*This post originally appeared in my diary. Yes, old school pen and paper. But I came across it the other day while searching for something. I thought it would be a good way to start a chat about your upcoming trips*
Taking down my rucksack from the top of my wardrobe and dusting it off, I looked at it and gulped. I was packing for a month-long trip to Spain and was still a little indecisive. Technically this would be my first solo trip. Solo as in without a companion, or knowing anyone at the other end.
I’d just got back from a week-long girls holiday come hen party and only had a 24 hour turnaround to wash, dry, iron and pack. The was no time to procrastinate.
So far, so unexciting. Said goodbye to my Dad at John Lennon airport and shouldered my pack. There was a distinct spring in my step. Seeing myself in the reflective glass of the terminal, I looked like a *real* traveller. Looking around me at the check-in queue, something was amiss. Children in sun hats and animal shaped bags, surly teens attached to their phones, frazzled-looking parents, couples with identical grins – and luggage. Then me. I was the only one with a rucksack. Was I the only person ‘going travelling’ in Liverpool? In the world?
I’d never been to Madrid, I had no idea how to get from the airport to the city centre, in fact, I had no idea how to get to where I was staying. Umm, I’m not the most organised person.
Does that matter? I wasn’t in a rush, had nobody else to take in to account. I could take as long as I wanted to find my place, hey, I could even have a few gin stops on the way.
I guess my point is this: I didn’t really have time to have a last minute panic. That’s probably a good thing. How did you feel heading off on your first solo trip? Or are you due to go away but suffering last minute wobbles?
I’d love to hear from you!