WAKE UPPPPPPP!!!!!

Nothing says travelling to me more than the russell of a plastic bag and the zipping of a zip.
You might know this story?
It's 6 am in the morning and you hear that fantastic alarm you didn't set- the brisk movement of panicked plastic,
the smell hits you- 10 conjoined stale beer breaths, maybe a redwine one thrown into the mix
it's that wonderful reminder that you're surrounded by 9 snoring, coughing, unkempt backpackers that make more noise in the morning than a group of megaphone wielding roosters.
As you click your mouth back fluid the sound of the bags gets stronger. What the hell is in these small crisp packets? And how many are there, or is it just a weird vortex of echoing at that time of the morning that makes it sound like there are a hundred and fifty crinkled costume covers?
There are definitely a myriad of different types, thick almost thunder sounding ones, thin ones that sound like someone bought cellophane and has decided to wrap and order their laundry into colours of the rainbow depending on cleanliness and the all important snap lock ones, slowly trying to squeeze out the last bit of air, as someone rolls over in a half silent protest to the racket.
Oblivious to the situation the zips begin,
DJ Backpacker lets leash to a fired up crowd of 9,
mixing up a storm with samples from
'Clips' and 'Pulling Straps'
the audience is silent in awe.
One brave member lets out an, over the top almost stage like cough, to alert the musical genius of their consciousness.
No change, the creative artist is so entranced by their own brilliance they continue till the last zip and clip.
Confidently the DJ stomps an encore, checking the room for anything they've left behind, and finishes with a bang, of the door closing behind them.
Silence falls again,
short lived,
as the harmonious sound of 8 snorers slowly comes back, to make sure you never have to sleep again...

So thanks plastic bags!
Without you I wouldn't be able to
keep my soap away from my toothbrush,
my dirty socks away from my clean ones or
pull a crowd for my melodious talent.

The Stolen Bag

Don't even disillusion yourself, your bag will get stolen if you're traveling for a while. Luckily I knew this even before I started traveling but it doesn't stop the sting when it happens right under your nose.
I've had a million conversations of why cant they just leave my journal and my memory card or the umbrella or the ID these things (I assume) are useless to a thief. That said a rained on thief is not a happy thief so maybe they could use the umbrella.
Then there's the hassle of spending a full day in a beautiful city running all over it looking for the cop shop, explaining what happened (in my case a one litre glass of beer distracted me with its beauty as my bag grew legs under the table and ran away with someone that promised it a better life than I was giving it).
Then the fun of explaining the same story to the insurance company from an expensive payphone and believe me they're teamed up with the masked ninja like bag transporters. 'Receipts' is their favourite word I think I heard them say it so many times it started to not sound like a real word, in fact at one stage i got so distracted by the hypnotism of the repetitive word I missed what the woman was saying.
The only plus side to the saga is being able to go out and buy new things (that's if you kept a backup credit card in your other bag, a good tip), a really big novelty to a poor backpacker you feel like a misplaced grubby handed unkempt kid in a giant candy store with no money.
Put simply don't get distracted by beautiful things, but if you do look at the bright side they'll have to deal with your budget camera that the batteries die in 15minutes if you dont caress the side of it properly, the story in your journal about 'that time in that hostel', and the screw falls out of the left arm of your scratched Raybans every 3days if you don't tighten it. So if I saw the sneaky, arrogant feline-mongoose, I would laugh and say 'Good luck'

Curse of the Limpit-

Ok so I’m travelling by myself and I wanted to, it’s a great way to do what you want to do when you want to do it, meet people you wouldn’t if you’re in a couple, a group or with friends, and find out what you’re like as a lone entity in the world. That doesn’t stop me hanging out with people or changing my plans and going places with other people.
But here’s the thing, the person that doesn’t know the unspoken etiquette of travelling with others ‘Don’t follow other travellers, travel together’, simple right? It’s basic and clear cut. But some people either don’t know this etiquette or they’re a bit scared of being alone that they attach themselves to groups or people for I assume reassurance or culture-shock-safety.
I met this person, they seemed reasonably nice at the pub, and as the conversation progressed it turned out we were both leaving the same day on a train going to the same city and happened to be staying at the same place. But, this also happened to be someone I wouldn’t usually hang out with. I’m pretty relaxed about hanging out with all sorts of people so it didn’t really phase me at the start.
Then it started to phase me. I was in an awesome city going to see the things I wanted to see and they just followed me everywhere, didn’t make any of their own decisions and didn’t want to do anything on their own. At more than one occasion I said things along the lines of “ I’m going to go do this now maybe I’ll catch up with you later” to which they replied “Oh I’ll just come with you”. I know I should've been blunt and just been honest and told them where to go, but they were fragile and seemed lost and I just didn't have the heart.
I decided after two days of this (not the worst two days in my life, I was still doing my own thing just with a sheep following me, ironic as I’m Kiwi) I’d had enough. And with my cunning I figured out just the method of loosening the grip; Indiana Jones used this technique, the slight of hand replacing one weight with an equally measured weight.
I met an Australian couple,
Introduced the two parties,
and sat there saying nothing until they figured out something that the three of them would do together,
which I unfortunately couldn’t attend, due to “prior arrangements”.

Reading the language- Washing

Washing, an integral part of living out of a back pack and a precious commodity in the middle of summer therefore a super expensive necessity at any hostel or camping ground. Most places charge around 10euros to wash and dry about 5 kilos.
My idea, simple yet brilliant, save myself money by first of all throwing out dirty clothes and wearing clean ones until I could fit my newly bought tent in my bag. Secondly by going to the super market and buy concentrated Greek laundry detergent, (I can tell from the pictures on the side and the size of the bottle that you only have to use a little bit, good for travelling with I thought) and washing the clothes I’d been wearing for the day in the shower, or in the sink, just before I go to sleep. I hang them up and by the morning like magic they’re dry and smell like flowers (literally it’s kind of weird). I do this trick with all my clothes as I travel the next 4weeks. It’s not till I get to my Aunt and Uncles place to use a proper washing machine (which the clothes really needed, hand washing doesn’t seem to work as well as machines), that my uncle, being able to read the Dutch on the side, informs me that my money saving, energy efficient substitute was actually fabric softener.

Scooters- Italy

Scooters... Ah Scooters, I grew fond of scooters after I was house sitting for a friend of mine and was given the opportunity to use his car, shortly after the first drive I blew one of the hoses and the car was no longer an option. He had a scooter, I used it to travel an hour in the winter to and from work, raining and dark. They're a lot of fun and are constantly on 'Full-Tit' mode, even with head down, tail winds and down hill they reach a max of 60kmph. You look like an idiot driving them in Australia or NZ.
But in Italy, wow, only the coolest of cool kids drive, and when I say drive man can they drive them! I've seen:
Wheelings and dealings,
Overtaking buses on hairpin blind corners (practically 1 lane anyway)
I've seen ones with two wheels on the front,
Ones with a small cab and a ute flat deck on the back (I like to call them a Scooter+ute = Scute) which has one wheel at the front and two at the back to hold up the deck
I've been on one with two other people holding onto the plastic at the back bouncing on cobble stone streets to a pizzaria
I've seen families of four on them, kid stands in the front dad holds onto kid and steers, mum's on the back holding onto second kid in front of her.
I've seen the second person on the scooter reading a full sized news paper
I've seen the second person on the scooter holding on to a baby
I've seen the first person holding a frappè and smoking
No one wears helmets
Everyone toots and raises arms at each other

But my hat is tipped, whenever I see them outside a cafè leaning up against their vespas with a cigarette hanging out their mouth.
They deserve it, they may not live till they're 30 but their antics and skill on a 50cc beast is amazing to all that are able to catch a glimpse of them fly by

The Shower Battle

I imagine this happens in hostels but from my experience it happens mostly in camping grounds:

One person gets in a shower.
Another person gets into the shower cubical next to them.
Showers go on,
Battle begins.
The struggle between hot and cold, good and evil wages.
The burning, the freezing the half second of pure brilliance!
There is no exact middle point where both parties can experience pure shower nirvana or 'Show-Vana' because of the underlying inner struggle, or,
'Selftunerability'; The inability to find ones equilibrium of Show-Vana on their own.
This battle one can wage without an opposing force.
The distance between fire and ice is less than 1, 10th of a millimeter.
Often coupled with 'Single-Fire Nozzlesyndrome'; when it doesn't Rain as such but more Firehoses you to a state of Clean. Or the beloved Side or even Backward 'Singlefinespray' ; just so fine that you don't notice it but just enough so that it soaks both your clothes and your towel by the time you need them.

A good way to start the trip, but at least you know now why us travellers get the name "dirty backpackers"

The start

Ok, so I guess I should introduce this:

I'm a kiwi travelling around Europe (for the moment), by myself. Something pretty much every kiwi does usually between High school and University or between University and finding a 'real job'. I did neither of these things.
I started working straight after High school, drank lots (like my friends who were at Uni were doing) spent every small dollar I earned. I eventually saved enough to get a flight over to Australia and earn some proper money and after spending 3 years there surfing, working and enjoying getting paid almost twice the wage (and spending twice the wage) I saved up enough money to do something I've always wanted to do. Travel Europe alone, to grow, learn and find out for myself what the rest of the world has that NZ doesn't. So these are my view on things as I see them or experience them I hope you enjoy.