Kango Suz Travels

I get of the train from Stratford on Avon and emerged into the dreary drizzle of late afternoon Bath. The week I had already spent on the British Island had left my Southern California native self feeling rather drenched. Back home we were in a drought year, having only received about 3 inches of rain in the previous 18 months. I was used to sunshine and warm weather and, being in a particularly bad mood after not being able to find anything to eat for breakfast on a Sunday morning in Stratford, I was well on my way to miserable.
After a week of solo travel and adventuring, I am getting lonely. I had heard and read tales of people making all sorts of friends on trains and in hostels and having a grand time. While I’m a friendly person, I’m not by nature an outgoing person when alone, and so I’d spent the last week traveling mostly in silence from the lack of conversation partners.
Glaring up into the sky, I growl under my breath at the drizzle and reached into the side pocket of my backpack to retrieve my umbrella. It wasn’t doing so well by this point; being from California too, it wasn’t used to this much rain any more than I was. I managed to wrest it free of the handy side pocket and open it up. After a few moments of struggling I get it open, with only one broken side dripping rain onto my pack. By now the drizzle has turned to full-fledged rain and I am ready to get to the hostel. I figure out which street I need to go to, turn towards it and am hit by a gust of wind.
My umbrella is lifted up from my hand, but I manage to keep a hold on it so that it doesn’t go bouncing down the street. This is however too much for my poor Californian rain gear. The gust of wind pulls at the ribs of the umbrella and in a Hollywood style umbrella death it flips compleately inside out.
Standing there, rain dripping down my hair and into my collar, I stare at my upturned umbrella. The poor thing, it tried it’s best. I start to laugh. I’ve been avoiding the rain like I was allergic to water. Stuffing the remains of my umbrella in a nearby trash can I vow to stop avoiding things that are unusual or uncomfortable to me and to start experiencing my trip. Pulling up my hood, I walk off in search of the hostel and some fun.

The first time I traveled abroad I wanted ‘adventure’ and ’spontaneity’ in my travel plans. So I didn’t plan my route ahead of time and I didn’t make reservations at the hostels I was planning on staying in. I figured that I would decide the day before where I was going to go and then call to reserve a bed for the following night. My first 3 and last 3 days were going to be spent with my Grandmother at my Aunt’s house in Bradford so I would have some time on the ground to get acclimated before setting out.

It seemed like a good plan at the time, little did I know what would happen… [read on]

I don’t quite remember when I got the travel bug, but I think it was the first time I flew in an aeroplane. My mom, dad, dog and I flew from Monterey, CA. We went to see my sister, Jodi, graduate from High School. For some reason this was a really big deal, requiring my first plane trip ever, and lots of time sitting on the Carmel High football field. Then all the adults went to dinner or something and I got to play with Jodi and Chip’s other sisters.

I remember it was very strange to be playing with these girls, about my age, who were sisters to my brother and sister but not sisters to me. Obviously, they were from Jodi and Chip’s father’s second marriage, but the concept was never the less strange.

Other than that, what I remember about the trip was taking out dog, Penny, to Carmel by the Sea where we walked around and admired all the cute little shops and restaurants that I was informed were ‘too expensive’ for me to go into. That’s probably true, in retrospect. I’ve been back to Carmel By The Sea several times since then and I now love the restaurants and shops which are actually reasonably priced. But when I was 7 I was very accident prone and would not have been able to keep my hands of some of the beautiful artwork and glass work that is so common in these shops.

Ever since then I’ve had an insatiable desire to travel. My husband got sick of me always asking “Can we go there?” and finally said “We can go anywhere so long as you figure out how to pay for it.” So I started writing about travel to pay the bills and feed my soul… Stay tuned for even more fun stories.