Moving on: Travel stories

As the academical years is nearing its end, I'm going on vacation pretty soon, and what better way to prepare then to share travel stories? (To be honest, there are much better ways, but I figured I might as well).

Until one or two years ago I spend each christmas with family in the French Alps. One day we decided to hike to a (somewhat) local monastery, thinking that it would be fun. Now, for those of you who don't know, the French Alps are damn cold in winter, and not only was the way covered in about two feet of snow, but there were thick sheets of ice hidden as well. We nearly had reached the monastery when we had to cross a frozen stream. It had created a large ice sheet, which we had to cross. Our guide was the first one to cross, after which it was my turn. Now, I actually had to step in a small hole in the ice, and from there further into the snow, however, when I shifted my weight for the second step, I lost my balance, and was grabbed by our guide. He told me to kick a hole in the ice, so I could rest my weight in there, and climb further up, so I kicked... And kicked...

...Eventually my legs began to tire, and I couldn't kick any more, the guide was also losing grip, as he was very slowly dragged onto the ice, when suddenly I felt the world drop away below me. I was sliding down the ice at a brisk pace, and somehow managed to slow myself down somewhat, when the guide suddenly collided into me, which caused us to slide down even faster then before, at a high angle towards the highway, which lay a couple hundred feet under the trail we had been walking on. Had we hit the road, we would have been in great trouble, and there were also rocks slightly sticking up throughout the slope. Fortunately I managed to grab on a small piece of a plant that was sticking out through the snow before either of us got injured. A few seconds later, we saw my stepfather decided to slide down after us, and we managed to stop him as well. We then descended to the highway and walked onwards to the monastery. The other members of our party ran into a mountain patrol, who helped them get there as well.

Later we found out my stepfather had hit a rock with his leg, which caused some grave injury that landed him in the hospital. We were lucky that it was the only injury on any of us.

But enough about me, what stories have you got?

 

When I was nine, we went to the Middle East, and while in Jordan, snorkelled in the Red Sea. There were these little urchins with massive pointy spikes that we kept putting our feet between, and we kept wondering what they felt like.

When we got back to the car and read the guide, it turned out we would puff up and die within a half hour if we had.

 

I recently came home from too short a hiking trip in Germany and Holland. I was supposed to stay for a couple of months and walk through Europe, just experiencing things, but I was sick the whole trip, so I couldn't sleep in the tent I had because it got wet and cold, and hostels were often booked, so it got to be expensive with hotels. My grandfather was also hospitalized, so I decided to go home.

But despite the bad ending, it was a great trip. Just walking in the sunshine and not having any real place to go was very peaceful.

I'd love to do it again, but for now I'm taking a month on Interrail in a couple of weeks.

 

Did a European Contiki trip when I was 18, what happens on Contiki stays on Contiki. Except Herpes, that shit will follow you for life.

 

Once I visited north america where an old friend of mine had just finished a six-month discipleship training camp in Texas(!!!). I wish I'd saved the post card he sent me in a fat envelope of cult propaganda - it would have made a good case study of psychotic breakdowns.

Anyway, after enjoying the hospitality of several fundamentalist Christian families (late night discussions about impending armageddon, preparing pumpkin farms for the Y2K apocalypse, trying to broach the subject of cult brainwashing with cultists; you know, the usual) I had the distinct honour of travelling by bus down the entire west coast of the US to the downtown LA bus terminus just in time to be stranded there after dark. Thankfully, despite being the only white boy in sight, I was as rank as an hobo by then, and blended into the general theme of garbage and beggars.

I also spent a week in the forbidden plateau of Vancouver Island where bear tracks surrounded the tent and it was freezing cold. That was the best part of the holiday. Give me frozen mountains over LA anyday.

 

I went on a cruise with my family when I was 11, with Carnival Cruise lines, I'm assuming because they had the best price and/or the biggest fucking ship at the time. It was called the Destiny. We went to Grand Cayman, Tulum, Mexico and Jamaica.

In Grand Cayman I went to one of many dive spots called Stingray City, and swimming with southern stingrays, equipped with a plastic container full of squid to feed them. I shuffled around in the water so as to not step on anything and get my ass stung, and I opened the container once and open palmed the squid to a large female (about 6 feet across), then closed my plastic container. I didn't do a good job closing it, and the stingrays could smell it on me. They all swarmed me and started trying to climb up my body, with their toothless mouths agape. I freaked out and gave away all of my squid within 15 seconds. Another woman lost a diamond wedding ring. We were all told specifically not to put our fingers in their mouths, as their jaws have powerful mollusc demolishing plates capable of crushing bones, and the suction force they use to feed is quite strong. This woman got lucky in that none of her fingers were crushed, but the stingray made what I'm assuming was the most expensive Dasyatis shit in the whole of the Cayman Islands.

In Tulum, we went to an archeological site, complete with ancient stone sites of worship, and even places of sacrifice. It was pretty cool; I saw a lot of history, the beach, an emaciated dog with massive testes, a coke can that was significantly bigger than the 12 ouncers we have in the US, and (this is my favorite part), the tour guide called my dad Mr. Moustache.

In Jamaica I saw a dead great white shark in the water, a juvenile. I think it was hit by a jet ski. Then, I went and climbed a waterfall, and nearly slipped, which may have killed me. Or maimed me, whichever. I'm notoriously pale, and I'm rather confident that I was the whitest person on the island. Also, while my back was turned, some of the locals thought I was a girl and offered my parents some jewelry for me.

 

One time, when I was about 24, I went out to buy some groceries, and when I came back I put my hand in my pocket to get my keys, and they weren't there.

Then I pushed my hand a bit deeper into my pocket and found them.

 

If you checked it first properly I'm sure you can found them in first attempt

 

Wow. I never looked at it like that.

 

A spambot made me laugh out loud. I feel so... dirty.