I open skyscanner.com and enter Dublin in the origin box. 10/07/2015. Destination: Everywhere. The list starts loading and towards the top I see Zadar. I’ve been dying to go to Croatia but I’m worried I outstayed my good weather fortune and budget constraints for Europe. Ireland has left me craving sunshine and cheap prices. Continue reading
Where are you from?
A backpacker question more relevant than your name, age, occupation or any comparably “normal” introduction. You meet people so frequently and can never know if you’ll end up talking for 30 seconds or traveling together for 30 days. So you hold off on names and, instead, you focus on their stories. Where are you from?
The wax is dripping off this candelabra and spattering onto the table like paint from a clumsy artist’s brush. I cowered into this pub to escape the drizzle and was pleasantly greeted by a perfect pen-to-paper, candlelit atmosphere. I haven’t had the energy or desire since I’ve been here to tourist-it-up. Instead, I’ve been perfectly content simply dublin’in around this tiny, big city and looking in on all its McPubs leaking banjos, fiddles and Guinness out the cracks.
Having spent one day in Salzburg back in 2011, I fancied myself somewhat of a local. I clearly recall the first awe-inspiring glimpse of the hilltop castle and its cascading army of dome-topped churches and pastel buildings. The clouds parted, the sun hit my face, and I was suddenly a princess standing at the glimmering gates of my fairyland. And it was fully acceptable to skip across footbridges and do heel clicks up and down the streets.
I splattered into The Flying Pig Hostel out of the Amsterdam rain and frantically looked around for Stephanie, my travel buddy flavor of the week.
It’s just water: my motto to maintain my soaking wet sanity in Rotterdam.
A best friend of a best friend (a mutual best friend?) lives in Brussels. I contacted her before my trip in hopes of popping by Belgium and maybe grabbing a waffle together. Instead, she was kind enough to invite me to stay at her house*.
It’s always fun to go places you know nothing about. Everything surprises you. Childlike wonder in seeing the world and how amazing it is for the first time. Joy from the simplest things.
So Kelly and I shift to Santorini. Hands-down, full throttle. S-curve roads to Ancient Thira, black beaches, red beaches, volcanic ash beaches. Every city is like the snow cap on a mountain top from afar, and a blinding white inferno from aclose. Renting that ATV on this island was the best travel decision we’ve made in our 15 countries together.
Danielle E. Owen 