Maaan I’m a bad writer. Not in the sense that what I write is bad – no. What I write is glowing brilliant amazing, fuck you. I’m a bad writer in the sense that I just don’t… do it. I spend my time thinking about writing and getting excited about it, and then I simply do not do any writing. But whatever, I’m here now. Hello.
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Mexico | Conch
The next morning – BIG BREAKFAST – Luuk and Bas were due to leave for Bacalar, a lagoon town in the south. I’d heard that it’s more of a party place than anything, and it was in the wrong direction for my journey. Instead, I reluctantly hugged my jolly Dutch boys goodbye in the hostel, and that afternoon, along with Nienke, Olatz, and a cool New York stoner-screenwriter called Ian, we hired a car and headed out in search of cenotes.
Continue readingMexico | Cursed
Olé!
Do they say ‘Olé!’ In Mexico? I do not know. But that’s my mood. Olé! Vamonos!
Continue readingMexico | Whole Lotta Holbox
Well shit, I’m in Mexico. I’ve been here sixteen days already and not written a jot because every time I tried to write it was rubbish. It’s too cool here to describe conventionally. I love it. Esta muy bien, or whatever. Still working on the Spanish.
Continue readingBosnia | Welcome to Heck
It was a curious jaunt to Sarajevo. After a long day sweating in the hostel garden in Mostar, I set out with my new travel buddy, Jack, and a French guy who I think was called Adrian. We lugged our rucksacks across town in the 42C heat, found our train was delayed by five hours, lugged our rucksacks back to the hostel, melted a bit more, and then in the evening boarded our train. The view from Mostar to Sarajevo is meant be fantastic – big swooping mountains all the way – but the train had tinted windows for some reason, and in the twilight we couldn’t see shit.
Continue readingBosnia | A History Lesson
On my third day in Mostar I decided to head out on a paid tour with Adi, the owner of the hostel I was staying in – it was another recommendation of the Kiwis from Zadar.*
*Kiwis from Zadar would make an excellent album title
Continue readingBosnia | I Wish You Would Step Back From That Ledge My Fr-AAAAAAAAH
I didn’t intend to go to Bosnia. Two Kiwi guys I met in Croatia’s shittest hostel in Zadar – the one with the bees nest in the dorm – told me about a town called Mostar, which they recommended. Mostar was between Split and Dubrovnic, so my initial plan was to pop over into Bosnia and pop back to continue my journey south. Within a couple of hours of arriving in Mostar, I’d decided to alter my trip. Bosnia is a fascinating place.
Continue readingCroatia | Shithouse
I’d wanted to go to Split after Zadar, but due to some techno festival taking place at the weekend, prices were insane. Rather than pay through the schnoz for a bunkbed for one night in Split, I booked a couple of nights in a town a 30-minute drive away; the tiny historical island of Trogir.
Continue readingSlovenia | A Glimpse of Lynx
I woke up in Vienna, worked a little during the day, then lugged my shit across the sweltering city to the train station. From there, in a dehydrated, pink-faced fluster, I boarded the train to Slovenia.
Continue readingAustria | And Dan Said Let There Be Light, And There Bloody Wasnt Any Because He’s A Tit
Vienna is a gorgeous city. It’s so gorgeous, in fact, that it made me feel a little bit queasy.
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