A beautiful mural depicting social change versus a random tag on a random brick wall – how do we approve one, but disregard the other? The line seems to be drawn somewhere between construction and destruction; the work must take on some form of cultural significance, or, well, at least just look good.
"london"
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There’s been a foreboding sense to this summer – I’ve known all along that, eventually, I’d be packing up and moving my life to London for an indefinite period of time. This isn’t a surprise; I’ve been talking about it since spring. And yet I’m the type of person who, instead of taking my time packing and organizing and planning, will leave everything until the very end. I leave in four days, and yet I still feel as though there’s a lot to do. That’s the way it always goes, though, isn’t it? There’s a lot to do and we stress out and then it’s just done.
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There are very few people I like to travel with for extended periods of time. Sure, most people can get along for a few days or so, but when it comes to the big adventures, the long journeys, you want someone on your side whom you can trust, someone who understands you, someone who shares your values and your interests. Then who better to travel with than your mum?
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Despite writing online about my travels for eight years now, I’m relatively new to the travel blogging community and the subsequent social media. Since signing up for Twitter and Facebook in the past year, I’ve come across a lot of fellow travellers, and I’ve read a lot of biographies. One line that pops up a lot? “I’m a twenty-something traveller.” Recently, when reading another Twitter bio with the same line, I had a sudden thought: I’m not going to be a twenty-something traveller for much longer. I turn 30 next spring.
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In 2006, my hand luggage consisted of little more than the travel necessities (wallet and passport), one tiny digital camera, one book, and my journal and pens. Last year, through Central and South America, my hand luggage contained three cameras, one laptop, one hard drive, one smart phone, one Kindle, oh yeah, and my journal and pens. Guess which one got the least amount of use?
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“I don’t know,” he mused one night over Skype. “I mean, I want to travel, but I’m so comfortable here. It’s so easy. Maybe I like this routine.”
I was talking to a friend of mine who has been planning a backpacking trip to South America, apparently setting out later on this year. All of a sudden, he came up with a barrage of excuses for why he shouldn’t, couldn’t, simply can’t travel.
And you know what I said to him?
“Bullshit.”