Travel Days

A day of travel, most feel the same.


Blurry starts as the sun rises. Skipping breakfast for extra sleep, relying on showers and packing the night before to get you on the waiting minibus in a punctual, if not civilised, manner.

Train tickets, phone battery levels and passport location checked and double checked. 

Deciding if engaging in conversation is best avoided or embraced being mindful of appropriate volume and tone. Sometimes silence is best.

So many annonomous drivers with few words and poor packing skills. Large bags should always be given priority.

Ticket inspectors, airport security and the triangulated formation of the French army pretending to be carrying out vital security work.

Frantic scrambles up flights of stairs heaving overloaded bags, forming groups of bags, functioning as a temporary fort so scouts can make trips for provisions before we once again board a train and consume baguettes.

Window views worth looking at. Smells worth avoiding.

Constant emptying and refilling of bags, pockets and stomachs.

Unwanted adrenaline rushes from delayed trains, missed buses and forgotten bags.

Finally arriving to utterly forgettable hotel receptions, passport out, key card, wifi password & lobby sweet.

E-mail catchup, half-unpack, dinner. 

Split the bill. Tip.

Internet, catchup with loved ones, read.

Bed.

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