Travel

Last autumn, I had the pleasure of returning to one of my favourite European cities, Berlin. There are many things to love about Berlin: its nightlife, its history, its fashion, and, perhaps one of my favourite reasons for visiting, its street art. I’ve written about how I’m huge fan of street art before, and I think that it can be a beautiful contribution to a city, adding art, politics, culture, and social perspective to otherwise bare walls.

Over the past week, Ziferblat has been all over the news, featured in The Guardian, The Independent, The Evening Standard, The Telegraph, you name it. The first I heard of it was last night over a glass of wine with my friend Isabel; I was lamenting that, while I love getting out of the flat and working in cafes, I didn’t like the fact that I felt pressured to spend money. I’ve been in many a coffeeshop where I have been bombarded by serious side-eyes from the servers until I ordered another latte.

“Why don’t you try the new pay-as-you-go cafe in Shoreditch?” Isabel asked. After doing a bit of research, I set out this afternoon to find it. And, wouldn’t you know it, I’ve walked past it a hundred times; I live no more than a 15 minute walk away.

On our third day in Yangon, my friend Kerri and I decided to join our new friends Uros and Jerome for a ride on the Circle Train. We had all heard that it was a great way to spend a few hours, a great way to see some of the sights of the city for ourselves. I couldn’t wait – to see a country through the window of a train is one of my favourite ways to sightsee. The train is so named because it literally circles the city of Yangon; the whole journey takes approximately three hours, and a train comes every hour.

A couple of months ago, I re-watched the classic comedy Airplane!. I hadn’t seen it in years, but found myself laughing out loud at all of the silly jokes, the ridiculous puns, the over-the-top acting. For those who haven’t seen it (if not, I suggest you do), it depicts the plane ride from hell, one on which nearly everyone, including the pilots, becomes horribly ill. Comedy, and near disaster, ensues.

It got me thinking of all the times I’ve experienced something awful on an airplane. Put people in a confined space for hours on end and something weird is bound to happen. Add to that travel stress, uncomfortable seats, terrible food*, and, for some, a fear of flying, and you have a recipe for trouble.

Photos of one of my favourite cities in the world. And how could it not be one of my favourites, with bangers and mash, graffiti proposals, and snow globes the size of a house?

It was March in Varanasi, and I had arrived as part of a three-week tour around India. I hesitated signing up for it all those months ago, when I was still mapping the route I’d take through Southeast and South Asia, an eight-month adventure that I’d thought of for years. I had never taken a tour of any kind, and I envisioned a bus full of khaki-wearing, sunburnt tourists, the kind who refused to eat street food or use a public toilet. As a solo traveller, I finally decided it would be easier and safer to travel with a group, even if it meant our days were sometimes planned down to the hour.