We hit our late twenties.
We panic.
We may quit our jobs
We may have been made redundant.
We may break up with long term partners.
We may get dumped.
We are all now free.
We move out, leave our personal stuff with the folks, and all that extra furniture with the flatmates.
We buy the latest (and best) XLR cameras and the most compact notebooks (with built-in wifi of course.)
We jump online; check for the cheapest flights, the best deals, the most enticing round-the-world trips.
We have no definite route, but look at which countries are the cheapest, guessing we'll probably end our journeys there.
We stock up on gastrolyte, immodium, and panadol; we buy a stack of anti-malarial tablets knowing we'll stop taking them halfway through the trip - too lazy to keep up the nightly ritual of pill-popping.
We say goodbye to loved ones and promise them we'll take care of ourselves. (As if!)
We are gone for 5, 9, 12 months.
We take plenty of photos, censor them, upload them and make sure all our friends are sufficiently envious.
We tag other travellers in the more embarrassing photos so that we are not alone when everyone starts leaving comments on the pics.
But then our cash starts to run dry.
We finally arrive in those cheaper countries.
Our accommodation gets more budget.
Our drinking gets more moderated.
We prowl through the 'Lonely Planet' more carefully, hunting for those temples that have free entry.
We stroll the streets looking for the travel companies that have the best day tours - and then try to replicate them ourselves.
We are left with no choice.
We return home.
Fuck
We panic.
We may quit our jobs
We may have been made redundant.
We may break up with long term partners.
We may get dumped.
We are all now free.
We move out, leave our personal stuff with the folks, and all that extra furniture with the flatmates.
We buy the latest (and best) XLR cameras and the most compact notebooks (with built-in wifi of course.)
We jump online; check for the cheapest flights, the best deals, the most enticing round-the-world trips.
We have no definite route, but look at which countries are the cheapest, guessing we'll probably end our journeys there.
We stock up on gastrolyte, immodium, and panadol; we buy a stack of anti-malarial tablets knowing we'll stop taking them halfway through the trip - too lazy to keep up the nightly ritual of pill-popping.
We say goodbye to loved ones and promise them we'll take care of ourselves. (As if!)
We are gone for 5, 9, 12 months.
We jump on facebook when we can, update our status (so people know we're still alive), our location (in the hope someone will tell our family that we've arrived) and add fellow-travellers as 'friends'.
We take plenty of photos, censor them, upload them and make sure all our friends are sufficiently envious.
We tag other travellers in the more embarrassing photos so that we are not alone when everyone starts leaving comments on the pics.
But then our cash starts to run dry.
We finally arrive in those cheaper countries.
Our accommodation gets more budget.
Our drinking gets more moderated.
We prowl through the 'Lonely Planet' more carefully, hunting for those temples that have free entry.
We stroll the streets looking for the travel companies that have the best day tours - and then try to replicate them ourselves.
And so it goes;
Our visas expire.
Our passports soon run out of pages.
We return home.
Fuck
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