Travel is a special thing to me. When I was 16, I begged my parents to let me go on the month long Euro Trip my high school social studies teacher organized every other summer. They told me to choose wisely, it was either Europe or a car. The family ’98 Jeep Grand Cherokee, aka Big Red, that my mom hated to drive to work would have to do. I felt cool, and cultured, and got to drink because they do not give a flying fuck over there ( I was still 17, not technically “legal” in most of the places we went). We had this super hot tour guide that went clubbing with us in Venice. I got lost in Berlin for 4 hours walking in the opposite direction of the land mark I was trying to get to. My friends and I got followed by a guy with a knife in Prague. It was nothing short of magical.
Unfortunately my days of gallivanting through Europe are limited. I’ve jetted off (read: rammed into a seat in coach stuck behind one of the most awful gashes of all time. I’m not exaggerating. Essex Snookie, her matted synthetic extensions, and shit faced bae almost got detained at landing because she was being a cunt punter to the poor mom with the crying baby in front of her #classy) to the United Kingdom a few times to see my boyfriend’s family. If he so happens to have a conference in Paris and offers to pay for half of my ticket, so be it. And if our friends in Berlin offer their extra room to us for a weekend, who am I to say no?
I hate touristy shit. Who doesn’t these days. Part of being a Millennial is to be a little too cool for school and go off the beaten path until its beaten to death. Then go back on it again ironically and pretend not to enjoy yourself. But I digress. I love going to a city where I know someone who lives there. It gives them an excuse to see a sight they’ve been putting off, and it gives me a chance to see a side of a place I probably wouldn’t have found on my own. For instance, instead of going to some German tourist trap for dinner in Berlin, we went to this insane Israeli joint where I had THE best hummus bowl of my goddamn life. My boyfriend took me to a kebab place in Manchester he frequented in college and I thought I was going to lose my damn mind it was so good. Going to New York to see my cousin is fun because it gives her a chance to see an art exhibition she had been meaning to go to and I get to get drunk at a new bar. Last time it was in East Harlem. We thought we were going to midnight brunch. Turns out there is a basement club that we didn’t know we were invited to. I don’t remember the cab ride home.
The best thing I can say about traveling is don’t turn your nose up at an opportunity to see a new place. Don’t be basic. Be fabulous, be weird.