Baked Brussel sprouts, homemade apple sauce (by yours truly), with bananas and oranges mmmmm yummy!!
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Baked Brussel sprouts, homemade apple sauce (by yours truly), with bananas and oranges mmmmm yummy!!
Hitchhiking in The USA
Hitchhiking in The USA
The United States of America: I didn’t think I would be back again so soon, and yet, I found myself on a plane out of Albania to just the same place.
It was my younger sisters idea, to visit for Christmas and surprise my parents- a nice gesture, I thought. And I had been missing home since I had left over 2 years ago. We planned it all out together. Each of my siblings pitched in some $$$$ to…
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Understanding Homeless Life: Walking El Camino With No Money.
Understanding Homeless Life: Walking El Camino With No Money.
(Link of video here and below)
“Will you be doing that trail that people take to find themselves?” I was asked by my Sister before I actually thought, “Huh, why not?” about two years after.
I had run away from winter 2017 to South East Asia- the reason for this blog title. I stayed in India for about 1.5 months. This country is a separate world, full of contradictions where love and exploitation…
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Want to be Happy? Hitchhike.
Want to be Happy? Hitchhike.
If you want to be a happier, more fulfilled being- hitchhike. Azlan Black enthusiastically told me about his metal detecting hobby, and showed me photographs on his cellular phone of 15th century Portuguese coins he discovered. He picked me up on the side of the highway on my way to Ipoh. “Aren’t you afraid of hitchhiking?” People have often asked me. No, I’m not afraid, and you shouldn’t be…
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Travelversary: The Changes That Come
Travelversary: The Changes That Come
Many people see traveling as an expedition across seas and lands, running from the bulls in adventure, a wild and perhaps foolish explosion of self expression, freed from your routine lifestyle. They say, “You will fall in love,” and surely they are right. You will fall in love with many people, places, and friends- it is truly incredible just how much love you will come to understand; the love…
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Today, I will choose happiness.
Cold. So very cold was the night that I could hardly sleep at all, and spent most of my time rubbing my feet together within my sleeping bag. I remember reading a book that my friend Jim lent me: ‘The Gentle Art of Tramping.’ In it, the author Stephen Graham recommends heating rocks, shoving them into a pair of socks, and throwing the bundle into bed with you to keep warm on frigid nights such as this one. I lit a fire, and followed his advice. This was excellent… for about 4 or 5 minutes before my socks burned up. One pair of socks less, still icey in the morning, I trekked on to my goal. I have been visited by wild pigs almost every night- their tramping, digging, and vocals made their presence known.
On one particular night, as I was recounting the day’s events in my journal, I did hear a very loud screech in the distance. My eyes opened wide, ears alert, as the sound echoed through the forrest where my camp was set. No one near me for miles; I was alone. I thought it better to ‘lock this one in the vault,’ not think to much about it, and sleep as best I could. These screams and coughing sounds would persist every night on the trail.
I became dirty from the trail, weary from the walk, and sleepless from frozen nights or sickness. And yet, there was a goodness that the experience birthed, a freedom.
This is a map of the Kektura, which I walked along:
Hungary, a land that has gone through the hands of many. A beautiful place filled with hills, fields of yellow and green, lakes and streams, and a generous populous. On March 20th, Starting at the Austrian border, I made my way East all the way to the tiny village of Hollohaza, 1,128 kilometers later, on May 8th. Could have finished earlier, but a specific Hostel in Budapest and a bad virus kept me a week or two.
Though persons rarely spoke English, a surprisingly high number knew German which certainly helped me in communication, as I had picked up quite a bit of the language from my time on the horse farm with Steffi and her family. One man asked me if I was alone,
‘Und wo ist deine Frau?’ (and where is your woman?)
‘Ich möchte kein Frau!’ (I don’t want a woman)
At my response, he threw his hands down as if to say, ‘Bah, Humbug.’
Why did I decide to do this? It is still somewhat of a mystery for me. It seemed so clear at first, but as I moved, everthing slowed down. Life on trail is unbelievably slow, almost to a point where all time merges into one stream, where there are no consecutive days, but rather one long, never-ending time line. Did I meet that couple yesterday or two weeks ago? It all seems the same to me, words like ‘monday’ or ‘thursday’ mean little to nothing, and this created something of an other worldy environment. Two opposing phenomina occur simultaneously- the memory of starting a single day past, and the feeling as if I have always been livng this way. In this manner, all life comes to a halt and nothing moves until I deviate from this path.
The trail itself may look, depending on your own tastes, rather boring or plain, though I found it stealing my breath on a regular basis.
My diet consisted of tomatoes, cucumbers, bread, sardines, and a plethora of sugary sweets to keep my sugar high. You would be amazed what a Cola can do to you when you feel exhausted. On average, I walked about 18 miles a day- 11 being my lowest, and 24 my highest. My feet were very displeased, and they sure took a beating. If they could talk, I am postive they would say, ‘Good God man, what the hell are you doing? Stop it this instant!’ and they would recite this phrase in a British accent.
I avoided blisters by sticking to a very strict ‘easy going’ strategy:
Wake and break down camp.
Walk for five miles
Take a rest, eat breakfast and remove shoes and socks.
Walk for another 5-10 miles.
Take second rest, eat lunch, remove shoes and socks.
Walk for another 5-10 miles, set up camp, change clothes, dinner, and finally sleep.
My breaks lasted about 1-1.5 hours. I often would nap during these times if it was warm enough, or simply sit and read a book.
The trail is littered with stamps. 147, I believe. Though, I was only able to collect about half of them, as many bars would bring them inside their business, yet would be closed for the day. Which, while we’re at it, let’s address the village schedules.
Every single village has 4 main buildings in addition to civilian homes:
A church
Municiple Building/Post office
A Bar/Restaurant
A small grocery store
All of which are close promptly at 4pm. This is absolutely inconvenient since you cannot always get to a village in time to buy food for the next day. And you never knew if there actually was a market or not.
There also several blue water pumps scattered through each one which had fresh drinking water. (Yes, I would drink this). And thank god, they were there, as the Easter holiday shut down every grocery market for two days in a row which I was unaware of. There was a time where I had only peanuts and water, hiking up and down hilly areas all day. THAT was an exhausting time. Though one cyclist gave me some protein cookies.
The main mode for sleep is in a tent, which as I already mentioned above, can get quite chilly in the nighttime. After the burning socks incident, I tried a new technique- boiling water in a thin metal bottle, stuffing it into a sock, and putting it in the sleeping bag. This worked wonders. I also bought some large wool socks to put over my normal pair as I slept, as well as thermal leggings. Camp sites would ideally be in a meadow (I feel safest in meadows?), in one of the few specific camp site areas, or near a Kilato watch tower like in the photo above.
Though, occasionally, when I traversed a particularily hard day, or when I became very sick, I would splurge and stay at guest houses (Anywhere between 14-25 Euro a night). Also there was this one day I had walked 24 miles in the pouring rain:
When it Rains, it Pours
And this could not be truer than for Hungary. My morale was low, and I was quite unhappy with my situation, as all my things were soaked, myself included to the bone. But as the sun was setting, I thought to myself, ‘You know what? This is the only time in my life when I will be here, walking this day, in this rain. I am already wet, so what will complaining do for me now? If happiness is a matter of the will instead of a matter of exclusive factors, then I might as well choose happiness. I pulled my hood off to get the full effect and I continued singing as the sky cried down upon me.
In the next hour, I came across a Monestary where, after speaking with some men in German, I found myself with a bed for the night, dinner to fill my belly, and an excellent conversation about Hungarian literature with some professors. As I hung my things to dry, I played music into the night, reflecting on how the universe, or God, seems to smile on me. Something that has also perplexed me. Life is full of mysteries.
What did I do to entertain myself while walking? Sing. An over abundance of singing. I would also have theological and philisophical debates with imaginary figures, tried to deal with the burried pains of the past, self reflected on my life’s worth, and much more. It is truly amazing just how much baggage you can ressurect within you as you go along slowly in solitude. This is, perhaps, the greatest benefit of a solo hike.
In the end, I eventually made it to the small village. I can’t say that I walked 100% of the Kektura, as I often lost my way or had to move quickly t make up for lost time. But I did walk 700 miles all the way to Hollohaza, where I sat down, breathed deeply new life into my lungs, and reflected back on everthing that had brought me to this very point in life. How every action, as small as buying a candy bar or tying shoes, and as big as moving across the world, is a consequence of past choices, both of our own and of others, however willful or nonconsensual. How my entire life, and the lives of my parents, friends, even of people I have never met before, is altered by the decisions around me, behind me, and in my future. And if anything can be considered a miracle, surely it’s this. How God has directed my life is a knowledge that will forever be unknown to me.
The End Memorial of the Kektura
Until Next Time, Share this post, Subscribe to the blog, and I’ll be around later.
So It Goes: A 700 Mile Walk Today, I will choose happiness. Cold. So very cold was the night that I could hardly sleep at all, and spent most of my time rubbing my feet together within my sleeping bag.
A man came to the Hostel I was volunteering at. We spoke for a bit sitting on opposite ends of the room. He did most of the chatting and at one point said,
“You just don’t know how foolish it is to be doing what you’re doing. You can run around and act like a child now because you’re young, but soon reality will hit you and you will realise it would have been better to have started your career and made money to take care of yourself.”
After talking some more, it was revealed that this man was unsatisfied with his personal life, feeling unhappy and empty with his own career choices, relationships, and quality of life. Of course, I said nothing of this, only simply thought to myself, “How strange, that someone who is so unhappy is telling me how to be happy.” Obviously this is a form of false logic, but I read once that we should take advice from those we aspire to be. So far, all the people I’ve admired have all given up the “normal” life and the things that are “common sense” to pursue what they really wanted. None of them had regrets.
A wonderful couchsurfing host in Kiev told me,
“I can find you tons of managers who wish they could quit their job to go traveling, but I can’t find you a single traveler who wants to quit traveling and become a manager.”
And while I don’t necessarily propagate that everyone has this innate sense of wanderlust, there are endless single-row lines of men and women who are dying to themselves everyday for the sake of normality and unoriginality all awhile trying to convince themselves that it’s what they want, or what they ought to want. This guy was just one of millions.
As for myself, I spent most of my winter in Albania volunteering in a cold Hostel with little to no heating, and where temperatures drop to -9 at night. Ha, at one point the water was frozen in the faucet. No water, no HOT water. Believe it or not, this is actually a tame beast compared to Kosovo, which was -24 a week ago, or Ukraine which can sometimes hit -30.
(Yes, those are orange and lemon trees. Nothing like fresh fruit picked in the morning sun). I worked at reception mostly, and I met some of the most beautiful people there. So many of them have come through to this little Narnia despite the frozen roads- cyclists from Scotland, France, Austria, and Switzerland, Motorcyclists from Germany, gap year students from the US and UK, world travellers from Singapore, the Latvian-Irish woman who taught me about bluntness, and a lot of vacationers from Italy and Macedonia, and more. All of them have been incredibly interesting, with all sorts of stories from their personal journeys. I have made several friends here, and as always find it difficult to say goodbye. HSP problems, heh heh.
I realised, after spending time with specific guests here, that travel is an eyeglass which we use to gaze into the great open spaces of ourselves. It is sobering how clearly you begin to see yourself- the good and bad, the pride and the shame, the complications and simplicities- you cannot hide from you. This is terrifying, but oddly relieving as well.
Photo Credit: Adeline
Photo Credit: Adeline
I went paragliding over the edge of a mountain. We were picked up in Tirana and drove south to Berat, and up, up, up a mountain, the road shaving down to a sliver, and I do believe I was more afraid of falling off the edge than the actual gliding. Not to mention that the jeep broke down half way up! Oil was boiling and gurgling out the engine like a bubbling geyser.
The face you make when your car breaks down in Albania- just accept it.
I volunteered to be the first to go, though my legs were shaking and my lungs were unsteady with fear. When explaining the coming events, I was told to just run, to book it towards the edge of the cliff. I was geared up and clipped onto the front of the host; my whole body was shouting, “Hell no!” but we pushed on anyway until the wind, like invisible hands stretched from above descended and plucked me off of my feet. Where my feet once had met the earth, they now met nothing, and they kicked in the air- I was flying. I wish I could say my landing was graceful, but in reality I tumbled like a weed. Face first, mud on my clothes, but I jumped up and gave a shout into the frigid air, “WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” because I flew. And through this experience and others, I learned something important about possibilities: They are endless.
Only through traveling have I come to this conclusion; the vast expanse, the stars shine bright, and they come out to play, to brag and revel in their prideful glow. On quiet nights, I can look into their eyes and I feel them, I can hear their breathing, and in unison we sigh together- a sort of choreographic dance, basking in all the glory we share between us. Every second, a new opportunity presents itself to be, requesting that we take it gently. And we do.
If I had to give one serious complaint about Albania, it would be the sexist attitude that remains questioned. Unlike America where sexism is at least acknowledged as wrong (“I’m not sexist but…..”) here it isn’t an issue. One guy, when discussing acceptable age gaps in relationships, remarked that a woman should never be older than the man because the man must lead the woman, and how she should never have any authority over her husband. It seems that Christian, Catholic, Islam, and Orthodox fundamentalism still have a firm grip on perspectives on gender in many of the Balken countries.
Winter depression has kicked in, a few weeks ago, as it does every year. The only difference between this year and the previous ones is that I will have to live on without inviting old friends over to me during its occupancy; no cup of tea at the table, or no monopoly fight or community cooking. This is a new experience for me, but I have survived thus far by going to Ballet performances (4.00 Euro tickets?), reading some wonderful books, and watching TV series huddled under blankets, hiding from the cold winds outside. And with a big mug of hot chocolate in my hands, I sit cozy until the spring comes around when I can absorb the sunlight and use the new energy to move up North come this March.
Peace out people, stay warm. I hear it’s also quite cold back in New Jersey, but the Knight Riders are probably still running around “scaring horses and old people.” Till next time, here are some bonus photos:
This is the Bektashi World Center- a Mosque hidden behind old roads. While there, we were given a private tour underneath (Even though we didn’t understand any Albanian). The Bektashi are a branch of Islam that are quite liberal: the consumption of Pork and Alcohol for example are permitted.
The Pyramid here causes great controversy. Built for the last Albanian Dictator, half of the population calls for its destruction while the other half want to use it for public activities.
I don’t care about controversy, so we just climb up and take naps. Going down was a bit frightening, though.
The Vast Expanse, Acknowledged A man came to the Hostel I was volunteering at. We spoke for a bit sitting on opposite ends of the room.
I board a bus headed to Pristina, Kosovo, and as the vehicle rumbles to life, I plug my ears with headphones and cue “America” by Simon and Garfunkel. It breaks down, and the drivers pull of some wizardry, because I cannot explain how they got the wheels replaced with, and I’m not joking, no tools or lifts or anything. Magic. What a way to Leave Serbia.
Nostalgia: this one word can accurately sum up the after effects from my time at Goodbye Lenin Hostel. Like a dream that I’ve just woken from, I wonder, “Did all of those things really happen? Is it possible that I could have met so many people, and have done so many things?” Of course the answer is yes, but sometimes it feels as if my life is completely fake. Am I really this adventurer, or am I somehow a child playing Make-Believe?
In any case, my plan has burned down to one priority: Escape Winter. Life has become a larger version of Hide and Seek- me hiding, and Winter finding everyday; it bites at my fingertips and toes. If only these roles were reversed, I would feel no guilt playing the bully that leaves the Hider alone forever. Can you believe that it can get down to -35 degrees celsius? Cold enough to die, seriously.
With this in mind, I have put both hitchhiking and camping in the garbage bin of activities until my world, and my body, thaws out in spring; this leaves me the duty of finding refuge for 3-6 months.
Bad news: I have been going over my budget consistently for the past months. I plan on putting to use some strategies to quell my spending and get back on track… We’ll see.
More bad news: I got a workaway in Romania, but it turned out to be terrible! So I left because, hey, I’m traveling dang it! And I can do that sort of thing. Peace out! Shout out to the other two amazing volunteers Faith and Beverly for keeping me sane in that spot.
Good news: finding work in the Balkens is easy. Sort of. And I also purchased a full size Guitar- zero self control, but I feel so remorse or regret!!! Actually, I went into the guitar shop and saw this beauty. A friend was with me, and he asked the owner how much it cost. I was sure it would have been 300-400 USD, but to my complete shock it was 90.00. I thought it over the night, and decided to get it. the price was lowered and when I asked my friend Illia how he got it down, his reply was,
This is Ukraine, you can do this sort of thing.
I flew through a few more countries: Ukraine (not as scary as I was led to believe), Moldova (the poorest country in Europe), Romania, Serbia, Kosovo, and now I am volunteering in a beautiful hostel in Albania. I certainly underestimated the challenges that Winter brings, but certainly this has been a learning experience.
Speaking of experiences, I’ve been able to help out a little at the LGBT center in Kiev, I’ve been followed by numerous stray dogs for hours because I pet them a little, people have thanked me in Kosovo because I am American, and I climbed up cranes in an abandoned theme park. So! Just letting you all know that I’m still kicking, and hopefully I can go North slow enough for Spring and Summer; I’ve got my eyes on the National Blue Trail in Hungary!!
Winter Is Coming? I board a bus headed to Pristina, Kosovo, and as the vehicle rumbles to life, I plug my ears with headphones and cue "America" by Simon and Garfunkel.
After getting a small job in Berlin painting a fence for 200 Euros (three days work) I headed towards Poland. In Poznan, I met a couchsurfng host. He told me about the concert he was attending and, of course, I wanted to go as well and besides, it started at 8pm so I thought we would be back at his place around 9 or 10pm- how wrong I was.
We got to the concert, an electric and EDM styled joint, and after a little while I had to get some fresh air. After spending an hour or so talking with some interesting people, I went back in to find my host gone! Vanished! I became a little worried after a few hours since it was getting late and all of my things were at his flat. Two Portuguese women began talking with me and reassured me that he would be back- they were sure of it. Their confidence really made me feel at ease and after a little while, I came to accept that I had potentially lost my things, and even began to wonder that this was somehow a blessing. After all, I had the essentials: Passport, money, credit cards, camera, etc. The only thing I really missed was my journal. Well, the two girls, Ana and Carlota, offered me a place to stay in their apartment if he really didn’t show up, but thankfully he did. That night taught me something: I am no longer afraid of being robbed. A thief may rob me if they want- they can’t take what travel has given to me. I don’t really need my backpack (even though now I keep a closer eye on it).
Poland is cheap in cost, and rich in culture. I can’t believe how beautiful Krakow is, or how breathtaking the Zakopane Mountains are.
I have been couchsurfing AND staying in Hostels: 4-8 dollars per night. I met Cindy Ji Eun here, the traveling Korean. Headed down to Zakopane (a two hour bus ride up the mountains for less than 3 dollars), where I started working in a Hostel. I’ve been running into this group of Americans left and right ever since Krakow. I played guitar in one hostel while they slept on a couch, I saw them walking through the streets, and after we saw each other again in another spot it was just too much: I had to meet them- how could I not, right? Turns out they are all really wonderful people. We separated, but while walking through the streets of Zakopane I heard my name called, looked up, and there they were again. I felt like we were friends at this point. Natalie, Maggie, and Josh were their names- togetherm along with an incredibly funny Lithuanian, Marius, we hiked up a mountain through blizzardous conditions.
Right-Left: Me, Maggie, Josh, Natalie, Marius
Feeling accomplished
Work at the hostel here has been really great. If you ever come to Zakopane, I definitely recommend it to everyone. Super-low key, great service, and you feel like it’s your home, not a hostel at all. I have met so many people from all different nations, some of which have become surprisingly close to me- how can this be? Have these sort of persons always been around me and I just didn’t realize it, or have they been running around, like me, destined to meet like-minded folks only while on the road of uncertainty?
In other news, I have climbed several peaks of the Tatras, and everytime I feel the same indescribable power overtake my soul. I feel so alive, as if I am bursting with energy- so strong is this feeling that I am unsure how to take it all in, as if I were a child stumbling from the ever increasing speed of his bicycle. Indeed, the Tatras make me feel like a young boy, new, and very naive. Everytime after I get down from the peaks, I have to take the day slow in an attempt to calm this ocean roaring in my heart and soul. I did not know that God’s earth could have such a profound effect on me; I realize, now, that I am incredibly small. And how small everything around me now seems…
It is truly amazing how many unique individuals one meets when they travel, the places and experiences, and the changes that come through them. Maybe it’s just me, but I feel like this trip has been some sort of therapy involving self revelation, discovery, and courage.
If I had to take a lesson from Poland, it would be to give meaningful goodbyes. Yann Martel says,
“I suppose in the end, the whole of life becomes an act of letting go. But what always hurts the most is not taking a moment to say goodbye”
It is here, where I meet such beautiful people like Natalie, Maggie, Josh, Matias, Sophie, Jess, Helene, Cedric, Olivier, Michael, and so many hundreds of others that I must say “goodbye,” knowing that I may never see them again- relationships, friendships, and whole communities that may never be developed and explored. Our lives only meet for the briefest of moments, here and then gone; this same fate that brings us together also takes us away down different paths of life. Additionally, for every hopeful “Hello” there is an equally valuable or somber “Farewell.” And yet, is it not the disapearance of friends that makes their company so precious in the first place?
With this in mind, I have been trying to say goodbye as if it were my last- to let others know that I truly loved their companionship, if even for a day of hiking up to the peak of Giewont, wandering through a blizzard, or just dining together. May we always fulfill the potential end of any friendship, and may we cherish those who cross our paths- taking no one for granted.
And so, I say farewell to you all. I’m off to explore the world and disconnect myself from the others for a bit. I’ll keep in touch, but who knows what can happen? After my experience on that peak, I feel as if I am a different person; it’s time to explore this new opportunity- see who I will be. See you later, peace out ;D
Life is a Series of Letting Go After getting a small job in Berlin painting a fence for 200 Euros (three days work) I headed towards Poland.
Traveling Solo As A Woman
Traveling Solo As A Woman
“It’s dangerous for a woman to go traveling alone! That’s why I don’t travel. Sure, you can travel the world, but that’s because you are a man!” I have heard this sort of phrase from so many people; it seems to be the ultimate justification to live a life that does not fulfill one’s dream. They let this common myth decide where and how they go- but that’s all it is: A myth. While couchsurfing in…
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I’ve heard it said that a person is never their true self unless they are sure they are alone; if this is true, then I must truly be a lunatic.
I have found myself, when walking in fields completely absent of others, reciting and reenacting whole musical scores such as “Jack’s Lament,” from The Nightmare Before Christmas or “If I Were A Rich Man,” from The Fiddler on The Roof. I leap from fences and logs and stumps, thrusting my hands to the sky, becoming quite animated- which made it all the more embarrassing when I walked right past someone I hadn’t seen. C’est la vie.
The Netherlands was a fun country. Rotterdam was cool, Amsterdam was overrated and smelled like tourism, marijuana, and sex but it was the ghostly sound of Dutch that seduced me. I love the way they say good morning, sounding like “Huda Morgen,” with a windy whisp of the throat and tongue on the R. And oddly enough, I thought I could understand them, even though mentally I knew that I didn’t. Such were the similarities between our respective languages.
It was in Amelo, far east, where I met someone that ended up more than a traveling acquaintance. Linda became my friend, and I actually spent more time at her place than I planned!! A first for me, as I am usually constantly moving. She introduced me to her Italian friend, and I cooked spaghetti with my homemade vegan recipe. Frederico said it was perfect, a great feat apparently, that a real Italian enjoyed a traditionally Italian meal prepared by an American.
Linda and her stunning artistic chalkboard
As I live and breath, my favorite part of traveling is meeting new and interesting people who are willing to share their life with me. I have felt this multiple times with many people, a sort of vulnerability that makes possible the great connection I feel- like a secret knowledge we share together. This is still somewhat of a mystery for me, however, and maybe I can understand it as I grow.
I walked across the German border and took a train to Munster. Not sure where I should stay, I began walking towards a green splotch on my map (a possible Forrest) and took a small break in a thrift store; I hoped to find a book in English, as the one I had was almost finished. In broken German, I tried to ask for one when a woman of about 50 or 60 spoke. “I have a book in English in my home if you’d like. It’s one of Steinbeck’s, but it was too complicated for me.,” she said. Of course I accepted. I made myself comfortable and waited for her return. A bad smell lingered on my clothing, and my thoughts were filled with doubts- “where would I sleep? It was getting late. What would I eat? Where can I clean my clothes” and so on. Upon returning, the woman gave me not Steinbeck, but a small collection of short stories, and then offered me a bed for the night.
“I invite you in because you have a good energy in you, and I hope that somewhere someone will help my own traveling son as I help you,” she explained. This isn’t the first time I’ve been told I had “Good energy.” A French man asked me where it came from and I honestly didn’t know what he was talking about. The woman gave me beer, cheese, bread, and other food that night. She helped me clean my clothing, and I slept like a baby.
Hannover was amazing: I met a group of couchsurfers and found a place to stay there after my CS plan fell through. Tip for anyone wanting to use it: Make sure you confirm everything so you don’t misunderstand like I did. All of them were interesting, to say the least. Garret, the guy who helped me, had hosted hundreds of people. There was a Frenchman who, “Didn’t know why he was in Germany.” He was quite hilarious, with a snarky and sarcastic sense of humor. Rebecca, a German shoe maker who invited me for tea the next day was an intelligent and kind woman. Upon meeting her she said, “You’re English is very good!” Which gave us all a laugh because I should hope it’s good, it’s my native tongue!!
I made my way to Berlin to meet with Claudia, one of the coolest, most chill persons I’ve ever met in my life. Actually, she reminded me of my dear friend Alex, and I told her as much. She took me to “The REAL Berlin,” where tourists don’t often go… Ever. This tour included three spots: Tippie Land- a homeless community where you can set up a tent and stay in, Kopi- a punk rock squat, and Yaam an African hang out. Kopi was amazing. There was a drunk Italian man, fat, with a head too large for his body equiped with a winter hat way too small for his head. Other memorables would be the loud American girl, pierced to the nines, who sleeps in graveyards for their cheap and peaceful qualities, and a Finnish rock musician traveling around Europe.
After playing music with Claudia the next morning, swapping the guitar back and forth, i decided that i couldn’t take it anymore and bought my self a small guitarlini. Decked me 130€ but if I play on some city streets… :D
I gathered by things and made my way to Karstadt, where, after missing my train twice, I met my first workawa hosts! They took care of six horses: Santos, Argus, Akazie, Arik, Abu, and Iva. I spent the next two weeks (ish), shoveling horse crap into buckets, painting doors, cleaning stables, and antagonizing the pet dogs (Not really, but come on, faking fetch throws is classic). One of the dogs, a black and white poodle named Nemo, seems to have taken a liking to me; whenever I would play the guitar, he would find a way to stroll over and lie down next to me. This, as you can imagine, made me feel quite cool. The other dog, Maho, was far too cool and highclass for my rugged ways. But after sneaking her some delicious treats, she warmed up to me.
At one point, I was playing the guitar and this huge, fat cat waltzes right up to where I am. It looks at me, and I look at it, and this must have signaled the creature. It jump upon the table in front of me, and steped right over the guitar and found its way comfortably resting in my lap, purring loudly, rubbing its head against me. Thanks a lot, cat. What did I do? The same thing any one who has been chosen by a cat does- pet the crap out of that thing and earn more purs. Teddy was his name.
Steffi, the daughter, works with training horses via positive reinforcement: a system of training that I can definitely support, with no beating, whipping, or otherwise painful wazs of mistreating the animals. She uses a clicker strategie and took the time to give me some basic lessons. I now feel quite confident that I can teach a horse (or any other animal) that a click means a treat, and a treat means I liked what you did, which then causes the action to resurface again and again. I learned so much from this workaway, that I am quite excited for the next ones. You can see her website here. Its in German so beware.
I am back in Berlin, spending a few days here before I head towards Poland and the Zakopane mountains. Packed up my bag again, ready to hit the road once more, only this time I am a little more musical, and know a little bit more in this world of endless knowables. Till next time, share this post, subscribe, comment below.
Will Work for Food I've heard it said that a person is never their true self unless they are sure they are alone; if this is true, then I must truly be a lunatic.
Europe
Ireland Dublin Bray Greystones Wicklow National Park (And home of the owner of Guiness) Wicklow Town France Paris Domont Creil Amiens Arras Lille Belgium Kortrijk Ghent Brussels Antwerp The Netherlands Rotterdam Amsterdam Apeldoorn Almelo Germany Münster Hanover Berlin
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Pictures of everyone who allowed me to stay with them =]
Enjoy these great people! I tell my hosts they can make any face, position, or anything they want at all in their photos.
Host Photos! Pictures of everyone who allowed me to stay with them =] Enjoy these great people! I tell my hosts they can make any face, position, or anything they want at all in their photos.
Hello, people! Sam here- and wow; these keyboards are killing me. The layout is completely different, ah well. I do apologize for any mistakes made.
France!!!
I got to France and it has been quite the sight indeed. I went to a hostel and completely crashed- sleeping for 12 hours straight; explored the city, ate bread, wine, and cheese in scenic view of the Eiffel Tower with a woman I met named Orsola:
And I later met up with a group of vegans who were having a pot-luck dinner in which Couchsurfers could join- so of course I did! and I met some of the most amazing people there like the Woman who collects peoples love stories around the world, the Ballet dancer, and others. Everyone was truly great, and it has been my favorite CS event to date.
That is a giant plate of vegan sushi!
The next day, I began walking North towards Belgium and every French person I met was quite kind, contrary to what I was told by many, but perhaps this was because I was trying to speak in French.
But France had a sort of creepy vibe to it. There was a three day period in which I saw very little people. All shops were closed, all doors shut, it was very strange. I would walk into a forrest and get the most peculiar feeling, as if I zere being watched by something in the trees. And I woke up once and had two mysterious marks on my neck-
In 30 years from now, I will realize that I havent grown a day- Vampires anyone? At one point, during the weird three day period, I got lost and walked up a mountain and found some cool stuff, like this super great ravine/fire pit/cliff, that, to add to the creep factor, had about 50 condoms thrown everywhere
And then I came across this water fountain- it was so truly refreshing after being lost in the mountain for days that I drank and drank, and afterwards I felt very sleepy. I wanted to take a nap, but I was still feeling that strange, almost fairy tale-esque thing, and I remembered a story of the Hero that took a nap but woke up years later- well I didnt want that soooooo, I left.
And literally every church here has a chicken on top of the cross. You all think that I am playing, but no; I am totally serious:
After walking about 100 Miles, I began to hitchhike. Because I was sleepy. Oh, and because of a night of uh, lets say fun. I was sleeping in my tent when I was suddenly awoken by the distinct sound of walking. A deer, perhaps? No. No sooner had I begun to wonder did I hear three very clear and unmistaken sounds- Sniffing, Snorting, and then Squealing. Pigs. Or more concerning, Boars. I clentched my knife and waited for about 15 minutes before they left me alone. Maybe they were just curious.
I have been couchsurfing more often, and everyone has been so kind, generous, and interesting. I ended up singing Karaoke- Disney songs dubbed in French, with another group I was playing guitar and singing in a park picnic. One guy there started playing In The Jungle The Lion Sleeps Tonight, and while they sang their version, I sang mine.
“In english the Lion is sleeping?” they asked.
“Yes, of course.”
“In the french version, the Lion is dead!” and a hilarious laughter followed before one man chuckled, “eternal sleep,” and more laughter ensued.
I realize now that the Vagabond life is not separate from a simple one. Everyday I wake up and follow the same routine of 1. Pack up, 2. Eat, 3. and begin walking. Everyday I ask myself the same two questions: What will I eat today; and Where will I sleep. And in this way, complications have virtually vanished from my life all together.
I eventually left France and headed into Belgium. I tried hitchhiking, but the Police said that I was reported by people and was not allowed to do it. Darn. So, I have been taking the train- an extra 6 Euros per day.
But if France felt like a fairy Tale; Belgium looked like one.
While walking in the city of Ghent, I took a break in a small stadium wherein there was placed a piano locked inside of a cage. Some children were playing it rather obnoxiously, and I began to eat my lunch. As I consumed peanuts, Nutella and more, an elderly couple, I would guess around 95 for they could barely walk, slid past the instrument while it was unoccupied. The woman led the man to it, and he must have been slightly blind as he stumbled quite a bit. He sat on the bench and rest his hands on the keys- I watched curiously. He at once began to play the most beautiful piece of music I have ever heard in my life, and with such grace. His playing must have had a profound effect on my soul, for no sooner had he begun did I find myself weeping; not tears of sadness, but tears of joy. Such was the complete and utter perfection that came from that piano, and from such an old person- weak and fragile. I quite shocked myself- I didnt know why I was crying so.
A crowd haf gathered, and when he finished, we gave a greqt applause to which he jumped in fright- he did not know there were so many. He bowed, and played a few more. Many people played that day- all beautiful to be sure, but none as near perfect as the old man.
I am taking a train into Rotterdam in a few minutes so, until next time. Thanks for reading, leave a comment below, share and subscribe- Until next time;
Simply Living; French Keyboards Suck Hello, people! Sam here- and wow; these keyboards are killing me. The layout is completely different, ah well.
Traveling Light Across the Globe Since 2016
www.anyonecanbackpackthrougheurope.wordpress.com
Officially Divorced
After working hard to get through all the paperwork (I did everything myself, which was tedious, but extremely cheap), Lydia and I are divorced in the states eyes. She was very cooperative throughout the whole process, and that is greatly appreciated.
It was good. We met at a coffee shop to go over our papers, then headed to the court house together. We had a long waiting period, so we spent that time talking about a whole lot of things.
The hearing went quickly, with ease, although you can see the Judge, well, judging us for our young age. I never did appreciate that from people. We gout the papers that separated us and we headed out. The document I wrote up, the Marital Settlement Agreement, came in handy as well, and made the process much more swift.
Afterwards, We got drinks and talked to each other one last time. She apologized for everything, and I forgave her.
It has been a long and hard journey, coming to a place where I can genuinely and honestly let go of what she did. I felt that she didn’t truly grasp what she had done, but even still, that’s not why I was forgiving her all this time. For anyone that understands forgiveness, you know that when you are betrayed it is not a one time deal- it occurs daily, and painfully, until after a long, long while, you look back and think to yourself, “Oh hey, I’m okay.”
I still bite my cheeks when I talk about her, I still feel bitter towards certain events in my life, and I have become a harder person who doesn’t tolerate things as much as I used to. I am still unsure whether or not that’s a good thing. In any case, I am completely different to my core, though people may not notice it at first. Who knows how that will develop through my life?
With all of this settled, I am beginning a new chapter of my life. To travel the world for years without end and see every single thing there is to see. Without a doubt, my grief from this whole affair (See what I did there?), was a large catalyst for this excursion. Funny how life is, sometimes.
After we parted ways, it began raining. A fitting end, as rain symbolizes new beginnings and rebirth. I am a new man, with a new life, and bright new opportunities. I feel free at long last, to live the life I want without any pain tying me back down. And I can’t wait to start my new life.
For anyone who is going through an Affair, I am so sorry for your pain. Know that I understand how it feels, and as someone who has made it through to the other side, trust me when I say: Life does become good and full of happiness again over time. Eat healthy, work out, spend time with friends who make you laugh, and work towards forgiving and letting go- even if they don’t deserve it, it will heal you.
I broke up with someone today. And it was literally five minutes before Lydia came to do the tax refund bank deposit. I feel like crap, but I think it was the right thing to do. I didn't want to break up, but I had too. I was fighting tears and I didn't want Lydia to think it was because of her, but fuck it- I don't feel anything, and sometimes I feel that its better this way. But im crying again, and I don't know why I let myself get so invested in people. I feel so sad, but I know that I will be happier down the road. I can't get neglected without feeling hurt, so I have to take my own happiness into account.