I think I have the ugliest backpack known to man.
It’s two shades of dog-poo brown. But, I think it’s because of it’s lack of exterior good looks, it was such a steal. The 65CL REI pack was mine of the takin’ at a cool $180. That’s $100 less than it’s prettier counterparts, although color aside, they are exactly the same.
One thing’s for sure — the inside of that bag sho’ is good lookin’.
At the job I met T. He was the owner’s nephew and was working at the restaurant, too. I fell in love with him.
The awful, first love kind of way where you never think you will ever in a million years feel the way you feel about the man you are with.
Only, our relationship wasn’t a good one. T was an alcoholic, 10 years my senior, who despised life. While his self-loathing and misery didn’t rub off on me, it was entirely taken out on me. Our relationship was one of cyclical emotional abuse. It was pints of I-love-you’s with double shots of I-hate-you’s and lots and lots (and lots) of tears. And crazy wicked emotional hangovers.
I know I’ve said before I don’t like to plan. And, I don’t. The beauty of travel is going with the flow … seeing what comes and then just doing.
However, when someone makes a suggestion that could make your trip even more awesome than originally thought, you DO IT.
So, I did.
It aint easy being responsible.
Sort of.
I went back and forth with two insurance agents — one from the state I live, and one from the state where my car will be parked whilst I galavant and vagabond for months on end. Turns out, unless I want to register my car in the state where it will sit and get pooped on by endless amounts of Canadian Geese migrating, I have to keep the insurance policy I have here.
Great.
Except, in my moment of zeal and excitement, I canceled said policy. Yesterday.
Tonight I am packing boxes. Big, monster wardrobe boxes. I don’t like packing. At all.
And this time, it’s gross.
1. If you want Zagreb’s Upper Town to yourself for wandering, it is deserted at 2 a.m. There is nothing more magical than having the city in your hands to breathe in. Even if nothing is open, to walk on the old streets, to see the gothic buildings, it is an amazing experience. Bonus pointsContinue reading “What I learned in Croatia (The List)”
I woke up on my last morning in Croatia, shaggy blonde Brit by my side.
Whoops.
I love Saturdays. Except when the Saturday is my last day in Croatia. Then, I despise it. Chopper and I had a grand plan for my last full day of traveling: lounge at the beach and then head out to a nice birthday dinner for myself. And we did just that.
I looked up at the stairs that seemed to rise to the sky. Panting. We had made it up the first few sets of stairs, me trying to balance the very unsteady bag I had on my back. I had specifically taken this piece of luggage for my trip because it had wheels (!) and straps to turn into one massive backpack. But, it really wasn’t made to be balanced on a back. I could barely stand up straight, and when I was upright, it felt like the weight of the bag would have me topple over, down the stairs and back to Square One.
I didn’t want to continue to Dubrovnik. In the short time I had been with these people, they had become like a family. I know I’ve said it before, but you really do make friends fast and furious when you travel, and these girls were no exception to that rule. And, as it goes with traveling, you move on, keep in touch with those that matter, and meet new and wonderful people at your next destination.
Still, it was really hard to say goodbye. Chopper put it best — when you travel, most of the time when you say goodbye, its . The likelihood of ever seeing these people again is slim. And, knowing that made my heart hurt a little bit.
D Travels 'Round