dtravelsround

A BRIEF intermission: Month Four – Realization and Action

“Don’t aim for success if you want it; just do what you love and believe in, and it will come naturally.” – David Frost Today is July 7. Four months of traveling under my belt. It was three weeks ago when it hit me. This sudden realization of what I want from my life. IContinue reading “A BRIEF intermission: Month Four – Realization and Action”

Aussies know how to par-tay

I am not an Aussie.

I cannot even try to pretend I am an Aussie.

When I try to be an Aussie, bad things happen … like shots of Jager getting poured directly from the bottle into my mouth.

The otherside of the Atlantic Ocean

Covered in sunscreen (SPF 30) and armed with my book and a sheet to layout, I headed to the beach. The sky looked a bit threatening that morning … teetering between sun and clouds and sunny with clouds, so I wasn’t sure if a beach day was even possible. But, I had to make itContinue reading “The otherside of the Atlantic Ocean”

Sick, sick, sick

The last few days in Merida, I began to feel sick. I couldn’t breathe well, I had that sexy throat-y voice and a cough. A miserable cough that would keep me up at night. I blamed it on the yellow fever vaccine I had received a few days earlier. It sucked. I don’t do sick.

A week of Spanish

When an editor e-mailed me waaaaay back in February about VaughanTown, and I applied and was accepted to a program, I never, ever imagined how greatly it would change the course of my life (and by life, I mean this great ol’ adventure I am on). But, it sure did. In a beautiful and amazingContinue reading “A week of Spanish”

Motor bikes in Merida

I’m not the bravest girl in the world. YES, I am traveling alone, and YES, that is brave. But, I am not brave. For instance, I will NEVER jump out of an airplane. OK. Maybe not NEVER, but not any time soon. I will NEVER bungee jump. NEVER. And, up until the billiard hall’s grandContinue reading “Motor bikes in Merida”

Back back back to Extremadura

Nearly six weeks after my initial trip into Extremadura, I was at it again. This time, the bus was replaced by a nice four-door sedan, and the 20 Anglos were replaced by two Spaniards — Marcos and Jesus, a friend of mine from the Monfrague VaughanTown program. Just like the first time on the bus,Continue reading “Back back back to Extremadura”

Getting pricked in Spain

I stood in the back office of the pharmacy off of Francisco Silvela, arm sleeved rolled up, fist clenched.

“No me gusto,” I said to the pharmacy technician as she prepared removed the shot from its white box.

“Si,” she said, sympathizing with me (?).

And then I felt the needle break the skin. Then, it was over.

“Gracias,” I said, smiling with relief. “Hasta luego.”

“Adios,” she responded.

I gathered my belongings and headed out the door back into the overcast Madrid day.

That was shot numero dos, Hepatitis A.

A backpacker goes shopping

I stood in Anthony’s bathroom, looking at myself in the mirror. Same jeans. Same gray T-shirt from Target with doves flying on it. Same old gray fleece. Same hiking shoes. Same, same, same! GROSS. “Anthony, I cannot stand it! I have to go and get something new. Now.” I moaned to him, throwing up myContinue reading “A backpacker goes shopping”

Home?

I traded rainy and cold Belgium for sunny and magnificent Spain around noon the day after leaving Amsterdam (about the same time I regained my sanity). Only, when I arrived in Spain, it wasn’t really sunny or magnificent. I just pretended it was because that’s how much I love freaking Spain. In fact, it wasContinue reading “Home?”