We’ve all got our reasons for throwing a backpack over our shoulders and taking off travelling right? … Right?
The first time I went backpacking, I was the ripe old age of 26. I was working as a designer for a small advertising agency and I had just broken up with my boyfriend of 4 and a bit years. I was tired of my job and quite down in the dumps because of the breakup … to be perfectly honest, I was devastated over the breakup. And … AND to top it all off, my friends were getting married to fantastic guys and popping out beautiful babies! I felt like a right loser.
Cue perfect timing …
My American mate Paul was graduating from university in the States and called me at work one day inviting me to attend his graduation. I’m pretty sure he hadn’t finished his sentence when I blurted out an ecstatic ‘yes!’. That afternoon my letter of resignation was nestled nicely in my boss’s hands, and a month later I was on my way overseas.
I ended up being away for 1 1/2 years. Having travelled quite a bit through America, Canada and Europe, I had planned to keep travelling and make my way to Asia; but having experienced a nice soft bed in Italy for the fist time in months, my backpacking days were decidedly over.
And as usual, you promise your new hostel and pub buddies you’ll be back to visit in a year or so but that never eventuates because you find a great job that you like, you buy an apartment, and you meet a great guy and … well, all is rosy … for now.