I did some research as to why…
Yes, it’s really that bad.
I did some research as to why…
Yes, it’s really that bad.
Day one was nuts. it started with the Saint-Ouen flea market where I bought a pair of chaussures (shoes) that I now need to buy thick socks in order to wear; a silly thing, since I have SO many socks back home. the African man selling me the shoes escorted me to the ATM up the street because I did not yet have Euros in my possession and he was eager to give me a “good deal” on his first sale of the day. sketchy right? after that I went to get a sim card so I don’t have to rely on finding wifi for everything. this was a terrible experience and I won’t go into detail because my mother is likely reading this and I don’t want to scare her. however, the day got better when I found a 90-minute power yoga class, in French of course.
the goal was to pack light. minimalistic.
but it’s the third time I’ve gone traveling with the intention of staying in one place for some indefinite duration – and I always over-pack for the backpacking portion – and under-pack for the staying in one spot.
so as a backpacker the first two weeks of the journey, here’s how I could have done better:
MORE SOCKS (I brought one silly pair – small running pair – assuming LONDON, like Florida, would be warm in May);
more yoga-type-harem pants (I ended up wearing the same 2 pairs, due to the hassle of rummaging through my shit, one being jeans — but more quick-to-dry pairs were desirable);
just one pair of jeans will suffice if the above is achieved (I had packed 2 – these take up space and stay damp longer);
three shirts which can serve multiple purposes (again, the hassle of rummaging through my shit and waking up other backpakers in the dorm when I want to sneak out on my own at 6am without someone inviting themself – caused me to alternate through the same 3 or so simple tees/tanks) & plus when you shower in one, therefore it’s wet, you want another (two?) to choose from;
less shower shit – ONE bar of soap is enough for everything and can be replaced at any farmers market (unless you’re into toxic chemicals then a cheap bar at the cheap grocery chain);
underwear x 2 (same thing – wash each day in the sink/shower – alternate each day – hang on bed with S-hook – they dry quick);
speaking of S-hooks: these come in SUPER handy for hanging bags or drying clothes or general organizing. that’s something I did right;
BOOTS! I was torn at the last minute and ended up leaving these behind due to space constraints ๐
a GOOD coffee mug (if you’re into coffee). good idea for a few reasons: I hate wasting disposable cups and if you get one that closes properly you can use it for all your liquids and throw it in and out of your bag all day!
This is based on my experience, the backpacking portion. Stay tuned for the living-in-Paris segment. I’m already thinking I’ll ship a box of shit home a day before I leave my appartement.
Actually I have two new favorite spots in London.
The first one I discovered two days ago, a co-working space with a “free” cafe area for the nomadic folk:ย the Coffice which offers a buffet lunch for a reasonable price, and I may sit on my laptop as long as I wish. The downside is that my time is limited; lunch is cleared away around 15:30 and the place closes at 17:30.
So because I like to work into the evening hours, I was forced to discover the Ace Hotel right down the street, with their massive open lobby/bar/cafe/common area with a hundred or so folks occupying the cozy tables and chairs, hard at work on dates with their laptops.
I believe it’s open 24 hours as well. I wish I’d discovered this one earlier.
I was rudely awakened at 4:20 AM by a drunk Italian yelling at the random man in her bed “ACCENDI MY FRIEND. MY FRIEND WHERE IS YOUR BED. THIS IS MY BED. ACCENDI MY FRIEND (giggles) MY FRIEND WHERE IS YOUR BED (giggles) and he’s sitting upright in her bed, saying nothing; her boyfriend wonders aloud if he’s deaf. By now I’m giggling, and attempting to go back to sleep would be useless. So I get an early start for the day. At 5am the sky is already turning blue, and the 6am streets are a disaster on a Saturday; the cleaning crews are out, and some runners, and the party-people heading home.
I rode the double-decker bus to Brixton and had a coffee and a croissant while I waited for the Market to open at 8. I wandered about for some hours, but didn’t have much energy thanks to the night’s interruptions.
Back at the hostel after attempting to nap, the Italian is just waking up and wants to know what is this “avocado” that I have in my hand. Her name is Rasha and her boyfriend (soon to be husband) is Fabrizio. We spoke in broken English/Italian for an hour or so, and I’m welcome (urged to come!) to their home in Rome any time ๐
exploring on foot until my feet couln’t take it anymore