Tag Archives: backpacker

It Isn’t All About the Sunshine



The problem with driving around Iceland is that you’re basically confronted by a new soul-enriching, breath-taking, life-affirming natural sight every five goddamn minutes. It’s totally exhausting.” Stephen Markley, Tales of Iceland

#truth #wanderlust

Ancient Deeds in Ancient Cities with Greek Gods

Ancient Deeds in Ancient Cities with Greek Gods

I’ve been travelling Europe a fair amount since I moved back to the UK. It’s the best thing about being back: it’s so easy and so cheap to hop on a plane and spend a weekend in a different European city, and it’s surprising how I didn’t appreciate that until I left.

Anyway, a friend and I went to Athens for a few days. I had wanted to go for a while – it’s such an incredibly old city. I should refresh my memory, do some research and make this factual, but for now I’m just going to say I think it’s been constantly inhabited since around 4500 BC. That’s not an accurate date. But you get the gist.. very old city. The home of democracy, philosophy, such renowned scholars, Plato, Socrates, Greek gods and goddesses… so much that intrigued me.

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The Love Stories of a Traveller: The Success Story

The Love Stories of a Traveller: The Success Story

Despite never being in one place for more than a few nights, sometimes we do fall in love – albeit, more often than not, just for a night.  Amongst the hairy, sunburnt and just downright ugly, I’ve often spied a tall, muscular, blonde haired, tanned and just pure beautiful backpacker-esque man on my travels and thought, I wouldn’t mind some of that at all…  Occasionally, it appears that he was thinking exactly the same, and so, a transient love story unfolds..

This is not as romantic as it sounds.  There are more than a few obstacles that stand in the way.  Number one is approachability and timing.  So, you’ve noticed him.  He’s noticed you.  You’ve noticed him noticing you, and vice versa; you know you’re both appreciative.  But it’s 10am.  You look next to him and spot a backpack.  Pleasetellmehe’sjustarrived, you pray to some unknown wish grantor.  Pleasepleaseplease.  He’s leaving.  Or he’s arriving but you’re leaving.  Or you’re in the middle of Bangkok’s MBK and you’re eyes have met across dozens of people: he’s on an escalator in the distance, and in reality, there’s absolutely no way of talking unless you turn into a crazy stalker.  You’re a little bit in love for about a minute before that ship has sailed away on the sea of no opportunity.

If you manage to pass that hurdle (are able to converse and are both staying in the same city overnight) you then face what is morally a more difficult dilemma.  Now, everyone would agree that travelling is 400%, scrap that, I’m going to say 1000% more fun when you stay in a dorm room, especially as a solo traveller.  If you are travelling alone, the dorm room is where you meet the majority of your three day friends.  And likely to be where you will meet the man of your [insert current location] dreams.

If you haven’t identified what the problem is here, quite frankly, I’m ashamed of you.  You are both staying in a dorm, perhaps with eight other people.  You are ‘in love’ for the night – where do you go to do the deed?!  We’ve all witnessed dorm room sex: the couple two beds down moaning and breathing heavily, everyone else so consciously aware of it but fighting to blot it out as they try to sleep.  It’s not nice, but dorm room sex is sometimes a necessary evil.  Can you really blame them?  Who knows how long they’ve been on the road for.  Sometimes it can be a while, and unless you want your standards to drop to those hairy, sunburnt, ugly men I mentioned earlier, you have to take these opportunities with the beautiful men whenever you can get them..

Of our trio, one will admit to having succumbed to dorm room sex.  And we’re not saying who.  Sometimes, it’s just too hard to resist…

Back to the problems.  Most commonly, the problem is alcohol, of course.  You’re too drunk to feel anything, and he’s too drunk to do anything.  Nothing is more disappointing than the old whisky dick.  If alcohol isn’t causing these prevention problems, then it’s doing the opposite, and (without you realising) putting you closer than you would ever desire to be to those hairy, sunburnt ugly men.

But I don’t want to write about that.  That’s a story for another day.  Once in a while, none of these problems are existent.  So there he is, the tall, muscular man of your dreams wherever you may be.  Completely accessible.  You both know what’s going to happen, but probably haven’t thought through the details.  He’s incredibly hot – it doesn’t matter anymore whether it’s uncomfortable sex on the beach, a quick but passionate session in the hostel showers, or back to that dorm room.  Once in a while, you get the moment where you realise, he’s more than gorgeous, and somehow – it’s got to be fate – you’re not in a dorm room.

This happened to me not long ago.  The successful pull.  Not the 5am beer goggles pull.  Not the completely lost my memory mistake pull.  But the successful pull.  He was so hot I’d sleep with him at home.  As soon as I saw him, I knew that he was going home with me, and I was mentally thanking the universe that the dorm room had been full and I’d been forced to switch to a private room that night – in a hostel where the security wasn’t too stringent.  Of course he came back with me.  We left the bar probably within fifteen minutes of meeting – why waste time?  Travelling can only lead to one night love stories – especially when one of you is deviating from the typical backpacker trail – so you may as well leave early and make the most of your one night of passion.  I can and will drink and drink and drink anytime, and he could have been a model.  I know my priorities.  He kept telling me I was so beautiful, which I normally despise, but absolutely any words could have come out of that mouth and they would have turned me on.  It was a shame I had to be up so early the next morning because I know he wanted to stay, and I would have been quite happy to use that room until the staff forced me to check out.

But, I was forced to check out abnormally early the next day in order to move on.  And though he was amazing, I wasn’t too sad to leave.  The love stories of a traveller: one night love affairs.  The memories of him may pleasure me for a while, until the next real beauty comes along.  The image of him might comfort me and offer me some redemption next time I wake up and realise I’ve made a beer goggles mistake.  But I won’t remember his name for more than a couple of days.  I won’t remember age, his job, or even where he was heading next or had come from.  It’s unlikely I’ll ever remember him as a real person.  These one night successful travelling pulls (without any of the complications) are so transient and rare, that even though it’s a reality, it really is, just like a dream…

Miss L