So, I confess: I’m an Olympics junky. Moreso with the winter games, (especially considering I don’t have TV, so I can only watch this time around when I’m elsewhere or when a neighbour’s wifi is working), but still. This time around I’m getting a fair amount of nostalgia, as I’m able, for once, to say: been there, done that. Yes, that’s right, folks: once upon a time I wandered off and ended up in England.
It was my first big trip, and it was my first solo voyage. Graduating from a university where nearly everyone seemed to have travelled Europe, a much younger and more clueless version of myself deemed it appropriate to borrow several thousand dollars in case, take 3 weeks off work, get a rushed 24 hour passport, and book a plane ticket.
Sometimes, in hindsight, I look back at this trip, particularly the first few days in England and France, and wonder just how I managed so easily, based on my lack of planning or research.
So, some images and memories/lessons from my first days overseas:
I need some international travel. And I need it soon.