[Description: Travel - Solo - Europe - Culture]

Italy came next, after a 24 hour train ride that passed through France (the French store clerks were not the friendliest bunch). Arriving in Rome, I immediately sought out the nearest hostel, and found a nice one relatively near to the train station, the Hostel Alessandro. This was definitely the most enjoyable part of my journey. Cheap food, amazing sights and good company. I met four Americans and spent a good bit of time exploring Rome with them. While staying at the hostel, I learned how to cook pasta and make homemade sauces, a cheap, but delicious, food source.

Rome is an amazing destination. It is something of an, overall, theatrical city. All around the Colosseum and Vatican, tour guides, peddlers and actors vie for your attention, hoping to make a tip; most, it would seem, do good job of it. From middle aged men dressed as gladiators outside the Colosseum, to people of unknown age and sex wandering the ruins of the Roman Forums dressed as decrepit, hunch-backed lepers, the city is a vibrant, active place. Traveling the city on foot during the day is an enjoyable, if tiring, experience.

The night life, however, leaves something to be desired. Most bars don't have an active crowd, and the main way for youth to go is joining pub crawls. Of course, the best thing I came away from a pub crawl with was a shirt (the most expensive free shirt I've ever payed for), but it was a chance to meet people and intoxicate myself without feeling too stupid.

A week passed much too fast in Rome, but my feet grew restless and my friends were beginning to drift away, travelling to other cities and places. I felt drawn to visit an Island in the Mediterranean, and so took a trip to Sardinia, a middle sized island off the western coast of Italy.

Sardinia is very much a place not accustomed to tourists. Very few spoke English (and yes, I realize I should have known a bit of Italian, but my linguistic skills are terrible and I wasn't sure where I would be in Europe when I left). Suffice it to say, stuck alone on an island where you have difficulty conversing with the locals is an experience in and of itself. I decided, despite my linguistic predicament, that I would travel the island for four days, making a loop back to the port by my fourth day. Unfortunately, I didn't find a beach until the third day, and by then my money was running low. Granted, the island was beautiful, and the culture unique, but it was not the most enjoyable experience.

Two days later found me on a train to Switzerland, where I planned to stay a day until realizing my funds couldn't handle it. On a positive note, however, I contacted one of the Swiss girls I met back in Ireland (Angie) beforehand, and she met me at the train station in Zurich. It was a fun reunion, and it being August 1st, we celebrated Switzerland's Independence Day by downing a beer. She also introduced me to one of the best sausage sandwich I've ever had. I wish I could have stayed longer. One interesting fact of note, however, is that there were many Neo-Natzis at the train station, drinking and celebrating the day. Don't ask, because I don't know.

My last two days were spent in Amsterdam and London, respectively. In Amsterdam, I bought two bottles of Absinth, and in London, I finally found a decent hostel that only cost $20 U.S. Before long, I was headed back home, flying from London, to Iceland, and back to BWI. A great trip overall.

On a post-note, my bags were left in Iceland on my way back. They were returned to me, but the two bottles of Absinth were missing. Alas, such is the problem with stupid laws and customs in the States.

(Above picture courtesy of Rachel Martin)

[Description: Travel - Europe - Solo - Culture]

July - August of 2006, I experienced my first true backpacking on a budget journey. I still had backup from home, but I took a much greater seat in setting up my transportation and time abroad. After working the previous 2 months as a line cook at a local bar, I took the money I had saved and (through the benefits I gain from my mother, who is now a flight attendant) bought a round trip ticket to Heathrow Airport in London (cost: $150, great benefits, no?). With the funds my parents loaned/gave to me, my total spending came to approximately $2000 over a period of two and a half weeks. Not too bad for my second time backpacking solo.

The first hardship I went through here came before I was through customs. Apparently, to enter any country, one needs to have some type of plan and place to stay set up. Even if you don't, tell the customs agent that you do - it will make the experience much less painful. Because I could not produce a place I would be staying, the interview took half an hour before they would stamp my passport and let me through.

My initial experience in England was not a pleasant one, either. The hostel I had to stay at cost twenty British pounds; equivalent to fifty U.S. To put this in perspective, most hostels cost approx. fifteen to twenty U.S. The hostel itself was four to a room, three flights up, and in a hard to find backstreet off of Piccadilly Circus. Not a bad hostel, just expensive.

Perhaps my choice of initial destinations was a bit unplanned, because it became quickly apparent that everything in London cost twice as much as most places in the U.S., much like New York. I will never fly into London again unless I have accommodations set up beforehand (in fact, I would suggest never going anywhere without accommodations set up beforehand). Aside from prices and the inability to find an Internet cafe, London was a decent city. Old and new clashed at various points, and the many old structures and fortifications gave it an old world feel at times. I spent two days here, enough time to get my feet on the ground, before jumping on a train and heading to Amsterdam; I had to get away from the high prices.

One day later, after a peaceful crossing of the British Channel, found me in Amsterdam. The Netherlands themselves are a boggy place, but this city has to be one of the most lively and (seemingly) lawless I've yet to visit. Mind you, it's not lawless, but the laws are much more lenient than in the U.S. The smell of burning cannabis wafted out of a plethora of coffee shops, various squares promoted a lively night-life, and the red light district spoke to a multitude of fetishes. The Banana Bar (in the red light district) was one of the more famous places, and I doubt I need explain what went on there. Weed was cheap, shrooms were legal, and I spent a good four days enjoying myself. The hostel cost the usual twenty U.S., and was near enough to the bars and coffee shops that the price was well worth it.

Amsterdam is where I had my first experience with shrooms. Not a bad experience, not particularly good while alone, so long as one is in a good states of mind, everything tends to go smoothly. Aside from this, I can't help but feel that the government regulation of these aspects is a brilliant idea. Everything is relatively safe, and one need not fear bad or laced drugs. The women of the red light district get tested every week for STDs and health risks.

Oddly enough, though the dutch culture of the Netherlands remains in souvenir shops, Amsterdam is more a melting pot than anything traditional. Most restaurants promoted other cultures, such as the (delicious and cheap) "Wok and Walks" scattered around the city. The Netherlands culture is that of a free society where expression and ideas are encouraged, while maintaining a laid back feel. Ghel, as they say (my spelling could be off).

(Rome, Sardinia and Zurich) To be continued...

[Description: Travel - Caribbean - Family - Vacation]

Christmas of 2005, my father decided we needed a vacation; so, as my present, he bought use roudtrip tickets to St. Maartens island and an all inclusive pass at one of the many resorts. The one downside was that it was on the french side of the island.

I say this because, for the week we were there, going outside the resort's grounds (on the french side) was annoying at best. On the other hand, the dutch side of the island was much more friendly. It held a better atmosphere overall.

It wasn't really a story filled trip. I kept myself partially intoxicated at the resort's bar (included in the all-inclusive deal) and made a fool of myself at Karaoke. Not a very eventful trip, but part of my experience in travel, nonetheless.

[Definition: Travel - Ireland - Solo - Culture]

I've felt a calling to travel to Ireland since early childhood, and always expressed as much to my parents. We didn't do a whole lot of traveling, and by the time I reached the end of High School, my parents were divorced. So, much to my surprise, my father bought me a round trip ticket to Ireland as a graduation present, and my mother gave me funds for the travel therein. A great gift, to say the least.

June 29th, 2005, I arrived on the southwest coast of Ireland in Shannon Airport. Little did I know, at the time, that most of my trip would take place on this southwestern portion. I came with $1,500 for two weeks, and I was alone. Suffice it to say, the journey gave me a good bit of life experience. My first day and night in Ireland were spent resting in Limerick, a short bus ride from the airport. After sleeping off 18 hours of jet lag, I was up and ready for business.

My journey took me from Limerick, to Tralee, to the Dingle Peninsula. I have to say, Dingle was one of the better places in Ireland; a secluded little peninsula with a mountainous interior. In fact, I climbed one of the mountains, and as soon as I reached the top a storm blew in. Talk about cold. After Dingle, I traveled north, passing the Cliffs of Moher (an amazing sight, one definitely not to be missed) and arriving in Galway on July 7th.

Galway is amazing. It is one of my favorite places on Earth thus far - the variance in cultures, the easy going atmosphere and the never-ending nightlife. It's not too expensive, either. I went clubbing with two amazing ladies from Switzerland, downed Guinness with locals, talked politics with Kiwis (New Zealand natives), and danced to a group of buskers playing what I would guess was Czechoslovakian music. Street vendors roamed the section of road blocked off every night at 1800hr, and locals started bar songs in almost every pub. In one pub, I was even allowed to experience the amazing power of one man's flatulent clearing out the place in 10 seconds. I will return to Galway if it is the last thing I do.

My heart begged to see more, though, and it was off to the Aran Islands. These islands are truly astonishing; rugged and sparsely populated, it would be safe to say that everyone knows each other here. With a rocky coast on the eastern side, and sheer cliffs on the west, it contains many beautiful sights. By far, the hostel I stayed in here was the most friendly. While there, I even learned how to weave hemp - an American was working there while traveling, and decided to show me how one rainy day when there was nothing better to do.

Alas, all things must end, and so too did this. After a great two weeks, I returned to Shannon Airport and flew home. I had spent a total of $2,000 (requiring some transferred funds from my parents) and was able to learn from my mistakes, of which there were many. The experience gained here would come in handy on travels to come, though one never really stops learning when traveling on a budget.

[Definition: Travel - El Salvador - Group - Missionary]

For a first experience outside the comforts of my own country, this was a pretty important one, and somewhat life changing. Mind you, not "fall to my knees and have a revelation" life changing, but it had an impact, none-the-less.

During my senior year of high school, my mother began taking a major interest in travel. She had always had it - she lived in Europe in her early twenties despite being born in America. I'm guessing I got my wanderlust from her. Now a nurse, she learned from a friend in the hospital about a church that sends missionaries to a church-funded orphanage in El Salvador. Partaking in this experience wasn't exactly cheap, but it was the perfect opportunity to get out and see a bit of the world.

During the first full week of February in 2005, my mother, the other missionaries and I flew to El Salvador and, suffice it to say, 'earned our room and board' on the orphanage. It was fun, and somewhat hard - I took part in renovating an old gymnasium which took the better part of four days. The temperature was a constant 35-40 Celsius, with little humidity; it was easy to dehydrate and not realize it. However, the benefits far outweighed the difficulties. The children were ecstatic to have us there, and we were welcomed with open arms. I visited the nearby school, and was able to sit in on classes for the entire day. It gave me a new view of the world, and how good I had it. It also showed me that I could survive without common comforts.

The orphanage was a decent size, surrounded by razor wire fence and guarded by armed soldiers - people occasionally attempted to sneak in and steal food despite these precautions. It never came to blows though, and no one was too worried. While there, I made friends with many of the young El Salvadorians; however, I haven't been able to keep in contact with them, something I greatly regret. Language barriers were always a concern, but we usually found a way around them.

The entire experience was a good one, especially for it being my first. I had always had the desire to see new countries, but now I had a basis for future travels. Leaving was difficult, and I hope to return someday, but life goes on and new journeys await.