The Past Six Months, In Numbers

by Caitlin
Published: Last Updated on

How long have you been traveling for?

What a good question. I’m not really sure what the answer is, because I’m not really sure what ‘traveling’ means for me anymore. It’s just the way I live now, so it’s hard to think that I’ve been ‘traveling’ for the past six months. To me, I’ve just been living my life.

But here are some number to explain what I’ve been up to:

  • 4 cars driven

  • 1 tractor driven

  • 8 flights

  • 7 train journeys

  • 12 bus journeys

  • 4 blabla cars

  • 1 hitch hike

  • 2 seas

  • 1 ocean

  • 1 lake

  • 1 river

  • 10 churches or cathedrals

  • 7 castles or forts

  • 6 museums

  • 7,200 photos

 

And some superlatives, not from my life, but from my past six months:

  • The best hostel: The Ginger Monkey, Slovakia

  • The best cuisine: Spanish

  • The best views: The top of the High Tatras, Slovakia

  • The best beach: Torrox Costa, Spain

  • The best city: Toulouse, France

  • The best country: Spain

 

coast

Spanish Coast line

 

Those are all the superlatives I’m willing to give, I hate superlatives. How can I say anything was the best or the most unique or the most wonderful? I have done so many amazing things since I flew back to Europe in May that it’s hard to know how to express it all.

 

I wandered flea markets in Paris.

I climbed mountains in Slovakia.

I drove a pedal boat on the Vlatava in Prague.

I rode horses in the countryside in France.

I walked shelter dogs on the beach in Spain.

I watched a race at the Le Mans 24-hour circuit.

I went night fishing off a bridge.

I went to a youth finals football match.

I saw the Eiffel tower.

And the Louvre.

And Notre Dame.

And La Concha Bay.

And The High Tatras.

And The Magna Carta.

I met Spaniards.

And Slovaks.

And French.

And British.

And Swedish.

 

Galeries Lafayette

Galeries Lafayette

 

I ate scallops’ fresh from the sea in Galicia.

I ate steak tartar at a café in Paris.

I ate pounds and pounds of French cheese.

I ate berries which fell off the bushes in France.

I ate herring in Poland, caught just off the coast.

I ate the finest, thinnest jamon in Spain.

I drank French wines.

And Czech beers.

And polish Vodkas.

I met more people than I can remember.

And made more memories than I can remember.

I’ve lost at least one pair of underwear.

Until next time, Europe.

 

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