Image by Ian Schneider
Foreword by Kat Mallett
Visiting new countries and exploring faraway lands is quite simply unbeatable. However, like everything, there can be some challenging, difficult or simply embarrassing times along the way, that subsequently become burnt in your memory forever. Here are just some of those stories that are too great not to be shared…
Words by Evie Rowlands
When you think of Thailand, you think idyllic tranquillity. And for most of our trip it was. However, for one night after the Full Moon Party, what ensued was anything but tranquil; but not in the way youÔÇÖd expect.
It was a late evening in July; my partner, three girls (with whom weÔÇÖd become inseparable with in our hostel) and I were sat soaking up memories of yesterdayÔÇÖs antics sharing a daiquiri bucket. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a flash of orange and a gathering crowd; naturally, we were intrigued. What weÔÇÖd stumbled upon was an assault course, with fire as the main attraction. Now, I know what youÔÇÖre thinking and in hindsight, it was dangerous, but at the time, exhilarating. My two challenges were the limbo, I came 2nd thanks to 12 years of gymnastics and jump-rope. Stereotypically, as a woman with years of skipping experience, how hard could it be? Apparently, very.
Challengers came and went completing 3 rounds uninjured, despite the precariously positioned wooden board on which challengers had to jump. Then, my turn. I set myself up, counted down, leapt with fire and then
Crunch, thud, searing pain.
A JD-drenched doctor shouted ÔÇ£SavlonÔÇØ at me ÔÇô I politely declined ÔÇö and after dodging the flames, my partner ran over, swept me (a tear-stained distressed damsel, who could not walk) off my feet and carried me to the nearest medical centre. Knowing the notoriety of the full moon party, medical centres are within metres of the beach and we soon knocked on a nearby glass door, waking the sleeping nurse, begging her to let us in at 2:30am. My remaining memory from this night is the lovely medical professional repeatedly asking if I was ÔÇ£in pain or just sadÔÇØ. ÔÇ£Just sadÔÇØ, IÔÇÖd say.
Medicated, numb down my right side, and embarrassed, IÔÇÖd single-footed-ly ruined our jam-packed trip with a 3rd degree sprained ankle. For the 3.5 weeks that followed, I heroically walked everywhere with a cast and WW2-style crutches with my poor partner carrying not one, but two 60kg travel bags.
If you think youÔÇÖre tough enough for the flames, think again.
Words by Amy Leadbitter
The story that always comes to mind for me when someone asks for a tale from my 7-week interrail around Europe is one from Budapest. I call it the day where everything went wrong
Budapest is one of those cities you fall in love with immediately, and the one IÔÇÖm striving to go back to – curse you 2020! The day of bad luck started at St PaulÔÇÖs Caves, which are beautiful but very far down. As we climbed our way back up to the surface, I accidentally tripped and rolled my ankle. However, determined to push on, I took some ibuprofen and caught the bus back into the city, despite the pain I was in.
After trailing around the city with my friend, who loved to walk just about everywhere to get the full experience, my ankle was throbbing. However, I pushed the pain away with some great food, including a chimney cake filled with ice cream for the glorious 30┬░C day. As we had dinner out, we overheard that today was the ÔÇÿNight of the MuseumsÔÇÖ, where you could get into all the museums for the price of one entrance fee. Not having planned for this but being a girl with an eye for a bargain, I arranged to meet my friend back at our Airbnb later and set off into the unknown city on a sprained ankle. What could go wrong?
Nothing, at first. I had a good time looking around some of the museums and thought I was doing well. Then, between buses to the next museum outside the city, the storm hit. Thunder and lightning and torrential rain came upon us, and me being a little English girl was stood outside in shorts and a t-shirt, completely unprepared. Desperate to find the correct bus home, I finally found the right stop, only to be ambushed by a seemingly friendly but extremely drunk man. I believe he was trying to either help, or ask for directions, but I was drenched, lost, in pain AND had a few too many mosquito bites to be in a good mood to help. When I knocked on my Airbnb door at 1am, I was half laughing and half crying, numb with cold – I think gave my friend quite the shock. I believe her words were ÔÇÿyou look like a downed ratÔÇÖ- most charming! Perhaps next time I wonÔÇÖt wander around a new city in the dark and alone, on an injured ankle, but itÔÇÖs fun to look back and laugh all the same.
Maja Metera
I don’t believe in taboo topics so let me tell you a story about how I learnt to always be prepared for Aunt Flow to visit. Sounds fun already, doesn’t it?
I was 13 at the time and had been menstruating for some time without much trouble. That year my sun-starved, boiling-hot-weather-loving mom decided that we would spend two weeks in Egypt. My plan was simple – eat mango ice cream by the pool and read the ten books that I packed in my suitcase. One series I was obsessed with was “Kane Chronicles” by Rick Riordan, inspired by Egyptian mythology. So naturally, I memorised all the gods, goddesses and their stories. My parents wanted me to have a chance to explore the place of origin of these myths so they booked us a trip to The Valley of the Kings. We woke up early, packed some food, gallons of water and took our places on the bus.
Fast forward a few hours and we had stopped in the middle of a desert. The air conditioning had stopped working and my stomach was starting to hurt. Turns out our bus had broken down and we had to wait for a replacement. At this moment I knew that my white shorts were in trouble. I started to panic and asked my mom for pads, but she was not prepared for her teenage daughter, who didnÔÇÖt know how to use tampons, to get her period in the middle of nowhere. Creatively, we made a pad from tissues and their plastic wrap, in hope that there would be a shop at the next stop or that one of the women on the bus would have a pad. Unfortunately, none of these things happened!
So my first adventure using tampons was very painful, uncomfortable and I was dying from the heat. Despite everything, I managed to be the perfect tour guide and show my parents around the Valley of the Kings, take lovely photos and smoke shish-a for the first time in my life (no, they didnÔÇÖt know how harmful it was).
I learnt that first of all – using tampons makes my stomach hurt and secondly, being a woman means dealing with discomfort and pain that is impossible to understand to people who donÔÇÖt menstruate. I learnt that we need to always be prepared, as the slightest change in stress, climate or sexual practices can put off our cycle – especially at a young age. So the next few days I spent in the shade with an ice cream in my hand and hot patches on my stomach. But that’s the beauty of being a girl, right?