The Travel Part of Long Term Travel: A Love-Hate Relationship
Here’s an admission: I hate the traveling part of travel. Not the bigger journeys, like the long-haul flights to another country ( I actually sort of enjoy those!), but the smaller travel from place to place that involves lugging my baggage around, getting on and off multiple modes of transportation.
I’m a different type of traveler than many of the people I meet on the road who are long term travelers. Even if I have a year of travel in front of me, I’m not out to check a certain # of countries off of my list or to take photos in front of a certain # of major sites. I travel to see places. To experience what it is like to be more than a passing visitor in a different city, region, or country.
So, on my most recent move from England, by way of London, to Poland, using a variety of different modes of public transportation and bare bones airlines (not many airlines fly to Poland non stop from England) I will admit, that I had a SHITTY time of it. So shitty that I began questioning my decision to travel to so many places and consider cancelling some of my commitments.
That is how frustrated and bummed out I became after a couple of days of dragging my luggage on and off of trains, metros, and buses and in and out of airports in England and Poland. My back and shoulders were in constant pain from having a heavy bag slung over my shoulder while dragging a heavy suitcase behind me (not to mention having to pick that suitcase up and take it up and down stairs repetitively). My decision to travel for a year was great except for the
When Things Get Rough
My trip started from the tiny town of Stone (where I was house-sitting) in England and ended in Wroclaw, Poland.
I took a train to from Stone to London, two tubes in London to get to the budget hotel I’d booked for one night and then, the next morning two Tubes to the airport train to the airport shuttle to fly to Wroclaw (Poland).
When I arrived in Wroclaw the bus from the airport took an hour and a half to get to my stop and from there I needed to catch a tram for another 30 minutes to my stop. Trying to find a certain tram when there are tram stops on every corner and no one to ask for directions in English isn’t easy. When I finally found the right tram, I barely made it inside thanks to the 3 very steep, narrow, stairs and narrow door that I could not get through with my luggage unless I threw it up ahead of me. I had to launch a bag up to a stranger and then leap and be pulled in. Apparently trains and metros in Poland weren’t designed for safety or for ease of entry.
Once on the tram, I had to tackle the next challenge: how to know when my stop was coming up since I speak zero Polish and the way that the Polish pronounce words sound nothing like what they look like written (to an English speaker). I asked the man who had helped me with my baggage and showed him the name of my stop and he told me it would be about 5 stops. He also pronounced the name for me so I knew what it would sound like when announced.
This was helpful, however, when I heard the driver say the name of my stop, and I got off (thanks to the nice Polish man who had to throw my luggage down to me so I didn’t dive face forward off the last step and the foot down to the ground), I found I had gotten off one stop too early and had to walk another 10 minutes to the next stop and to my apartment. Once at the address of the budget room where I was staying, I was faced with 15 buzzers and no names or numbers to identify them. I pushed them all until someone let me in.
Once inside, I found some signs that said the apartment I was looking for was on the 6th floor! Quel nightmare!
The walk from the last tram stop had sent me over the edge. My shoulders were in knots, my back was aching beyond belief, and my legs were shaking from the thousands of stairs I had stumbled up and down over the past 5 hours. I couldn’t even get up the first set of stairs with my suitcase so I left it at the bottom, cursing the day I had decided to rent accommodation that did not have a full description online of what I was getting into. Once at the door to the rooms, the owner of the apartment met me at the door, and grumpily and begrudgingly helped me with the suitcase I had abandoned. I arrived to my room, and my first night in Poland, dripping in sweat, exhausted, and feeling like I wanted to murder someone or get on the next flight back home.
By the end of the next day, however, after walking around the historic old town (Stare Miesto) and beautiful Market Square in Wroclaw (photo above)
with my new group of fellow English language volunteers (for the program I am volunteering at in Poland as I type) I started to get back to my positive and happy self and to look forward to the rest of my time in Poland.
Moral of the story? Sometimes traveling sucks. It just does. The way to avoid a lot of the worst parts, is to move around less. Take fewer trains, planes, and buses. Stay in places for longer and become a local. Plan transportation well. Splurge on taxis or accommodation that’s super convenient when necessary.
And remember, when you get those occasional travel blues, tomorrow is a new day and things are never as bleak as they seem!