Travel articles

Where I come from, Lanzarote is known to be granny paradise. Every year around the beginning of November the march of the lemmings starts when every aged person in the possession of a medium piggy bank moves his or her lazy ass to either the Spanish Costas or to the Canary Islands.

This sounds like a place you don’t want to be, right?
I had the same feeling for quite some time, until now, Lanzarote appeared to be the only destination with guaranteed sunny weather, where I could get with a relatively cheap flight.
So I’ve put all of my prejudices aside and went over there, to have a look if it’s as bad as it appeared in my imagination.

I like to think of myself as a “Die Hard traveler”. The kind that doesn’t care for free towels, hot showers or private rooms, the kind that prefers a hammock with a view over a bed in a room and rice with beans over McDonalds. Actually, the fact that I prefer booze over everything else mentioned before moves me more over to the Backpacker category, but that’s not the point I’m trying to make.
Like every “Die Hard Traveller”, I try to get off the beaten track wherever I can or at least wherever it suits me best.
After one too many parties on the gringo trail, with the complementary morning headache, I felt it was time to go local, to go to El Salvador.

The difference between a job you like and “just a job” is whether or not you like the whole process on a daily basis. A cook who likes his job does not just like the food, but he also likes to prepare it. A writer must not only like stories, but also to create them.
This can also be related to independent travelling, a traveller does not just like the destination but also the way of getting there. Even though being a traveller is not my job - I wish - I do love the means of getting from one place to another.

If there is one nation that was born for bad luck, it must be Bosnia. Let me give you a short history of the area, just to give you an idea.

After visiting Romania, about six months ago, the Balkans had tickled my imagination. I wanted to learn more about this strange corner of Europe and luckily for me, it’s big enough to spend at least a couple of three week holidays.
Choosing between these different countries of which even the names of the major cities don’t ring a bell was hard, yet very inviting. This was going to be travelling off the beaten track.

Packing for an upcoming trip is part of the whole travelling experience, people tend to create huge packing lists and then take lots of time to prepare their bags. Everything has its own place, and every backpacker seems to have an own packing strategy. Seeing all your stuff together should bring you already in some kind of backpacking atmosphere where you feel like your journey has already started.

Well, not me! I hate packing!

Packing is something that happens when I really really don’t have anything else left to do. After I cleaned the kitchen, went shopping, watched some TV, googled my own name, read the newspaper and watched some more TV, I might start to think about packing.

The fasten seat belt light goes on.
"Finally", you think, "after nine hours of flying I'll soon be setting foot on ground in Kingston, the capital of Jamaica". Your legs started to hurt two hours ago, your ass is numb, you're tired and you're about to kill that little crying bastard in front of you. All you can think of is getting out of this damn airplane. The sooner the better.
You take back that travel story you've printed from the net and you read the first sentence again.

"After my flight arrived in Kingston I took a cab to the hotel to freshen up before I went to explore the city".

There are two types of people in this world. Those that can't imagine what someone could possibly like about solo travelling, and those that are constantly bugged by others asking what they like about solo travelling.
I'm kidding of course, there's also a third type which I call the grey zone; people who would like to experience solo travelling, just to know what it's all about. If you're such a type I kindly invite you to read on, because you, dear sir or madam, are my target audience! If you're one of the other types, feel free to stay too, you might learn a thing or two.

The moment my plane landed in Bucharest I fell in love. It didn’t only feel like arriving in another city, but also like I somehow discovered another sense of time. The airport looked old, but not how I’m used to experience “old”. It’s a different kind of old.

Once outside I got a weird feeling. I kind of recognized the smell of the air from somewhere in my childhood. It was so familiar I guess it just smelled like my grandmother.

With this article I will take you on a trip to the confusing world of public transport in Peninsular Malaysia.

It’s an overview of the different ways to travel from one place to another and how we managed to (eventually) always get where we wanted to be.

There are plenty of different public transportation options from which to choose, and each of them has its own challenges, which sometimes have to be learned the hard way.

Skybus