I apologise, Budapest. I’ve now visited you nearly more times than anywhere else outside of my homeland, but I’ve yet to write anything about you. Before you get the wrong idea, It’s not you, it’s me.
It’s early 2021, birds are singing, the sun is shining a little more every day and everybody ‘dun be talkin’ ‘bout vaccines! There’s positivity on the horizon, but it’s hard to argue that we aren’t still running face-first into odd and dumbfoundingly bizarre times.
I tell ya, I’m not even sure I feel like writing about travel and adventure in 2020. I know I’ll eventually want to dip into the unprecedented nature of the past year. Perhaps … but just not yet*
I admit that I knew little about the city. One of my favourite bands titled a song after it, but the song reveals little in terms of travel details. A little research tells of the city’s once bustling history as an inland port and trading centre. Much business was done in this now-smallish city, creating an important artery which brought goods, industry, and trade to the Loire Valley region.
What do 3 Canadians and 2 expats get up to on their first crazy night in Germany?
Why, they hop on a trolley, find their BnB, and raid a local petrol station for beverage and microwaveable foodstuffs. We may not be royalty, but we certainly know how to live like kings!
Buses may not be a favourite means of international travel for many people, however, I find myself quite enjoying them. They can be noisy, bumpy, and packed with annoyances, for sure. They’re also great opportunities to disconnect, nap, and unwind while essentially being chauffeured … albeit with a bunch of gassy strangers, odd food choices, noisy bags and all. Conversely, given a great driver and decent folk, journeys on the road can be quite pleasant. For instance, they are a great place to catch up on blog posts.
Much more than simply Ljubljana and Lake Bled, there was far more to see in Slovenia that could be checked off in a long weekend. That said, we thoroughly enjoyed our short time there and walked away with a strong desire to return.
Little did I know, on that cold day in May, that I would wind up in Brno. I’d had my suspicions, sure. There were certain clues to go on but, when one flies in Europe, a flight time and major airline only limit options by so much. When it came time to fly, I still didn’t know if I would next set my feet down in Barcelona or Sarajevo, Utrecht or Gdansk.
Let’s first talk about sea sickness. Thankfully I don’t suffer from such an affliction, yet it would have been an idea to consider such a possibility before booking a kayak trip on the Adriatic sea. Bobbing along in the waves, some as tall as myself, the thought did occur to me. Thankfully I kept this thought to myself, rather than saddle Kat with the idea of a potential liability in the front of her boat.
Standing in a foggy miasma, I could be anywhere in the world. Anywhere, that is, atop a scattering of loose rocks and semi-large stones. Surrounded by adventure tourists, dogs, and random locals. So, honestly, this could be anywhere in Wales, or a world straight out of Ridley Scott’s imagination.
Hot on the heels of a memorable Xmas in Vienna, with barely a day to drop off my gear and launder unmentionables, I’d packed my bag anew and set off for the wilds of King’s Cross and a date with a train aimed north, towards the cobbled alleyways of Edinburgh.