International Writers Magazine:
The World with Vancouver Girl Tabytha Towe
like a fleeting butterfly, a schizophrenic chameleon,
For it imitates art and life.
It's trial and trivia, struggle and strife,
Its vulnerability, freedom, opening, challenging, lonesome,
Its lurking, finding, error, learning,
Its an escapist, a realist, spontaneous, careless,
Its colorful, blinding, shocking, wary,
Its unforgettable, tiresome, ironic, and unfathomable
Its special, giving, taking, surviving and...
It's goddamned beautiful.
It captures your soul and consumes your entire being,
You experience every emotion possible.
Its not meant to be taken for granted
© Kit Thomas London 2007
I haven't really traveled in a while besides New York, road trips to the
local islands and down to the States over the years, but never far enough
and always with friends. Last time I went solo over seas I was a naive
20 year old. Boy did I ever love every minute of it. I thought that after
seeing some of South Africa and England back in 2002 I was destined to
see the world. I haven't felt complete since my return from that trip,
eager to explore more. I therefore still feel like I have unfinished business,
(especially with Africa which I know I will return to again one day for
I had become a little too comfortable with my life here in Vancouver over
time, filled with great times, hard times, routine, growth, an uncountable
amount of bullshit and yet blessings. I had become too accustomed
and rather bored of my daily life. I have the most amazing friends and
family over here not to mention some great opportunities, but I was starting
to become mundane and tired of it all regardless, needing something to
stimulate me more
I've worked my bloody ass off the last while trying to get away again,
but at every turn, for some extreme, interruptive reason or other
(bad luck, timing maybe?) I couldn't escape. I realized though that my
wanting to get away was simply that, just to be out of here. I should
have instead realised where it was I wanted to go and why.
Vancouver is incredible and it's my home, but I was desperate to
leave myself behind, to be able to move forward, to discover new things
about myself out of my comfort zone, or even for that matter, out of my
guilt conscience. Travel is the most educational aspect you can gain about
yourself, culture and people...
So finally after all of this waiting, wanting and working, my goal was
no longer just a dream. It was literally pick up and go. Blessed my mother,
she sold her house and knew how badly I was aching to go overseas that
she bought my itinerary - Thank you mother. I worked seven days a week
for months on end to pay off a debt before I left and to save up a bit
of spending cash, (however, you need more than pocket change in Europe,
but at the time I didn't care, I was ready to leave already).
It was difficult to choose where to go because I want to go everywhere,
back to Africa of course, India, South America
my desires stretched
across the world. Id live on the moon if I could! Naturally there
was one condition for my plane tickets (in which alleviated my negotiable
decisions anyhow,) that I visit distant family.
Fair enough; done. So England it is to see my grandmother and uncle. From
there, Europe is so goddamned huge and expensive you literally have to
go where the tickets are cheapest at the time and where places are of
a closer proximity within each other, I had a few toss ups. It was between
Ireland (Dublin) and Scotland (Glasgow)? Italy, Germany, Eastern Europe
(like Czech and Hungary)? This was tough. God knows I truly, madly, deeply
wanted to do it ALL, but a bit too much of a reach and I was being greedy.
UK airports would be my headquarters to and fro so the choice had to be
wise. Hence, Canada - England Ireland France - Spain - and
stop, Petersfield, UK:
My I nearly forgot how much I hated flying, if it werent so friggin
uncomfortable then it would almost be stimulating. Sitting on your butt
for that long with no circulation or fresh air, inhaling recycled, air-conditioned
germs contaminating your lungs, not my idea of fun. I'm also an antsy
person; I need to move about, damnit! My poor skin was miserable when
I arrived and I was still brutally hungover from the night prior to
boarding from a late send off and I was overwhelmingly dehydrated,
(I do not recommend drinking the tap water in a plane, despite how thirsty,
felt a bit nauseated from it, eeeww!) but at least when I set foot outside
I was breathing in a familiar, yet foreign air, at last.
It's always nice to catch up with relatives - especially when long distance,
(just kidding!) I ran around with my uncle a lot, my favorite I must
say, and whom over the years has directed me with good examples in film
and wine, accompanied with his kooky and endearing friend Kit, who put
him into perspective quite often. I drank a lot of tea with the gran
whom, being old and sick I don't relate to as much, but it also puts
you in perspective, and as much as she didn't understand me, literally,
she's a bit deaf now, I actually appreciated the small chats and card
I ruthlessly relaxed and ate healthily for the first leg of my England
visits, preparing for my next journeys. Most of my flights were based
in, out and about England, so I had yet to be back a few more times.
I have never been so sick of anyones faces as much as I was of Britney
Spears and Victoria Beckam...every freaking magazine, wall and news
stand in London had their annoying faces spread all over town, haunting
you every block, just couldn't get away from them, eck!
The hair "scrunchie" has made a come back it seems, revived
from the early 1990's!? As to why, I blame it on celebrity status. They
have banned indoor smoking recently. What a shocker for the Brits. A
lot of old traditional pubs seemed merely abandoned, having the old
regulars around the block feeling spurned for their right to smoke inside
over a pint after years of dedication. People were especially grumpy
that you could not enjoy a fag at the tube stations any longer.However
it made for an otherwise much nicer environment indoors.
Next stop, Dublin, Ireland:
derived from the meaning Black Pool in regards
to the River Liffey in the center of the capital, where many bridges
cross over to throughout Irelands largest city. There is so much
history from Vikings, medieval times, political values, gaol hangings,
religious virtues and the enduring famine. I soaked in a fair share
What a fan-fucking-tastic place I have to say!
At first I didnt
know what to expect, I certainately had no idea that I would have embraced
so much fun and debauchery, especially within six days. If I hadn't
pre-booked other flights prior to, I would have either extended my stay
or gone back later on and stayed for a longer while, perhaps even pick
up a job to earn euros (lets not even talk about how expensive!) My
only regret about Dublin was leaving too soon. That is one thing I have
learned for future travel plans...not to book itinerary in advance because
plans always change. Although on a budget and time limit, it does save
you from making possible, random, in the moment decisions
never!? But at least planning ahead of schedule is cheaper than
last minute and gives you a little idea.
I obviously drank quite a bit over there, home of glorious, nutritious
Guinness and Jameson. It was a grand evening on many occasions! Lots
of travelers to meet and cheers, frolicking the city and going to live
shows, got to see some great music like. I have learned my lesson in
drunken confidence: never leapfrog a pole whilst intoxicated on whisky
ever again. Bloody hell I limped for weeks after that stunt, my knee
was incredibly sore and swelled like a baseball, my arm couldn't reach
over my head without agonizing pinched nerves and my nose endured a
tender bump that whenever I laughed or sneezed it hurt the center of
my face (in which the injury wasn't from my successful fall jumping
over obscure objects, but from my missguided poor aim to a Parisian
man's solid forehead).
One day I walked around like the frivolous wanderlust I am for over
8 hours, getting lost about the city and finding new and exciting places
and things to do. Stupidly I was the only person wearing shorts, the
local Irish knew something I didn't obviously, and so I looked like
a blatant tourist with my blinding, white and goose-bumped legs, hoping
to persuade the sun to come out. What bizarre weather, sunny and yet
freezing. I covered a lot of the map by foot within those few hours,
not only in shorts but also in complete solitude. I only talked to someone
when I ordered a coffee or beer, or to apologize to the security guard
in the museum for taking 'unallowed' photos. I also had to apologize
to some uniformed man in the park for attempting to grab Oscar Wildes' balls,
(just for fun, it was a statue for crying out loud!)
The museums and churches were magnificent in character; I got stuck
staring in awe a few times. Dont get to see a lot of religious
history in young Canada. Every painting I saw from the middle ages were
horrific encounters between the condemned and the blessed. There is
God on a pedestal and God frowning on others, there is Jesus as a praised
baby and then Jesus suffering for our sins. The cherubs were supposed
to be good but appeared as the most dreadful natured. There
was always someone pointing with evil eyes at someone else getting damned.
Talk about a damned nation with guilty precautions.
The Irish stick to their values and can they hold it. Its nice
to see friends and family burst out in cheers with their flourishing
drinks and all have their arms around each other in an affectionate
embrace. I witnessed a lively, 70 year old woman get up and perform
us a tune still swaying her scotch happily and I was impressed. I want
to be like her in my senior years, old soul with a young spirit.
I made wonderful friends in Dublin needless to say, even if it was momentous
in person, you never know when you shall meet again. I really love the
Irish fortitude. The locals were friendly and fun and other fellow travelers
kind of formed a union, you know, we are all on different soil and its
exhilarating for us. Thats one of the ups and downs about traveling,
you meet awesome people, share intimate and whacky times together for
a short amount of time, then you have to say good-bye. Parting is such
sweet sorrow, but you look on to your troops and think, fuck I wish
I were going where they are venturing to also. But good on them. We
shall meet again one day. Damn. I forgot to eat an Irish stew and potatoes
there, now I simply MUST return to Dublin.
to London, UK:
Another bloody airport, a different one of course. Caught up with good
friend in London I actually met years ago on last travels, beside me
on the plane no less. I'm happy we have remained close from afar. Just
what Im talking about, worlds apart and still run into one another.
Between his place, another friends, grandmothers and frolicking about
rendezvous points in the city, I easily spent at least 15+ pounds a
day in transport. In fact I probably spent most of my time on tubes,
trains, over land rail, buses
even under, underground stations.
I kept forgetting it was that massive. I'd complain about taking an
hour to get from one place to the other was far too long, whereas Londoners
considered it fairly short. The routing system is so advanced, it only
takes a few trips -or days rather- to figure it out, but all you need
is the A-Z guide really then youre sorted, but make sure you carry
extra fare and don't get too pissed off your skull that you pass out
and miss your stop. That happened to me in the past and it cost big
bucks to get back. A well-learned, valuable lesson that was.
An epiphany whilst on a long train ride: that time is money; it is also
a gift, depends on how we use it, and patience really is a virtue, so
I should not have worried about wasting time just because I was waiting
so long, it was for a purpose, and money wasn't so much wasted but earned
For fucks sakes if I could figure out transport destinations and changeovers,
you'd think I have adjusted to pedestrian crossing. I still looked right
regardless of the sign saying on the road "look left". Conditioned
from my upbringing as a habitual child crossing the roads, right first.
Next stop, Bordeaux, France:
beau! But think the Photo is of Notre Dame when I was in Paris.
Wow, absolutely exquisite. Got off the plane once more hungover
from my Dublin farewell, arrived to a gorgeous house that belonged
to the parents of an old roommate of mine from Vancouver and jumped
in a man made pool with natural water. How refreshing and necessary,
*note, planes make me feel dirty and lethargic. The parents were
lovely and drove me up to Anglet (by Biarritz) a few hours away
to visit their daughter and friend. Stayed in a cute, seaside flat
and peacefully relaxed.
Ate some of the
most delicious food that was utterly naked, like gigantic, fresh and
organic figs and oysters, mmm mmm! No additives man. One lunch I was
invited to I wanted to be a polite guest and clear the plates away,
but the host shouted non, non! We havent finished.
So I put them back again, innocent and embarrassed. I had thought the
appetizers were lunch! We eat again, a feast of goods, Im pleasantly
full and giddy, so this time I think its safe to clear the table
what about 3rd course? Seriously? Ill need more wine now,
sil vous plait. No meal amongst the French goes without a finale, which
always is a grand exit of chocolate and a variety of smelly cheeses,
Im salivating now reminiscing.
A girlfriend took me to San Sebastian for the day. It took only an hour
or so, we actually drove to Spain it was so close to the border. Whereas
for me to fly from Bordeaux to Barcelona I had to catch 3 different
flights in 3 different countries in one, tedious day to get the better
value for my dollar!? I am a pro at airports by now, except for when
I miss a flight oops!
San Sebastian was a charming old place rich in tradition. The churches,
the alleys, and oh the tapas! I believe the Spanish have it all figured
with their siestas, every store, business and restaurant were adamantly
closed at 30 clock sharp. Who doesnt want a break or a nap
between work and a social event? Sleep in the day, work then play, siesta,
Unfortunately it was raining miserably so we couldnt watch the
surfers at a la playa (beach) so what were two girls supposed to do
but go shopping in one of the most fascinating fashion regions? I was
good, only bought a couple of things on sale, but man it was tempting,
it wetted my whistle and I didnt even get foreplay. I had to adapt
very quickly in Europe to look at gorgeous outfits as insignificant
almost went off the wagon and lost my wits.
The Spanish are very graceful, with visually stunning features. The
wardrobe emphasizes individual lifestyles. Men and women regardless
of age all had unique class. I found that French men were shorter than
the Spanish, but in both cultures women often resemble tall and slender
physics. This is heresy, I only saw people from popular cities mind.
From Bayonne to Cap Ferret, a beautiful sea port town that accompanies
30,000 people during summer with its family activities, boats,
vacation homes, now held only 6000 in the off season. It was quiet,
it was a light shade of grey and it was magical. I would love to be
there in sunshine. My girlfriends and I toured around on bicycles, which
made me very happy having given my bike away before travel. We watched
the cute boys skim board, climbed the stairs of the lighthouse to get
a dizzying view of the quaint town below. It felt like I was on a family
I was in my glory, baring barefoot footsteps most of the time. There
are a lot of photos with my scabbed nail-polished toes walking in water
or in the sand. Im wearing shoes indoors as I type this
now and my feet are still cold.
Never knew I was a rugby fan until France, especially because they won
(well, that particular game against a severely deserving team which
astonished me to tears when they lost.) The rules of the game, once
you understand them, makes for an entertaining hour and a half thats
for sure. Watching the game in an over crowded, sweat filled, smoke
infested bar with Frenchies screaming, flailing, hugging, cheering
and excited heartbeats was a thrill in fact. I had to keep my eye on
the glassware. Undoubtedly everyone wanted to kill me that night, for
I was rooting loud and proud for Nouvelle Zealande. Afterwards,
all of the open public poured out into the city square with joyous pride
and glee infinitely chanting Allez de Blue. After a few
drinks and much convincing, I acquiesced into singing along with Viva
La France! I felt I had to be a part of it, but NZ still should
have got it. But then I wouldnt have contributed to the riotous
celebrations on the streets. Every rugby game I watched in foreign tongue
and in another country at another crazy bar filled with anxious fans
I decided I would always egg on the opposing team of everyone else.
I may have pushed some boundaries in London during the final, laughing
when South Africa beat the Brits, for after all, Ive got English
blood in me. For humours sake a traitor for my own amusement. Ha!
In France I was at my quietest since my first words as a baby. I left
my French translating book in the UK, so all you could get out of me
was stupid broken English in a faux French accent, obviously (and naturally
jaded) influenced by my peers speech. I tried simple words and hand
gestures, but I looked more of a foolish jerk, so I shut up and spaced
out often, not apprehending the language. Though most French actually
understand English, they are far too obstinate to admit it. It was nice
to be silent for once.
Its not queer to see two men double up on a bicycle together or
hug each other serenading. North Americans are just too shy, too cool
or just plain reserved, personal contact seems violating to an up tight
and sensitive society, who knows? Europeans do not hide fondness like
we tend to do, which I adored witnessing.
Public toilets are tricky to find in Bordeaux.
Next stop, Barcelona, Spain:
place, very lively, however, only a bit over zealous with tourism.
I realize that the locals probably rely a lot of their economy on
tourists. And why not, millions flock to visit.
The roads and alleys are like secrets. Each path leads to another
filled with daily life of shops, restaurants, galleries and residences,
laundry drying out the windows dripping over passers by, tapas
in the windows portraying an colorful array of delectable treats.
I swear every second vehicle there is a scooter; there are more
parking spaces for a moped than a car. How convenient, it made me
happy to hear the sound of them zipping past
Gaudi the infamous
architect was a geometrical genius and a major aspect why Barcelona
is so popular. His architecture is immeasurable. The Sagrada Familia
alone took four decades worth of his life to not even complete the project;
its far too intricate. It will take up to another century for
technology and construction until its at last finished. His work
is ubiquitously spread, from Parc Guell to other buildings and houses,
just amazing. A legendary, fundamental artist (my favorite will always
be Salvadore Dali though, Im happy to have witnessed his work
there as well.)
I found Spanish rather easy to pick up, the basics such as donde esta
los aseos? Where are the toilets? Inevitably, otra cerveja por favor
senor/ita! Another beer please sir/madam! I did feel like an anomaly
speaking it so slow.
Unfortunately one thing I discovered much to my dismay was that I did
not see any evidence of plastic recycling. Only glass, which is a start,
but come on people! Restaurants and bars will not serve you tap water,
not only because of the poorer quality, but because they can get a price
for cleaner bottled water. If you think about it, on average
a person has roughly six bottles a day, just to be thrown in the fucking
rubbish!? I was outraged, but all I could do was re-use the same water
bottle as long as I could and get over the linger of pipes on my pallet
from perfectly adequate tap water
so I told myself.
Europeans, perhaps more so than Americans, are the epitome of consumers.
Always on the go, get it to go, a fast nation therefore fast food nation,
never bothering them selves with taking their own mug to a coffee shop!
There are biodegradable cornstarch products these days
sorry I get riled up thinking about how astronomical the waste system
I stayed in a wicked hostel where I met new and wild friends who became
temporary family. People who were ready to go on a search for me when
they didnt see me for two days, (I was having too much fun apparently).
People who were not ready to go to sleep at 5 am and still be up for
another adventure after sunrise on 4 hours rest. Part of my disappearance
was that I had to be inconspicuous. You see, the euro and the pound
are a lavish and pricey exchange, having to pay for a place to sleep
every night, paying for transport, daily bread and beer, it adds up.
I had nearly run out of money and would do so very quickly, without
doubt, so I had allocated a few bucks for my transport tickets to the
airport and that was about it really. Unbeknownst to myself, soon after
I was to discover that my fail-safe, my credit card, would also decline.
I couldnt afford a room key anymore.
Only choice I had was survival mode. Cleverly I hid my face to certain
desk clerks who would recognize I had checked out. I laid low so that
I could sneak into rooms with free bunks. I stashed my belongings in
others rooms. I was the penniless girl who walked through the ladies
washroom naked to lather up the public hand soap to nonchallantly head
back to my shower, a dozen confused females staring at me like a voodoo
witch. At this point, I just didnt care any longer. Drying my
hair in the air dryer seemed appropriate, not weird. Except hanging
washing up over the windowpane is a drag cause if it doesnt dry
before you leave you got to throw it out, otherwise the moisture will
stew and stink and mold in your luggage. I showered with a pile of clothes.
Many people saw my underwear, ah well.
I was very flattered my friends thought I was dead and were happy to
see I was rather alive and in the flesh! I became a good little
gypsy, hanging out at the hostel on a particular schedule, pretending
to be a paying guest. Its all timing. That was all fine with me,
there were ways around being broke and I adjusted swiftly. The little
change I had left got me a cup of tea a day, in which Id refill
it with hot water throughout so that I could have another bland and
stale cup. Walking is free, and its fun to explore new grounds.
And my favorite was the beach, beautiful and full of people surfing,
swimming, tanning, selling beer, massages, lawn chairs, coconuts
I was elated the weather was hot. I just went there every day till I
had to leave. I didnt need to spend money in the end. To
tell the truth, I actually stole a tomatoe off a cooks tray, it
was enticing me with its healthy juiciness and it was pretty liberating.
I suppose he noticed how much I enjoyed it so he even let me have a
pepper too. He will never know how much I appreciated that. Beer was
cheaper than vegetables (4 euros for a 6 pack, 3 euros for a rotten
avocado) and everything had meat in it, so I lived off a poor diet of
baked breads mostly, for it was cheap and filled you up. Hostels at
least gave you a breakfast, but it was instant coffees and white toast
without fail at every one, lucky if there was ever an apple or yogurt.
I desperately craved fiber, nutrients, fruit, and essential protein.
There came a time I couldnt remember the last time I had taken
a shit!? Or had washed my hair with real shampoo?
This is not out of the ordinary for me, but also out of no fault entirely
of my own. I did miss a few flights. The first one I was sobbing like
an infant, my connection to Belgium to meet a friend. Despicable! I
was very mad at myself for not finding the directions to the airport
properly, but it was all in Spanish and I panicked. I then laughed hysterically.
It wasnt so bad after all; I got to stay a little longer in Barcelona!
I also missed my second flight out of the same airport which really
made me livid, its a long story but know that I had found it this
time. I couldnt believe they wouldnt give me my boarding
pass, (long story, like I said.)
A misunderstanding and miscommunication with another friend cost me
(or him rather) a ticket to Paris! Still shedding tears over it, though
I was n where near the airport he thought I would just so happen to
be heading by? I had no idea what the plan was, it was meant to be a
surprise. Nice gesture anyway, but should have found out where I was
before booking. Ah well, merci beacoup!
The universe does have a way of letting actions take their paths, putting
you out there, then falling into place. I took it as a sign Spain wanted
to keep me hostage, but I had other plans after those 10 days. How did
I manage to allow myself breathing after these three stunts, I mean
who misses three fucking flights? But the universe taught me that its
really not a big deal, not the end of the world (literally,) that some
day I will visit when the time is right. I knew Id see my friends
another day if not in Paris or Belgium sooner than I had thought.
Final ticket out of Girona airport, eleven hours awaited, I was on my
Back to London, UK: Plane was late, so my arrival was late. Enduring
the agony of a full day at an empty airport, it hurt. It landed a quarter
to 1am, where trains stop running. I was in butt fuck nowheresville.
Caught the last train for the last 15 minutes, which officially cost
me the last of my credit on my card. I made it as far as another butt
fuck nowhere. I was sick at this point, cold, tired, distressed, lonely,
and angry. I was contemplating sleeping outside. I ended up on the train
attendants floor, grateful to at least have a roof over my head. I got
out of there fast the next morning, Desperate measures call for poor
judgment, but luckily I can also be a fighter, not a lover, in this
Next stop, Amsterdam, Holland:
I ended up meeting one of my friends from Dublin again, as it happens.
People can connect in more ways than one. We wanted to get out of London
so we found cheap tickets to Amsterdam, yippee! and thank you
Get there and we are ecstatic to know its cool the second we walk
off the station. We had a lovely ride passing through Belgium (I got
to go there in the end anyhow) and ironically, ran into the friend at
a random club the very same evening whom I was supposed to meet in Belgium
from the start!? How does that happen now? Im not going to elaborate
my history or relationships with either of these friends, but it was
tremendously awkward. It was good to see him again of course, but a
shock. I felt terribly guilty, like a child who got caught with her
hand in the cookie jar. Being a single, young woman traveling is sometimes
complicated. You are free and falling in love with many things, experiences,
places and people. Its romantic to be in a circumstance where
its all the more fantasy driven and in the moment, knowing it
wont be able to last. It wont be able to tarnish you and
it feels more sacred. Im not insinuating any of my relationships
with anyone were meaningless or superficial, just not too sensible.
When a heart is touched you never forget it, despite how far, but there
are a lot of touching situations in this life, you cant allow
yourself to be limited. Traveling is fulfilling and heart breaking at
once, but carpe diem does suitably apply, otherwise feelings
conflict. Just allow it to be what it is and enjoy it while you can.
Doesnt necessarily mean its not real, perhaps just unrealistic.
Am I sounding bitter-sweet?
Anyhow, enough about me, Amsterdam is definitely a wondrous place. The
Dutch are some of the most delightful people Ive ever encountered.
I reckon everyone is so nice and content because marijuana is legal
and sex is everywhere.
We were supposed to stay at this dudes place the next few nights, but
thats another weird, long story where the state of affairs involved
a lot of weird men sleeping on the floor, (deja vu) so I wont
go there, and we didnt actually stay there either. Phew! Although
I did get busted in the hostel that night for taking a free spot. Someone
must have spilled the beans, but the owner accepted my passport and
my poor friend had to pay for my consequence in the morning.
We both would have loved to stay longer but time was ticking. On our
last day we doubled up on a bike for a quick tour, saluted each other
to a shot and bid our adieus to the damn amster.
Then back on the bloody bus, a long turmoil of a ride in the night.
Back to UK, again, and last:
More good-byes here, kisses.
Foot in mouth disease and Blue Tongue epidemic
had died down a bit this visit. The poor cows, if they were human then
they would be treated with antibiotics, but as they are only considered
slaughter, so will be their fate. What is England without Sunday roast
Monks in Burma were still praying when I left.
During my trip I felt everything, at times my experiences seemed
long (ie: waiting at airports, bus stations etc, got a lot of reading
in though) and at times far too short (numerous occasions of joy and
serenity). If I had more time and money however, I would still be there
no doubt. Currently I am couch surfing in my backyard once more, just
as I had left it before the start of my travels, with more yet to come.
I just had to say so many good byes to so many marvelous people, now
I have to do it again to my friends for a year whove been around
for years. Its only a year, its not good-bye, its
see you around soon.
Thanks to Sam, Jo, Kit, Mike C, Alex, Christine, Chris, Julian, Hannah,
Mike M, Marc, Francesco, Vincent, Catherine, Marion, Claire, Jean Pierre,
Jean Michelle, Danielle, Henric, Stephen who likes to party, Simon,
Leonie, John, Arna, Mic, and Jonathan, especially Cillan and everyone
else I met along the way. It was a divine pleasure and I hope to meet
you one day in near future, either in the same place or at another.
Keep in touch suckers! And for those who are also continuing on, bon
voyage, maybe well bump into each other.
I have to say, that was unforgettable, very much so, through the thick
and thin. Barcelona was my favorite because I spent more quality time
there to adapt, but funny enough I think Id choose to live in
Dublin, I would live there over France or England anyday, though both
brilliant and unique, places Id like to visit. Holland seems great
but I only saw Amsterdam, which is great fun but also very touristy,
the novelty would run out after a while. The next time I return to Europe
I am going with an excessive amount of money, like over my budget. Im
going to settle in one place to work for a month or two and Im
leaving my tickets open for the emancipation of moving on!
Obviously I have a lot of other enchanted tales to tell, however all
too personal to share and my behavior cannot be excused in a few cases.
I can reveal that I am now a little more prepared as a person for my
next adventure which is now in ten days from now
and I have two
black holes in two bank accounts!? Im actually in the minus. Ha
ha, so much for prepared, but remember I said the universe has a way
of sorting things out? Its only money. I have realized my independence
this trip, but also recognize that I have to accept help and practice
undoing some of my stubborn conduct.
Next stop, Asia Australia, one year:
Tabytha Towe in Hong Kong
I just laughed to myself hysterically reading a Chinese sign called
Chum Hung Kok
- Part Two
Melbourne is a pretty damned phenomenal city! It has everything
you need and has well planned transit systems to get around from suburb
to centre and back.
Thailand nearly a month ago was extremely surreal and rather hard to
let go of. I was still stuck in Thai mode for a few days until I realized,
abashed and confused, that shit, Im in Australia!
Oh what a day! Hanging out with my girl friends nude on the
beach, I cant think of anything better.
Towe takes Europe
Whirlwind adventures for our Vancouver Girl. Never
Fly with a hangover
Tabytha Towe in Hong Kong
Welcome to Chum Hung Kok
Sleeping Dogs Thai
Every dog you see here are either lying on the ground dehydrated and
too hot to move, or either scavenging for food.
Long Farewell to Oz 2009
Landing in Australia I knew immediately there was a special voyage
ahead of me. I didn't expect myself wanting to be there longer than
nine months, maximum. I already had my flight booked for home by a specific
date! But that was back then.....
© Tabytha Towe May 2007-May 2009
tabythat at hotmail.com
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