Tag Archives: blogsherpa

Hello, Travel Bliss

I knew as soon as I boarded the train for Brasov, Romania from Budapest, I was going to get out of my funk.

I arrived way too early in the morning for anyone to be awake at Kismet Dao. The overnight train dropped me in Brasov at 7:30 a.m.

I exited the station and was greeted with more rain, but I didn’t mind. I had a good feeling. Even when the cab drivers tried to swindle me (“I will take you to the hostel for 15 euros, it’s a good deal”; “I will take you for 10, it’s a better deal”; “The meter is more expensive”), I didn’t let it get to me.

D vs Budapest: The down and dirty recap

I departed Madrid with such apprehension. I wanted to stay, but knew it was time to head out and keep traveling. Budapest was the destination, but I wasn’t too excited, despite the marvelous things I have heard about it. I loved being with my new friends, and heading to Budapest meant a departure from myContinue reading “D vs Budapest: The down and dirty recap”

How to be a superfly hostel (The List)

//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js // Hostels — love them or hate them — most backpackers have to stay in them. What makes a superfly hostel, D? I’m glad you asked. 1. 24 hour reception for people who take the night train and arrive early in the morning … or late at night. There is nothing worse than arrivingContinue reading “How to be a superfly hostel (The List)”

The upside of traveling solo is the same as the down

I stood, lost in thought at the taco counter in Pest.

“Are you OK?” asked the young man at the counter, in English seeping with a beautiful Hungarian accent.

I jogged back into the moment.

“Oh, yeah,” I said, grabbing my metal tray containing a junior burrito and large beer. “Just thinking.”

And I left it at that.

The truth was, I was OK. But, only kindasortanotreallymaybe.

Taking it off in Budapest

I stood in front of my locker, looking from the suit I was wearing to the clothes I had laid out on the bench in front of me. Two older women stood in the room, talking amongst themselves. If they did notice me, they ignored me.

Do it. Do it. Do it.

I stood for a moment longer.

It’s just naked, D. It’s no big thing.

Decompression numero dos

Man, leaving new friends is a bitch.

The second time I had bid farewell (“see you soon”) in three weeks to a group of amazing and beautiful people who became my family in the blink of an eye was no easier than the departure two weeks earlier.

First, it was Valdelavilla. And now, Monfrague. Two completely different programs, two completely different locations. Two completely and breathtakingly different groups of people.

Day tripping from Madrid

Madrid is nearly dead smack in the middle of Spain, so naturally, day trips from the capital are easy both in terms of closeness and bus/train schedules. There are two main options for traveling in Spain — the bus and the train. Recently, a high-speed train was added, and while it gets you places farContinue reading “Day tripping from Madrid”

Back to Anglo “reality”

Decompressing is a tough activity following the six days I spent immersed in English … in a way I never thought possible … with people I never expected to fall so deeply in love with.

I found myself craving Vadelavilla. The people. The way my heart smiled during my time there.

I found myself craving Vadelavilla. The people. The way my heart smiled during my time there.

Opening my ears

“Hi,” I began. “My name is D. I am originally from just outside of Washington, DC. In my former life, I was a publicist. Now, I am traveling and writing about it. If I could be any animal, I would be … a bird.”

I sat down.
After introductions, Dade explained the program: early wake up call for breakfast, followed by four one-on-ones with Anglos, then lunch, then siesta, then more one-on-ones and group activities, then performances, then dinner, then optional drinks at the bar.

What did I get myself into?

The only English-speaking town in Spain

Tucked into the Soria region of Spain is a little mountain village is Valdelavilla — a place completely isolated from the rest of the world, where Spaniards trek to learn English through intensive language immersion programs. It’s the only place in Spain where English is the first language.

Other than people participating in the program and the few staff on hand to take care of the property, there is nothing.

There are no stores. There is no cell phone service. The restaurant is located in an old villa. The bar has no stools and doubles as the “internet cafe.” So does the bench outside reception. And, the wifi is about as speedy as an old-school dial-up connection. The more people pow-wowing online at Valdelavilla, the slower it goes.

Despite these things, I fell in love with the town at first sight.