Twosome Travels

Today, I have pondered the possibility of travelling solo.

Maybe to a European city, for a couple of nights away. Going somewhere different, doing something by myself, feeling a swell of accomplishment and sense of adulthood. I’ve known extroverts who do so and love it, for the opportunity to meet new people. I’ve known introverts who love it, for the need to be without other people. Frequently, I come to the conclusion that ultimately it’s not really something I would personally enjoy. It doesn’t seem to fit in with the main reasons I like going on holiday.

I have recently returned from Copenhagen. It is a compact city, the people were friendly and the food is expensive. I wouldn’t have enjoyed it much alone, one of the benefits of going with another person whose preferences align very much with your own is that you still mostly get to do exactly what you want, because it’s what they want to do, too.

On our first morning, as the sun was beating down and we were desperately searching for somewhere suitable to eat, we were approached by a man on a bicycle. Upon requesting a recommendation for breakfast, rather than give us directions, he took us there. We then spent the next half an hour or so sat with him in a bakery, drinking coffee and eating the treats he selected for us. Meanwhile, he marked on our map places to go and eat and visit during our trip. It was an unexpected but charming start to our holiday. Would it have happened if I were alone? Perhaps, but I may have been more wary and less open to the opportunity.

On our last morning, as the rain was spitting down and we were filled with cinnamon and cappuccinos, we went to seek the little mermaid statue. It was thoroughly underwhelming, but a sight that needed to be ticked off. Full of foreigners taking selfies, an odd representation of the modern world. What would this have been like ten years ago? We walked the route along the water to the city centre, singing our hearts out in grey daylight; a song from The Little Mermaid. Would it have happened if I were alone? Unlikely, I would have been far too self-conscious. But a pair of people singing in the rain is somehow okay.

The many hours in between were spent eating sushi, Indian food, and the famous smørrebrød, in a traditional restaurant, far from the tourist traps. We had a daily Danish pastry, walked many miles, saw the lights of Tivoli, The Bridge and activities featured in Travel Man. We also had an afternoon in our fancy apartment, eating crisps and talking about friends, relationships, hen parties, weddings, memories of previous trips. Because what is a holiday if not to allow time for relaxation? Would it have happened if I were alone? Partially, but much of my time at home is spent alone, so it’s not really worth going abroad just to do that.

Part of what I like about going away with someone else, or even a group, is the chance to spend a solid section of time with them. No chores, classes or other commitments. It gives rise to a depth of conversation and intimacy that you might not otherwise get the chance to discover in the small chunks of time usually spent in their company. It builds bonds, consolidates your relationship, gives you anecdotes to share with others and reminisce with each other. Sure, there’s the potential to get annoyed with certain characteristics, but overall the experience is a positive one, something I plan to continue for a long time.

This is not to say that I would never travel solo, but while there are the willing participants to join me, I’m in no rush to do so. Now, where to consider for our next city?

Flitterbox: The Little Mermaid ~ Part of Your World

Motorless Emotion

Today, I have a broken vehicle.

My car won't start. I don't know why, but I can't get it fixed until Monday. I never realised how much I rely on my car until that freedom was taken away from me. 

I can survive without transport for a weekend, of course. It's not a dire situation, and I spent plenty of years without my own car to drive. If I needed to get somewhere, I could call a cab, take a bus or get a lift from someone else. 

There's nowhere I absolutely have to be. There are plans I had made which are better re-arranged rather than trying to sort travel, now that don't have the means to drive there. It's okay, it's not much of a problem and I have plenty of things to keep me occupied at home and nearby. I have been for a walk; I have a small selection of shops within walking distance, if necessary. Sometimes, it's nice to have a reason to relax at home, sort some chores, read, cook, watch. Really, it's not much of an issue at all. 

However, it is a bit rubbish. I had plans.

Flitterbox: Dire Straits ~ Walk of Life

Flitterbook: The State We're In ~ Adele Parks

Aux Bruxelles

Today, I have been recovering. 

The weekend began with a rush-hour train to London and a brisk walk to St. Pancras station. A glass of Merlot, train supplies from M&S and a half-hour delay later, we were on our way to Belgium. Prosecco, crisps and olives helped the journey pass quite pleasantly. 

Upon arrival in Brussels, we were met by our friend, a UK diplomat on a two-year secondment. Back at his apartment, the wine flowed along with the catch-up chat, before we headed to bed for a well-earned rest. A lazy morning with home-cooked breakfast (scrambled eggs and mushrooms on toast, fresh orange juice) was followed by a trip to the busy, busy Christmas market et beaucoup de vin chaud. C'etait bien.  After some tartiflette and a sit-down, we headed back to change for the evening. Genuis graduate professionals that we are, we thought it would be clever to squeeze five adults in an ancient apartment building lift. We just managed to close the doors. It was not a good idea. We got stuck. Half a floor up.

Yikes. 

If you've never got stuck in a lift before, but wondered how it would feel, what would you do; I'm not sure I can say. For the first minute, it was...it's fine, it will be okay. Just press the button again. Press the other button. There wasn't panic, but it was tense. It was stuffy. Did I mention we only just managed to squeeze in? It was tight. Press the call button. Is it ringing? No. Do we have signal? No. Press the alarm...is that someone coming? Are they talking to us?  

There was someone. He called the maintenance company. We forced open the lift doors and he opened the door. We had air. We had a friendly Flemish face, speaking fluent English. The maintenance had been informed. Trente minutes. Thirty minutes, shoulder to shoulder with four other people. We manged to take off our coats, one at a time, and pass them up to him. He stayed with us, he laughed with us, he took photos of us and half an hour passed quite quickly, considering the circumstances. We didn't consider what might happen if something went wrong; if there were further delays, if there were problems. If he couldn't get us out. 

We got out. Forty five minutes waiting then 5 mins of being winched manually back down to the ground floor. What a relief to be out. What an ordeal to deal with, in a foreign country. But we were okay, we were with friends. We survived. 

Later, we went to see the light show at Grand Place, which was fantastic. We went out for dinner and drinks, both delicious. If I were a true blogger, this entry would be filled with photos of the rest of the weekend and not a story documenting my own stupidity. But, the memories we make are built from the less than ordinary moments.

It was a good weekend. I would have liked to see more of the city, I would have liked to have a waffle. But when the Eurostar is less than 3 hours and under £70 return, there's plenty of chance for me to go again one day. 

I might take the stairs next time. 

Flitterbox: Coldplay ~ Christmas Lights

Thought Train

It's five to six and I lithely leap onto the train with seven minutes to spare. The carriage is otherwise bare, save a lean, long-haired twentysomething male, socks pulled up, hunched over a bunch of paper containing incomprehensible scribbles of various symbols and graphs. A physics postgrad, I guess, probably bound for the same town as I.

I dump my bags on a warm, sun-heated seat and slump down next to them with a sigh. I allow my gaze to wander to the opposite platform. It's fairly busy and full of the usual suspects; I scan the crowds, looking for something worth watching. Observing people is one of my preferred ways to pass time whilst waiting. Nothing much new to see, generally, although this time, someone in particular catches my eye. A guy.

Do I know him...? The blood rushes to my cheeks as I realise that yes, yes, I do indeed recognise that face. I marvel at the coincidence: that I should be here; that he should be there! Except it's not really that much of a small world and if I'm honest, the idea of a fleeting glance such as this occurring crosses my mind every time I pass through this place.

And now that it has, what do I do?

It's 17.58 and with only four minutes before the train leaves, I don't have much time to think twice. I stand up in haste, gather my bags and I'm out of the doors. Ponytailed Physicist doesn't even flinch.

As I hurry up the stairs to the other platform, I have a million questions rushing through my head, most of which are entirely unhelpful and unrelated to the present situation but a scarce few could be useful, if only I had some answers to follow them. What do I do once I get there? What do I say? How would I even begin? I don't know, I'm not sure and sometimes the only way to get things done is to stop thinking and just do. Before I know it, I'm on the platform and there's a train there and it's ready to leave. My eyes dart erratically across the length of the vehicle and I spy the back of a head that looks almost like someone I nearly knew once. He's looking out  towards the opposite platform, where there's a train setting off, to a parallel carriage that holds a single passenger - a long-haired student, hunched over a paper, highlighter in hand. I am not there; he does not see me, and somewhere nearby, a whistle is blown. 

The train departs and I make my way back up the stairs and across to my platform. The 18.02 left On Time and it's now a forty-seven minute wait for the next one. The area is completely bare, save a curly-haired girl, laden with luggage. I dump my bags on the cool concrete and crouch down next to them on the ground. I rest my chin on my knees and I wonder...what would I have said?

Flitterbox: Bright Eyes ~ Another Travelin' Song
Flitterbook: The Year I Met You ~ Cecelia Ahern

Hollandaise Holidays

Today, I have put on my winter slippers.

Amsterdam was wonderful. It was like stepping out into a sunny film set every day, a scene manufactured to look like a quaint European city, except this was no Disneyland, this was real-life. The flowing canals with open-top boats chugging along in the afternoon sun, the cyclists trundling merrily across the cobbled streets on their way to work or play. We were so lucky with the weather, like summer had chosen to stay on longer, especially for our September break, and only now can it fall into Autumn.

Cheese tasting came highly recommended and didn't disappoint. My experience may have been influenced by the tall, blonde, fluent-in-three-languages Californian man who led the session, but it was also good value and felt authentically Dutch (apart from the American staff member...). It was interesting to learn about cheese-making and keeping and tastes and smells and consistency and differences, so yummy. I also learnt how to pronounce Gouda ("kHow-da") and damn, the wine was good.

From wine tasting to free wine at Boom Chicago. Comedy was not something I'd considered before arrival in the city, but we were urged to go by a representative whilst waiting in a queue for Anne Frank House, and it was better than I expected. The improv scenes and general set-up of the show were unlike anything I'd seen on stage before. It was quirky, funny and unusual; a great way to spend a couple of hours in the evening.

It was such a relaxing trip, we didn't rush about at all. We meandered, wandering back and forth along the canals, eating gelato or sitting in the park, soaking up the sun, the atmosphere and architecture; catching some street entertainment; practising yoga poses on the plein; browsing in a kitsch shop on a side alley. Amsterdam is a place to which I'd be happy to return, to live or to visit. The people were friendly and accommodating, the food was delicious and the whole place just felt cosy and comfortable. Gezelligheid.

Flitterbox:  Charlie XCX ~ Boom Clap

Flitterbook: The Road to Rouen ~ Ben Hatch 

Little Writer

Today, I have written.

"Writing while young will help improve memory. The process helps you remember feelings and experiences you have forgotten and makes you more expressive. Writing will force you to come up with the right words to describe thoughts and emotions and as a result, you become more proficient in expressing yourself."

I suppose this summarises why I like to write. It's not really for readers, but without the mere idea (even if misguided) that someone is listening, there's not much point in attempting to express yourself in a way that captures the attention of another person. Mainly, I just want to remember the good stuff. There are a lot of fun moments in my life at the moment. I am young, I run free, and I have so many friends and things to do that it is hard to keep track of them sometimes. I am also sad a lot of the time, but I am trying really hard not to let that get to me. I am trying so hard not to let it show. 

So, the month of May has been a busy one. It's partly why I wanted to keep up with blogging every day. I haven't, of course, but that's okay. I have booked flights to Dublin and America. I want to go to Belgium and Amsterdam too, because I can and to travel whilst you're young is the time to do it. I'd much rather spend my money on experiences than objects. 

This weekend, I had an indoor "BBQ" and played board games with a group of friends. Some old, some new and some I'm just getting to know. It was quiet and sort of subdued but I think that's fine, sometimes. I'm a little lost, but it kind of seems that many people are in their twenties. I just have to keep doing, keep going, keep saying yes and hope that at some point it will all come together.

Blogging causes me to be awfully reflective and sometimes that's helpful and sometimes, I think I think too much, y'know. 

Flitterbox: Clean Bandit ~ Rather Be

Brownie Birthday

Today, I have packed. 

It will be time for me to catch the coach in a couple of hours, to spend an activity weekend with 600+ children under 10. It's not something I've done before, and a year ago I would not have had this opportunity. I couldn't have imagined that my first weekend away as a twenty-six-year-old would be with a bunch of Brownies and Owls. 

It should be fun. 

Flitterbox: Owl City ~ When Can I See You Again?

London Calling

Today, I have been to a friend's leaving drinks.

I took the plunge and took the train, after work, to a city I don't live in, to have drinks with a couple of people I know and a bunch of others I've not met before. London feels like a lonely place to live in. So many people, but none of them dare catch your eye. I am used to saying hi to people as we cross by; they don't do that in London. I don't think I would want to live there.

My friend is off to work in a city in Europe. I hope that will mean another weekend away, with free accommodation included! It is a bit sad to have so many friends spread all over the world, but it is quite fun to get take trips to visit them.

Flitterbox: Crystal Fighters ~ I Love London

Irish Adventures

Today, I have booked a holiday. 

I'm going at the end of this month. Not sure that I have ever booked something so 'last minute' before. The vague dates have been down in the diary for a while, but it is only tonight that the concrete bookings have been put into place and the money paid up. With over a fortnight to go, it's not all that whirlwind an idea, still time to plan and pack but for me, this feels like the edge of spontaneity. 

If anyone has any tips for a short break in Dublin, let me know!

Flitterbox: The Corrs ~ So Young

American Boy

Today, I have smiled like I mean it.

On this day, 5 years ago, I met my first internet friend in the flesh, 3 and a half years to the day that we first made acquaintance through blogs. I told no-one. 

Today, 5 years later, the friend is married with a daughter, and a son on the way. How things change.

I hope that, one day, I will meet this baby boy and his older sister. I hope that I have the courage to do so, because there's never going to be the 'right' time to fly across the ocean by yourself to stay with a couple you've only met once before and children that you've only ever seen on Skype.

We shall see.

Flitterbox: The Killers ~ Andy You're A Star - bloody love this album
Flitterbook: Andrew's Brain ~ E.L. Doctorow

May Day

Today, it is May.

It's the fifth month of the year and fifty-two books isn't quite as on track as I would hope. I could say there's been other things on my mind and that it's easier to endlessly watch American sitcoms than pick up the kindle, which is partly true but not really an excuse. Reading is so brilliant when you get into it and so simple to do anytime, for any length of time. I keep forgetting that when I'm out of the game.

I start the month off with a free stay in a four star hotel, sandwiched by two train journeys. What better reason to get away from the moving pictures and open up the mind pictures instead?

Flitterbox: The Family Crest ~ Kiss On My List
Flitterbook: The Shock of The Fall ~ Nathan Flier

Meating Out

Two days.
Three plates; four places; five faces.
It was aces.

Meal One: bean burrito with sweet potato fries and sparkling conversation

It was kind of peculiar but not in a pinpointable way. We met as arranged and I was scanned from head to toe, as if being seen for the first time. It's been a while. A short walk, a sit-down and few bites later, it was all flowing easily in a not entirely unexpected manner. No topic was left uncovered as we smoothly sailed through politics, sex, money, education and religion like a raspberry dream with a side of ice-cream. It was delightful. The afternoon was quite enjoyable and full of sunshine, with banter of blonde moments; a sighting of sequinned singers; a frisson of fabric and uncomplicated chatter of relationships, men, women, how the world is all beautifully - sometimes surprisingly - interconnected. We arrived at a general conclusion that many people are unfortunately terribly ignorant. Luckily, we are exempt...

Czech Point

It snowed. It was freezing. It was fantastic. 

We sauntered along cobbled streets like we were living in a movie set. We sat for hours in warm cafés, watching the world pass by. We ate a lot of food, mainly breakfasts consisting of multiple courses, but also cake and croissants and crisps and a candlelit dinner, cruising along the river by night, drinking in all the sights, as well as all the wine, swinging to the soothing melodies. Jazz! In a city that is crazy about that genre of music, jazz was everywhere, which made me grin lots. I wouldn't say I was an avid jazz fan, but I'm partial to a bit of Peggy Lee or Michael Bublé on occasion. So we went on a jazz boat (free glass of red wine!) and we went to a jazz club (free glass of white wine!) and we listened to a couple of live jazz bands and generally took a lot of photos that featured all that jazz. It was amazing. We also went to see a black light theatre production - intriguing at best; terrifying at worst. Imagine, on the stage, there's some glow-in-the-dark human-sized spiders. Okay, so now imagine that they climb over the seats and over the audience and attack you. Imagine that you have this strange foreign person in a spider costume and black balaclava grabbing your arm and hovering in your face. A bizarre and scary experience, I can tell you. The rest of the time, we explored extensively, by foot, metro, tram and bus, though sadly not by segway. The castle, especially, was a sight not to be missed, offering incredible architecture as well as views across the land. I had so much fun, with all the cake-eating and show-seeing and coffee-sipping and wine-consuming and spa-relaxing and of course, TLDG!

But now, I've been back a fortnight and it's February already and I have no money to spend on any luxuries for the foreseeable future, at least. However, if someone fancies whisking me off on an all-expenses-paid trip to Paris, Rome, or even Stockholm, well, I wouldn't say no...

Flitterbox: Joss Stone ~ L-O-V-E

Lying Down

I like lying down. I do it whenever I get the chance and I have someone crazy enough to join in the game with me - The Lying Down Game. You may have heard of it.

Here's the deal: lie down, face to the ground, arms by your side, feet perpendicular to the floor and get someone to take a photo of the position. The more interesting the surroundings, the better the shot, but you can do it literally anywhere you fancy. 

Espresso Expression

I like tea. I drink an awful lot of it. But somehow, recently, with neither effort nor intent, I’ve found that I’ve become a coffee convert?! This troubles me somewhat.

It all began whilst on a short break in Europe. The climate was so cold, I initially drank coffee as a mere body-warming and brain-waking tool – frothy cappuccinos and creamy caramel lattes from a cosy sofa-filled café are too delicious to resist when it’s snowing outside and you’ve been on your feet for hours. I would have usually opted for tea, naturally, but on the continent there wasn’t always that choice available, or at least not to the same standard that I’d have in England. So, before I knew it, my tongue grew accustomed to the alternative and I started to crave coffee constantly: a comfort for frozen fingers; a wake-up buzz; a boost for weary bones; a specific desire for the unique taste that I had seemingly acquired without even realising.

LHR SIN

Ten o’clock in the morning.

The ice sticks on the ground

white streets; mud-tainted

Silence.

Crawling along roads with fear

It’s risky at this time of year.

Half past eight in the evening.

People stuck in queues, crowds

hot tea; tired eyes

Waiting.

All flights subject to delay

Christmas is just another day.

Snow, snow, go away...
Flitterbox: Coldplay ~ Christmas Lights

Butterfly Heart

What a wonderful weekend.

It snowed and so we went to a butterfly farm!!! From sub-zero to sub-tropical temperatures in an instant, surrounded by fantastic colours and creatures. Amazing! Then we ate a divine meal at lovely restaurant and popped into a music shop, where my presence was completely legitimised by my drum-playing companion, and I could secretly check out the plectrum collection for further earring creations and wonder whether I should pick up my instrument again and re-learn the fingers so I can play songs from a few of my favourite things. The cold weather guided us towards tea for two and hot cake in the afternoon like proper posh peoples, innit darhlin'. After painting nails, a few slices of pizza and planning a trip abroad, we dressed up and ventured out and spoke in faux accents and downed shots of tropical cocktail, poured from a teapot. It was fabulous and we made a toast with each sip in a kind of Thanksgiving way, whilst commenting on any groups or individuals that fell in our eyeline. Clink, clink, drink, drink, wink, wink. Then we danced and laughed and fist-pumped and jumped about until it was time to go home. It was ace and sadly served to confirm my feelings that boy and girl can not just be friends in the way that girl and girl are Just Friends.

But maybe that's okay.

Flitterbox: Razorlight ~ Vice

Soul City

Today, I have travelled. 

As I pass by here, I can't help it, an involuntary grin spreads from ear to ear. These towers are a monstrous insult to architecture, billowing hot steam into the atmosphere and symbolising everything that is wrong with our use of energy resources today, I'm sure. But to me, I see them coming into view and it feels like coming home.

It's not quite home. The city is not the one in which I grew up, but it is the one in which I became a grown-up. I have made the journey so often over the last four years that it feels odd that I'm unlikely to ever live there again. It was weird, being a guest in a place I know better than most others, by pure virture of the fact that I've had to find my own feet, make my own way. One night, that's all I had. One night.

It was fun night. Town was the quietest I've ever seen it, unsurprising, given that it was mid-week in non-term time: no Slacking Students about and Grown-Up People have jobs, you know. I'm somewhere in between the two of those, I suppose. After the party, pizza, poetry and live folk music, a few of us tried a few bars before deciding that nowhere will be raving at this time of night on this day of the week, so we might as well just go for the cheap cocktails and make the most of it. It was a fun night. 

In the morning, I sat waiting in the station and for the first time, I wasn't going to visit home for just the weekend, for the first time, this was the end of my short break from the norm, rather than the start of it. As I realised that, an involuntary tear fell from cheek to chin. This city feels like a special kind of second home, a place to which to escape, with people to visit and precious memories encased in each street, shop, bar and cinema. I'm glad that I hold that in my heart, but I'm sad to have to leave it all, again. 

I'll be back; there's no doubt about that. 

On the jukebox: Kimya Dawson ~ Tyre Swing

5 AM

Five o'clock in the morning. 

The sun peeps through the clouds

blue skies; pink-tinted

Silence. 

Speeding along the motorway.

It's quiet at this time of day. 

Half past six in the morning. 

People pass through the crowds

black coffee; tear-stained

Goodbye. 

Four hundred pills: one a day

It keeps malaria at bay. 

I don't know what else to say. 

Bridging Oceans

Today, I have reminisced.

You know when you recognise someone from facebook or a film or whatever and then you see them in real life and it's like, well, I feel like I know you from somewhere, even though we've never met. It was a bit like that.

I waited for the train to arrive at the arranged time. Many faces but no sign of the right one. So I waited half an hour for the next train, nerves escalating, pacing the platform like a wild...nah, I was just a bit apprehensive,  but less nervous than expected, to be honest. The train eventually appeared and recognition was instant.

After greetings, we walked around for a bit. We went to the castle, 'cause you know, castles seem quite cool to foreigners. We took a picture by the statue. We talked. We ate food. He paid for the meal and opened the door for me, the sexist bastard! The discourse largely consisted of laughing at the discrepancies in our respective languages, as well as comments about the country in general.

Anyway, it was twenty to one odds of catching the train to the next destination if we didn't get to the station sharpish. We rushed back and it wasn't yet half past, so we sat for a while and discussed the encounter. We took a picture together. It was a bizarre experience, but it was well worth it. What have I learnt from the exchange? Details don't really matter; a name is not integral to a person. Conversations are what make the connection. Plus, I got an awesome birthday present out of it. And whoever said there's no such thing as a free lunch?

Chances are, we'll not cross paths again, not out of choice but due to circumstance. But you know what? I think I'll keep in touch. It's great what technology can do these days. 

So...who's next? 

On the jukebox: Estelle ft. Kayne West ~ American Boy