laminated charts depicting a different German verb, and its various forms. It also had a broken radiator, which Hans-Peter would kick good-naturedly every morning when it failed to break the chill, before instructing us to keep our gloves on.

That’s the first useful German phrase I learn.

“Handschuhe auf!“ Gloves on.

The second:

“Jacken auf!“ Jackets on.

I’d always had a natural talent for scholastic endeavours. Which is to say, I’d really crashed and burned at university when I’d gotten through twelve years of schooling without really trying too hard, to find I actually had no idea how to study. But I’d always managed to scrape by on natural ability. I had no natural ability when it came to German. I was a babe in the woods. And I definitely needed to study.

Being in a foreign country where you don’t speak the language is a little like being a newborn lamb. You stumble a lot, and you’re vulnerable as hell, but everyone finds you pretty damn adorable anyway, for the most part. But for someone who has always been really good at things, it is the ultimate exercise in humility. Suddenly, you’re unable to do even the most simplest of things. Order a coffee. Ask for directions. Make an effusive apology to the angry looking guy you bump into on the train.

It had taken me five whole days to work up the necessary courage to approach even a McDonalds counter. I practiced the order in my head, as I waited in line.

“Ein Happy Meal, bitte.” One Happy Meal, please.

I didn’t think even I could fuck that up. I tried to anticipate what questions they would ask me, in which order. Would I like a toy? Would I like ketchup?

When they asked me if I wanted mayo or ketchup on my fries, the unexpected option made me answer in the affirmative, without specifying which I preferred, pissing off the harried-looking girl behind the counter in the process. I could feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment, and I backed away from the counter, waving my hands and butchering an apology in my pidgin German.

I never went back to that McDonalds.

Like a diamond in the rough, I found a T-Mobile payphone on my way back to the hostel and I fed about ten euro in change into the machine until it finally connected me to Jack’s mobile. It rang out, and went to voicemail, and instead of leaving a message, I hung up the receiver, and burst into angry, embarrassed tears. I didn’t get any change back, either.

Wiping my face clean with the sleeve of my coat, I hurried back to the hostel, before I could make an idiot of myself in some new way. Still hungry, I raided the vending machine in the lobby, and sat on my bed eating out-of-date chips until Ilonka had returned. She took one look at my tear-stained face and unsatisfying dinner and bundled me into my coat and took me out to an Irish Pub around the corner for a pint of Guinness and something called a Blarney Burger.

“It will not always be so,” she reminds me sagely, as she steals a chip from my plate. And for a little while there, Ilonka is my hero. When I grow up I want to be just like her. We sing Cranberries songs together, and make the acquaintance of some chipper blokes from County Clare who are, of course, enamoured with Ilonka’s ethereal Eastern European beauty, and keep us plied with enough black stuff that I quite forget about the dizzying regret that has been eating me away inside for days.

But later that night, the weeping starts again, and it chips away, slowly but steadily, at my newfound regard for her. I get up for class early the next morning, head still throbbing from the previous night’s excesses, and leave her a note on her bedside table.

“It will not always be so.”

[finalfallenfantasy]

Polyamoroaming: Polyamory Whilst Travelling

I think many people come to polyamory through travel. It’s hard, when you’re flying solo, to restrain yourself into a monogamous, long distance relationship, where one or both of you is having wonderful, eye-opening new experiences, seeing the world and all its beautiful people. It’s hard not to flirt with that sexy European backpacker in the bunk next to yours, hard not to join in with the tribes of young travellers going wild in local bars and getting laid. It’s hard to keep up regular correspondence with spotty wifi and no phone.

When I first left the country alone, for a year of travel, my last monogamous partner and I agreed six months beforehand that we would break up when I left, and we spent our final month travelling together in Europe. It was quite beautiful, and we are still very close friends now. He’s one of the most important people in my life.

After that, I started having brief, on-the-road relationships and flings, as well as my first one-night-stands (well, usually two- or three-night-stands...). Eventually I met a boy (G) who stayed in contact with me, and I him. We messaged and called whenever we had time, which admittedly wasn’t often, but at least once a month. This became my first ever polyamorous relationship, with all of the cockups and monogamy issues that often come with them. I fucked up and hurt him, he fucked up and angered me, and eventually two years later we went down in flames (it was quite dramatic and stupid and movielike, as he liked his life to be) and now we’re friends, online and in person.

I had several of these long-distance polyamoroaming relationships - the boy I hand-wrote a letter to every month, the boy I was almost willing to go monogamous for, the person with whom I share all of my dysphoria stories, the man who thought he was a king, the woman who believed him...

In truth, these relationships are the easiest I have ever had to sustain. They have also been the ones to end in the most silly, overdramatic ways. The lynchpin here is communication. When you have a very floaty, no-strings-attached relationship, particularly a long-distance one you don’t have a longer-term home with, it’s all too easy to let necessary communication points slide by the wayside. What were their boundaries? I never knew til I had crossed them, causing tears and hurt. What were mine? I made out with a boy on a night out with G and made him feel excluded and disposable. C fucked me when I got back before telling me he was now in a monogamy. A was so besotted with our mutual partner K that he forgot I existed.

That is not to say that one shouldn’t have relationships like these, by any means. This kind of relationship was the stumbling route towards more conscious polyamory and a very healed sense of self and sexuality for me. If I hadn’t fucked up on G, I wouldn’t be so careful now with my boundary discussions. If I hadn’t been cheated with C, I wouldn’t be so on it about meeting partners’ other partners before engaging sexually or romantically with them. If A hadn’t emotionally blanked me, I wouldn’t be so firmly able to know where I feel the acceptable line lies for attention and care.

Of course, when one is travelling with a partner, the dynamics shift. M and I found we largely didn’t encounter any attractions or potential interests, or at least we didn’t meet many mutual ones. However, those we did meet still taught us about how we could behave better towards both them and each other.

I met a beautiful man in a bar and told M I fancied him, upon which M quickly joined to my hip and was much more openly affectionate than he normally is, putting paid to the flirtation as the other guy quickly read it as ‘stay away’ signals. I spoke with M about this and it turned out he was showing me more affection to reassure me that he was ok with the attraction and he supported it. Another crossed-wire examined.

A mutual friend told M she found him attractive, he told me and I gave them some space, and they kissed before we never saw her again (not deliberately, I hasten to add!). Positive reaffirmation of giving each other space for other dalliances.

We spoke a lot about how to organise it should one of us want to go home with/bring home someone else, though it never came up. I think this may be a vital part of travelling as part of a polyamorous duo or trio - being aware of what and where things are feasible. As M and I were living in a tent a lot of the time, bringing someone back would not be possible without rejigging our tarp setup, and going home left the other in a potentially vulnerable situation. As a result, we worked out that if one of us went home with someone on those nights, we would both go and one would probably sleep on the couch or similar.

It’s time for the tl;dr:

Solo polyamoroaming: don’t neglect communication with your travel partners, no matter how casual you feel the connection is when you aren’t together, or you may get an explosive surprise at some point. Many people who date polyamoroamers are monogamous and just looking for a regular fling. That’s fine, just reestablish your boundaries when you both meet again in person.

Duo or trio polyamoroaming: DON’T NEGLECT THE COMMUNICATION. Think about and talk about potential situations, from flirting to a full-blown fling. Where are you camping? Where are you sleeping? Are you safe? Are you allowed to sneak another person into that dorm or private room? How lax is the security at that hostel? (I once had no end of trouble with a security guard at my hostel - the other volunteers were allowed to bring their ‘conquests’ back, but as a female I was steadfastly banned).

Most of all, love each other, have fun and stay safe.

[thecajuniverse]

Exploring Indochina: How to Travel on a Budget

Want to travel to multiple countries but short on time and money? Here’s how I did it! 6 days, 4 cities, 3 countries, ONE EPIC ADVENTURE.

Okay. I know I’ve only been posting photos about my trip and writing cheesy captions to go with it, but here it is: the complete braindump on everything I did in Indochina aka my feelings.

I guess it’d be hard to understand how this trip came to be without me explaining how the idea was planted in Dani and Chelle’s heads but it’s pretty simple. One summer day, I was watching I Fine, Thank You, Love you  for the nth time in 2018, when a great NEED to go to Bangkok right at the moment hit me like a freight train. Within minutes, I chatted our groupchat and exclaimed about said need and by pure psychic connection, Chelle felt the same way and before we knew it, we were looking up flights on Cebu Pacific’s website. However, roundtrip tickets to BKK were quite expensive so, we kinda abandoned the idea for a while.

See, when you’re looking up flights, you can play around with the destination and the city you’ll be coming from and all that, to find the best prices. My nerd ass knew that Vietnam was around the same area so I tried to search if there was a way to get to Vietnam from Thailand. Lo and behold, Cambodia was between them and it was completely possible to travel in between these countries. Bonus! It’s a famous route among backpackers. Armed with good faith and a seemingly bright idea, I told them that maybe we could try MNL-BKK then SGN-MNL route.

Cebu Pacific must have been stalking me (or the prices were that cheap, I’m just being weird) and we found out tickets for those routes combined were so much cheaper than a round trip to BKK. 3 countries for less than the price of one? Sounds like a plan! And a plan it really was.

It took us months to plan the whole trip, from accommodation to bus transfers to plane tickets to itinerary to budgeting and more  Our trip was perfectly scheduled right after the end of our semesters and just in time for the holidays. 

December 19, D-Day. Our first stop was Bangkok. When we stepped off the plane, it didn’t feel that real yet but once the Thai announcements came in, that’s when it really sunk: I’M IN A FOREIGN COUNTRY WITHOUT MY PARENTS OR FAMILY FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MY LIFE.

A lot of people say that Thailand feels a lot like the Philippines and they’re not wrong but first of all, they drive on the left side so everything felt weird (you wouldn’t feel like that at first but later on your brain will sense as if something’s wrong); second, it’s so much cleaner (we stayed near Khaosan road, and it was crowded but the sidewalks were relatively clean); and third, the people are less friendly but still nice nonetheless.

We stayed in a millennial-y hostel and had the dorm all by ourselves, at first. We had a lot of itinerary planned so we set out for lunch and the temples early. My nerd ass looked up the nearest pier so we could ride the Chao Praya river boat to the Grand Palace and let me tell you, NEVER TRUST THE ESTIMATED TIME OF ARRIVAL ON GOOGLE MAPS. I thought it was near but it turned out to be QUITE a walk to the port but it was cool the boat was a little expensive but it was cool. And we still had to walk to the Grand Palace from the port so that was, um, exciting. Thought I would survive the rest of the day with no sleep but I DID NOT (Tip: always get a full 8 hours of sleep before you travel, you will cry at 11am).

The Grand Palace, with its walls so high and land so big you think you’d get a nice stroll; WRONG. The place is literally buzzing with tourists and it will give you a headache. To be fair, even if the place was teeming with people, it still wasn’t that full so, imagine how big it had to be. Taking pictures was the hardest part because of course, everyone wants the best shot so we had to pick the most secluded parts just to get a decent picture.

And by 3pm, my feet were aching and we were all sweaty and red and basically, exhausted so, we abandoned the rest of the itinerary and instead, got ourselves a cup of ice cold Thai milktea. Verdict: CRAZY GOOD. After that, we got take out Pad Thai from the streets for dinner and of course, it’s nothing like the ones in Manila.

The second day, we booked a tour through Klook to the infamous Floating market. It’s a few hours away from Bangkok so if you’re planning to go, first of all, don’t, because it’s not worth it; second, if you really wanna go, book through Klook to avoid the following: scams, expensive prices, activities you’re unwilling to pay for but are still magically billed to you. The only good thing that came from the trip was the van that we rode on the way to the market because it’s the one that hallyu stars use to travel around (and yes, I felt like one). The rest of the day we were at Khaosan, mingling, eating, spending money we didn’t have. Yada yada yada.

Next day was our transfer to Siem Reap and I just want to say that Giant Ibis is the best transport you can ever get in Indochina. Free meals, reclining seats, they got you. Passing through the Thai and Cambodian borders was really easy, just stick with your group. And before we know it, we were in the city I like to call frozen in time, Siem Reap.

My first impression of Siem Reap was, it looked a LOT like the remote provinces of the Philippines. Everything was covered in dust, lotsa old houses, and even the cars were of old models. The adjacent big hotel resort thing and the huge Sofitel plaza looked awfully misplaced in a city seemingly forgotten by time. If poverty was painted as a city, Siem Reap surely looked like it. It was natural to feel a little bit scared, but the people proved to be nice and helpful. Our tuktuk drivers to the Angkor Wat complex were relatively nice and took us to lotsa temples to the point that we voluntarily gave up because we were so exhausted.

The Angkor Wat tour deserves a paragraph for itself because like I said in my instagram captions, you have to see it before you die. The sunrise, however, was kinda underwhelming but (note: not trying to be an architectural expert) I appreciated why we had to be dragged at 4am to see the famous Cambodian sunrise. Never underestimate these temples because they are crazy big! The sheer largeness of the temples will strike you and the fact that there are DOZENS of them in the complex… Don’t even think about it; it’ll just give you a headache.

A sidenote: like I said, Siem Reap is basically the image of utmost rural-ness and normally, tuktuk drivers would try to entice you to go to some place else that isn’t included in your Temple Run map requiring you to shell out some extra cash, but don’t fret because they’re nice people (a little persistent, perhaps?) and if you politely say no, they’ll back out.

Pub Street is a gastronomic adventure and is by far, the cheapest market I’ve ever been to. If you want to buy your pasalubongs, this is the place; not the airport (I made that mistake in Vietnam).

We literally spent a day and a half in Cambodia and by 11pm we were on our way to their capital city, Phnomn Penh (was only there for 3 hours but guessing from the tuktuk ride from the bus station to Café Amazon, aka the best SEA café ever, and back, the city is BOMB), to transfer and eventually go to our last stop: HO CHI MINH CITY.

Vietnam. Yes. Sometimes I like to call it, a french BGC. Other days, I call it budget Korea (Dude, K-pop is everywhere and every other K-pop dance cover I see on Youtube is set in Saigon). But I have to say, it’s been my favorite city out of the 4 we explored. Sure, my legs almost gave out when we were trying to look for famed Pho place in the city, but the beef broth was worth it and so was the vietnamese coffee we had right after. Walking in a foreign country late at night should have been scary but it wasn’t. It was exhausting, yes, but it gave you plenty of time to stop and appreciate the place you’re in. It got pretty existential, to say the least. I was grateful.

The trip to Mekong Delta the next day was pretty meh to say the least but we were in a large tour group and we met another Filipina traveler (who we immediately became super acquainted with because DUH, nothing like seeing a kababayan in a foreign country), which made it pretty fun.

But it was Christmas Eve then and when we got back to the hostel, all I wanted was to go home. And by December 25, 5:30 am, my feet were once again back in Manila’s arms.

Okay, I promise this is the last paragraph… ish? All in all, I had loads and loads of fun. The idea stemmed from a very very stupid reason, in my opinion, but resulted to a trip I will never forget. Shoutout again to my friends, Chelle and Dani, for being onboard on such a crazy and half-baked idea. Here’s to more adventures!

On backpacking: DO IT. Backpacking isn’t exactly mountain trekking and all that crap. It’s mostly about hopping from place to place and seeing as much as you can, in such a small timeframe. Skip the fancy boutique hotels and opt for the more practical hostels, where you’ll meet half naked Europeans walking around in their dorms which is pretty creepy lots of people, from different backgrounds, with different stories. That alone is reason enough to go backpacking and I really think everyone should try it at least once in their lives.

And if you’re looking for a sign on whether you should go on that trip or not, local or international, this is it. My motto in life now is (which will subsequently leave me broke): just book it!

[sandinz]

Reflecting back, I’m continually amazed we managed to fit in so much travelling and sightseeing with Barry’s elder brother Ray in just over three weeks. This post only covers five days as we head up to Scotland via the east of the country, and back down the west.

From Worcester, where we left the last post, we headed northwards on the idyllic Droitwich Canal. Once again, Ray worked the locks alone as I beavered away inside building a Google Ads account. We moored in the secure basin in the town, hoping to find a way to stay for five days. Sadly they’re only 48 hour moorings, and a call to CRT confirmed no leeway on this apart from emergencies. We were so grateful to CRT for supporting us remaining at Tarleton for a week or so, after mum died unexpectedly in May, so knew it was possible in such cases. We didn’t wish to blot our copybook by overstaying ‘illegally’.

As I’ve said previously, Ray had a number of ‘bucket list’ experiences he hoped to achieve whilst in the northern hemisphere, and we wanted to do all we could to make them happen. However, having not traded at any festivals in 2018 thus far (early August), we’d been surviving on savings and the small income I was building up from Ad-Extra. We’d also left the boat for five days a few times already for various excursions, and our batteries were complaining loudly! I hear some of you saying “Get some Solar Panels“, and we heartily agree. It’s just that we don’t have the spare cash to invest in them just now.

Being mindful of all of this, we decided only one of us would accompany Ray on his journey around the country. Actually, Barry decided at the last minute – which to be honest was a little disconcerting for me. I’d hoped the two blokes would go on the road trip together. Then I could’ve had a few days of chilling alone on the boat (a rare occurrence for me, unlike Barry who regularly gets this luxury!). But when Barry investigated hiring a car, he discovered he wouldn’t be insured on his NZ license. Having lived in UK for five and a half years, he needed to have applied for a UK licence after 12 months. Now I don’t like to say “I told you so”, but I really did! Many times. This time he believed me – and has even got the application form now. Better late than never aye?

An added advantage of Barry staying on board Areandare, was that he can solo-cruise, whereas I’m too scared to! I’m in awe and avid admiration of women who live alone of their boats, moving around the cut seemingly fearlessly. Barry was able to move the boat from Droitwich to Birmingham, doing an astounding 50 locks, while we went on our jolly around England and Scotland.

Listening in to Space

Our route initially took us in a northeasterly direction, with the first stop on Wednesday 8th August at Jodrell Bank. I knew little about this attraction. Ray sounded like an authority on the subject, and in his element. If you don’t know what it is either – it’s basically a massive telescope (the Lovell Telescope), pointing into space, picking up sound waves. Consequently there’s a radius around the area with a ban on mobile phones or anything similar switched on. In actual fact, I found it rather interesting. I’m a bit of a star gazer. So the experience sparked an interest in me.

I also realised when we were there, that my eldest daughter, Lisa had been here for the BlueDot festival just a couple of weeks before, when I had Leon for the weekend. What a small world it is.

Beatrix Potter Country

Next on the route was the Lake District. On a friend’s recommendation, I’d booked overnight accommodation for us at a YHA on the shore of Windermere. I desperately want to say ‘Lake’ Windermere, but Ray rightly corrected me. It’s a mere, not a lake. A mere I’ve discovered, is generally described as a lake that is fairly shallow compared to its relative size.

The building and location was superb; staggering to believe it’s a ‘Youth Hostel’. To be fair the YHA have come a long way since they initially began in 1929, when my dad was nine years old. I know both my parents frequented such hostelries in their youth, especially those in the Lakes and Yorkshire. As children they took us too. So I have many fond memories. One was at Carbisdale Castle in Invershin in the Scottish Highlands, when I was almost 13 years old. It remained a YHA until 2011, when it was sold privately.

“YHA is a child of the Great Depression. The welfare of Britain’s growing urban population was a serious concern in the early 20th century. YHA’s offer of affordable accommodation was an antidote to the poor air quality, cramped housing and harsh conditions of inner city life. It gave young working people an unprecedented opportunity to spend leisure time in fresh air and open countryside, on a scale only previously possible for the wealthy.” https://www.yha.org.uk/about-yha/history

YHA Windermere

View from our six bedded dorm

Absolutely waterfront

The YHA waterside cafe and bar

A short walk away for a drink

Roman ruins nearby

Sadly we had only one night in this spectacular part of the country. We’d stayed nearby in March 2013, when we first arrived back, for mum’s 80th. It was beautiful in a different way then, as the ground was blanketed in snow. Barry, of course, took some stunning shots …

Two stops en route to Oban

Coffee stop in Keswick

We chose to take a slightly longer route northwards, on Thursday, to relish a little more of the scenery. A stop in Keswick for coffee, and our monthly Ad-Extra team Skype call in the car park! It would’ve been unimaginable not so long ago to be able to have a business meeting wherever you may be at the time.

Then a longer drive up to Paisley, to the new home of Margaret and Graham. These gorgeous people are blog readers, who visit us at Huddlesford when we’re trading there. I’d chatted a number of times via email to Graham, as we planned Ray’s itinerary, and he provided an abundance of helpful advice for our short foray into the Highlands.

Margaret, Graham and I looking out over the lake

Margaret and Ray walking up the garden with the view that sold the house!

Graham shared invaluable advice about routes to take to our next port of call, Oban, as well as most scenic ways eastwards a couple of days later. Oh, and Margaret made a delicious lunch for the not yet weary travellers. Thank you so much both, it was a very special couple of hours that I shall treasure, and I know Ray was enormously grateful for your wealth and breadth of knowledge.

The drive from Paisley to Oban was breathtaking. Graham had advised a route which cut out much of the heavy holidaymaker traffic, and we were both mesmerised. The photos, especially those from the car (!), certainly don’t do it justice.

And then there was Oban. Oh. My. Goodness. What an incredibly beautiful place.

Once again there was sparse time to do justice to the magnificence of this seaside settlement. Having booked accommodation very late in the day, we were extremely fortunate to get anywhere. Scotland was heaving with visitors. The place I chose was ‘Backpackers Plus in the old Church‘. Amazing! Although Ray and I were in shared dormitories, as that was all that was left, we loved the ambience of the lounge area. And for £24 per person per night, it included a buffet breakfast. Cereal and toast, nothing outrageous, but more than enough. There was an array of spices to share in the kitchen, and, similar to YHA Windermere, there was a wide age-range of guests, so no matter how old you could feel ‘at ease’ here.

Ray’s main reason for visiting Oban was their distillery. Sadly I never took a photo of the building as it’s not likely to ever feature in a bucket list of mine! Neither Barry nor I like whisky. However the distillery it seems is the reason there’s a town here at all. Two brothers began distilling here in 1794, not long after Captain Cook landed in Gisborne, New Zealand (1769 to be accurate). If you’re keen to know more, go to the website (https://www.malts.com/en-row/single-malt-whisky-history/oban/) and fill your boots as Barry would say!

The Friday of our break was the only day I didn’t drive. In the five days we were off the boat, we traversed an incredible distance of 1,200 miles. Blimey. A bit of a whistle stop sightseeing tour!

North, east, and south

The following day, having relished fish and chips AND haggis by the sea, we chose a circuitous route north through Glencoe (apparently with volcanic origins) and the Highlands, and some of the most spectacular scenery imaginable. It was a tragedy that there was hardly any chance of stopping anywhere to gaze in wonderment, or take photos, as everywhere was packed with cars and people also enjoying the views. I intend to return here with time to leisurely sit and embrace the beauty.

Ray wanted to visit another distillery,  recommended by Graham – Glengoyne Distillery near Killearn, north of Glasgow. No photos once again! It’s not difficult to tell who was more interested in all things whisky …

Our aim for the day, including the stops, was to make it as far as Whitley Bay near Sunderland, as we’d booked overnight accommodation there. We’d attempted to book somewhere closer to no avail. Scotland was full.

After a while I spotted a sign for Falkirk. Knowing what wonders lay in this place, there was no way I could drive past without giving Ray the opportunity to see two of the wonders of the waterways. So we did. Only a slight detour off the route. Once we’d seen the Falkirk Wheel in action, nestled equidistant 23 miles from Edinburgh and Glasgow, it was a just short jaunt to the Kelpies.

Barry and I had been here in July 2017, when our friend Sandra Willis hired three narrowboats for a six-day cruise. Sadly, due to a number of challenges around that time, we never did write a blog post or publish any of Barry’s fabulous photos. Mine pale into insignificance …

Ray pushes the wheel to start it – just kidding!

Putting it into perspective

The view INSIDE one of the Kelpies (thank you to Graham

Such a shame the sky was so grey when we visited.

However. I’ve found a few of Barry’s photos with a blue sky from July 2017. Rather a dramatic difference I think you’d agree?!

Next stop Whitby

We finally arrived in Whitley Bay after 8pm on Saturday 11th August. My parents had grown up hereabouts, and it’s always nostalgic for me to return. Not that we saw much of the area apart from a walk along the seafront and an Indian meal.

The following morning we rose fairly early and headed off, stopping for breakfast on the way. Our mission was Whitby, another connection to Gisborne, as Captain Cook sailed from here on his voyage to New Zealand. In recognition of all his accomplishments, there’s a Captain Cook Museum in the town.

I wasn’t prepared for the brilliance of this place either. It too was teeming with tourists enjoying the sights and smells of the quaint seaside town.

Captain Cook Museum

Anyone from the southern hemisphere would find this Cook tribute of interest. The letter below shares James’s first impressions of the country in the late 18th century …

Another thing Whitby is famous for of course is its seafood – I treated myself to some crayfish tails. Tiny in comparison to those I got used to in Gisborne, but tasty nonetheless.

There’s some spectacular views of Whitby following a walk of 198 steps to the Abbey, and another YHA adjacent to it! A place to stay in future maybe?

Whitby seafood

Whitby YHA next to the Abbey

Last but not least a quick peak at York

I still can’t quite comprehend how we squeezed so much into such a short space of time. After a full day by the sea we drove across the Yorkshire moors (another feast for the eye!) and down to York. We’d booked a rather plusher hotel for the final night of the trip, a short drive out of the city.

We took the car in at night for a wander and a Sunday roast – including of course a Yorkshire Pudding! It’d be rude not to when in the city of its name …

On the Monday we took the park and ride bus for more of an explore and a walk of some of the wall still surrounding much of the city.

Barry and I had been here in 2009, on our inaugural live-aboard six-month journey in the north of the system.

What does this remind you of?

The astute among you will spot a famous face in the stone – one I’d noticed in 2009 that Barry had photographed and turned into an unusual picture. I was ecstatic to find it again. Am I the only person to see this resemblance? I’m not sure who ‘owns’ Barry’s framed photo design now, it was one of the ones we sold at auction before leaving in 2013. If anyone reading knows please comment – it’d be amazing to get a photo of the face in the wall on someone’s wall!

On the way back to Barry and the boat, we took another turn and welcomed the chance to see Helen and Gav again in Guiesley, near Leeds. They’re following our footsteps a little returning to England after living for a number of years in Gisborne, and doing their best to step off the hamster wheel that most people find themselves stuck on until ‘retirement’. We shared our Calendar Club experiences with them,  that the Leeds store was looking for Operators, and they’ve applied and been accepted. We know they’ll be outstanding Operators and sell oodles of calendars, diaries, mugs and anything else that’s sent their way. Good luck guys!

We got back on board Areandare and Barry the evening of Monday 13th August, across the road from the Arena Birmingham (I do find it strange they’ve chosen to call it that rather than Birmingham Arena?).

You’d think that’d be the end of travelling around with Ray now? Well almost. But not quite …

Summer Visitors part 4c - to Scotland and back in five days Reflecting back, I'm continually amazed we managed to fit in so much travelling and sightseeing with Barry's elder brother Ray in just over three weeks.

[asvinsamadhiya]

“On the road to Rishikesh I was dreaming more or less, And the dream I had was true Yes, the dream I had was true”

Indeed the Beatles were successful in putting words to the feelings that one gets in fascinating Rishikesh. The emerald green water, the equally green hills and the shimmering white sand. I thought only Goa could spur such magic but I was completely wrong.

Rishikesh is essentially the first place that the sacred Ganges River exits the mountains and enters the plains of India. In the high mountains, the water travels through forests and remains in clear glory. At this part of the river, nothing of the slush to come is visible. The Ganges’ poor reputation is well deserved once it reaches Varanasi, where riverside cremations and funeral pyres create a thick, polluted river that flows into the rest of the country.

As an avid India traveler who has covered 16 states in about 3 years of travel (spread over 12 years), I am often asked, “Where is your favorite place?” I always find it tough to answer as I have a LOT of favorite places. Usually, my answer will depend on my mood. With this blog, I am answering the question one favourite place at a time — starting with a small town in north India called “Rishikesh” I find Rishikesh a deceptively powerful place. Its robust, pristine nature, and the fact that it is probably the most easily accessible place in the Himalayas, from the capital city of New Delhi, makes it a fairly beatable tourist destination in the entire Himalayas. A 6-hour journey in a public bus and you find yourself being rejuvenated by the incense wafts on one its many Ganga ghats. The vibe here is both relaxed and reverent. Temple bells ring incessantly, giving almost a musical healing therapy to your ears. The ubiquitous, charming company of yogis, and the never-dying incense wafts in its breeze is nonetheless, always a plus.

There is a feeling in Rishikesh unlike anywhere else. The vibe is both relaxed and reverent — and consequently attracts genuine Hindu devotees and gurus as well as western hippies and spiritual dilettantes. While some may ascribe the increasing popularity of Rishikesh to the booming worldwide interest in yoga, in fact people have been gathering at this confluence of nature since the dawn of time to pray, meditate, chant and imbue the peaceful valley with eons of sacred energy. It’s a deceptively powerful place.

My favourite spot in Rishiskesh is at the quiet north end, where the sea-green river spills out of the mountains. White sand beaches line the banks, an occasional cow wanders by, and locals, yoga students and hippies gather in small groups to bathe in the chilly, fresh water of India’s most sacred river.

Just below is the first of two great pedestrian bridges that span the mighty river. Lakshman Jhula is the smaller bridge, but still it teems with foot traffic, scooters and monkeys. Cafes on both sides overlook the river and one of the most scenic spots in town. From here, Rishikesh wends its way along both banks of the river, at the bottom of a narrow valley. The east side is almost free of car traffic, and a walk from end to end takes about an hour, and passes sadhu huts, parks, and scores of small shops and stalls selling cotton clothes, gems, spiritual souvenirs, Hindu religious icons and snacks.

By the time you get to the other bridge, the big one, Ram Jhula, you are in the thick of the busiest part of Rishikesh. Sprawling ashrams, bustling restaurants, busy temples and statues depicting scenes from Hindu epics and the Bhagavad Gita abound.

*According to Lonely Planet, Rishikesh is one of the most famous destination for international tourism planning a trip to India. Travel to this town and you’ll feel it’s high energy! Rishikesh is divided into two main areas: the crowded and very lively Rishikesh town, where the local bus and train stations are situated and also the popular Triveni Ghat (a popular travel destination, an auspicious bathing ghat and place of prayer on the Ganges), and the riverside communities that are 2 km upstream around Ram Jhula and Lakshman Jhula, where most of the accommodation, ashrams, restaurants and travelers are ensconced.  Swarg Ashram, located on the eastern bank, is the traffic-free ‘spiritual center’ of Rishikesh, while High Bank, west of Lakshman Jhula, is a small enclave popular with backpackers.

It is at this end, near the huge Parmath Niketan ashram, where the nightly aarti(spiritual ritual) takes place at dusk on the ghats (steps), in front of a massive white statute of Shiva in meditation pose. It is an exciting event to take part in: pandits chant and wave oil lamps as the sun sets, and after dark everyone is invited to release small offerings — little “boats” made of flowers and leaves, containing a candle and incense stick — on the strong currents of the black river.

Rishikesh has something to offer for everyone – from those looking for a month-long yoga vacation to the less fortunate, time bounded, adventure seekers. Well, there’s a feeling in Rishikesh unlike anywhere else, and it draws you in.

So, Here is How I spent my 5 days in the Yoga Capital of the World ?

With excitement, curiosity and a fascination for all things beautiful, I embarked on a six hour trip from Delhi to Rishikesh. My aim was to explore the place at my own pace without rushing into things.

I had planned this trip on a shoestring budget and hence did not want to spend a bomb on accommodation. A friend from Delhi had told me about a recently opened hostel there called Zostel. As soon I reached Rishikesh bus stop I started exploring the lanes of rishikesh, getting the spiritual vibes of holy river Ganga flowing by and moved towards tapovan  where the hostel is located. On reaching Tapovan I called up the number available on the website and was guided to the hostel. It is located at a convenient place, quite close to the Laxman jhula. It is a cosy, beautiful property, ideal for budget travelers. I was happy to see the concept of backpackers’ hostel and social travel catching up so fast in India. I took a room in their mixed dorm, kept my luggage in one of the lockers and went out to explore the town. After a long journey, I was fairly hungry and wanted to eat at one of the riverside cafes which Rishikesh is quite famous for. The guy at the counter at Zostel told me about a few of them close to the Laxman Jhula.

So I walked to a cafe called ‘The Office”, that serves the best banana nutella samosas in the entire town, and possibly in the entire state. I had an entire evening to spend, so I decided to sit and read at the Ganga Beach Cafe, which, as the name suggests, is a cozy little place on the banks of river Ganga and then attended Ganga Aarti at Parmarth Niketan

For my very first day in Rishikesh, I happily wandered the town, relaxed in cafe with with river view and caught up on blogging. In evening I attended the Ganga Aarti at Parmeth Niketan Ashram in Rishikesh. This is the largest and best known Ashram in the area – set on the banks of the holy river. It accommodates up to 2,000 people at any one time. The Ganga Aarti were beautiful if somewhat marred by the many visitors who it seemed had come predominantly to take photos as opposed to soak up the atmosphere and appreciate the rituals.

My second day at the place deserved to be an adventurous one and so I decided to try my hand at the sport Rishikesh is known for- rafting. Few Travelers I met there had helped me with all the details and I’d managed to find myself a trainer.

At 9 in the morning, I found myself at the rafting site staring at the gushing waters and waiting eagerly to meet them. There, I met Tom an expert rafter who would also be my trainer. He told me that we would cover a total distance of 26kms in approximately 4 hours. He taught me some basic signs, which I was supposed to use in case I wanted to communicate with him while rafting. I, along with eight other people, all of them strangers, went on an adventure of a lifetime. As we kept tossing over the white waters, I came into close contact with the power and might of nature that made me revere it even more. During the entire trip we came across several rapids such as Good morning, Three Blind Mice, Crossfire and Club House (as identified by Tom). At many points during the session we felt that our raft would turn upside-down but thanks to Tom’s decisiveness and our meticulous following of instructions, nothing unfortunate happened.

Tom was an amazing instructor, a rockstar, but he spoke very little. And I am a curious person , so I pestered him to no extent and after much prodding he gave in. I learned that he was basically from England and had been living in India for three months then. He has rafted around the world, in some challenging spots like Zambezi, where getting down from your raft abruptly meant sure-shot death. And then I realized, he too, like Siddhartha from the book I was reading, has a definite goal in mind, and that goal is to stretch his boundaries to the farthest point. It takes courage to get out of your comfort zone and explore dangerous terrains especially when most of the people around you are totally smug and satisfied in the sheltered life they are leading.

The day was physically tiring and my mind was almost saturated with a lot of things. I did not have much energy left to do anything else, so I decided to eat at the Little Buddha Cafe, and it was jam packed with international traveler. This is a pretty, tree-house themed restaurant with a lounge-like vibe – but can get very hot in summers because it is open with no fans or air conditioning. I did manage to get a table, but this place is only worth the wait if you get one of the three / four tables right by the edge of the terrace – overlooking the Ganga. Those are splendid!

The food at Little Buddha Cafe was pretty average according to me, but then, it is catered for foreign tourists who travel across the town and are the regulars here. Their menu has a variety of dishes like three cheese Salads, bland (VERY bland) nachos and other non-spicy food items that seemed to be a hit. The vegetable platter is famous. Shakes are good, and the staff is friendly. The service though, is slow.  I had a light lunch and then went back to Zostel to rest. Once I woke up, I decided to leave to Hill Top Swiss Cottage which i booked for my stay for my further in this city with the hill top view. I had my dinner and After that, I went to the terrace for an impromptu jamming session with the travelers staying there for more than a month. After two hours of continuous dancing and singing, we all were tired and went back to our respective cottages to sleep. I had yet another day in this beautiful place to look forward to.

Ever woke up to the sound of cascading waters? Imagine the chilly breeze kissing your cheeks, you endlessly gazing at trees swaying by with rhythm of chirping birds, tiny splashes of water touching your face now and then and of course the calmly dawning sun. The peace and the connect you feel with your spirit in the moment cannot be described into words here. With the basking sun spanning the horizon and shining on us, the next morning I woke up and spent time in the river playing like kids in the splashing water, snapping some memories and enjoying.

It seemed as if the place was awaiting our presence when the weather took a toss and the scorching heat turned away its face and drizzles trickled down. After satisfying our tummies and relaxing for some time, we tucked into our trek suits to make way for a short trek to Neergarh Waterfall. Where first 2 kms were just a simple walk crossing the camps and striding on narrow side paths, next 1.5 kms were steep and little hard but the ultimate destination kept our spirits high. Paving our way through camps, steep cuts and turns, twists and jumps, stepping the stones and climbing the rocks, cutting through the lush emerald green hills, we finally witnessed the elegance of nature.

We knew we had made it to our destination when the distant sound of water gushing down the hills became clear with each step forward. The excitement and the satisfaction of reaching the final trek point, NeerGarh Waterfalls, bought a deep smile on our faces. Neer Gaddu Waterfall is around 4 km from Laxman Jhula, and about 6 km from the Rishikesh main market. From the Rishikesh Badrinath Highway, there is small hilly trek to reach Neer Gaddu Waterfall.

On the way back to hotel from waterfall Ashish took us to Bhootnath temple *Mahadev temple to be precise that she asserted the most beautiful and peaceful temple nearby and the best thing was you could capture the whole city from here. True!! You could see the whole ways from here, what I found about this temple is that it had become commercial as it was written that move to next floor for this specific god. Quite funny but learned to never mess with God matters so kept silent. The voice of bells was echoing as I touched it. Still, that kid in me to touch the bell and ring it as many of times as I could were alive. On the rooftop, alluring landscape was representing Rishikesh in a picture. and then We went back to the Ramjhula and sat close to a beach. Did crazy stuff like laying on the stone, posing to the camera so comfortable that nobody is watching us.

  I woke up early to give a treat of fresh breeze to my lungs. I walked down to the ghat to have a closer feel of the morning waft. The wind was blowing at much higher speed than I thought. I saw many orange clad sadhus who had nestled themselves some corners on the open ghat last night were performing their daily chores. Some were taking baths in frosty Ganga water while some were enchanting some mantras and simultaneously cleaning the ghat.

I went down on the steps till the water kissed my feet. I parked myself on one of the steps with my feet in water for some time but it was so chill that I had to take them out after few seconds. I spent some time silently adoring the quietude of the surroundings and incessantly travelling river. I looked around for the giant Lord Shiva statue in middle of the river but soon the memories of last year catastrophe which wiped away the certain towns and the statue too grabbed my muse. But I guess people have moved on and the place was returning to its pre-catastrophe charm again.

Soon after that I hired a shared cab to Neelkanth Mandir, around 35 Kms from Rishikesh. Neelkanth Mahadev Temple is a Hindu temple dedicated to Neelkanth(Lord Shiva). The temple is situated at a height of 1330 meters. The entire way to the  Neelkanth Mahadev Temple was treat to eyes . it took us 2 hour to offer the prayer as it was very crowded. It was getting dark and we were tired so, we decided to go back to our hotel early and take some rest as the last day in Rishikesh was going to be hectic.

Last Day

This day was dedicated to the Beatles. You cannot come to Rishikesh and not visit the Beatles Ashram, especially if you love music. Beatles had visited Rishikesh in 1968 to learn ‘Transcendental Meditation”- which obviously sounds fancy enough to lure them into coming to an obscure place in the Himalayas and settling here for months. After breakfast comprising of milk, fruits and muesli, I went all the way to Maharishi Mahesh Yogi’s Ashram or the Beatles’ Ashram as it is more popularly known, situated at the foothills of Himalayas.

Once there, I realized, one of my favorite Beatles’ song were written in Rishikesh. It goes like this-

“Little darling, it’s been a long cold lonely winter Little darling, it feels like years since it’s been here Here comes the sun Here comes the sun, and I say It’s all right”

And I couldn’t stop myself from humming- doo doo doo doo doo doo! Coming to this place and not humming a Beatles song is sacrilegious. You should never do that else you might end up offending the hippie gods!

Ok, I was kidding all right, but this does make a great story- pay homage to Beatles at their Ashram and bless your soul!

Not much of the aforementioned Ashram remains except a wall with amazing graffiti, which was the Beatles gallery once. One thing worth noting is that the Ashram closed down way back in the 90s, but usually the guards are sweet enough to let you in.

Next I visited the Swarg Ashram, which lies at the ‘ground zero’ of Rishikesh and is known for providing free courses on Yoga and meditation. I decided to do a bit of both. Yoga, as an ancient art form, has many takers all around the world, and this Ashram also was filled with more foreigners than Indians. The entire atmosphere was energetic yet peaceful, something I had not experienced in a long time.

After trying my hand at Yoga and chanting a few ‘Oms’ amidst stunning backdrop of rolling mountains, I realized my stomach was rumbling and I needed to grab a bite before doing anything else.

On my way to Lakshman Jhula, I discovered an amazing café called Café Beatles. It was great, the food was great and so was the ambience. And the music, well it was the Beatles’.

Yes, it was an eventful day, after which I went back to Hill Top Swiss Cottage for yet another evening filled with fun, music and some of the best people I have ever met. It was my last night at Rishikesh, and I had to make it count. We sang, danced and talked till morning, after which I bade them farewell, hoping to meet them sometime soon in future.

After all ‘hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies’.

My days in Rishikesh were phenomenal. It was a journey that enriched me from within and made me look at the world with a totally different perspective. I realized there is so much to live for, so much to explore. My problems and worries suddenly turned miniscule in comparison to the wonders of this world. I am still a long way to go before I become a seasoned traveler but the seeds have been sown and the process has begun. I am falling in love with the world and its quirks.

May be this is what enticed the Beatles into entering an uncertain world of spirituality.

Thank you

Regards,

Aditya S. Samadhiya 

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Let me know if you too are into runcationing. Have you been to Rishikesh? Has your experience been any different? I’m all ears! 🙂

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Rishikesh – A melting pot of thrill and piety #traveltaleswithSunofSudha “On the road to Rishikesh I was dreaming more or less, And the dream I had was true Yes, the dream I had was true”

[roarroads-blog]

Working away

Hey, hey, hey,

Since we left Auckland in February, we have been changing our location all the time. We haven’t really stayed anywhere for longer than eleven days. We have slept in the car for weeks; we have slept in an old caravan, nice hostels, shitty hostels, beautiful houses, you name it. We’ve had all types of accommodation one can possibly imagine.

In May, for the first time in a while, we had a place to stay for more than a week, and it felt good. We were in Dunedin—one of my favourite cities in NZ—working in an okayish hostel for accommodation. The deal was three hours of work per day in exchange for a bunk in a six-bed dorm. We had two double beds in our dorm which kind of made it an eight-bed room. So yes, those days I was living like Snow White with her seven dwarfs; the only difference was I had six men sleeping in the same room with me instead. The room stank sometimes so we had to keep the window open even if it was freezing cold. New Zealand is similar to Malta in terms of central heating, it just doesn’t exist here. Anyway, Dunedin was fun, we made friends with the guys who worked there with us and had plenty of time to enjoy the amazing Otago Peninsula with its sea lions, penguins and albatrosses. It was also an ultimate couch potato time for us, we watched two entire seasons of Gotham, for example. As to the work itself, we mainly did housekeeping (cleaned the kitchen, rooms, toilets, did the beds) but also took part in renovation works, which was much more interesting. 

We arrived in Wanaka two days ago; the plan is to stay here for the winter season, so it feels like the right moment to tell you the tale of our Workaway adventures.

Workaway is a great project, really. Everyone benefits from it when it’s done properly. It allows people like us to travel long-term without spending money on food and accommodation. As a rule, you mostly meet other travellers while travelling, which is great, but if you want to mix up your experience a bit, Workaway gives you a unique chance to meet some local people and observe their everyday lives from within. It’s great for the hosting side as well because they essentially get workers for free (it actually doesn’t cost them too much to feed you).

Sheep and beef farm in Pahiatua

Just before we signed up for our first Workaway project, I had a chat with my friend Ilona who was doing the same thing in Greece at the time. Inspired by her words, I convinced Fabushka we should definitely give it a go. I told him we would only work a couple of hours a day, and anyway it wouldn’t be a “real work”, just helping sweet farmers cuddle their animals. At least that’s how I imagined it. 

Our first experience turned out to be slightly different… We worked five hours a day, and the work wasn’t easy at all. In fact, it was much harder than everything I’ve ever done for money. We were hosted by a young family which consists of a 35-year-old Kiwi guy, James, his 37-year-old wife, Stephanie, and their 3-year-old daughter, Elsa. James was raised on a farm; many years ago he left NZ for almost 5 years to travel the world, but after years of wandering, he understood that he wanted to live in NZ. So he came back home and bought his own farm very near to his father’s land. The farm is huge, James has two thousand sheep and a few hundred cattle. Stephanie is French; she arrived in NZ seven years ago and met James when she came to his farm to work for food and accommodation just like us. When we were there Stephanie was eight months pregnant with their second child. Elsa is a funny kid, a bit spoiled perhaps—she cries every time she hears a “no” (how do I know it? We made her cry twice!)—but mainly funny. Stephanie didn’t look particularly happy with her life situation. To be fair, I couldn’t stop wondering what it felt like to leave France and relocate to NZ’s countryside, to live in a huge house in the middle of nowhere (the nearest city is 1,5 hour’s drive away), no friends, no family nearby. Nada. Plenty of sheep instead.

James had a very unusual approach to the whole Workaway thing, he just decided to treat us as free labourers. So instead of having meaningful conversations with our hosts, exploring NZ’s culture and hugging the sheep, we ended up working like slaves five hours a day.

Just to give you an idea, our very first task was to move a bunch of huge sacks full of sheep wool from one shed to another and then to take the wool out of the sacks and equally distribute it on the floor to let it dry. Why was it wet? Because the wool wasn’t quite normal, it was, in fact, the shittiest kind of wool, cut from the sheep’s bums and covered in poop.

Another time we spent an afternoon picking up hay for James’s neighbour. I was the only girl there because the job required a certain amount of physical strength. So it was just me, Fabushka and ten Kiwi farmers. We spent hours repeatedly lifting heavy bales of hay (each of them weighed 15-20kg) and putting them on a trailer attached to a moving tractor. When the trailer was fully loaded with several layers of hay bales, we drove it to a shed where we had to unload it. As you can imagine it was all very hard. After two rounds, they asked me if I could drive a car, and I said yes because technically they didn’t ask me if I had a driving license. Thus they offered me to drive the tractor instead of lifting the bales. It was a great fun as it was also a FIAT tractor. At the end of the day, James’s neighbour tried to give us money since he was paying everyone who helped him out with the hay; we didn’t take the money of course, but it made me realise how crazy James was to ask us to do something which was considered a proper farm work.

We did a lot of other things: fixed and cleaned roofs, pressed wool, picked up dirty tires and dug holes. However, James decided to save the best activity for our last days there. We spent three days drenching young sheep, around 400 lambs per day, and in case you don’t know what drenching is, I will explain it. Drenching is a procedure of injecting a liquid drug into the mouth of an animal using a special drench gun. The drug normally treats a broad spectrum of parasites. Anyway, it’s easier said than done; we had to push the lambs into a small yard, restrain them with our knees, stick our fingers in their mouths and dose them one by one. The lambs were super scared; they were trying to escape and kept shitting and pissing on us. 

At the end of the three days James asked us how it went, and when we replied that it was a bit of an unusual task for us, he said that some things are much more fun after you’ve done them than while you are doing them. Yep.

Sheep and beef farm in Hawke’s Bay

Sheryl and Andrew have a beautiful farm situated in Hawke’s Bay; their wooden house overlooks the ocean. Both of them are in their sixties and manage the farm on their own. Andrew has three sons, but none of them was attracted by the idea of dedicating his life to farming. The youngest son decided to enlist in the Army and is currently serving his time in Iraq. We didn’t speak much about it, but I could see that both Andrew and Sheryl were really worried about him. Sheryl doesn’t have her own children, however, she met Andrew when his sons were still young and helped him to raise them.

Andrew and Sheryl have sheep, cattle, two stunning horses, a sweet working dog, two chihuahuas and a fat cat: a perfect combination of animals. Axel, one of the chihuahuas, is a well-respected dog who deserves some special attention. He made me forget my hatred towards small dogs, I fell in love with him! Sheryl has a huge garden where she grows so many fruits and vegetables that they almost never have to buy any food in a supermarket. Everything comes directly from the farm, including meat of course. 

The work wasn’t hard at all, we were mainly helping out with the garden and doing some small farm tasks. The worst thing I had to do there was to pick up horse manure with my bare hands. Sheryl uses it as a fertiliser as she prefers to stick to the organic way of living as much as she can. Other than that I wasn’t asked to do anything unpleasant. When we told them about our sheep drenching experience they were really surprised and said they would never ask workawayers to do anything like that.

Dairy farm in Taranaki

The third time’s the charm they say and indeed it was for us. We stayed with Leanne, Ian and Jack on their lovely farm in Taranaki for eleven days. Taranaki is an incredibly beautiful region, its landscape is dominated by a lone volcano, 2,518 m high Mt Taranaki, which we got to climb on our last day there. It is also famous for its surf beaches that are among the best in the country.  Mt Taranaki gets enough snowfall to be turned into a small ski resort during the winter season, therefore, the best thing about the region is probably being able to go surfing and snowboarding all in the same day. 

Leanne and Ian own a dairy farm (400 cows), hence every morning we had to clean the cowshed where the cows were getting milked, it was covered in shit, mostly liquid shit, but strangely I wasn’t disgusted at all anymore. It’s funny how drastically your level of disgust towards animal poop diminishes after just a couple of weeks spent in the countryside. The first days on James’s farm left me deeply shocked, but by the time we came to Taranaki I was happy to walk ankle-deep in the shit. Moreover, I must admit that it felt great to hold a high water pressure hose and make all the shit and dirt go away at once. It had a certain therapeutic effect on me. 

Apart from that, we helped Ian with some fencing work, which was an easy and even satisfying task. One day Ian told me not to worry too much about making a mistake, he said the fence was only psychological, and if a cow wanted to escape it could have easily destroyed the fence. I thought it was a very meaningful observation to make, I took it as a metaphor of course. Leanne and Ian are in their mid-thirties, Ian works full-time on the farm and Leanne is a self-employed accountant who divides her time between her practice and the farm. She used to work for a well-known financial company in Sydney, but at some point of her life, she realised that it wasn’t the way she really wanted to live her life. Jack is 19 years old, he lives with Leanne and Ian, works on the farm part time and studies. Jack is in a wheelchair which absolutely doesn’t stop him from being an incredibly energetic and positive person. He is active in a number of sports for disabled people (basketball, cycling, swimming); he participates in various regional competitions and dreams of becoming a Paralympic athlete one day.

It was easily our best Workaway experience. Since the very beginning, we felt that they truly got what Workaway was all about. They treated us very well, the accommodation was fantastic, and Leanne cooked so many delicious dishes for us, every day something different. They shared stories with us and gave us a good insight into the NZ lifestyle. We met other travellers there as well, played games with them and listened to their stories. A German guy who once slept in a paper box on the street because when he arrived in the town, all hostels were fully booked and he didn’t have a tent (my style). And a super sweet French couple, who were in the middle of their year-long trip, Indonesia - Australia- NZ- Tahiti- Thailand. It was an amazing experience.

Hotel in Southland

Initially, our plan was to start looking for a job as soon as we leave the North Island and arrive in Christchurch. However, when you’re travelling plans change very quickly, thus we ended up with another Workaway project, and up until today, we haven’t been to Christchurch.

Our fourth Workaway project was very different from the ones we had done before. First of all, it wasn’t a farm, it was a small hotel/pub in a tiny town in Southland. Secondly, during our stay, we had almost no interaction with the hosts, a couple in their fifties who treated us well but didn’t really care much about spending time with us or talking to us. Luckily, we had a company of other workawayers there. 

We did housekeeping in the morning and washed the dishes in the evening, which was quite boring, but after two weeks of sleeping in the car, we were happy to be bored for a little while and have a bed. By the way, we slept in an old caravan parked outside the hotel. It was cool but not really comfortable.

Several hospitality jobs have taught me that sometimes it’s better not to know what’s happening backstage in restaurants and hotels. What really surprised me was that all the sheets and pillow cases were washed in cold water there. Moreover, the dishes were washed manually in a sink filled with soapy water without rinsing off the soap. Plus I saw a mouse in our lounge twice. Yay!

Sasha

[the2travel]

* World Travel Tips : I Took An Adult Gap Year, I've Never Been Happier

Travel Tips -

Exactly one year ago, I found myself seriously facing the decision to either follow my newly-found passion for traveling, or pay rent. I couldn’t do both, because I literally only had enough money for one or the other. Since it had taken me twenty seven years to even discover this passion, and a full year after that to convince myself I could travel longer than two weeks, I ended up saying f**k it, and opting for Asia over my studio apartment in West Hollywood.

It was more than just my sudden wanderlust that fueled the decision though. At twenty eight years old, I found that I wasn’t nearly as fulfilled with life as I thought I would have been back in college. I didn’t have that token perfect relationship, and I was FAR from having a ring on my finger or dare I say, a child. I still felt like a child myself, and I knew part of that was because I never got the opportunity to travel when I was younger.

I always kind of just expected that all of our lives would fall into the same routine pattern, so when mine didn’t, I started to wonder what on Earth I was supposed to do next. It made me feel like I had failed for some reason, and that feeling made me unhappy.

All I could really think of that I knew would make me happy, was to go out in the World and figure out what did. It wasn’t exactly considered “normal” for someone “my age” to just drop everything and go travel, but spoiler alert, one month turned into one year, and now I’m sitting on a white pebble beach in front of the crystal clear Adriatic Sea in Croatia, with nothing but my laptop and a random cat laying behind me, getting ready to tell you exactly what happened…

A post shared by Alyssa Ramos ✈️ Travel Blogger (@mylifesatravelmovie) on May 1, 2017 at 8:00am PDT

Cue the “Gap Year”. Well, in my case, and “Adult Gap Year”

What is a gap year? If you aren’t familiar with the term, it’s probably because the gap year doesn’t exist in the U.S. Actually, it only exists in Australia and a few places in Europe, but something like it is encouraged in many other countries as well.

A gap year is when students take the year off in between high school and college to travel on their own or with friends. It’s not to party or go crazy, like most of us do the second we leave home and get to college; it’s to find themselves, learn responsibility, and discover how many possibilities are in this world.

I definitely did not get that when I was younger, as I’m sure many of you didn’t as well. I didn’t even get to travel on vacation with my family because we were poor, but even so, it’s not like I was encouraged to do so in school.

So, feeling like I needed to really experience more of this world and in my life, I put my things in storage, made a plan, and left.

A post shared by Alyssa Ramos ✈️ Travel Blogger (@mylifesatravelmovie) on Dec 26, 2016 at 9:14am PST

Photo: During my Adult Gap Year I went to over 30 countries, mostly solo, and completed seeing all 7 World Wonders, and 6 Wonders of Nature.

Yes, it was Terrifying to take the Leap, then I Couldn’t Stop

A post shared by Alyssa Ramos ✈️ Travel Blogger (@mylifesatravelmovie) on Nov 17, 2016 at 6:46am PST

As I mentioned, I had to put all of my stuff in storage, something I’ve never done before since I’ve had my own apartment since I was seventeen. That being said, I was also technically “homeless” for the first time ever, which of course was beyond terrifying at first. I worried beyond belief that when I left I’d lose everything, that my friends would forget me, and that somehow, I’d miss something in LA.

But a month passed and I hadn’t had enough. I still had money left from what I had saved for months, and was making a steady income from online freelance work and being a digital nomad.

When the second month came near and I had to make the decision again, I opted for a month in India over paying for rent and a deposit on a place back home in LA (I’m originally from Florida but I call LA “home”). Since I was “in the area”, I figured why not make it Sri Lanka and the Maldives too? Both of which I did on an extreme budget.

I Opened Up to Opportunities, and they Came

A post shared by Alyssa Ramos ✈️ Travel Blogger (@mylifesatravelmovie) on Oct 16, 2016 at 6:13am PDT

I’ve always been what I like to call an “outgoing introvert”. I like to be around friends, but I also like to be alone, and get things done on my own, and was always convinced I didn’t need anyone else to help me.

Well, when you travel alone for so long, you start to open up to the thought of meeting people and letting them help you. The second I changed my mindset, was when I met someone who actually ended up traveling with me to four countries. (Yes it was a steamy foreign love affair, but I’ll get to that another time).

Aside from that little foreign fling, I also opened up to the opportunity of meeting locals in almost every country I traveled in. I wanted to learn as much as possible from their perspective, and from that I learned more than I’ve ever learned in school about people, cultures, religion, politics, history, and the world in general.

This new understanding, and these exciting experiences have changed the way I think of and interact with people. It has made me friendlier, kinder, and more empathetic. This change not only made me happier, but it immensely helped strengthen and broaden my career as a digital nomad as well.

I Got Used to a Minimalist Lifestyle

A post shared by Alyssa Ramos ✈️ Travel Blogger (@mylifesatravelmovie) on Aug 18, 2016 at 9:01am PDT

Throughout my entire Adult Gap Year, I traveled with a carry-on sized bag, and a tote bag. I never once got anything out of my storage unit (not that I’d have anywhere to put it), and would only shop once a month when I would switch out my wardrobe. The clothes I had been previously wearing all got donated to a local in whatever country I finally decide to go shopping in.

A post shared by Alyssa Ramos MyLifesAMovie (@alyssaramostravels) on May 25, 2017 at 2:50am PDT

I also got used to, and am very good at buying groceries at local markets; even if I have to take a few extra seconds to convert the price or translate what something is.

A post shared by Alyssa Ramos MyLifesAMovie (@alyssaramostravels) on May 27, 2017 at 6:31am PDT

This type of lifestyle also made me extremely healthy, and I can tell a clear difference than from when I wasn’t traveling full time. I never get sick when I travel because I make sure to eat right, and I’m more in shape because I choose to walk everywhere…even if that’s mostly to save money…

But Maintained my Adult Comfort

A post shared by Alyssa Ramos ✈️ Travel Blogger (@mylifesatravelmovie) on May 18, 2017 at 4:52am PDT

I won’t lie, there’s a 0% chance that I would sleep in a shared dorm in a hostel, or couch surf. I’m a grown ass woman who makes a good income on her own, so you better believe I’m going to travel with certain standards.

Most of the time I do a really good job at finding last minute deals online for decent and even really nice hotels…even if some times they’re all sold out and I have to opt for a scary place.

A post shared by Alyssa Ramos MyLifesAMovie (@alyssaramostravels) on May 24, 2017 at 5:10am PDT

I’ll also treat myself to a nice lunch or dinner now and then. I don’t think I should have to miss out on the luxuries of nice dining just because I don’t have anyone to take me out! I’m actually super proud of how confident I’ve gotten with eating out alone…”Just one?” “You’re damn right just one!” Although it’s hard to really stay alone once people realize you are…if you know what I mean.

I Was Never Afraid to say No...or Yes

A post shared by Alyssa Ramos ✈️ Travel Blogger (@mylifesatravelmovie) on Feb 9, 2017 at 5:56am PST

Part of being comfortable as an adult is knowing exactly when you do and don’t want to do something. I’ve learned to easily say no to peddlers, promoters, all-too-charming men, etc., which has really helped in my normal life, especially with decisions I want to say yes to, but I know I really should say no to…that mostly applies to men, business, and dessert.

On the flip side, this Adult Gap Year has also taught me to easily say ‘Yes’ to a lot of things I probably wouldn’t have before. I don’t think twice about how long it will take me to get somewhere, especially if it’s a hike to a waterfall, and there’s literally nothing I think I can’t do.

This mentality change has not only made me a stronger, happier person, but a successful entrepreneur with a constant stream of dreams and ideas that turn to realities.

I Learned How to Adapt to Any Surrounding

A post shared by Alyssa Ramos ✈️ Travel Blogger (@mylifesatravelmovie) on Feb 16, 2017 at 5:00am PST

One thing I can distinctly notice after my Adult Gap Year, is that no one can ever guess where I’m from. That’s because when I travel, I immediately adapt to the culture, customs, and local life, mostly because it just makes everything easier. As I said, it’s important to try to make your life as “normal” as possible when you know it’s not normal at all.

Before I took my Adult Gap Year, I worried non-stop about what it was going to be like in another country, and so far away from home. Now I show up and assume chameleon mode, which also makes things a lot more interesting.

I Checked off a Bucketlist I Never Knew I Had

A post shared by Alyssa Ramos ✈️ Travel Blogger (@mylifesatravelmovie) on Feb 9, 2016 at 4:34am PST

The bucket list I do have basically just includes “travel the world” and “get to Antarctica”. But during my Adult Gap Year I found myself constantly thinking, “I’ve always wanted to do that”, then doing it, and then adding it to my bucketlist just so I could check it off.

Aside from traveling to almost 40 countries in a year, which I was NOT expecting to do at all (remember, I was only supposed to be gone one month), I had a lot of other firsts as well. Most of them were things I thought were too late to do since I was already almost thirty and an adult, but low and behold, I did them anyway, and couldn’t be more satisfied.

I got scuba certified and dove in five different countries including Egypt, the Maldives, Indonesia, French Polynesia, and the Bahamas. I learned to drive on the opposite side of the road in New Zealand, and live out of a camper van.

I learned “Hello, how are you, please, and thank you” in about ten different languages. I bungee jumped, and also cliff jumped…way too many times to count. I climbed to the top of a tree in the Amazon rainforest, after swimming in the Amazon river with pink dolphins. I swam with Manta Rays in the wild in Indonesia, and also hung my feet over a volcanic crater lake. I chased so many damn waterfalls that people are starting to ask me when I’m going to make a coffee table book with all of the photos.

I completed my list of visiting all of the new 7 World Wonders, a huge achievement for me; and perfected the art of getting a photo in front of each one with absolutely no people in them. I also made it to 6 of the 7 Wonders of Nature...and continents...both of which I intend to get to the 7th of this year.

I became inspired, encouraged, and ambitious to see more, do more, and be more, not just for me, but for the people I show my new lifestyle to.

I Now Have a Solid List of Big Goals

A post shared by Alyssa Ramos ✈️ Travel Blogger (@mylifesatravelmovie) on May 30, 2017 at 9:32am PDT

After accidentally traveling full time for a year, mostly solo (AKA an Adult Gap Year) and achieving as much as I did, my list of life goals has not gotten shorter. It has basically grown from being the size of a lizard to the size of a dinosaur, with the aggressive behavior to match.

Thanks to this adult Gap Year, I truly feel like I can do anything now, from traveling the world, to starting my own business. I may have risked a lot; a home, a relationship, friends, family, MY DOG, but through the clarity I’ve found, I know that there’s time for that, and everything will happen when it’s supposed to. And that applies to everyone.

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[wildlyplanted]

Part 3 of 3: “Leaving Prague, Berlin, I love you and Final Reflections & Tips” – Budapest | Prague | Berlin Travels

The next day as we were leaving Prague we saw a RegioJet bus parked inside the bus terminal and a sign above it that said tickets can be bought at “blah blah” window. That sign would have been useful inside the bus station ticket area because we would have loved to travel with RegioJet again. Flickbus got us to Berlin safely, but I would never ride with that company again. The outlets didn’t work, and the seats were not comfortable.

Moving on to our accommodation. Once again, we did not make reservations beforehand. Once we arrived in Berlin, we took the subway to Hauptbahnof station (Central Station), where we sat for coffee and browsed on Hostelworld for options. We knew we wanted to be within close distance to Hauptbahnof station because that’s where we needed to catch the airport bus (btw, we both ended up getting an uber to the airport) and we each had morning flights -- side note: My travel buddy had to leave Berlin the day before me. I was so sad, even though it was just a day without her. After traveling solo in Ecuador two years ago, it was nice to have someone to share in all the various experiences of travel.

We settled on Heart of Gold hostel, which is centrally located in Berlin Mitte. I loved that we ended up in a completely different part of Berlin than where we stayed before. This hostel is located in walking distance to a number of sites and attractions including Brandenburg Gate, Reichstag Building, Museum Island and TV Tower.

Heart of Gold is a 10-minute walk from S+U Bahn Friedrichstraße station and around the corner from S Bahn Oranienburger Straße station. Although this hostel didn’t necessarily feel like the atmosphere was that social, I feel like if we stayed longer, we may have had a different experience. We stopped in the kitchen a couple of times during our first evening and we found people cooking and enjoying themselves. They were friendly, but we didn’t have time to stay and socialize, as we wanted to go have dinner on our last night traveling together. Also, it was cold, so the lovely courtyard/beer garden just outside the main lobby wasn’t really being used by guests. The hostel sells beer and wine (I’m not sure if cocktails were available) in the lobby, and complimentary coffee and tea is available all day, so there’s a café type of vibe that was nice. I imagine that in the warmer months, the courtyard/beer garden is buzzing.

*I failed to mention in the first blog that there are vending machines with beer for purchase in the lobby of PLUS Berlin hostel. Comes in handy after the hostel’s restaurant has closed.  

Coming back to Heart of Gold, we arrived there in the early evening. Check-in was fairly easy; I had to use my phone to go online and fill out a reservation form that took all of five minutes (they have wifi of course). Once that was done, they were able to check us in and send us on our way. One thing I noticed is how secure the hostel is. There are multiple floors and your key will only allow you through the lobby security door, onto your floor and into the kitchen. You can’t access other floors (we tried). Another side note -- You must leave £5 per key at the front desk, which they keep if you lose your key.

We were in a 6-bed mixed dorm that was spacious with a view into the courtyard/beer garden. This hostel is comfortable and clean with full private bathrooms (toilet, sink and showers were nicely spaced out within one room, and the shower was very roomy with good water pressure).

We had dinner at Peter Pane (my food was ok, nothing special – I had a vegan burger). The atmosphere was lively, and I liked the vibe, so I would visit again and order something completely different next time.

The next morning, my travel buddy left me and I was on my own for my last full day in Berlin.

I had the best lunch at Cappuccino Grand Café which was a five-minute walk from the hostel. The ambiance was beautiful, and I sat facing the large front window, which was great for people watching. I had a delicious cappuccino, a lovely tuna salad and fresh pressed cucumber juice to finish off.

I spent the rest of the day exploring Museum Island, I passed by Brandenburg Gate, Berliner Fernsehturm (TV Tower) and Alexanderplatz, and finished my day at Checkpoint Charlie.

In the evening, I was hoping to have dinner at this small cozy restaurant I spotted near the hostel, but they were booked with reservations, so I ended up at the lackluster Grand Bar Café Restaurant.

With all that said, I’ll be back in Berlin very soon to explore more of the city and to see some of the sights, like East Side Gallery, that I didn’t have a chance to visit this time around.

That’s the saddest part about traveling, not always being able to see it all. I continue to pray for opportunities to travel slowly and for longer periods of time so I can have a more authentic experience and feel like a local.

Final Thoughts:

For this trip (all three cities) I had no concrete plans. Although I looked up the main attractions and skimmed through recommendations from some great blogs, I was not tied to things I needed to absolutely do. The only thing I wanted, was to walk a lot and see as much of the cities, and their architectures, as possible, which I did.

Before leaving New York, I set positive intentions and I knew in my heart I was going to love all three cities. I was very much going with the flow, and that attitude really helped because right at the beginning of our trip, the unexpected occurred – our flight NYC to Berlin was delayed 6 hours so we missed our connecting flight to Budapest the next morning and we ended up staying in Berlin overnight (do not regret). Getting through security and check-in for our flight to Budapest was a bit of a disaster, but despite that, I was determined to navigate through it and guide my experience and choose my reaction rather than allowing the experience to guide me. I would not have been able to do that if this was several or a few years ago. My life experiences over the last several years have had an impact on how I perceive and receive life (more about that in another blog). That morning was a calamity, but our first night in Budapest was epic and made up for the non-sense we experienced.

Travel can bring out the worst in people, because there are so many factors that can alter plans and there is the potential for unwanted experiences and outcomes, and I know it’s easier said than done, but your attitude and thoughts really does play a factor in your experiences; in how you observe the experience, and how you move through the event.

Hostel Tips:

*The kitchens in three out of four hostels, we stayed in, were stocked with cooking supplies and utensils so you can purchase groceries and cook your own meals. I think this is fairly standard, but it’s something you can ask before booking if this is important to you.

My Personal Tips:

Pack flip flops for the shower and to walk around in while inside. I would never go barefoot at any point. Some people have no problem with walking barefoot or not using shower shoes, but I’m not one of them. I do the same for hotels, since they are not any cleaner than a hostel would be. If anything, some hostels are probably cleaner than hotels.

I pack 2 non-cloth reusable bags. One for my toiletries and everything I’ll need to shower, which I hang next the shower or in some instances, I had to hang it inside the shower stall with me (wrap one handle in the top corner of the shower door, close the door and let the bag hang inside. I do this to easily access everything I need while keeping them all inside my bag and off any surfaces. If water gets inside the bag, I drain it out at the end of my shower. When I get back to the room, I remove my things and hang the bag to dry.

I use the second bag for my clothes and everything I need (moisturizer, deodorant, etc.) once I’m done in the shower.  

*It may be a good idea to stop at the front desk and let the person on duty know you’re going out for the evening. Having an emergency contact on file is also a good idea. In Prague, our hostel’s office closed in the evening so sometimes this isn’t possible. If you feel comfortable, let a hostel mate know that you’re going out and where. In our all-female dorm in Budapest, we shared where we were going with each other, so we kind of all had an idea about where someone could be. I remember our first night when one of our roommates who also arrive that same evening didn’t reappear, we kept it in mind to ask about her if we didn’t see her the next day. She did return and turned out that a friend of hers was also in the city and she was with them.

*Travel is meant to be fun. Just remember that being smart and safe is also a part of travel. Never do anything questionable just for the heck of it, or just because you’re on vacation.

*Respect the culture and people around you (I hope this goes without saying).

Where you can find me/how to contact me:

IG: wildlyplanted (check out photos)

YouTube: Wildly Planted ( I uploaded short video and photo reels)

Email: wildlyplanted@zoho.com

[recordofmyreverie]

Everyone Was a Reflection (October 2016)

Asheville, NC was easily becoming my favorite place to escape to. I’m glad it’s only 3 hours away from where I live in Charlotte. Asheville had so much art and so much spirituality, it seemed like the perfect environment for me to forget about someone. . .if only that person weren’t also free-spirited and artsy. 

I went to Asheville in search of spiritual guidance or some sort of help in my situation, but I didn’t know what exactly I was looking for. I decided to book my stay in a hostel called “Bon-Paul and Sharky’s Hostel” in West Asheville. I had stayed in one other hostel before back when I was still with Ryan when we visited Charleston for our 6 month anniversary, and I loved the concept and the environment of hostels and how you could meet travelers from all over the world. 

While I was in Asheville the first day, I felt so unhappy. Everywhere I looked, there was something that reminded me of SW. I broke down when I heard The Beatles playing in one of the stores and had to go back to the hostel crying. It was a long walk, and I was even being stalked. A drunk man was chasing me down the road at night, so it became a long run actually. I was scared, sad, and lost. I called my friend Margarita and when she picked up the phone, I was panting. 

She asked me what was wrong, and I told her that I was just chased by a drunk man in Asheville who was following me, but I’d lost him. I said that I was alone and that I just needed to hear a friend’s voice. She drove an hour from Greenville, SC on a night before she had a test to come and meet me for tea at my favorite place in Asheville, Dobra Tea. That’s what I call a true friend. 

That night, she listened to me cry over my broken heart as we sat on floor pillows behind a beaded curtain. I’m glad the lighting was dim. I showed her the proof that SW was already seeing someone else, and she asked me why I couldn’t just block him.  I did already block him, but I couldn’t help but keep looking at it. I was heavily fixated on what I was missing. The only way I could stop seeing the things that he posted was if I had him block me, but he wouldn’t do it. He wouldn’t talk to me at all. Wouldn’t listen to me, and I felt like he wanted me to keep seeing what he was posting because he knew I’d be looking and wanted to hurt me more. 

I stepped down to a level of petty that I’d never reached before, and started commenting mean things on all of his photos so that he WOULD want to block me. I think the final straw was when I had commented on the photo of the painting of the moth he made for me when we first met “This would look so much better if it were on fire.”

Blocked. 

The deal was done, and now I could breathe a little better, only now I was catching my breath from laughing with my friend about how ridiculous my comments were. We left Dobra Tea satisfied that I wouldn’t be tortured by my own addiction anymore, and then headed to the comedy club to catch the last hour or two of the show. I realized that a lot of comedians were really depressed themselves and used laughter as a way to make other people feel better about themselves which also made them feel better about themselves. 

She drove us back to my hostel and as we sat in the car, all I could think about was how thankful I was to have her come out to spend time with me while I was so down. 

“Thank you so much, Margarita. It felt good to laugh again. You are a really great friend. I love you so much!” I hugged her. 

“Anytime, Kiana. I know you would do the same for me if you had to. Sleep well. I’ve got a test in a few hours!” She hugged me back.

I walked back up the stairs to my room where there were 3 sets of bunkbeds. Mine was a mixed dorm, and all of the beds were taken in the room by sound-asleep men except for one bed on the top bunk. That was where I was supposed to sleep, but barely did. My stomach was hurting so much. It was agonizing. 

I stayed awake browsing options on my phone for spiritual healers and therapists, and I came across something interesting that I’d never tried before. Reiki. 

I’d heard of reiki before, but I didn’t know exactly what it was or how it worked. I thought maybe it was some sort of massage or something, but I found out what it was when I went there the next afternoon. Now I couldn’t sleep because I was excited to be healed. 

I went downstairs at about 4 AM to draw a picture or do anything to take my mind off of things. I already knew who I was going to dream about if I slept, and I wanted to prevent that from happening. Around 5 AM, a girl wearing a backpack and glasses came yawning downstairs. She was a little startled to see me sitting there on the couch with my eyes wide open and awake. 

“Oh! Hello! I didn’t think anyone else would be awake right now! What’s your name? I’m Yrla.” She said.

I introduced myself, and she could see that my face was puffy and I still had tears on my cheeks. She said that there was a place I could go to meditate called the “Mountain Light Sanctuary” where there was complete silence on and tranquility on the top of a mountain. She said she would go there when she was sad too, but if I didn’t have time for that, we could just go grab some coffee next door. 

I accepted her offer of kindness and followed her to the coffeeshop next door called “Odd’s Café”. I found out later that it was quite an appropriate name, since I didn’t think that I’d meet so many influential and wise women there. 

Yrla told me the story of herself and her travels. She was originally from Germany, but then she attended a University in Scotland where she met her boyfriend from Canada. She was now studying abroad in the United States so that she could be closer to him and so that they could travel together. She’d been an English teacher in Indonesia already, and she was still only 23. She was proof to me that long distance relationships could work if you had the right people in them, and that you could find so many opportunities to travel even if you don’t know what you’re doing in life yet. She said it only mattered that you knew where you were going or at least where you wanted to go. 

She had to catch the bus to go back to school, so our conversation was cut short, but I managed to snap a quick photo of her to commemorate our brief meeting. When I took the photo of her, my camera caught the eye of a woman sitting a couple seats down from us. 

“Wow. I haven’t seen a camera that did that in ages. Polaroids are coming back, huh? I’ve always had a different level of appreciation for film, and it makes me happy to see film coming back” She said. 

I picked up my lavender latte and moved to a seat across from hers. I introduced myself to her, and she introduced herself to me as “Amy Kosh, life coach, photographer, and part-time yoga instructor.”

I knew that this woman was going to be worth talking to. She told me about her work, how she was loving what she was doing, and that a lot of men took forever to mature. She said that sometimes it took forever to find someone you want to spend the rest of your life with, that she still hadn’t found hers even in her 40s, and that her mom just found hers at 80 years old. Most importantly, we need to be careful who we feed our energy to because some people won’t bother to repay us. She referred to it as asking “What part of me is being fed by these people needing me?”

She told me that she wished me luck in my endeavor to find an answer, and then let me pick out my favorite business cards of hers to keep. One was a photography business card, and the other was a life-coach business card which had a quote by Kurt Vonnegut reading “We have to continually be jumping off cliffs and developing our wings on the way down.” Amy reminded me to have “an unstoppable life” before we parted.

I was on a roll with meeting these women with important messages. When I went back to the hostel, it was 10 AM.  I decided to book my Reiki appointment which the office happened to be literally right across the street, and then I met a girl named Mia who I could tell was half Asian and half white like me. She wore a funky-patterned shirt, and I knew she probably had something I needed to know. I could sense it. 

We started talking to each other and sharing what we liked to do when we came to Asheville, why we were there that time, and where we were from. She shared that she came from a town called Mobile, Alabama. I’d driven through Alabama before and had seen the signs for Mobile when driving back from Panama City Beach before, but I’d still never been to Mobile. I imagined it to be swampy for some reason. She told me that I was welcome to come join her in her stroll through downtown, but first we got more coffee at Odd’s Café. What were the odds?

Mia and I went to my favorite book store, and she took me to hers. We went through art galleries, she bought us some Indian food, and I bought us ice cream. As she was driving us back to the hostel for me to make it in time for my reiki appointment, she shared that she had taken a road trip in her Honda Civic from Alabama to the Pacific northwest coast. She couch-surfed along the way and spent three months and $3,000 traveling. Her work back home was as a bartender at a 1920′s themed bar called the Haberdasher, and at the time of her travels, she had just gotten into a new relationship with a guy named Jesse. She considered not going on the trip, but knew that she would regret staying back and doing the same thing instead of pursuing something that was a once-in-a-lifetime deal that she’d been planning and saving up for. She didn’t let a guy hold her back from doing what she wanted, and they’re still together because they trust each other so much. If she didn’t go on the trip, she probably never would have realized that she wanted to move to Portland, Oregon, and that’s where she just moved a couple days ago as I’m typing this on March 29th, 2017. 

She really inspired me to start traveling by myself more often and to do as much traveling as I could independently without anyone stopping me because if it’s meant to be and those people are truly important, they won’t stop you, they’ll motivate you and meet you at the finish line. 

Around 3 PM it was time for my first ever reiki session with a woman named Chris. She first interviewed me and had me fill out a chart depicting the areas I felt the most pain in, had me describe the circumstances which lead me to coming in the first place, what I’d hope to accomplish in the session, and what I felt comfortable with her using. I was willing and open to trying anything to feel better, so I let her use any aromatherapy, stones, or spirit guides she thought necessary. 

I had to lay down on a small bed as she placed an eye pillow on top of my eyelids. She would scan my body with her hands, and I could feel the heat coming from them. She’d stop and press gently in the areas where she could feel needed the most healing. I needed the most healing in my throat, my ears, and my abdomen. During this time, I was in a trance and seeing all sorts of colors. When she called upon my spirit guides, I could see the outline of a feminine and colorful force of energy offering her hand to me. I immediately thought of my Aunt Karen. 

The session lasted maybe 2 hours. I never knew what to think of anything like that, but I could now say from first-hand experience that I knew it was real. I felt surges of energy coming through me which sent shivers down my spine. And when it was done, I felt so hungry even though I’d eaten just before showing up. She said that after the experience, I would start becoming more receptive and much more aware of the things going on around me. She said most importantly that I would find that everyone was a reflection of me in some way, and that there was something to be learned from everyone. She said I needed to work on getting my strength back because I had given so much of my power to other people, and that’s why my abdomen was hurting. My abdomen was where my ego was located, and I apparently had no self-esteem left. My throat hurt because I had no voice. My ears hurt because I felt like I was never being heard. 

Since that particular visit to Asheville, I feel like I’ve received way more guidance and hope than I ever could have wished for. I had not one, but five mentors during that trip who really inspired me and helped me all in their own unique conversations. Not one lesson was the same, but I’ve made it a mission to find a way that I could inspire others and share my stories to people that might need healing like I did myself that day.