Things you thought you’d never do.

We’d come from Mirissa; endless beach parties of backpackers too young to drink in their own countries. The sound of the bass pounded through the wooden walls of our guesthouse until well past 3am. Maybe if the music had been better I would’ve wanted to dance, but a mixture of intense strobe lights and pounding techno turned me off the party scene of Sri Lanka’s beaches. Guess I’m getting old. When Hannah and I arrived through the pouring rain, early on Christmas morning, sleepy Midigama was waiting for us with her calming, open arms. We checked into a family-run guesthouse, a German couple on a surf holiday and a French girl on a long-term stay our only companions. Christmas was a wash of torrential rain. Taking turns riding on the back of Steve’s motorbike to the corner rotti shop, the only place we were brave enough to venture for food. And a carefree run through the farm fields of Midigama back to the guesthouse because no umbrella would’ve saved us anyway. When the sun came up the next morning, we lay still in our shared mosquito net, listening. There was no continued pound of the promised rains outside. The sun was shining and we took to the beach. A sunburn, a sunset and a yoga session in a field of cows later, we were off to give the parties of Mirissa another shot. We were taking the bus, but as the tuk tuk started their bartering, we raised our eyebrows in consideration. 500. This was the standard price, we’d never paid less or more. Last night we got it for 300.  I looked at Hannah, intrigued at her sudden desire to barter, something she never did. I let her go. Fine, 400. She flicked her wrist rather casually as she walked away. A price we’d never even been offered, but she didn’t want it. We headed for the road to give it another shot. We both saw the bus at the same time as we ran across the single road that runs all the way from Galle to Matara. Buses, trucks, and tuk tuks serving between each other for the length of it. We both looked up at the same time to see if it was the bus we needed, we’d spent 30 rupees on that trip instead of 400. I saw it happening. I looked down a split second…

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Top Five Travel Injuries

It’s true, I’m finally back from my trip and gracing the travel blog world with my presence again! I wanted to start my travel posts with something fun so that you can enjoy my trip as much as I did. Here they are, the top five injuries I acquired on my trip through Spain and Portugal! Anyone who has known me for more than five minutes can very well vouch for my clumsiness. It’s not just the typical trip over the wayward cobblestone, that’s just part of my everyday existence (thanks Europe). I mean I make some full-on foolish, clumsy mistakes. Being away for eighteen days was a guarantee that there were going to be some good stories, so I saved them all for you guys! Here goes! 1. Broken-ish Nose: The second night in Alicante, and the second night of the entire trip, I suffered the most devastating and influential of all my travel injuries. The effects of a little too much alcohol and two very badly timed head movements landed Lorenzo’s forehead directly on the bridge of my nose. The cracking sound was just for dramatic effect seemingly since no blood came pouring out. Looking back now, maybe it was the alcohol talking, but I figured it couldn’t be broken and all was well. The next morning I woke up with a headache that was inching it’s way down my face, which I accredited to the copious amounts of Sangria, wine and beer consumed the previous night and popped some Advil before the flight to Mallorca. I started noticing that my whole face was really throbbing, I was forced to nap for my first two hours in the city of Palma and if a hand, head, elbow or beer bottle came within 5 inches of my nose, a little yelp escaped. I decided that it would get better then next day but couldn’t keep my fingers off of it, certain it was caving in. The second day in Mallorca, we spent the day at the beach and by the end of it (blame the sun if you want to) the headache was back with a vengeance. Driving through the suburb Magaluf, a well-known British holiday spot, we were not too hard-pressed to find an English doctor. We stepped right in and the receptionist immediately said that my nose look sore and like it could be offset at the…

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