I have finally arrived back in Australia, so I guess my journey has come to an end. How can I summarise my experience in one last post?

I could focus on stroopwafels, bike troubles, weekend trips away, bridge parties, the pancake house, overly competitive card games, crafternoons, cheap German wine, thievery, airport drama, occasional study or thermal underwear…

But I would rather focus on the four people who made my experience truly special. My biggest concern when I arrived in Utrecht was ‘what if my flatmates suck? What if they can’t handle my personality or find my dancing too slutty?’ It could have gone wrong, but I’m very proud of how well we connected. Just because you live with someone does not mean you will be friends. And we became a family.

From the very first day, Kate was always open, inclusive and ready to have fun. Despite knowing very little about pop-culture, she was still able to relate to people. It just comes naturally to her; she is a people-person. When we went out, my motto was “I stick with Kate” and I never regretted it.

Beth’s generosity and overall pleasantness always surprised me. When I first met her, I elbowed her in the face and smashed her bottle of vodka, but she didn’t hold a grudge. And in Prague, when I contracted leprosy, she still walked by my side. So, she’s basically like Jesus. 

It amazes me how well Lili has been able to communicate and form such strong connections when speaking in a foreign language. I love how she is always ready to dance on a chair or insult Dutch people. I am still in awe of her vivacious approach to living life.

Tom made every moment enjoyable, from downing jagerbombs in Amsterdam to googling the difference between a courgette and a zucchini (turns out they are the same thing). I knew we would get along on our first night when he didn’t judge me for buying a rosé beer, but got one for himself as well. Tom was diagnosed with cancer and had to leave Utrecht early, but he always maintained his spirit and I truly admire his courage.  

I love each of these amazing people for the great impact that they have had on my life. I am so grateful. 

Sorry, was that too sappy? Next time I go overseas I will try and avoid ‘feelings’ and stick to drunken anecdotes. So until then, tot ziens and dank je wel. xox

I was pretty bummed when I found out that my stop-over in Taipei was 10 hours long. But I did some research and found out that you could hire a room for 6 hours at the Novotel near the airport. Oh yeahhh. Worth it.

In Morocco, Caitlin was dead set on going quad biking in the desert. We decided to indulge her and let her lead the way. Except, she’s not the best at orientering. This is the girl who thought Morocco was that tiny country with the big casino. Anyway, she was leading us in to Rapeville when Ben decided to snatch the map away from her. We discovered that she wasn’t heading towards the quad bikes - but the place on the map where there was just an ad for quad biking. We should have known that they wouldn’t let you ride around the Palace Gardens. We didn’t let her lead the way after that.

Things were getting romantic between Caitlin and I as we went up the Swiss Alps. However, I get the feeling that we unnerved the other passengers on the Cog Train, especially this guy. Why do we have this effect on people?

Today, Caitlin and I took a train to Lucerne. We knew that it would take a while, so we stocked up on Swiss chocolate. Halfway through the journey I needed to loosen the belt. 

We found a wifi hotspot near the tourist office in Marrakech. Sadly, the area stunk like piss. But wifi is wifi, so Caitlin braved the smell while Ben and I stood at a safe distance. The reason this picture looks so awkward is because it was. We really should have been there to protect ‘the woman.’ In fact, a few minutes after this pic was taken, I joined Caitlin and gave her a little cuddle. Except we were close to a Mosque, and I think our affectionate little tickle was not appreciated. One man showed us all the ways he wanted to kill us. He made the ‘throat slitting’ gesture and a bunch of others. He then walked away spitting in our direction. We felt sufficiently awkward and asked Ben to relocate. But wifi is wifi. 

Morocco was insane. As soon as Caitlin, Ben and I had landed, we realised that we had left our comfort zones behind. Our first night was intense. The taxi from the aiport dropped us off nowhere near our hotel, but pawned us off to his friends to walk us around the city and demand a tip for getting us more lost. Then they sent us to another taxi and in to the hands of another bunch of scammers trying to take all our dirham. We finally called the hotel who came and rescued us. Our hero was a little Moroccan called Mustapha, but who we kept calling Mufasa. You know, because we are ignorant. 

After the first night however, we got a bit more comfortable. Sure we got heckled a fair bit at the market, but it was kind of flattering. If they wanted us to buy a juice, they would call Ben and I “skinny boys” and compliment us on the fine ass of Caitlin. It was such a confidence boost. But it got creepy at the food market when one guy was actually pleasuring himself while staring at poor Caitlin. He was really going at it. Sadly we didn’t eat there again. Caitlin got so much attention during our stay in Morocco and she couldn’t understand why: “Am I having a good day or something? I am on fire! I mean, I’m just wearing a hoodie and baggy jeans!” 

One other night we got followed walking back to our hotel. It was pretty scary, but we handled ourselves well. Caitlin began stuffing her bra with her possessions, ready to just throw her bag at him and run. Ben put his hood on to look even creepier than our stalker. I had my fists clenched in my coat pocket, just itching to get all masculine. Luckily, he stopped following us after a while. 

You always had to be on your guard. Even when in the square, you had to be careful not to step on any snakes being charmed or have a monkey thrown on you (which happened to Ben twice, they must have sensed he was a vego). And we had to be careful of taking photos. Some kids were playing soccer on the street and Ben wanted to have a ‘moment’ and share an emotional connection with local children. But as soon as they saw a camera in his hand they stopped the game and demanded he give them money. 

It was these kind of incidents that led to the ‘white lady smile’. This occurred when we were walking down the street and saw some other white people. If it was a woman, Caitlin would share a sympathetic smile as if to say ‘pretty rough out here, huh? I’m with ya sister.’   

However, it wasn’t all rough. The food was awesome. They had tajines that would put Caitlin in a good mood for hours. As soon as she was getting crabby, we knew we had to get a tajine in to her. She was also turned on by haggling. She loved crushing the spirits of the Moroccans by getting a low low price. We also picked up some of the local slang and learned that all we needed to say to get rid of someone was ‘no money, no honey.’ 

It was such an amazing experience and I am glad we got to see such a different part of the world. But Caitlin and I are in Switzerland now, and damn it is clean. We haven’t been harassed once and we even got directions for free. Bliss. 

P.S. This is a photo of us and Mufasa. Caitlin and I look awkward because I had my wallet out to give him a tip and I was sure we were going to get mugged by that guy in the background.

Caitlin and I have done our fair share of travelling over the years, and we are pretty good at it. But today we were reminded that even the best can make mistakes. We had a stop-over in Portugal on our way from Morocco to Switzerland, so we decided to experience some of the culture. By ‘culture’ I mean that we tried to eat as many Portuguese tarts as possible. We had a leisurely lunch after check-in and decided to rock up to the gate around 6pm. But when in line for yet another Portuguese treat, I looked at our boarding pass and realised that the gate closed at 5.55. So we were faced with a dilemma: get another delicious Portuguese tart or make our flight. We decided to make our flight. So we ran to the gate, which was already deserted. We were told we had just enough time to make it. We got on the plane and everyone was already settled and the seat-belt sign was on. It was so embarrassing. But man those tarts were worth it. 

I’ve had the time of my life,
No I never felt this way before.
Yes I swear it’s the truth,
And I owe it all to Utrecht.

Thanks to exchange I have become somewhat of an expert on international etiquette. Especially with greetings. I have learnt (the hard way) that when you go to kiss French or Italian people on the cheek, you actually just touch cheeks and kiss the air. I have discovered that when greeting English men like Tom, a handshake is appropriate. That is, until you live with him for 5 months and you feel comfortable enough to say farewell by running and jumping in to his arms. (But be aware of sharp belt buckles banging in to vulnerable places, if you know what I mean). I have also learnt that the Dutch kiss hello three times, any more than that and they are probably a pervert.