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Vietnam: my musings
Disclaimer: This is in no way a trip guide, but rather- a personal reflection on my travels. I remember planning this trip before the BER months. I wasn’t quite sure how to do it, since this will be my first time traveling abroad alone. But I know I wanted to go on this trip- so I did it anyway. My arrival at Ho Chi Minh International airport was chaotic. So that set the tone for me. I would…
Taylor Treks Trails! Backpacking + Reading Vlog for Devolution by Max Br...
12 Rules On Hostel Etiquette
Let's all prepare for 12 More Rules On Hostel Etiquette.
It took me all of one night of staying in hostels again to come up with this list. (more…)
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A 66 Year Old Woman's Solo Backpacking in South America
A 66 Year Old Woman's Solo #Backpacking in South America #inspiring
When I met Kach and Jon in Arequipa, Peru I said I would write an article extolling the joy and the advantages of travelling solo as an older woman. Here’s Annie Sparks’ Inspiring Story: A 66 Year Old Lady’s Solo Backpacking in South America (more…)
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Oh goodness I am so far behind on this blog! I have weeks and weeks to catch up on. For that reason, I’ll be writing less. I’ll write about the experiences later, but for now I’ll try to catch up on posting photos.
I got hosted in Porretta Terme, a tiny town near Bologna, for three nights. I stayed with a girl named Letizia, her grandmother, and their hordes of pets. Letizia was the first woman I stayed with from Couchsurfing.
My stay with Letizia turned out to be one of my favorite experiences on Couchsurfing. There are many memories from that short stay that I adore; a big and lively “typical Italian BBQ” at a house hidden in the rolling mountains, going out dancing at a huge club in middle of the woods, Letizia’s grandmother making breakfast and dinner for me; never satisfied until I was so full I couldn’t fit another crumb into my stomach.
It was hard to say goodbye to Letizia and her family. They showed me such warmth and kindness.
I took an over-night ferry from Barcelona to Genoa. Less than a minute after putting my backpack in my room and excitedly running out into the deck; my dreams of staying up and enjoying the darkness of the night and the stillness of the vast sea vanished. The deck was mostly filled with men, men that starred at me with ravenous eyes. Never have I been surrounded by some many overtly creepy and shameless men. This is the first situation were I felt completely out of place and in danger traveling as a female alone. I knew instinctively that it would be a very bad plan to wander around the ferry for very long that night; I stuck out like a sore thumb. I decided to buy a bottle of water and retreat back to my room for the night.
But the room felt small and stifling. I felt trapped in that closed and prosaic space. The confines of the room felt like a metaphoric example of the confines of my grim and disconnected heart... My anxieties a constant chorus in my head; always subtitling playing in the background. In this moment the chorus rose and it’s insistent high melody felt like it would crush and break my chest.
An older Italian women sharing the room with me came through the door. She began speaking to me slowly and patiently; we could barely understand each other. Nonetheless, she stubbornly persisted in trying to communicate with me. She wrote down and taught me a buddhist chant “NAM MIO HO RENGHE KYO.” Making me repeat it over and over again until she was satisfied I was pronouncing it correctly. She said it would bring me strength and safety throughout my travels and life... It was a beautiful experience; her sharing her religion and passion; not to convert to me to her way of thinking, but rather to bring me courage and and security. Her presence warmed and expanded the drab room. She embodied womanhood grown wise; steady, strong, and kind. I felt safe and calmer in her presence. My panicking thoughts were drowned out by her utterly “real” and genuine presence.
Barcelona didn’t quite capture me... Perhaps the few days I had weren’t enough to woo the city and bring out the beautiful sides... For two days I spend a few hours walking around the streets alone. It felt like city grown fat and weary on it’s reputation, its popularity. I saw glimpses of a once grand city; but the hoards of people that fall upon it every year has left it degraded and apathetic. Gaudi’s La Sagrada Familia was the saving grace of the city for me. It is imposing and striking. Distinct and odd. It is a building that doesn’t fully satisfy; it’s architecture generates curiosity and interest. I have a deep intrigue for the mind that created this expressive and dramatic structure.
I found a host on Couchsurfing, David. He lived in a cozy modern apartment with his mischievous and rambunctious cat. He was relaxed and I felt at easy with him quickly. He had an affable and quirky personality. His laugh was contagious; rich and full. He’d be watching tv and suddenly break out laughing; the joy in his laughs would infect me and I would soon start laughing along with him for no particular reason. During my stay he took me to a BBQ at his friend apartment. There was a wall lined with blank photo frames; an unintended poetic reminder of memories yet to be made. We spend many hours there in the company of pleasant, easy-going and bright people.
I was fortunate to see two girls that I met in the San Sebastian hostel again, Gabrielle and Rachel. We met up for a dinner near the beach a few hours before I was scheduled to leave Barcelona. I was wonderful to see them again and also to meet another solo female traveler that was staying at the hostel with them. They are both laid-back and approachable. Gabrielle has a calm confidence, a natural femininity. She’s mellow and intelligent. Rachel tend to be the quieter one; but once I started talking to her, she’s becomes boisterous and completely amusing. She’s sarcastic, clever and quick-witted. I wish I had been able to spend more time with them. This is the best thing about big cities; you know it’s more likely that you’ll happen upon a familiar face again; all drawn to the bright lights of the city like moths to a flame.
And of course Jorge... I had messaged him on Couchsurfing and we decided to meet up. From the moment I met him on the busy and windy street, he radiated energy and enthusiasm. We immediately started exchanging sarcastic remarks and laughter. Jorge, though he may not have known it, helped me regain some confidence. Because I have been humbled by this trip. I was looking for a distraction from my troubled mind and laden heart; but instead I’ve found myself faced directly with it. I’ve felt all my faltering strengths fall and slip to the ground as easily as I step out of my clothes. I feel naked, even more vulnerable to my doubts and anxieties than ever before... But how lovely, how wonderful to be reminded of the simple and profound beauty of truly connecting with another soul. I remember him most fondly in the metro station; his brown eyes lost in thought, his mind churning. He has a constant desire, not exactly to please others, but to do good for everyone. I think he’s a throughly good person; a better person than I am. I wish he could see himself through my eyes; the apparent and luminous beauty of his heart. Even though he had to get ready for a trip himself, he accompanied me to the dinner with Gabrielle and Rachel and then walked with me all the way to the ferry station before we said our goodbyes.
The bland city didn’t capture me; but the people I spend time with while I was there remain vivid in my mind.
I visited Pamplona for two days. I had a host from Couchsurfing, Miguel. He kindly picked my up from the train station when I arrived.
Pamplona is well-known for the annual running of the bulls. Miguel showed me the route that the bulls take to get to the main stadium. Walking along these streets, my mind was automatically drawn to the past. I tried to image what it would be like to be amidst the frenzy of the runs; the adrenaline and the fear that would filled the men’s hearts as the bulls came stampeding towards them, the heat from the sun and the myriad of sweating bodies, the blood that would inevitably be spilled, the chaos. An event of spectacular madness and mayhem.
I enjoyed my stay in Pamplona. It’s a quiet and slow-paced city; only aroused for that one moment of madness.
Staying with Miguel’s proved to be quite wonderful too. He has a laid-back and calm presence. He had to work during the day, but he always found some energy to show me around Pamplona during the evening. One of his favorite drinks that I got to try consisted of a bit of baileys with a shot of espresso, poured over ice. Refreshing after walking around in the sun all day.
He lived in a cozy house, in a tiny village, about 10 minutes drive away from Pamplona. Watching him take care of his pets, which ranged from cats and a dog to chickens, a goat and a rabbit; really exposed the gentle and kind aspects of his nature, plus it was simply charming. The village is surrounded by countryside and farms. I walked along one of the paths that winds it’s way through the fields; it was truly blissful. The smell of the blooming flowers and the lively chirping of the birds filled my heard with an uncomplicated kind of joy.
