So I hated the Camino. There, I said it. I joined my family recently for a section of this pilgrim’s walk in Spain, from the city of León to Santiago de Compostela. 311km, 13 days. As I’m not a Catholic, the history of the walk was of only passing interest to me, so it was

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  I sat at the bar nursing a beer, making small talk with the girl next to me. In front of us, the dance floor. It was lit up, like a stage at a theatre show. Couples glided effortlessly; the women twirling elegantly with their chins high and proud, the men guiding them with authority

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“What are you cooking?” “It’s like a potato soup thing.” “Is that like, a German thing?” “Yeah.” She had a pretty smile. Really straight teeth, too. I always liked girls with straight teeth. I turned back to my chicken, steaming slowly in my pan. Hostel kitchens are always interesting. Everyone’s trying to cook something healthy,

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I still remember my first surf class. I wriggled into a wetsuit, lathered my face up with super thick sunscreen and walked down to the beach feeling like Aquaman in my spongy suit with a rocket ship tied to my leg. They say Kiwis love to surf, but at 28 I’d never touched a surfboard

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I have a question. Have you been to Tanzania? Oh, it’s an incredible place. By the sea, the east African coast. Let me tell you about it, my friend. It’s a place by the equator, where the sun will hit you like an open flame. You will effortlessly tan to a golden bronze, or a

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I wake up to the clanging of dishes in the kitchen. Someone’s up. Not me, though. I lie huddled under blankets on the couch, awake, but still. I’m guessing it’s George – she told me she’d be getting up early. After five minutes of dozing I peel myself off the couch and put on some

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I had zero expectations for Bulgaria. I’d never met a Bulgarian, I’d never met anyone who’d been to Bulgaria and I’d never read or seen anything about the place. Bulgaria travel blogs aren’t exactly flooding the net either. Not that I went looking for any. I was going into Bulgaria completely blank, and that was

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“So, are you starting to feel melancholic about leaving Montpellier?” Moritz asked. I took another bite from my pizza slice and smiled. It’s interesting talking to people who speak English as a second language – they tend to come up with funny ways of saying things. Moritz, my youngest classmate at 19, had become my

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