You are reading Part 2. Click here to start at Part 1, or view all parts here. The light woke me up. I was wrapped in three layers of clothes, expecting the desert night to be arctic, but I’d slept through the night comfortably. I hid inside my sleeping bag, staring at the peak of

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When the bus dropped us at Welcome Road, none of us were really sure what to do or where to go. There was no booth, no person, not even a sign. Around us was nothing but desert. That was the irony of Welcome Road – it was hardly welcoming. I looked around. In one direction

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It’s 10 o’clock when I land. That’s the problem with booking the cheapest flight. It always lands late. “Take bus number 1,” she texts. “Our stop is number 422, in front of El Corte Ingles. You know, that shop you hate.” I haven’t seen her for years. Well, two years. But it feels longer than that.

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So I needed a jacket. It was so cold in Amsterdam, and for some reason, I was without a jacket. Here’s the problem. In case you haven’t heard, I don’t buy clothes. Especially jackets. It’s because I have so many jackets at home in New Zealand, I’m quite sure I should never need to buy

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This hostel doesn’t feel like a hostel. It feels like a bus station. Maybe even an airport. I sit in the corner of this enormous foyer, the size of a school assembly hall, watching people check in. It’s like a factory line, boom, boom, boom, one after the other. They hand over a passport, she

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It was just happenstance that I found myself back in this city. I’d just finished the Camino with my family, and after some wandering we’d ended up here, in Málaga. After a few days in town, they’d all boarded their flights back to New Zealand, and here I was, in the middle of Plaza de

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I’m staying with a girl called Lyn. Couchsurfer. I’m sitting on her couch, relaxing with a cup of tea. Getting here though, was bit of an adventure. It was middle of the afternoon when I landed in Harare. Small flight. Lyn had already given me all the instructions the day before. “To get to my

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I arrived in Switzerland on a cold morning. I forget which day exactly, Friday I think. I’d just stepped off an overnight bus from Berlin, still a little sleepy, and hovered around the bus station trying to find my bearings. A Starbucks was nearby, so I stood outside, praying to the travel gods for a

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