I nearly missed my train from Zurich to Sargans because I had been standing amid the rapids of the rushing commuters, fixated by the flip flip of the schedule; zoned out with eyebrows knit, mouth agape, and a strand of drool stretched between gums. A machine inhaled my precious francs and then refused to issue a ticket, so I joined a line that curled around like a Nokia snake and inched forward. To cement that memory in place, the muffled booth lady had me fill out a grievance form for my dealings with that particular ravenous machine and exchanged it for a ticket with the advice to “Run.” Continue reading
I had never thought about Switzerland as a possibility nor a probability for visiting, but after making another workaway connection, I was headed there for August, to stay with another family. Landing in Zurich on 3 hours of sleep, I was excited; happy at the thought of seeing a familiar face. Continue reading
I learnt the importance of arriving at an airport with enough time to check in, as I was leaving Spain. The Barcelona Airport is such a swell place, all sparkly and shiny just shy of daybreak. The fluorescent lights blind the cracks of eyes and highlight the bags nestled beneath. Standing in a long line is the last thing you feel like doing, particularly when you’re barely awake. Continue reading
My seven week adventure in España was drawing to a swift end, which was both exciting and sad. I was incredibly grateful for all of the experiences I had had; the growth and development of self and the new friendships cemented for life. Yet, I was sorrowful to leave that behind; my safe haven, nestled in the arms of Spain. Continue reading
Valencia is one of those understated, cool-hip places, that you least expect; like when you find out that your grandmother organised a boxing match in her 1930’s nurse’s lounge. I have a lot of respect and admiration for this place – Vah-len-thee-ah! Continue reading
The cycle of life rounds, as the wheel with that little tar smothered stone is sharply wedged, scratching against the road once more. No matter how large the arc, things seem to come around again.
It was Christmastime.
It was New Year’s.
It was summertime…
And I was a little depressed. Continue reading
I was ready to leave Granada, I just wasn’t prepared to navigate newly formed bus routes in a foreign country. Before leaving the hotel, the clerk gave me a heads up on there being a change but he was unsure how it fully worked. I waved ‘Adios!’ and ‘Gracias!’ With The Beast in tow, we shuffled across the piazza and what I had hoped was down the right street, to catch a bus, to catch another bus out of town. Continue reading
It was time to get down to the business end of travelling. Enough of this languid ‘just pop me in a hammock with a sangria’ kind of lifestyle. One day I tried to squeeze in as much as humanly and touristically possible; the Alhambra, the gypsy caves and some flamenco stomp-stomp. Continue reading
My first Blablacar ride went without a hitch. The road to Granada was a chatty one with a lovely driver who practiced her English, while two snoring Aussies cradled their backpacks behind us. There’s something about driving on the open road during summertime with the yellowed fields flowing under the blue blue sky, cruising toward the horizon line with the sweet relief of air con; in a weird feeling of filming a movie that is my life. Continue reading
Seville* is one of those enchanting places that beguiles you to believe that if it weren’t for the Spanish tongue uttered in conversation, you could be in some other enticing country. For the onset of what had become my longest solo travelling mission, I warmed to this city with open arms. Continue reading