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
from the travel blog: Walk a little further to another plan
tagged Ireland
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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
from the travel blog: Walk a little further to another plan
tagged Hertford
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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

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
from the travel blog: Walk a little further to another plan
tagged Book and Hertford
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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
from the travel blog: Walk a little further to another plan
tagged Wales
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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
from the travel blog: Walk a little further to another plan
tagged Wales
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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
from the travel blog: Walk a little further to another plan
tagged Amsterdam
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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
from the travel blog: Walk a little further to another plan
tagged Hertford
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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.

written by  Brigid Jelsma on January 29, 2011 from Hertford, United Kingdom
from the travel blog: Walk a little further to another plan
tagged Hertford
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