I’ve. Never. Been. Travelling.

I know,¬†shock horror, right? Travelling in the proper sense of the term – rucksack on back, flying out to Australia, or Thailand, or Borneo, eating cheap noodles, visiting Buddhist temples, doing voluntary work, never showering, loving life for several months before completely running out of money so coming back home with your tail between your legs, but with incredibly stories to tell. That’s how it goes right?

I’m sure many of you have far greater success stories than the one I’ve just told, and I’m just naively looking at it from a stereotypical point of view.

Anyway. My point is, I haven’t done it. I’ve always been too scared. Or never had the money. I built my love for travel from scanning the internet on a daily basis, looking for cheap flights, finding even cheaper BnBs, never settling for more than two nights at a time.

This is my story about how I battle finding good cake in strange places, how I navigate public transport and learn the basics of languages to get around. This is the story of how I print out my boarding passes five times, hiding them in places around my carry on in case I lose one. The story of meeting strange people and new friends, only to never see them ever again.

Maybe one day I’ll do proper ‘travelling’. Maybe one day I’ll lose the fear. Help me on my journey?