katiesfootprints: Europe

Oktoberfest was as amazing as always. My great friends and current flatmates - Beatsy, Cave and Lynchey flew over from London to see the final weekend of my travels out with me. On Saturday morning after finding our spot inside one of the best German tents (rather than the frequented tourist tents) we were disappointed to be told that we would need to move in an hour as the table had been reserved. Too late it was for us to stake a claim on another part of any other table so out of the entire biergarten we were. We decided it might be a good idea to go into a beer hall in the centre of town and return later on that evening. We never quite made it that far. Cue: finding a pub five minutes walk away and spending the next 12 hours there on a Welsh stag party complete with a particularly nasty cactus plant that two weeks on we are all still digging the little pricks out of ourselves from. The next morning was a definite struggle to get out of bed, there was only one reason we got up and on our way that morning, thanks Lynchey, otherwise we may never have moved. We took our place in the line in the rain for an hour before finally being let into Hacker tent, promising each other that we'll just be there for a couple of hours, "we've come all this way, we have to actually spend some decent time in a beer hall", before we can go home. Again, twelve hours later, countless amounts of steins, two giant pork knuckles shared between us, hoarse voices, and hair and makeup that had certainly seen better days, you would be forgiven for thinking we were actually German as, dressed up in our dirndls, we danced on benches and sang to the oompah bands just like the Bavarians do (disclaimer: maybe not "just like"). Over all too quickly as usual, we hauled ourselves to the airport and boarded our plane that looked like it had been privately chartered to bring back runaways from an NZ and Oz AA meeting. There were more Country Road bags on this flight than would be left back in Oz and the struggled chatter of strangers swapping entertaining stories filled the air before everybody fell into a slumber for the next two hours. As just one tiny little speck arriving on Friday afternoon amongst the six million others who come to Oktoberfest during the sixteen days that it is on each year I vowed this would be my last. It won't be.

Now, with my feet firmly planted back on the ground in London like they never left I've had a bit of time to reflect on the past three months. What an amazing trip - if you've been following these European blogs you've now read over 16,000 words of my drivel - here's another thousand or so, I promise this will be the last for a while.

Since leaving NZ in July I've touched down in 25 countries - none of which I would never go back to, most of which I would go back to in a heart beat, and some of which I have begun planning trips back to already. This world is such a huge place and most of us don't even come close to scratching the surface of it. I knew when I started out that I would be traveling fast and wasn't going to have enough time but even I had no idea that for the majority of the places I went I wouldn't want to leave. I've been completely overwhelmed by how much there is to see and do everywhere that I've had to realise that no matter how long I spend in a place there will always be more to discover and I will never get to it all, try as I might.

I can't quite put my finger on what it is that makes me want to keep on traveling - its certainly not the meagre supply of clothing for months on end, strictly adhering to a budget, or constantly looking like I hadn't been to bed (which may or may not be due to the fact that frequently I hadn't, at least not for very long). (And I do realise this was all my own choice, of course.)

So what is it, the food? the sights? the local people? the general been there done that? nightlife? meeting fellow travelers? sharing and talking about travels? trying new things? seeing things in the flesh that you have heard so much about? recognising places you have been when you see them post-travel? The list goes on. I think it's a little bit of everything all rolled into one - but most of all being prepared to get out of your comfort zone and getting used to the constant feeling of helplessness when you first arrive somewhere and have no idea what you are doing to experience all of this to begin with. As much as it evokes fear in me, I love the feeling of stepping into the unknown of a completely new place for the first time; and then the feeling of familiarity and of being a part of something that comes with finding your way around, spending time, and getting to know that same place even for just a brief time. I love discovering the delights that are off the beaten track as well as visiting everything quintessentially touristy and then unwinding with gorgeous views, brews and barbeques at the end of each day with new friends and new memories.

I try always to take time out. To ask questions. Get lost. Eat every new food put in front of me (it still amazes me the people who travel so far and don't even attempt the food, apologies if this is you - but you should change). People watch. Listen to the other languages being spoken around me. Learn those languages - even just a little bit, it's amazing how far a smile, some hand signals and just one word will go.

Traveling you learn that one of the greatest pleasures of life is actually having clean laundry (and that in itself is a first world problem) - but also that the mythical in-your-bag-and-out-again-a-few-days-later washing machine isn't a myth at all. Though those around you might not agree.

I've found that the cheapest hostels are the best ones that will always go the extra distance - they have the friendliest people managing them, they take time out to tell you about their city and to show you around, the place is smaller and more intimate, your bed is made, you get a towel, the best breakfasts and quite often they chuck dinner and drinks on that too. All for 12 euro a night. Get to the bigger ones though and they'll take your 25 euro, your rooms on the third floor, breakfast is cereal and is an extra three euro, bring your sheets down when you check out, oh and here's you map.

I've traded in dina and euro and floren and kuna, krone and lita and lats and zloty, leke and mark and lev and leu, with a sprinkling of pounds and lots of different dollars; but at the end of the day it doesn't matter in what form it was spent, there's none of it left now. Swapping currencies every few days makes it a nightmare for budgeting though. An art I'm becoming very skilled at.

I will staunchly hold onto the fact that I wear jandals and not thongs or flip-flops (until they break at the supermarket three kilometres away from home and then they are something else that I can't write here).

My number one travel essential is my big scarf - a sarong when you don't have one, a scarf when you actually need one, a blanket for those overnight buses, and a skirt when you inadvertently step into a puddle of mud up to your waist at the beginning of the day.

And now that I've used the word amazing far too much for one blog I should probably sign off and get back to this temporary job I have for just one week... If anyone knows of anything permanent, I'm in the London market, available immediately!

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