Walk a little further to another plan - Brigid Jelsma
GAP YEAR!
"Got to the door and again, I couldn't stop.
You don't know where and you don't know when.
But you still got your words and you got your friends.
Walk along to another day."
-...

FINALLY!!
Hertford, United Kingdom
My nose is a rosy icicle, my feet are blistered and blue, and I’m shivering like crazy. But despite all this, I am honestly happy. After four days of being stranded in an airport, I finally made it to London.
The flight at nine did (to everyone’s euphoric surprise) actually take off. Not only that, but it was on time as well. Charlie, Benito and I got up ridiculously early, caught the shuttle back to the airport, and reserved spots at the very front of the check-in queue.
Four hours later, I stumbled to the side, gazing at the ticket with astonished eyes. Then the laughing began. Charlie told me later that I looked as though I had won the lotto, found a golden ticket, or had simply gone crazy. Apparently he was leaning towards the latter....
Nothing else seemed to matter after that. All I wanted was to see that fasten your seatbelt sign go on. That being said, it was still pretty awesome when Benito managed to get me into the SAA lounge with him and Charlie, and we could spend the last few hours in South Africa enjoying free food, wireless internet and amazing bathrooms.
Awful photo of the view from Joburg airport
I have absolutely no idea how I managed to get so lucky: Dave, Will, Jamie, Benito, Steve and, most of all, Charlie. They all looked after me so much, I felt like a free-loader. Buying me dinner, drinks, breakfast, getting me into lounges, making sure I found my luggage, stopping me from panicking, and just generally taking care of me, they are the real reason I managed to get through it all without pulling all my hair out.
The flight, as they usually are, was long, dull and dry. There were numerous free seats scattered around: something which worked in our favour as both me and Charlie had four seats, allowing us to get some long-forgone sleep. But the frustrating part was that many people had no idea a plane was taking off that morning and were left behind in Jo’burg – poor planning on the airline’s behalf.
When we finally arrived, Charlie had to dash off to try and hire a car. He still had to make the drive all the way up to his place in Wales, and he had tried to book the previous night but all the cars had been taken. All he could do was hope that there was a cancellation.
I warily made my way to the baggage terminal, dully pondering how long it would take me to find my precious luggage. Ten minutes later, I was blinking dumbly about, sure that my eyes were playing games with me. Surely that wasn’t my dad?
It was.
Then the next bit was my worrying about Charlie. If he didn’t manage to get a car, he’d probably have to spend the night at a train station or hire a taxi (ridiculously expensive).
I was still a bit in shock, but wasn’t too out of it to not notice the fact that my parents managed to get us lost on the way to my brother’s house. It felt so good not being the one getting people lost....
And finally we arrived.
View from my brother's flat
The place, wonderful as it is, was not fully appreciated by me in my half-dazed state, but the view of the canal from the window was enough to get a delighted murmur.
Still worrying, I called Charlie, checking up on him and thanking him for allowing me to stalk him. He sounded exhausted, but happy, and had managed to get a car, was on his way, wished me a merry Christmas, tried to convince me he didn’t mind my trailing him around for four days, and made me promise to look after myself next year when I’m travelling.
By then it was getting later and I was more than ready to collapse. But still I was not allowed to rest! My delightful family dragged me out to a pub for dinner and I nearly face-planted in a bowl of sag (spinach, apparently).
I don’t remember much beyond that.....
written by  Brigid Jelsma on December 22, 2010 from Hertford, United Kingdom
from the travel blog: Walk a little further to another plan

Pretty in white
Ambleside, United Kingdom
Waking up early (or, rather, being WOKEN up early when my dear mother began banging around in the kitchen at six in the morning) ensured that my sleep-deprivation was not alleviated and signalled the start of an amazing day.
Later on, my dad and I wandered around the awesome little town, buying me warm winter-wear and replenishing my brother’s toilet paper supply. The town is really cool: small, but big enough, filled with charming streets and tastefully made up to resemble a Christmas greeting card.
It wasn’t long before we had to set off for the Lake District, and my mom, my dad and I all piled into the car. And, being on this side of the long-distance flight, I found it easy to appreciate the masses of snow. Everything looked stunning!!
Stunning landscape on the way to the Lake District
View near Ambleside
Lake Windermere
View from Slack Cottage B&B
You know those places you find on the internet – there’s one amazing, picturesque photograph of the scenery, and when you arrive there you realise that’s actually the only view in the area that is worthwhile? Well, that is exactly what the Lake District isn’t.
Around every corner lies a new postcard-worthy sight. My biggest dilemma was trying to extract the best photos from my magnitude.
A single night is this area was simply not enough.
written by  Brigid Jelsma on December 23, 2010 from Ambleside, United Kingdom
from the travel blog: Walk a little further to another plan

Land of fairytales and frostbite
Edinburgh, United Kingdom
Hadrian's wall
Castlerigg stone circle
Hert
Me
written by  Brigid Jelsma on December 25, 2010 from Edinburgh, United Kingdom
from the travel blog: Walk a little further to another plan

*sigh*
York, United Kingdom
Another day of stunning routes....
Me
It’s terrible how spoilt I’ve become. Oh, there’s another picturesque snow-capped hill in the distance. Hmmm, another rushing river disappearing between the boughs of trees silhouetted in white. Oh, not ANOTHER gorgeous castle overlooking a magnificent city.
Edinburgh Castle
River
Humour aside, the beauty never does end. Around every corner lies another aspect of this amazing country. And don’t even get me started on the Scottish accent! I think if a Scotsman proposed to me right this second I’d probably say yes (presuming he’s not wearing a kilt!!) – to get to live here would be amazing.
At the moment I am in York (I know, I know, it’s not quite in Scotland, but we only crossed the border late this afternoon, so I can still rave on about the Scots). It’s an amazing little town – fortified city walls and a massive church in the centre. Somewhat surprising, however, is the lack of night-life. At seven thirty we went off in search for a nice, cosy place to have dinner, only to find the vast selection was limited to a single pub/restaurant which was right next door to our hotel (where we started our chilly walk from).
Statue of Constantine in front of York Minster
Street in York
Oh, and that reminds me: the temperature is freezing. Toes, ears and nose suffer the worst, fingers as well if (like an idiot) you forget your gloves (as I tend to do).
Me in York
We left my brother in Edinburgh (he’s lame and has a job), but not before he managed to ‘discover’ that I narrate my life with little sounds (all lies, I tell you). If that is true (which it ISN’T), then it’s only because I realised early on in life that there’s no musical soundtrack to accompany me through events, so I have to make my own.
Moving swiftly on from that outrageous claim, I just realised it was Christmas yesterday and I never even made a post about it. Personally, I am not religious, but my family is, so I just go along with it. Besides, Christmas is more about being with your loved ones, and I can understand the importance of that.
The only thing missing from my Christmas was my brother and my kitten, both of which remained behind Cape Town. And then my friends, of course.
Anyway, tomorrow we’re heading back towards London, so it’ll be another boring day of amazing scenery. :)
written by  Brigid Jelsma on December 26, 2010 from York, United Kingdom

Being old
Hertford, United Kingdom
Well, I've been quite terrible with these updates, haven't I? But don't think it's because I haven't been doing anything interesting. Quite the opposite, in fact.
Since my last post, I've moved into my brother's flat, handed out at least 50 CVs, gone for a massive day hike (which ended with mud-caked feet and a guy offering to carry me to the nearest town), been to Notting Hill, Epping Forest, Camden Town, the National History Museum, a creepy deserted church in the middle of nowhere, and have volunteered at Oxfam Bookstore.
T-rex at the History Museum
Me and my hat
My boots
Me, my new hat and my brother
So, no, I haven't been lazy and I haven't died (in case you were wondering). However, I am still unemployed... which sucks. There are various places which seem interested, but nothing definite. But anyway, I've been busy buying out the Oxfam store, so it hasn't been too dull.
Hertford is smallish, but nice. There are little tiny shops which sell trinkets and there are huge supermarkets with rows of everything bad for you. The flat I'm staying in is right on a canal which runs all the way to London (if you're energetic enough to follow it that far), and I can feed the ducks from my bedroom window.
Attack of the geese!
But I've discovered just how difficult it is to keep a household running - everything from washing dishes to buying groceries and doing laundry takes up so much time!
Remnants of a raucous night
I've also begun planning my trip properly and I've actually found a few definite places to stay in Europe when I start travelling in April (with a guy in the tiny village Sens, with an ex-South African in Lagos, with a gay guy who lives next to a forest in Bordeaux and more). And (because I'm getting a bit restless after two weeks in the same spot), I'm also planning a small trip up to Wales sometime in February as a trial run for the CouchSurfing business.
However, something less awesome happened to me the other day on my day hike. I went alone, which was a mistake. About 7 hours of alone-time with me and my thoughts. Everything began to sink in.
I'm not going home for a while. A long while.
I miss my friends, my kitten, my other brother and my parents (yes, you too).
My kitten
written by  Brigid Jelsma on January 17, 2011 from Hertford, United Kingdom

Always look on the bright side of life (or is that too lame?)
Hertford, United Kingdom
After the slightly miserable end to my last post, things have gotten much, much better. To quote Eric Idle, "When life seems jolly rotten, there's something you've forgotten, and that's to laugh and smile and dance and sing."
Now minus the dancing and singing bit, I haven't had enough drinks for that.
But, yes, after that ridiculous start to this post, I will proceed to tell you just why things are looking up. (Don't you hate inane statements like that one?)
Firstly, the sun has been shining! For me this has never been a thing to gape in awe at, but the UK has stripped me of the ability to be nonchalant about such wonders. Secondly, I have a job. An actual, paying, slaving away for scraps and having to smile sweetly at annoying customers when really all you want to do is throw soup in their face and start a food fight, job.
Yeah... so maybe waitressing isn't really the best job for me... but anyway, I'll see how it goes. Tomorrow is my first day - a bit of a trial run to see how I work - so I will be on my best behaviour and I will refrain from throwing food around.
It'll be tough....
Oooh, and another awesome thing that's happened in my awesome life: I've actually met some people. Amazing, huh? Real people.
Two handsome young guys... Paul and Neil were their names. Too bad they turned out to be complete psychos.
They were terrible! I hated every second of it. I just laughed to pretend I was having a good time while actually I was trying to think up excuses to escape. :D
Honestly though, it was really cool. We met up at the Old Barge, a local pub just around the corner from where I'm staying, and we had a few drinks. Paul is an experienced CouchSurfer, so he gave me some tips and, in exchange, I made him envious of my planned travels. It was quite a fair trade, in my opinion. And, seriously, those two guys better meet up with me again, if only to mock me about my hat.
So, a very successful day indeed. I just hope this 'bright side of life' will linger on at least until the end of my shift tomorrow night. As a newbie waitress I need all the luck I can get!
written by  Brigid Jelsma on January 19, 2011 from Hertford, United Kingdom

The dullest update yet!
'Thank you for calling Domino's Pizza, my name's Brigid, how can I help you?' Wow, the number of times I've said that line!
What happened to the upperclass Lussmanns job? Well... let's just say the accumulation of stress, training period (without pay, I'll have you know) and posh customers kind of put me off it. [I think my exact words to Joe were: 'just want to curl up into a ball and hide away from the world for a while'. Okay, so maybe I am a bit of a wuss.
But still, the two weeks training without pay is enough of a legitimate reason to get away with it.
So, yes. Domino's Pizza Hertford has a new pizza girl. And a few incorrect orders here and there... well, mistakes happen. There are some pretty cool people there as well.
However, tonight I was unfortunate enough to be working at the desk (with a blasted nametag) when a bunch of drunken guys came in to order pizza.... It ended up with them calling my name every five seconds and, when they finally left, one of the idiots WINKED and said, "You have my number, don't you, darling?" *SIGH* But Matt assures me that drunks only really come in over weekends. Great. I only work weekends....
Apart from that, not much has happened. My social life is still pretty much non-existant, but I do have plans to meet a few Couch Surfers this week: one guy who's staying in London and another girl who is living near Hertford.
Ooooh, and last night (I just realised the reason for my exhaustion) was Malcolm's belated surprise birthday party. That was quite awesome. His boyfriend, Blue, organised it all, and it was even more awesome because a lot of my favourite people were there.
At the moment I have the place to myself. Joe and Andy are off on a romantic weekend away (or something sappy like that), and will only be back on Monday, so, yup, the house is currently a perfect imitation of my room and I'm sleeping on the couch tonight.
And, another boring, yet necessary update: I'm going to Amsterdam on the 4th of February to meet up with my mom (I'm barely away from home for a month and already she's making up conferences in random European countries), flying from Amsterdam to Manchester on the 7th, catching a train to Llanfairpwll (try pronouncing that!) in Wales and Couch Surfing with a guy there for two nights, then moving on to stay with a woman in Bangor for one night, and then heading back to Hertford on the 10th.
Wow, okay, now if anyone is still awake after this ridiculously dull update, I just wanted to say that despite how wonderful everyone here is, Cape Town is still often on my mind. I can't help but think how amazing it would be to have my best friends here and to be able to explore London and the rest of the UK with them.
Finally, I'll end this off with something slightly more entertaining:
I love this guy
written by  Brigid Jelsma on January 22, 2011 from Hertford, United Kingdom

Once upon a time in my life
What are these Brits doing to me?
'Let's go to the pub!' 'Do you want a drink?' 'Ooh, try this one.'
I've even had beer. BEER. (Although it wasn't quite as awful as I expected.) But anyway, things have been really fun.
Couch Surfing is now my religion. I am half-tempted to build a shrine and start worshiping the creator. Honestly, I've gone out pretty much every single day this week thanks to Couch Surfing.
This is what I've done (i.e. stop reading because these are just updates so my future self can remember what I did with my youth).
On Monday I met up with Zohaib, a really sweet guy who's staying in London, and we went to Tate Modern. It was so fun trying to figure out the artworks and getting to know each other, and afterwards we went for coffee. We found out that we're both in similar situations, being new in the UK and being away from friends and family. I'm hoping to see him next week.
Tuesday, I met up with Beth, a Couch Surfer who lives near Hertford. She was wonderful, and it was great to meet someone who has actually been to South Africa. I loved chatting to her while having coffee and apple tart. Next week we're going to watch the King's Speech, and I'm really looking forward to it.
Then Tuesday evening I headed over to Broxbourne to meet up with Paul and a bunch of his friends for a few drinks. They were all pretty awesome (in crazy ways), and I loved meeting them. But I must remember to take my ID everywhere to prevent future annoying bartenders from taking away my drink. Joe actually joined us for a short while towards the end (big brother checking out the strange men I'm hanging out with, luckily he hasn't killed any of them - yet).
Wednesday, I met up with Rob for drinks at the Barge, and ended up chatting for over six hours (taking a short interval to grab some supper) about the most random topics. Most of the time was spent with him making fun of me, while I called him a Brit and made him speak in a Scottish accent. It was really fun and we have so much in common, it has to be the Leo thing (his birthday is two days after mine). But he is so distracting to my train of thought, it's terrible!
Thursday (yesterday), I spent the afternoon at Paul's place watching Flight of the Concords on his awesome projector screen. He has quite a few movies/series and all of the ones I recognised are ones I love, so he's got pretty good taste! Then we met up with Andy who lifted me back in time for my shift at Domino's, and then (as if I hadn't seen enough of them) after my shift they picked me up and we went to Andy's place to watch movies on his massive 3D TV. I've already asked and I'll be moving in there soon. Me, the couch, the stack of DVDs, what more do I need? Anyway, I eventually got a call from Joe at 3 in the morning: 'Where are you? Are you okay? Can you get me ear buds?' Yes, my brother really did ask me to ask a guy I'd just met for ear buds at 3 in the morning.
And today, I've done absolutely nothing. I went through the whole trying to open a bank account thing again, but the proof of address I had wasn't proof enough. But one good thing did happen, the national insurance people (people who basically steal your money as 'tax') called, and I have a meeting with them on Monday, so hopefully I'll get everything sorted and I'll actually be able to get paid!

Why I should not be allowed access to my laptop after bedtime
Please ignore this post. It is simply a dull ramble about the petty concerns that keep me up at night.
How on earth does anyone know what they want to do for the rest of their life? Honestly, I don't even have a clue what I want to do next week. I don't even know what I want to do tomorrow either!
Many of my friends are starting their university courses now. I admire them so much for it. Making decisions has never been one of my strong points (just ask Paul, I nearly missed a train because I was standing in Tesco trying to decide what to get us), and making a decision that would lay out the path for the rest of my life is just ridiculous.
I'm young; I don't know enough about the world; I don't know enough, period. These are things I am not afraid to admit, because they are true. I love animals; I love people; I love time on my own occasionally; I love writing; I love helping; I love being challenged; I love debating; I love learning more about random things; I love being lazy and watching movies; I love seeing the world and travelling. All of these things define me. And, yet, none of them do.
I love so many things and there are so many things I haven't experienced yet.
Medicine? Psychology? English? Which major will I choose? Which minors? Do I want to choose a set course and come out of it with a defined career, or do I want to mix and match everything I'm interested in and end up with a jumble of random qualifications?
Do I go for money and the security that a stable life would bring? Do I go for the fun, exciting, interesting route? Is it possible to have both?
Do I actually want to go into these courses or am I just doing it out of the loyalty I have to my parents and the life they want me to lead?
Are these courses the ones I really want to do or are they just the few that seem to best suit what I'm supposed to be looking for?
I honestly do not know. Does anyone know or do they just end up getting caught in the whiptide until one day they wake up to find that they're stuck in a long-houred job doing something they have no interest in, but can't quit because there's rent that needs to be paid and the milk's run out again?
i don't want to grow up. I know that I'm too innocent and naive for my own damn good, but I'd rather be like this than be a cynical, pessimistic person who hates her life but does nothing to change it.
Maybe I'm talking rubbish. I probably am, it's half past midnight.
Anyway, after that random train of thought, back to choosing courses when you're eighteen. I admire my friends so much for being brave enough to choose what they want to do. I'm too scared of making a mistake. I'm just hoping that during this year I'll be exposed to enough of what is out there to actually make a decision.

Marco?
And as explorers we set forth into the Wilderness: Joe, armed with his rectangular gadget of magic and wonder, and me, clad in my husky hat and with pockets filled with essential necessities for a night in the wild (cellphone, wallet, camera and torch).
Sacrificing a night of leisure and films, we were determined. Failure was not an option.
It was a bitterly cold and cruel night, the wind howled and the trees towered menacingly overhead, but fearlessly we toiled on!
And, on the wondrous gadget, our red dot slowly crept closer to the blue dot - the treasure trove! Victory awaited, we could feel it as surely as we could the icy cold. And as we rounded the final corner, excitement raced through us. Our blood pumped and adrenaline raced, and we knew, yes, we knew that this was what we were born to do. This, this seemingly insignificant event, it would determine the fate of mankind.
'1 metre', the gadget said. We took that final step and came to a standstill.
Three trees. One ditch. One torch. One prize.
The treasure was so close, so very close. Just beyond our grasp. Just out of eyesight. Just a few too many bugs.
Our hearts sank.
How could this be? To come all this way and return as failures? Never!
I held the torch. Joe dug. I took photos. Joe rooted around the foliage. I made up excuses to deter passers by ('What time did she say she'd meet us?'). Joe scrounged through the patches of litter. I gave helpful advice. Joe uprooted twigs. I pointed at likely spots. Joe checked the likely spots.
Our team effort was golden!
Finally!! A grin spread across Joe's lips. His hand raised triumphantly. At last, the treasure was ours!
Proudly we added our names to the list of brave explorers. Proudly we returned the cache to its hiding spot. Proudly we hoisted our pants up and headed for the road. Proudly we bumped fists.
And so concluded our Geo-caching adventure (proudly).
:)
written by  Brigid Jelsma on February 1, 2011 from Hertford, United Kingdom

Going Dutch
Amsterdam, Netherlands
I am currently sitting in the most adorable cottage ever. Situated right on the canal, with houseboats as neighbours, Elvis Blue singing in the background, my mom grumbling about her Kindle in the foreground, and with unlimited internet access, I am in heaven.
My mommy
Not to mention the fact that I'm in new sweatpants (going chav, perhaps?), have just had an awesomely warm shower, and have a pack of the waffles my Oma and Opa used to get me when I was a kid.
It's been a fun two days. We've conquered three markets (Albert Cuypmakt, Noordermakt, and Lindengracht market), each with ridiculously cheap goods on sale (hence the sweatpants) and tons of interesting people strolling up and down.
Market
We made it to the Dam, approached Madame Tussauds (but changed our minds when the long queue and the Price of entry became known to us), and ended up searching for legendary Grandma's Appletart (and found a place that probably wasn't THE place, but still had awesome tart).
Protest going on in Dam Square
Yesterday we went on the Canalbus - a really nice method of getting around the city and seeing the touristy spots, as it allows you to hop off and go do your photo-taking, gasping-in-awe thing, and then hop back on the next one an hour or so later.
Canal view
Captain
My mom managed to get me to take off my ridiculous purple beanie, but then I went and found myself another equally ridiculous one. :)
Me and my hat v.2
I met my old pal, Freddy, down in Dam Square. He tried to kidnap me, but I fought him off.
Me and my buddy
And tomorrow my mom's setting off back home to where the sun is hiding, so I still have another day of exploring the city ahead. I'm also quite excited as tomorrow will also be my first CouchSurfing experience. Let's hope it works.
written by  Brigid Jelsma on February 5, 2011 from Amsterdam, Netherlands

Cara Cymru (I love Wales)
Caernarfon, United Kingdom
Wales is gorgeous. Absolutely stunning. And the people are one of a kind as well. The train ride in from Manchester took me past lakes and sheep-dotted fields, beside mountains and through villages, and the only downside was that I had several changes to make at stations that were extremely difficult to pronounce.
Welsh is fascinating and confusing as anything. Apparently they have seven vowels, double L makes the sound shhl, and the people are extremely patriotic regarding it. I met Sai, the host I was staying with in Caernarfan, and he showed me around the cute town.
Caernarfon Castle
Caernarfan is right by the coast, very much the typical Welsh town you see in movies, and to walk along the little path between the water and lush green fields was quite an experience. Sai had the cutest puppy (Luna), who scampered about and explored the area.
Luna (Sai's puppy)
Staying with him was really fun, and his roomates are also pretty cool. Sai made stirfry for supper and then the five guys took me to their local pub, where we played pool, drank a LOT, and took turns choosing songs on the jukebox. But me and Gareth were sorely disappointed by the lack of good music on the thing. It didn't have Mumford & Sons, MGMT or Beirut. Terrible.
Then we staggered home, somehow having reduced our numbers to three (me, Sai and Gareth), and crashed.
It was really fun. :)
written by  Brigid Jelsma on February 8, 2011 from Caernarfon, United Kingdom

Got the travel-bug
Bangor, United Kingdom
I spent today wandering around Caernarfan, particularly the castle. Really, really awesome. Massive, with loads of stairs and towers and stunning views of the countryside, the river and the Ocean. One Welsh curator spent ages chatting to me about [[South-Africa]] (he found it very fascinating), and I ended up telling my gap year plans to several people. It was fun. :D
After meeting Sai and Gwynn for lunch I hopped on a bus back to Bangor, where I met Antonia. She is a really interesting lady, with many tales to tell of her experiences in Africa and the rest of the world. Her House was really homely, and reminded me strongly of my Opa and Oma's House in the Netherlands. We spent ages chatting about pretty much everything, and then Sarah, a Couch Surfer from France, came in, and we began to make supper.
One of Antonia's friends came over for the meal, and it was a really relaxed, pleasant evening, with good food and good company.
The bed was devine. Soft and comfy and perfect. I honestly felt I was staying in five star B&B.
The following morning I went for a walk with Antonia's puppy, then spent some time helping out in the garden and doing a few chores around the House. It was actually quite satisfying to be doing something worthwhile.
I'm a bit sad to leave Wales as I really don't feel I've spent enough time here. But, sitting here on the train, watching green slopes and little Houses slip past, I know I'll come back, eventually.
written by  Brigid Jelsma on February 9, 2011 from Bangor, United Kingdom

CHAPTER ONE: Because I was bored
My name is of no significance. However, for the sake of this story, I suppose I'd better tell you. It's Brigid. Now, as far as names go, it could have been a lot worse. And it's fairly uncommon too. I share it with a Celtic goddess, a saint and my aunt, so I'm pretty much okay with it.
This book will contain the warped babble that spews forth from my brain. And, hopefully, it will stop me from saying my nonsense out loud, but I'm afraid I'm not that optimistic. I tend to move through life in a constant state of confusion. I confuse myself. I confuse everyone. I even have arguments in my own head.
I'm just going to do the boring thing and give you some background to all this. I am eighteen. I have a kitten, wonderful parents, and two older brothers who I simultaneously adore and blame for everything in my life. At the moment I am on a gap year. I tell everyone the year off is for me to 'figure out where I want to go with my life', but in reality I think it's just my being too lazy to go straight to university. Then again, even that point I'm not too sure on, because I do actually have to figure out what I'm going to spend the rest of my miserable life doing. So maybe I'm not lazy?
Anyway, most of my friends are back in Cape Town beginning the courses that will lead to jobs and stable lives and then marriages, mortgages, children, pensions and DEATH. Maybe I'm delaying the inevitable by running away? Or maybe I just have a depressing outlook on the lives of the responsible?
I started 'planning' my gap year when I was in grade ten. But that just consisted of bold talk and squiggles drawn over maps of the world. 'Yeah, so I'm going there and there and, ooooh, yeah, I HAVE to go there.' It's still just bold talk and squiggles, but, oh jesus, I'm actually in the middle of a squiggle!
See, thanks to all my shit talking to pretty much everyone, I somehow got myself trapped into this 'massive trip where I'm going to see EVERYTHING'. I told too many people. I'm too stubborn. I'm experiencing too much fun and terror to chicken out now.
The plan, devised while meant to be studying for my final geography exam, has unfortunately been pretty successful. Joe, the eldest of my two big brothers, has been working as a vet in the UK for a while. So, abandoning my kitten, parents, one brother and all my friends, I left South Africa and moved to the grey northern part of the world, supposedly to earn money for when I begin travelling the rest of Europe.
I've been working at Domino's Pizza ever since.... The End.
written by  Brigid Jelsma on February 21, 2011 from Hertford, United Kingdom

Follow your gut and hope your feet don't trip you up
One month till D-day.
I can barely go five minutes without getting excited about it. Everyone around me is getting sick of my constant 'CouchSurfing, so amazing, staying here and here and there and travelling with this guy and meeting them there and have to see this and that and, have I mentioned how amazing CouchSurfing is???'
To be honest, I'm surprised my brother hasn't strangled me. I am a bit obsessed. But can you blame me?
Anyway, the start of my 'massive trip where I'm going to see EVERYTHING' is Dublin. 31st of March. At the moment I'm still bouncing ideas around, but it looks as though I'm going to be travelling through Ireland either with three other people or with a guy called Mark.
I'm kind of leaning toward travelling with Mark as finding CouchSurfing hosts willing to put up four people will be a bit tough.
My plan is to spend a few days in Dublin (maybe hit the music scene), then head South through Kildare, Kilkenny and down to Cork, explore the coastal region for a bit and then make my way up to Shannon in time for my flight to France (Nantes) on the 14th of April.
Two weeks isn't really long enough to discover Ireland, but it'll have to do.
And then, my French adventure shall begin! A few days in Nantes, and then I'll make my way down to Tarbes to spend two weeks with my WorkAway hosts in the Pyrenees Mountains.
Could I be more lucky? Or happy? Maybe if my best friends were here with me, but other than that....
:D
And this is my rough route (so I don't get distracted in Dublin and never leave).
written by  Brigid Jelsma on March 3, 2011 from Hertford, United Kingdom

When lovely midnight strolls turn into '101 ways to freak Brigid out'...
So, I decided to go for a walk. Disregarding the obvious lack of light, Andy's warning about the dangerous Hertford canal route, and my overstuffed stomach (a day at a free Excel food event and a brother who orders pizza on your staff discount can do that to you), I set forth into the night.
As I stepped out of the building, Andy's warning rang fresh in my mind, but I thought, "Pffft, I come from South Africa. I can handle ANYTHING.' Not, and I make this clear, that South Africa is a terribly dangerous place, because on the whole it really isn't, but compared to Hertford where a bit of graffiti gets into the tabloids... well....
I put my hood up and hunched up my shoulders, did my best to send out a 'don't mess with me' vibe and began my adventure.
It was lovely. The wind was brisk and the air was fresh. Reflections in the canal were disturbed only by the occasional duck settling down for the night, and all I could hear was the 'shhht, shht, shht' of my jacket as I walked.
Then it occurred to me that I wouldn't be able to hear someone approaching from behind....
I glanced back. The path was clear. I continued walking.
Or was it? I glanced back again. What was that shadow at the corner there? I walked faster.
Oh, shit, I nearly walked into someone! (And that poor old lady will probably get back home and tell her husband about the crazy dark figure that nearly trampled her.)
Berating myself, I continued along my way, determined to make it to my favourite spot in the marshes. It was no longer about getting some fresh air. It was now KILL OR BE KILLED. Nah, it was just my being too stubborn to go home.
Once I stepped out onto the open plains of King's Meads, I began to relax. The sky was a burnt pink. In the distance I could hear the faint drone of distant highways. Across the marshes I could see the warm glow of houses. Ahead of me, I could see tiny dark patches hopping around as bunnies scampered out of sight.
It felt lonely. Lonely in the way one must feel standing alone at the top of a mountain, gazing down at the world. It was beautiful.
Feeling emotional, I settled down on the mound and closed my eyes for a few moments. It was so peaceful. The air was so pure. No one around for miles.
A thought popped into my head: 'what if I'm not alone?'
I glanced around me, eyes skirting the perimeter, falling on an unidentifiable dark-spot. It moved. Jerking upright, I stared it down. It moved again.... My heart thudded. I crept closer.
A bird took flight from the bush I'd been staring at....
Feeling stupid, I took another quick look around me and then settled back down.
Harsh breathing came from somewhere to my far left. I held my ground; I wasn't going to be a chicken again. It didn't stop.
I began backing away. I could see the silhouette of something that didn't fit in with the trees or shrubs. I grabbed my bag.
It was then that my mind decided to remind me that I'd crossed a lit up area as I came into the King's Meads, so anyone already there would have seen me approaching....
That thought had me stumbling back along my route as fast as possible. Every dark figure was menacing. Every time I looked behind me there was a dark figure following me.
I got back onto the proper path and nearly fell into the canal when a branch brushed my arm. The path was lit, but only for about 20 metres. Beyond that I had to pass under a bridge.... There was a smear of water across the path (as though something had been dragged?).
Then there was a man holding a knife that turned into a tree.
A torso of a dismembered women that turned into an assortment of flower pots.
A face in the water that turned into a duck's bottom.
I felt stupid.
And then the hoarse breathing started up again... louder.
My panic rose....
The breathing came closer, closer, closer. The water in the canal began lapping against the side. I spun around.....
And saw a barge approaching.
The big, scary, hoarsely-breathing monster passed me by and I felt more stupid than ever.
But still, there definitely was a dark figure following me. I could see it just where the light lit up the pathway.
I got past the Old Barge, crossed the bridge and rounded the corner, looking back on the path I'd just come along....
The dark figure behind me turned into a young woman walking her dog....
What a night. I'm exhausted!
written by  Brigid Jelsma on March 14, 2011 from Hertford, United Kingdom

My estimated route with estimated dates.
written by  Brigid Jelsma on March 18, 2011 from Hertford, United Kingdom

Where no one knows my name
Dublin, Ireland
Okay, so the massive-big-trip-where-I’m-going-to-see-everything has begun!
I survived the packing experience with only a mildly traumatic sensation of ‘there’s something I’m forgetting’. First aid kit, tampons (sorry to all male readers), shampoo, a travel towel, a compass (always necessary, especially with my awful sense of direction - which way’s north again?), undies, socks and then the not-so-essential things: my passports, Eurail passes and clothes.
Anyway, so I think I’m prepared for everything up to and including a nuclear apocalypse, and, if you believe my brother, that could actually be quite soon.
And, despite Ryanair’s best attempts, I made it to Dublin in one, mostly undamaged piece. This city is amazing.
It’s really similar to Amsterdam, but I feel a lot more comfortable here (for the obvious reason that makes Amsterdam one of the main tourist destinations). Let’s just say Dublin is a more PG version and leave it at that.
There are statues on every street corner, people busking at the sides, tons of interesting, little shops, no shortage of internet cafes, and it’s all within reasonable walking distance. O’ Connell Street was my first delightful discovery and, once on that, it’s so easy to find everything.
My host was friendly and welcoming, but unfortunately had to work most of the time, so I barely saw him. But, despite that, I had the house key and a plan!
I’d checked couchsurfing events and found one! My aim: arrive at the meeting and get to know a whole bunch of people. I showed up, rang the bell and a guy came out. “I’m here for the couchsurfing meeting?” He just looked at me. There was no meeting that night. That’s on Wednesdays. It was a Thursday. Once again, I’d failed to read something correctly.
But, Andy (as I later learned was his name) told me to come inside anyway. And that was probably the best thing that could have happened to me.
The hangout is kind of like a communal place where anarchists and activists and like-minded people spend their free time. So far I’ve attended a squat group meeting, learned how to make seed-bombs, joined an anti-fur protest and have made some awesome friends. And tonight I get to hear Erik sing! That should be interesting….
And last night I met up with another couch surfer, Tom, and had my first pint of Guinness. It was good. You know, for beer. But nevertheless, it’s still BEER. Cider and cocktails all the way. Oh, and shots, don’t forget those. And I’m not actually an alcoholic, if you’re wondering.
Hmmm, what else can I say? I went to Dublin Prison for a tour with two other couch surfers, I went to Phoenix Park, the National Art Museum, the National Museum, the Chester Beatty Library, wandered through Trinity College, saw Dublin Castle, Christ Church, went along the river, lay in the sun in Remembrance Park, stared up at the spire and got a sore neck (it’s SO high), and am now in an internet café updating everyone so they don’t convince themselves that I’m dead and am in need of rescuing.
The point is: I am having an amazing time. Dublin is great. Visit it. That’s an order.
Tomorrow I’m heading down toward Kilkenny to stay with a new host, so here’s hoping that I don’t miss my bus at ten in the morning!
written by  Brigid Jelsma on April 2, 2011 from Dublin, Ireland

Tiny villages are awesome
Leighlinbridge, Ireland
So I went to Seomra Spraoi (the hangout I mentioned before - pronounced 'Sharma Spree') and randomly joined in a few workshops - one on how to make your own moisturiser and one on trade and climate change. Both were really interesting and I got to meet some more amazing people. Then the gig started.
Erik and his band played and they were brillinat! Their band's name is the gaelic word for Anarchy, so you can pretty much guess what they were singing about. Then this other guy I hadn't met before took the stage with his band and for the first time in my life I had a song dedicated to me by a musician! He pointed at me, asked my name and said, 'This song is for Brigid'.
Let's just say, I was pretty chuffed.
And to make it even more awesome, he really could sing! I would actually buy their album if they ever get stuff recorded.
Afterwards, we got chatting and I discovered his name - Brian. Then I convinced him to meet me somewhere in Waterford to join me for my trip across Ireland, but I don't think he can get away from work and stuff so spontaneously. But, anyway, another friendship was forged!
Oooh, and, on that note, I also made friends with this Polish man and he's very nearly convinced me to throw Poland into my trip as well!!! But I'll just have to see where I am and how I'm feeling by the time I get to eastern Europe.
Then there was a minor disaster - Aga, who I was meant to stay with that night came looking for me, but just missed me. And her phone wasn't working - PANIC. But it was actually quite comical. Andy, Erik and Conner found it highly amusing because, as they put it, 'We wouldn't leave you out on the streets, you know?'
I ended up walking up to random people at Seomra Spraoi and asking them if they had a 'free couch, bed, spot on the floor, anything?' Once that was sorted (and you'll be amazed at how many people were willing to help) I could finally relax and enjoy the terrible dance music that Brian's housemate was DJing.
Yesterday morning, I hopped on a bus, ditched Dublin and headed towards a tiny little village in the middle of nowhere. Leighlinbridge. And, when I say 'tiny', I really mean it. There is one tiny little corner shop that serves as the village supermarket. Granted, there are loads of pubs and one touristy hotel (in which I'm currently sitting and stealing internet), but STILL! It's absolutely lovely.
I went for a really nice walk (with my massive backpack on my back and my little backpack on my front) along the river, killing time and stopping randomly when my shoulders started to complain. Then I found a nice little corner to fall alseep in, hugging my bags and wriggling until I was comfortable.
Then I moved a little further along the path and fell asleep in a new spot, and so on and so forth until a fisherman who had seen me pass him a few dozen times eventually sat with me and offered me a beer, and we got chatting.
It was wonderful!
Then I met up with Aileen (my couch surfing host) and was shown the luxurious room I was to stay in. Aileen is amazing. She welcomed me to stay despite the short notice of my request, and has gone above and beyond what's required of a host. Plus, she has REALLY great taste in music!
Today I am just going to chill out and take it easy, recover from the late nights in Dublin and wander around the town. I'm quite looking forward to it, actually.
written by  Brigid Jelsma on April 4, 2011 from Leighlinbridge, Ireland

Good craic is what it's all about
Thomastown, Ireland
So I hitchhiked yesterday. And I survived. And I loved it.
Leaving Leighlinbridge was a bit sad, as I had a really great time there with Aileen and the town is absolutely charming. We went out the previous night to a little pub with Aileen's friend, Ben - a wonderful guy who is really great fun, and three ladies from various countries in Africa. It definitely made a night!
But, yes, I hitchhiked away.
People are so amazing!! One young Polish man was so concerned about me he gave me his number to call if I had any problems and lifted me well out of his way. Another Irish bloke drove me pretty much right up to the address I was staying at. It was great fun! Even the bits of lull in between lifts, walking through random little towns, alongside fields of curious sheep.
And then I met Joe, the couchsurfer I'm staying with at the moment. And then I met his baby, Fay. Adorable! Such a cute little munchkin!!!
I actually got to look after her for a few hours and we wandered around Kilkenny Castle. She loves flowers. I am so tempted to kidnap her, honestly!
But the whole family is wonderful. Susie is from Switzerland, Joe teaches a form of martial arts, Fay is an angel (most of the time) and Sam is the cutest little lad ever. Today Joe was awesome enough to take me around the area, walking through forests, along rivers, drinking from holy wells and exploring monastries.
I really love Ireland. I could easily live here. So much open space. Lush green fields. Ruins covered in moss. Loads of interesting mythology. People who just chat to you without prompting. It's wonderful.
I'm sitting in a little pub in Thomastown, sipping a Magners. I think I'll actually survive this trip.
written by  Brigid Jelsma on April 6, 2011 from Thomastown, Ireland

And now for some coast!
Tramore, Ireland
All geared up for another day of hitchhiking, I was amusingly quite disappointed when Joe organised a lift for me down to Waterford. And then, I was again let down by the 3 euro bus ticket to Tramore. Somehow, even I could not convince myself that hitchhiking to save 3 euros was worthwhile.
So, with reasonable ease I arrived in Tramore, literally thirty yards away from where Karen, my wonderful couch host, is staying.
Karen is one of those veteran couch surfers. She's hosted over two hundred people! But, despite this, she's still taking the time and effort to get to know me. I borrowed one of her bikes and set off on a trip around the lovely seaside town: passing through fields and over cliffs and through forests, and then riding alongside the beach and then making my way up (unfortunately VERY up) the slope through the charming town.
I got into a long discussion with a guy who sells pancakes on the sea shore (these Irish are so damn friendly), I discovered a haunted well, I nearly ran over an old man (who just laughed and gave me a big, toothy grin) and I was accosted by American tourists.
There is one terrible thing, though. In my room. On the dresser. Before the mirror. There is a doll. And it watches me. How the hell am I going to sleep?
Am I a wuss? I am, aren't I?
written by  Brigid Jelsma on April 7, 2011 from Tramore, Ireland

Corking in Cork
Cork, Ireland
Okay, so I'm in Cork right now. I managed to hitchhike all the way from Tramore without any problems. Cork is a smaller Dublin. Very lively, with musicians, performers, little shops, big shops, swarms of people (many pushing prams) and a charming river running around it.
Last night we had a potluck at Karen's place and that was great fun: Irish people sitting at a table, plenty of alcohol, pancakes and good music (courtesy of my Ipod, so I might be a bit biased on that point). Most of them live in Tramore, so, as you can imagine, there was quite a bit of local gossip - highly entertaining for me - and discussion on the best places to visit in Ireland.
Too many people have told me that I just HAVE to go to Galway, so I'm cutting my stay in Cork by one day. From here I'll head to Dingle for two nights and then up to Gort (just south of Galway) for two nights before my flight to Nantes on the 14th. To be honest I'm definitely regretting pre-booking that ticket, as I could definitely spend another few weeks (or more) in Ireland, and I've become friends with so many wonderful people.
But, then again, maybe it's a good thing, because I'd probably just end up living here for the rest of my life. And that's not a viable option (I value my life and I know certain persons who will kill me if I don't make it home at the end of this year).
Ooooh, and an update: I can actually cook! This revelation was brought about by Aileen and then Karen serving as my guinea pigs. So, yes, one recipe that I can actually make and that actually tastes delicious (and I did say so myself). Bean casserole. More specifically, Andy's bean casserole. It's saved me from being a complete failure of a chef.
Thank you, Andy.
Right, back to the topic. Ireland. It is unfairly beautiful and diverse. It pretty much has everything that I love. Fields of green, wide open spaces, forests, cliffs, beaches, cute towns, clean, thriving cities, people who smile and chat to you without hesitation, and so much more. The Irish are wonderful too. Aboot - About. Tink - Think. Fair play - nice move. Feck - expletive I won't write owing to the fact that my mother reads this. Feen - guy/lad. Dander - stroll.
This phrase made me laugh for AGES: I was so drunk, I put my jeans to bed and hung myself over the chair.
And then the most obvious: craic (pronounced 'crack') - fun (coarse translation).
One last thing. Supermac's are cheap, have toilets and free wifi. Just in case anyone else is wandering around debating whether food or internet access is more worth your measly 3 euros.
:)
written by  Brigid Jelsma on April 9, 2011 from Cork, Ireland

Roadtrip
Skibbereen, Ireland
After the long and extremely-good-for-my-health climb up Blarney Street, and a minor detour wherein I sat outside a random person's House for twenty minutes or so, I eventually met Jim, my host.
Jim is good craic. Definitely. Good company, good music and good food.
As I realised I was running out of days in Ireland, I had a plan to head straight to Dingle for two nights and then up to Gort for another two. But Jim, spontaneously deciding to skip work, convinced me to join him to Skibbereen for a night at the House he was planning to buy and then we'd go on to Dingle from there.
So we set off, me, Jim and Leo (a permaculturist who was joining to take a look at the plot of land Jim was planning to buy). And the cottage is absolutely adorable. Only one neighbour for Miles around, surrounded by fields and foresty land, and with a size-able area ready to be cultivated. It still needs a lot of work, having no running water or electricity, but sitting around the wood stove sipping tea made up for that.
written by  Brigid Jelsma on April 10, 2011 from Skibbereen, Ireland

Dingle
Dingle, Ireland
We set off for Dingle pretty early on, dropping Leo off at the bus station (he, unlike Jim, wasn't spontaneously bunking work).
The drive. Wow. Along the coast, Bantry Bay, over the mountains, Kilarney Lakes, and then arriving in Dingle - I have never seen anything as stunning!
And then Dingle. The most amazing place in the world (or as much of the world as I've seen). Cute shops, awesome pubs, beautiful coastline, and wonderful people; what more could you need?
There was also a highly amusing incident involving a drunken Irish man who entertained the whole pub (Dick Mack's - best pub in the world) with his antics. He'd hug people as they came through the door and even answered a call from his mom while everyone was listening. We ended up pub-hopping with him for a bit - laughing like lunatics as we went down the street.
Then I met Frank, my new host and after a hearty dinner set off to Geraldine's place for a few drinks before finally heading BACK to Dick Mack's for a few more.
Oh, dear. These Irish are bad influences.
written by  Brigid Jelsma on April 11, 2011 from Dingle, Ireland

Self-sufficiency
Gort, Ireland
Staying with Trevor in Gort was wonderful! He lives nearly completely self-sufficiently, with his own windmill that generates electricity, and he grows most of his food, makes his own bread, and basically leads a really good life in the middle of forests.
John, another couch surfer, had a car and we went around to see the Cliffs of Moher and the Burren - absolutely amazing!!! But we got charged 6 euros each just to see them (even though I tried jumping out the car before we got to The Entrance, there was a guy there who told on me).
I thoroughly enjoyed my time in Ireland and I'm honestly sad to be leaving!
written by  Brigid Jelsma on April 14, 2011 from Gort, Ireland

French Fried
Nantes, France
So it's not actually a myth. The French do speak French. It's now become a matter of pointing, smiling and hoping someone takes pity on me. Oh, and some highly comical hand signals.
But I'm managing - if by 'managing' I mean reserving my train ticket by pointing at Nantes on the map, then Tarbes on the map, waving my Eurail ticket around and saying, 'Oui', to everything even slightly pitched as a question.
I just hope there haven't been any marriage proposals... then I'd be in trouble.
I arrived in Nantes with very little trouble, even managed to smuggle out some Irish sand for someone special back home, and was met by Antoine, my couchsurfing host for the night.
Antoine and Virginie. Wonderful people. I thoroughly enjoyed my stay with them in the countryside on the outskirts of Nantes. I went for a walk through the forest, along the river, saw a chateau - a proper one - for the first time, and was chased around by a guy on a lawnmower (no, seriously, I was).
Then, Antoine, Virginie, the moon and I, sat outside in the French evening air. :)
written by  Brigid Jelsma on April 16, 2011 from Nantes, France

I found paradise
Marciac, France
Tips for travellers: What to pack?
- Essentials (clothes, shoes, passports, tickets, cash, etc)
- Hand wipes (no, honestly, these are ridiculously handy for everything from sticky hands to no access to a shower/bath)
- Water
- Pen and paper
- Nail clippers
- Lots of socks
- Plastic bags
- Music
- Deodorant
The toughest things about travelling:
- You meet so many amazing people, but most of them you will never see again. It's exhausting putting in the effort to get to know each and every single person. But the worst is meeting someone and knowing that if you had more time you'd become really great friends.
- One of the hardest questions to answer was asked by a little boy whose family I stayed with for a while. "Do you love us?"
- Getting sick in a foreign place.
Best bits about travelling:
- Sitting on a bus or train, setting off for somewhere completely new and having no idea what to expect.
- I get to see the most amazing places. Honestly, each and every time I move I'm sad to leave, but as soon as I'm in the new spot, I love it. Everywhere seems to be special in its own way.
- I get to meet the most amazing people and keep some of them in my life (hopefully forever).
- I get exposed to so many new ideas and opinions, while my own get challenged, and it's absolutely fascinating.
- I get to choose where I want to go, what I want to do, and when I want to do it.
- Everything is exciting, even the smallest of things.
- Calling home (friends, family, kitten).
For the past three weeks, I have been absolutely awful at updating. I don't really know why. Maybe it's because I've had some stability during that time? Anyway. I have been staying in the most amazing place imaginable (and, yes, I know I said that about numerous places in Ireland and other countries, but each time I say it, I really do mean it!).
Saint Justin. A tiny village of six houses, situated on a hill in the middle of the rolling French countryside. Curling along the horizon, serving as the breakfast, lunch and dinner view, is the Pyrenees mountain range. The nearest town is Marciac, a town renowned for it's jazz.
Wisteria now symbolises France in my mind as it grows along the rafters of the patio.
How on earth did I end up in this paradise? Well, a site called WorkAway is the answer. In exchange for bed and board, I work 25 hours a week. Let me put it this way: I work from 8 until one, get a delicious breakfast, a mouthwatering lunch and a delectable supper, I get wine, I get a comfortable bedroom with its own bathroom and shower, I get afternoons and weekends off, I get to stay in the most beautiful part of the world and experience its culture. We even got the chance to go up the mountains!
No one needs to tell me how fortunate I am, honestly.
Oh, don't get me wrong, the work has sometimes been tough. Clearing ivy (damn that ivy) from walls, getting showered by bugs as you snip branches from below and try to balance on ladders that sag in the middle; painstakingly raking your fingers through hard soil to find straggling roots of couch grass (a demonic weed); sanding stairs until the dust nearly suffocates everyone around you; and so much more.
But, with music and good company, even the work hasn't been bad.
I've thoroughly enjoyed it.
But, moving onwards, with a minor blip thanks to an unforeseen cold, and I am leaving tomorrow, heading for San Sebastian.
How on earth is Spain going to compete with this haven?
written by  Brigid Jelsma on May 8, 2011 from Marciac, France

Not in Spain, despite popular belief!
Donostia-San Sebastian, Spain
Another place that is absolutely gorgeous!
I met the Dutch guy I'm going to be travelling with for a bit, and the good news is that we haven't died yet, despite all attempts. We climbed up the Mountain, through brambles and past a sleeping pilgrim, snuck into an abandoned picnic area that looks like it hasn't been used in years, got completely lost, made sandwiches, bought a bottle of wine and sat on the walkway by the coast for a bit.
My feet are sore! I bought flipflops and they are definitely not made for bashing through the Wilderness.
Oh, and the Basque region is definitely not part of Spain. Not according to everyone here.
:)
Tomorrow, if we don't miss the bus, we're heading for Santander.
written by  Brigid Jelsma on May 10, 2011 from Donostia-San Sebastian, Spain

Beaches.. that's about it
Santander, Spain
Santander. Not really all that impressive. The coast is great, loads of beaches, a mediocre bird park, some ships, a castle/palace thing, some trees, a few parks, Pizza Hut, more beaches, statues of surfers and a creepy kid statue on a hill.
But then there's the city. The buildings... pretty depressing. Huge apartment blocks, grey, clothes hanging out windows, water stains, peeling paint... well, you get the picture.
So, if you like beaches, sure. But beyond that. At least this is one place I haven't fallen in love with. :)
written by  Brigid Jelsma on May 11, 2011 from Santander, Spain

What a night out
Gijon, Spain
Not much was accomplished today. I woke up at about twelve, recovering from another late night in town (or should I say 'early morning'?). It really is true about Spain. Their day starts in the evening and ends late morning. It takes a bit of adjusting.
Gijon, the town I was staying in, isn't really a must-see, but I definitely enjoyed it.
At the moment I am sitting on a bus heading to A Coruna. Five hours... at least I have my music.
And cookies. And homemade strawberry jam (a gift from my fabulous host).
Oh, and the scenery. There is that.
I really prefer this side of the North of Spain. It's a lot more rural, more natural and sparcely populated. And people just seem that little bit more friendly.
We went to a CS (couchsurfing) meeting, a language exchange night, and it was really good fun. I met wonderful people. Why are there so many wonderful people? I woke up with several business cards, numbers, contact details for people in various places dotted around Europe that I can stay with on this trip, and a list of places I just HAVE to go to (everywhere...).
The worst bit is that I lost a few napkins that had more contact details, so some of the people I met I will never be able to speak to again. It's quite upsetting, actually.
There are so many great people in this world. And I really want to get to know them all.
written by  Brigid Jelsma on May 14, 2011 from Gijon, Spain

Beaches and buildings and things like that
A Coruna, Spain
written by  Brigid Jelsma on May 15, 2011 from A Coruna, Spain

I love travelling.
A Coruna, Spain
Spain is wonderful. It truly is. There is something so unique about it. Wandering through the streets, watching the people inside cafes as they ate and laughed and drank beer, seeing the kids ride their bikes around, while a woman dusted out a mat from a window above - I have had a fantastic day.
And there is so much water! Endless beaches and boats and harbours, rocks and sand. A Coruna is a peninsula that juts out and makes it impossible to determine which way to go. Usually having the sea as your landmark works, but here.... I have gotten lost so often, just in the past hour! But even getting lost is fun because you see little corners of the city that you wouldn't have found if you had been trying.
Although getting lost to the point of not even remembering the number of the place I'm staying at is quite terrible. I am an awful traveller! I was with Arjen at the time, and neither of us could recall what the place even looked like. Once we managed to find the street, I ended up trying the key in every door, until finally finding the correct one. It was highly entertaining!
Today, I was better, and actually managed to find my way to the castle (all on my own!) and then my wonderful host, Millán, joined me for a stunning walk along the coast and through a bit of the Old City, where we had tapas and beer in a charming little cafe that I would never have found if not for him. Delicious food! And I now know a new recipe - Spanish Tortilla.
I am setting off to Santiago de Compostella later on today, and at the moment I am just waiting for siesta time to end so I can go and buy some food to take with. Honestly, siesta time springs out of nowhere and suddenly EVERYTHING is shut. It's awesome (except when you're hungry).
:D
written by  Brigid Jelsma on May 16, 2011 from A Coruna, Spain

Santiago de Compostella
Santiago de Compostela, Spain
written by  Brigid Jelsma on May 18, 2011 from Santiago de Compostela, Spain

Drinking Port in Porto
Porto, Portugal
Porto is wonderful!!! It's completely different to any other city I have been in, because it's beautiful in a real way. Even dilapidated old buildings have something special. And every single street has so much character, it's just fantastic. The red tiled roofs.
I've been really lucky. Quite honestly, I have no idea what I did to deserve such luck. I had a wonderful host who made me feel completely welcome and who showed me a bit of the city the night I arrived (which was actually the night Porto defeated Barcelona in football, so EVERYONE was out, hanging out of passing cars, hooting, shouting, waving their team's flag). And the river, by night and by day, is beautiful.
The following day, I was left to my own devices and was fortunate enough to hear from Fernando, the couchsurfing king. The consequential events were beyond anything I could have expected. I met up with him for lunch, where we were joined by two other couchsurfers who he was hosting. After the delicious lunch, Fernando's tour began.
We saw everything. EVERYTHING. And we learned the history and the facts behind it all, punctuated by Fernando's many jokes. It was fantastic. We saw the tourist attractions and we saw the local attractions. We tried numerous treats (I think we all expanded during the few days we spent with Fernando) and drank Port and vintage. We crossed the bridge and walked along the river. And by the time our tour was over, it was time for another delicious meal.
I love Porto!
written by  Brigid Jelsma on May 20, 2011 from Porto, Portugal

Where Portugal was born
Guimaraes, Portugal
Rob (a Polish couchsurfer) and I set off for Guimares, the place where Portugal was born. We wandered around with our free tourism booklet and got lost and ate local dishes and climbed up the castle and got the backs of our heads in the footage of some communist party's interview. It was great fun!
written by  Brigid Jelsma on May 21, 2011 from Guimaraes, Portugal

Getting lost in Lisbon
Lisbon, Portugal
The value of maps is underrated. Honestly.
I arrived in Lisbon, full of expectations: it's one of the main tourist destinations in Portugal, so there must be something worthwhile, right? Exactly.
So I headed for the metro station, looked at the tube map, and realised that I had absolutely no idea where to go for any of the 'attractions'.
I chose a random stop and headed out into the heat. I was on a main road, so that seemed as good a place as any to start my adventure. I would just find a tourist information office and go on from there. Well, that was my plan.
"Peldonna... disculp... er... English?" Topped off with a helpless look on my face. "Turisma? Er...."
Then the guy responded, in perfect English, "You'd have better luck finding a tourist office in the city centre." He gave me a grin and pulled me out of the road....
Yes, I had been asking someone directions while standing in the middle of a street. I am actually that oblivious.
Anyway, what the guy had failed to tell me was where the city centre actually was. I hopped back on the metro, tried another spot right on the coast - or, rather, what I thought was the coast.
I stepped out, found the shore and ended up chatting to this old couple, and after a while I announced that I absolutely adored the ocean.... It's a river. To be fair, it is a very large river and it is really near the coast, but still. You can imagine how stupid I felt when they corrected me.
Then, I left to go and meet my new host. Rui, who then provided me with maps (tourist maps, clearly marking the tourist attractions), and I was all geared up for an afternoon of exploration.
With the map, I actually discovered which tube stop was in the centre. And then I realised that I had been walking around (almost in circles) around the centre, and that if I had just chosen one road to stick on, I would have reached one of the many massive squares.
Eventually I made it to the massive archway, walked through it and out into a massive quad, centred with a statue of a guy on horseback, and with a view of the bridge, Born Jesus, and the river. I was there just as the sun was setting, and the temperature was also becoming a lot more pleasant, and it was beautiful. Then I dutifully called a few people who threaten to slaughter me if I don't make it easy for them to keep track of me.
That evening I was given a traditional Portuguese swarma - delicious - and a nata from the store that they originated from - absolutely delectible and I could eat a billion of them and never get tired of them, and then I got a bit more of tour and saw one of the most beautiful monastories I have ever seen, accompanied by a stunning park and fountain.
That was day one in Lisbon.
written by  Brigid Jelsma on May 23, 2011 from Lisbon, Portugal

Fairytales and knights in shining armour: Sintra
Sintra, Portugal
Day two was spent in Sintra.
Sintra is, as Hans Christian Anderson put it, "the most beautiful place in Portugal. It is where fairytales live. Castles and forests and parks and lakes and hidden torrets and mossy stone walls and cobbled streets. The hike up to the castle was highly entertaining as I soon discovered that flip-flops were not invented for high gradient hiking. Slipping and sliding and losing the odd shoe here and there, nearly knocking a tourist over one of the walls, and eventually I made it to the top - where they charged me 6 euros...
At first I was ranting. SIX euros. What the hell would be worth six euros? It seemed ridiculous!
But then I climbed up the stone stairs and looked over the wall, saw the view and realised, Oh, so this is what is worth six euros.
From the top I could actually see numerous castles and palaces scattered in the overgrown forests surround the hill. And I could see for miles and miles. The Moorish Castle - probably the most worthwhile tourist expendature that I have ever seen. I just wanted to settle down there, pull out my notebook and start writing about knights and chivalry and quests and dragons and every other fantastical thing you can imagine. {
And then I tried to find my way back to the town centre, and again, I got lost and ended up with this lovely guy who walked me right to the centre (with a minor detour into a park because he wanted to show me the view). And there I ate a travesseiro - yet another delicious pastry that Portugal has to offer.
That evening, I ended up going with Rui for a wonderful tour through the hidden spots of Lisbon, seeing the best views, drinking kyporinyas and beers as we walked through streets where the nightlife was just beginning, sliding down handrails, and taking loads of photos (the latter was mainly on my part).
Afterwards it was time for the feature of the night... Brazilian dancing.
And I learned something. Dancing is not my forte. Definitely not. But it was great fun anyway and lovely to watch! But, with the heat, after five seconds of being on the dance floor, everyone was sweating buckets! We ended up hitching the fan so it remained facing in our direction.
All in all, Lisbon has been a pretty fantastic experience. But I need to leave Portugal soon, very soon. This food is way too good. I think my last stop in Portugal is going to be Faro, and I'm heading there tomorrow. It's by the coast (the actual coast), so it should have some great beaches. And then I'll re-enter Spain and make my way up to Barcelona, where I will go and annoy Robert. That should be fun.
written by  Brigid Jelsma on May 24, 2011 from Sintra, Portugal

Travelling of a more luxurious kind
Faro, Portugal
I am ridiculously fortunate in all my doing. Quite honestly, I have no idea what I did to deserve it all. At the moment I am in the Algarve, staying in a fancy resort for absolutely nothing.
My wonderful host, Miguel, has done everything to ensure that Kristi (another couchsurfer), her kid and I are taken care of. He's refused to let us pay for anything, even the mountains of food we acquired at the supermarket and, despite his setting off for Porto this weekend, has given us the keys to his apartment.
Needless to say, we spent all of yesterday and today at the beach, getting sunburnt. And, for the first time on this trip, the water was actually warm! I spent most of the time in amongst the waves or falling asleep on the sand.
This is a vacation, a proper vacation. No one needs to tell me how lucky I am.
written by  Brigid Jelsma on May 27, 2011 from Faro, Portugal

On the road again
Faro, Portugal
Today was mainly spent in a confused daze. I woke up with the weirdest instinctive urge to get on the road again. I've spent four nights in one spot and that proves to be too much. So, seeing as though I need to go via Madrid to get to Sevilla, that seems to be where I'm spending the next two days.
At the moment I am sitting on a night train to Madrid Chamartin station. I hate overnight trains. I never sleep properly, constantly need to maintain some semblance of consciousness. And the air is always stiflingly dry.
And it doesn't help that I'm sunburnt.
But, I still get the feeling of 'I'm going to somewhere new, I don't know what's there, I don't know what will happen, but I'm sure I'll love it'. And that makes it all worthwhile.
This morning, a hectic packing session was followed by a hectic cooking session - Kristi and I determined to serve a fabulous meal for our wonderful host. He has done so much for us, despite his not being here, and we honestly are grateful. Arriving at Faro station slightly short of time, I managed to grab a ticket and hop on a train. Then, I spent the rest of the train ride (all three hours and forty-five minutes of it) wondering where on earth I was setting off for, as I had somehow failed to ensure that I hopped onto the right train.
Nevertheless, despite that, I managed to get to Lisboa Oriente station a full two hours before the next leg of train travel. I am due to arrive in Madrid at nine in the morning, and I have decided to stay in a hostel for a change. Couchsurfing is absolutely wonderful, but I feel I need a bit of a break from it. And it will be fascinating to see what hostel life is like.
My incomparable planning has left the future completely unmapped. Generally, I think I'm heading for Sevilla in two days. Then Granada. Valencia (maybe, but people say it's not that great). And then Barcelona on the 9th - that date is more fixed. Then up to Montpellier for a few days and, finally, up to Geneva on the 14th (when my Eurail pass expires).
In Geneva, I plan to find some workaway for ten or so days, otherwise I'll just have to couch-hop to kill time while I wait for the parents to arrive and come and pay for everything and take control of the maps and tickets and money and everything. That'll be really nice. Relaxing. And I do kind of miss them. Maybe. Just a little.
written by  Brigid Jelsma on May 30, 2011 from Faro, Portugal

More than just a big city
Madrid, Spain
Madrid is a city. A big city. That is what everyone said when I asked them about it.
They are not wrong. However, most of them failed to mention just how beautiful it is. Statuesque buildings, magnificent parks, numerous fountains and statues at every turn, and loads to see and do.
And it was my first hostel experience - absolutely wonderful. I stayed in the Cat's Hostel - chosen not only for it's name, but also for it's affordability (I am a backpacker, after all). It was brilliant! I stayed in a dorm of 12 beds, but that really didn't matter. A bed is a bed, all you need it for is sleep. Time in the hostel was spent socialising in the common room, the bar area and the Cat's cave (downstairs pub).
Time outside of the hostel was spent with various other travellers who I relished in blaming for our getting lost - again and again.
I met so many people! It was wonderful! The only problem was trying to remember everyone's name.
The first day I toured the area with two American guys, both studying architecture - which was great because I didn't miss any of the important buildings.
Honestly, I am quite terrible. Every city I arrive in, I know nothing about. The main attractions, the best museums, parks, etc. - I know nothing. So I definitely have been fortunate in the people I meet.
The following morning after a delicious bowl of cereal - no one really seems to understand just how much I love cereal and how rarely I get it while travelling - I joined the free hostel walking tour and ended up with a huge bunch of Americans.
Go to Madrid. Meet more Americans than Spanish. They weren't even together!
Anyway, we saw loads. The palace and the changing of the guards. The cathedral. Numerous other breath-taking buildings whose names I can't recall. Plazas. Parks. Protests in the main square. And more. I even managed to wade through a fountain to get to an Egyptian monument.
Later on, the Americans and I ended up scouring the area for a supermercados to buy some stuff for lunch. Needless to say, we couldn't find a single one of the thousands we'd seen earlier. Eventually we ended up going to a tiny corner shop and found everything we needed - wine, sangria, bread and stuff to go on the bread.
We then sat in one of the many stunning parks and had a picnic on the grass.
Quite lovely.
Then there was the Museo de Prado (free entry on Wednesday's between 18:00 and 20:00) with amazing artwork and statues - one in particular which stood out: a marble statue of a woman wearing a veil. I would never have thought it possible to carve something transparent, but this artist (Camillo Torreggiani) did so.
And then, as if the day hadn't been awesome enough, I decided to do a pub crawl. Really good fun. More because of the people I did it with than because it was anything all that amazing. I still can't dance, but I sure did have fun stomping on the toes of the guys I danced with. :D
I even ended up ditching my shoes. Not because of the alcohol consumption, but because one of them broke and I needed new ones anyway.
Somehow (I just followed an American guy) I managed to make it back to the hostel, where I went straight to sleep - no doubt dreaming of the bowl of cereal awaiting me in the morning.
written by  Brigid Jelsma on June 1, 2011 from Madrid, Spain

Seville
Sevilla, Spain
written by  Brigid Jelsma on June 2, 2011 from Sevilla, Spain

Granada
Granada, Spain
Probably the most beautiful place I have ever seen!
written by  Brigid Jelsma on June 5, 2011 from Granada, Spain

Valencia
Valencia, Spain
My stay with Jaume was amazing!! He was one of the best hosts I could possibly have imagined. He is a musician, a really talented one, and he even took on the daunting challenge of teaching me some notes on the piano and guitar. :D
He also took me everywhere, showed me his favourite restaurants and clubs, took me for a delicious meal with his brother and then we went for a wonderful walk along the coast. It was beautiful!
The worst bit was saying goodbye. I hated that.
written by  Brigid Jelsma on June 7, 2011 from Valencia, Spain

Zaragoza
Zaragoza, Spain
written by  Brigid Jelsma on June 8, 2011 from Zaragoza, Spain

Basking in Barcelona
Barcelona, Spain
Barcelona was an experience. I arrived a day earlier owing to a pretty depressing stay in Zaragoza (leaving Jaume in Valencia and arriving to an empty hostel, finding it impossible to meet people there and spontaneously booking a hostel in Barcelona. The hostel, however, was quite far from the city centre, but it was cheap - my main deciding factor - and there were actually other people staying there as well!
I was fortunate enough to arrive a few hours before a free walking tour, so I made my way to the meeting point (getting lost a few times) and waited by the fountain, eying a particularly extravagant lamp post.
A few moments later I was approached by a man, who had been standing just opposite me. "Gaudi's work really is extraordinary, isn't it?"
Gaudi? Hmmm. That name did sound familiar and the man seemed to say it like one would Raphael or Da Vinci, so I nodded, did my whole goofy smile thing, and mumbled, "Yeah. It really is."
Thankfully the man then launched into all the details of his work - actually teaching art, so Gaudi's work was particularly special to him. I felt a bit of an ignoramus, by anyway.
My tour started pretty soon after that, and I got chatting to a German girl, Melly, who is doing ERASMAS in Barcelona. And then I met two guys, SOUTH AFRICAN GUYS!!! And it took me ages to realise they were from home, but then I saw his Springbok hat!
I nearly died.
Anyway, the tour was fantastic. An overload of information, but at least I learnt who Gaudi was. We were also saw a mansion in which a king died of viagra overdose (actually herbs given to him to induce *ahem* gave him stomach problems, but a viagra overdose is much more amusing).
That night I went to a couchsurfing event - meeting in a tiny pub in the backstreets of Barcelona, and I met loads of people, including a British guy, Nick. He was only there for a day (on a business trip, actually), but we ended up trawling through the streets in the middle of the night.
Then I realised the metro in Barcelona shuts at midnight on Thursdays.... Remember how I mentioned how far out of the centre my hostel was? Yup. SCREWED.
I ended up staying out all night (thank Jungle Bars that pubs and clubs actually stay open all that time), and I think Nick was hungover for his business meeting, but anyway. I arrived at my hostel feeling shattered, the guy there (luckily one I'd been chatting to earlier) burst out laughing and, even though I was meant to check out, led me to a bed downstairs that the staff use.
I collapsed.
Four in the afternoon I stumbled out, managed to find another hostel, make my way there and collapse again.
Then Rob called.
Oh, and it was pouring with rain by then.
I managed to drag myself out of bed, throw some clothes on, and make my way to Barceloneta tube stop. And there was Rob, with NO UMBRELLA, standing outside a off license alcohol store - typical. :D
We decided to risk the rain and make our way to Sagrada Familia - Gaudi's masterpiece of a basilica.
FIFTEEN EUROS. But worth every cent. Nature influenced all of Gaudi's work, and this is most visible inside. The massive pillars and curved ceiling makes it all congruent with what I imagine Elven architecture to be like. And the exterior is so detailed it would take forever to examine each figure - time we really didn't have while running around beneath an umbrella, dodging raindrops.
It's apparently only going to be finished in 2023. So that gives me another excuse to visit Barcelona again.
That night I went out with Rob and Charlie - Rob's housemate. Alcohol. So much alcohol. And I ended up crashing at their place (once again making my hostel stay redundant).
The next day, I just wandered around, down La Ramblas, along the beachfront, through the parks, before meeting up for a party on the beach.
And the water was so warm, even in the middle of the night!
So, all in all, Barcelona was a fantastic experience.
written by  Brigid Jelsma on June 11, 2011 from Barcelona, Spain

Back to France
Montpellier, France
Going to Montpelier was quite a spontaneous decision. I was fortunate enough to get a few last-minute hosts, one of them being Pat, a wonderful guy who met me at the train station. I was rather exhausted the first evening, so an early bed was apt.
The following day I met up with another couchsurfer who showed me around the city, the touristy and the not-so-touristy spots – one of which included a trip up an elevator coated in graffiti to the roof of a dilapidated apartment with the best view of the city imaginable.
I then had the comical experience of ordering a baguette in a garble of Spanish and French: “Ola! erm, uh. Bonjour. Uno... baguette, por favour - uh, merci. Uh, s'il vous plaît. Uh...” Oh, dear.... The man then proceeded to respond in perfect English.
Moving swiftly along. Montpelier was beautiful. Rue Foch in particular, with the beautiful triumphal arch and garden (although I could only see the botanical garden from the outside as it was closed).
I then finally accepted the fact that my shoes were a lost cause, gave in and bought some new ones from a cheap thrift store.
written by  Brigid Jelsma on June 13, 2011 from Montpellier, France

Headquarters of the world
Geneva, Switzerland
Geneve. Posh-central. So much money and wealth, flashy cars, ridiculously expensive hotels, headquarters of those ridiculously expensive watch companies (Rolex), primly dressed dignitaries from around the world, and spotlessly clean streets.
I felt rather out of place.
And everything was ridiculously expensive. Geneve is actually ranked as the forth most expensive city in the world – and I really do not want to visit the top three; I felt ripped off!
But then to redeem it, Geneve also has the UN headquarters (although what that three-legged chair is all about, I have no clue!
And the beautiful lake and jet.
And pianos scattered around public areas where musicians, talented or otherwise, can entertain passers-by. So it's not all bad. There's also a beautiful cathedral, some canons that I stumbled upon whose significance I am still uncertain of, and a charming old man whom I asked to take a photo of me and who promptly offered up his son as my 'arm candy'. :D
Poor guy. He was really embarrassed.
Then there was the rather entertaining series of protest-comics displayed along the lake – even one by Zapiro, a South African cartoonist.
I was staying with, surprise surprise, a guy who works at a bank. It was his first time hosting, and he did really well! He went out of his way to make sure I was comfortable and took me out to dinner by the lake with some friends.
The following day I was accosted by a girl trying to get interviews from people about Geneve. Like an idiot, I felt sorry for her and decided to participate in the survey.... Forty-five minutes later I was still trying to explain that, “Yes, I have honestly been travelling for the past several months, and, I do actually have enough knowledge of other metropolitan cities to be able to rank Geneve, and, no, I do not want to tell you exactly what my plans for Geneve are as I honestly do not have any plans, and, and, and...”
I got rather frustrated with her down-the-nose attitude, to tell you the truth.
written by  Brigid Jelsma on June 15, 2011 from Geneva, Switzerland

Migrant worker?
Montreux, Switzerland
My stay in Montreux was one of the best I've had on this trip. A week's break from travelling. A week to get to know an area and its people. A week of walking past Freddy Mercury's statue, humming Bohemian Rhapsody.
I was staying with a wonderful family of three. They were responsible for my fantastic stay. They had ten days left before they had to move House. Ten stressful days of packing, cleaning and preparing the House and garden for the next lodgers.
Via WorkAway, I ended up volunteering and helping them out. It was great fun – loads of work, but even that was satisfying. And, in between the lugging of heavy boxes and the weeding, the family went out of their way to show me the surroundings and introduce me to the Swiss way of life.
They took me up the Fribourg mountains, along a trail that belongs in romanticised novels of green slopes, massive bell-bearing cows and mud. Loads of glorious mud. And Amanda and I snuck out for some chocolate fondue – the best in the world, no doubt about it!
And Montreux was a wonderful town to explore, set on the lake, with mountains all around (like the scene from Jurassic Park I when they approach the Island for the first time and you see the jagged mountains, or maybe that's just me).
written by  Brigid Jelsma on June 24, 2011 from Montreux, Switzerland

Cinque Terre

Les Avants

Milan

Venice

Rome

Siena

Ljubljana

Split

Hvar

Dubrovnik

Budapest

Krakow

Warsaw

Prague

Dresden

Zagreb

Groningen

Dam

Assen

Berlin

Bremen - Hamburg

Dusseldorf

View near Ambleside

Lake Windermere

View from Slack Cottage B&B

Hert

Castlerigg stone circle

Edinburgh Castle

Me in York

Street in York

Me and my hat

Remnants of a raucous night

Me, my new hat and my brother

Attack of the geese!

My boots

My kitten

I love this guy

My mommy

Captain

Market

Canal view

Me and my buddy

Protest going on in Dam Square

Luna (Sai's puppy)

Caernarfon Castle