The Start.

I can’t really describe the feeling of beginning a journey like this. Nervous but naive, prepared but unplanned. Countless hours of research, hundreds of days of work, years of preparation. Not knowing where I was going to be, how long until I would be back, who I would meet, how much would change in the time that I was away. All of it leading to a moment where I just stepped out of door of my house with my family and walked to the train station. I got on the train and that was it, the adventure had started, I was on my own.

The weeks leading up to the beginning were strange; there was never a point where it felt real or like I was actually going to do it. Despite the drawn out goodbyes to friends, leaving my job, visiting places for the last time, it never truly sunk in and I just coasted week by week, day by day to the date I had set. That feeling continued probably right up until I reached London, checked into my hostel and went to go and get some food. I have always been perfectly happy doing things on my own, but I was hit by an overwhelming thought of ‘well, what now?’. Luckily, after a stop at KFC for a quick (and cheap) meal, my friend texted me and asked if I wanted to go for a drink. So I did, and by the time I was on the way back to my hostel I already felt a bit more confident and a bit more accepting of the fact I was actually doing it.

A 30 bed dorm in London the day before the Champions League final was somewhat of an induction of fire into my accommodation plans for the next year, but nevertheless the following morning I got up and went to try and book the next stop of the journey. I had left my house with nothing but my ticket to London and a hostel booking for 2 nights as I wanted to make sure I got used to the process of travelling spontaneously very early on. The best option for onward travel seemed to be Paris, so despite slightly more expensive pricing than I had anticipated I booked an overnight bus and hostel near the centre for 1 night. The remaining two days I had left in London I spent with my friend, with a notable visit to the Shangri-La bar in the Shard as a sort of goodbye; a real oxymoron to the level of luxury I could afford going forward. However, it was something we had talked about for a long time so I thought it was worth the early hit to my budget.

When the time to catch my bus came, I said bye to my friend and her family and prepared myself for what was undoubtably going to be another night of poor sleep; and it was certainly just that. The bus got onto the ferry at 2am so everyone had to leave the bus, go through passport control and then sit on the ferry for 2 and a half hours before getting back onto the bus for the 5 hour drive to Paris. By the time we actually reached Paris I was absolutely exhausted, but it was 10am - I couldn’t check into my hostel for another 5 hours! I dropped my bag, and went for a walk around the city with whatever energy I had left. When I finally managed to check in, I was in desperate need of a rest and only left the hostel to go and grab some food in the evening. I booked a bus and accommodation for Antwerp, Belgium and got an early night, knowing I had another day of travel the next day.

I woke up, checked out and walked to the FlixBus terminal, putting an end to my brief visit to Paris. I got on the bus to Antwerp which would be the first new city/country of the trip for me. Despite the fact I had only just started and knew that things could change very quickly, I was feeling pretty settled; the start to the journey couldn’t really have gone any smoother.

So Far:

Days: 4

Countries: 2

Stops: 3

Distance Travelled: 540 miles/ 869km.