Learning curve

 Wow! Nearly two weeks gone just like that! As per usual there have been some amazing moments and other times that I would have rather not happened. However, this is all part of the adventure. I would like to be more accepting of the harder days and realise that travelling across the world is not always going to be easy! I’m not ashamed to say that in some moments I have not kept my cool - mainly in times where I have found myself lost in a new place. 

In such a short time span, I have grown as a person since being the girl that stepped onto the Eurostar (someone who would have likely toppled over like a domino should someone have poked her whilst standing with both backpacks on). I find myself looking back at things, wondering if I really did just do them. For example, I agreed to hitchhike (after assessing safety) with two other backpackers to Mont St Michel. I cannot even comprehend that ME, I did that! Walking up and across Dunes Du Pilat in Bordeux was a huge moment in realising what a privilege it is to be able to experience both the highs and lows of backpacking. 

During the day, I am far more positive than in the evening, when my confidence seems to dissipate into the darkness as the sun sets. If I am being completely honest, I had my first major overwhelm this week and battled with trying to squeeze back the tears. Lots didn’t go my way, I was exhausted from a long period of travel and when you are on your own in an unknown location it is very hard to climb out of that negative whole that you can dig yourself into. Doubts about my capabilities and fulfilling my plans creep in, only to be pushed to the side when pure joy and clarity are gained in these incredible experiences. Sometimes it’s about just moving on to the next step even when somethings happened, because if you don’t laugh then it will probably result in tears. Thankfully for me I have both the big man upstairs and my mum on speed dial for an extra boost. 

France has been amazing; being transported from trails, to the beach, to a city, has felt as if I’m living in a movie. The train acts as this Tardis where you can enter a new culture and environment in a matter of minutes. Rennes was my favourite, due to its versatility, and the backpackers I met were so nice. It’s ironic because my better experiences with people have originated from the less expensive and very ‘basic’ hostel stays. When dorms are so open it forces everyone to interact. In youth hostels I prefer that you make the bed yourself because there is such a lack of predictability and those small actions create a routine along with your own space to settle for a couple of days, rather than feeling as though it’s a strangers. At one hostel I prayed no one was going to be in the bed above me due to the damage that was holding the top bunk up, but I have never laughed so much. At another the bathroom began to play tricks on me when the light suddenly turned off in the middle of my shower (all fun and games until the soap gets in your eyes and you are scurrying around for relief). Bordeaux was a slightly upgraded hostel but I socialised with nobody else due to a couple of reasons: the beds have curtains so you’re less likely to see the other people, rather than twelve there were only four beds per dorm and the more people that go in and out, the less chance you can build a rapport with someone. A pre-warning should you ever visit Bordeaux, as soon as you arrive you have automatically entered a life threatening game of human verses vehicles - like crossy road, except it’s on paths too - and each stage becomes harder than the last to test overall awareness and agility. If you thought cars speeding across zebra crossings was bad, walk on the pavement where you have to weave through the runners and cyclists until you reach a face off with multiple electric scooters. 

Despite the traffic, I made it out of Bordeaux alive in time to realise the vast experiences in cuisine that I have encountered. Backpacking can cause your diet to go from boojie to a little concerning; one minute I am indulging in French specialties and the next I am saying grace over half a baguette and some fruit that I cut with my pocket knife alongside a can of sardines. As long as I don’t reach the stage of combining bananas and canned tuna, like I witnessed one girl do at another hostel, I can avoid traumatising my digestive system and still enjoy all that is budget backpacking. Before leaving in France, a fancy creperíe had to be visited and for a lovely deal, I experienced a culinary masterpiece. Up first was a savoury egg, ham and salad galette, followed by a warm jam crepe, which the man had whipped up after I had finished my first meal to meet perfect temperatures. Eating and people watching at a nice food hall is a solo travellers paradise. 

I’m learning that you can be alone and happy or sad. You can be surrounded by people and still feel lonely. When you are intentional with solitude it can bring out versions of yourself that you never even knew existed. 

Rosie over and out :)