Ways I’m trying to combat the holiday blues

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To stop me moping, to stop the phrase ‘a week ago I was in such and such place’ and in all my efforts to stay positive, I’ve written a list for myself to beat the holiday blues. And oh wow they’re hitting me all over at the moment. They’ve got boxing gloves on and aren’t playing fair.

I’ve never really got them before, in the past I was always excited to come home to something. I always missed something. My last two week holiday was without my boyfriend so I missed him and didn’t get the blues when I did return. This time? Nothing, except I missed my little brother and my comfort blanket. I could have kept on going. No offence to any friends or family reading this (and also yes, I have a comfort blanket and I’m not ashamed to say it) (I wouldn’t have missed it if I remembered to pack it, I forgot, I wasn’t being an ‘adult’ and left it behind like my Mum thought.)

I’ve been back less than a week and I am irritable, restless and oh dear my first shift back at work was difficult. I just kept thinking ‘but I just don’t want to do this’ and then another voice in my head was saying ‘but you know you have to’, and the reply was ‘yeah, but I don’t think you understand. I really don’t want to’. Oh, and I am very stubborn, side note. I just know travelling is for me and once you get a taste like I did it’s so difficult to not want more. It’s like an addiction. Like, I’m okay and happy, but if I get a thought about travelling something in my body changes and I get restless sitting at my desk job. Now’s not the time to ponder jobs though.

I’m allowing myself to bask in missing holiday in a positive way. In a way that makes me want to save up for my next one. But for someone who dabbles in depression, I say like it’s enjoyable, I want to help nip this negative feeling in the bud. I also want to prevent going off into my own la la land, day dreaming about my last trip or future trips. I want to snap back to the present.

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Here’s what I’ve been trying/planning to do;

  • continue to style and tidy my bedroom. Woah, well that sounds like the most boring thing a 25 year old could do. Nah, I love being creative with my surroundings.
  • blogging. I need to make sure that when I get an interesting thought I write it down and try to expand on it. I did this for the whole two weeks while I was travelling, which is the most consistent I’ve ever been with this blog, and it felt fucking amazing.
  • listen to music. Really listen. It’s a good way to keep you in the present in general, and it’s uplifting. My mind likes to do something where a thought pops up, let’s say its negative about being back, and rather accept the thought for what it is and move on with my life, I stop… and stare into space… while the feeling and thought consumes me… and I haven’t even realised it.
  • but if the thought’s too strong I have to write it down. No matter what I’m originally doing. Let them go, you know.
  • gym! Exercise! I think a big thing about the holiday blues is that you feel like you’re in limbo. Before the trip it was like everything in your life is building up to that holiday and that’s your focus. You come back with that achieved but with no direction. The thing with regularly exercising is that it puts that stability back. You feel like there’s a goal even though there isn’t a specific goal. So while I’m straightening my brain and looking for my next focus, exercise can pretend to be it.
  • be singular. Be selfish. To a certain extent. I don’t mean be a bitch, fob everyone off, sit in bed and eat chocolate. More like.. You’re feeling low, be careful with yourself. Be best friends with yourself and treat yourself good. And eat chocolate.
  • be social and chill with pals.
  • remember there’s still things to do with the past trip! You haven’t printed the photos yet and I’m sure there’s so many thoughts to come from it. I love a ponder and thought. It’s not completely over.

This is what I’ve figured out so far. Mainly create!! Even if it’s from a negative feeling, like right now with this post. I’ve been doing my bedroom, blogging and listening to music. Haven’t exercised yet but I’m pretty tempted to put my running shoes on right now actually. I just finished work though, and I wake up at 4:15am on work days. I know I’m definitely going to the gym in the week at least. Let’s be realistic now, I just opened a Easter egg.

I’m getting there. I’m hopeful.

 

 

 

Our last few moments in Europe and some random notes

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After it being a bugger to pack all the beer we bought, when they offered us a trolley for our luggage for the ferry we jumped at it. Thank goodness, we had just been on a long road trip and walked miles every day but carrying all our luggage onto the ferry after dropping off our rental car was the biggest work out of all. Oh, what now? It isn’t a trolley to take onto the ferry ourselves, but goes to a separate part of the boat? We watched it zoom away, a bit shocked. Oh. Great. All those beers are going to smash then.

Spoiler alert: none of them smashed, I worried the whole trip for no reason. Luckily my travel sickness pills had kicked in and therefore my anxiety was fought off with drowsiness.
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The English side of passport control had a joke with James, mine was very serious though. James asked if they had been busy and he laughed and said ‘yeah, with French school kids, they’re a threat to English society.’

It wasn’t much of a joke for us though, we were surrounded on the ferry. I literally wrote in my notebook ‘they’re everywhere and they must be breading in the bathroom because when you think that’s it more appear out of no where.’ Hundreds and thousands and millions. We chose to sit near the teenagers rather than the children. They couldn’t sit still though, just imagine a time lapse of James and I sitting on the same sofa for the whole trip and a blur of teenagers buzzing all around us. You know you’re getting old when you just don’t move.

They started to sing Shape Of You by Ed Sheeran, like we didn’t hear that enough on every radio in England, France, Belgium, Luxembourg, Germany and The Netherlands. We actually managed to get radio 1 when we were driving around Calais in the morning. We planned to go to a little village half an hour out, somehow ended up 50 minutes away from where we wanted to go, so turned back.

In Germany the host on the radio kept saying ‘Castle On The Grill’ and we couldn’t stop laughing. It’s okay to laugh at it, we probably sounded like we were saying other words when we were saying words in their language.

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I can now talk about something that happened on the very first day. Not even that, 20 minutes into France. We scratched the alloy of our rental car. James was getting used to driving on the other side of the road and clipped the curb. 20 minutes in. The rental company employee said something about any scratch on the alloy would loose our 500 euro deposit. Fuck! This was our start to the trip.

We decided to ignore it, not let it bog us down and I never mentioned it on my blog. It was a big annoyance that pissed us off but had to put it down to a ‘you live and you learn’ experience, otherwise it would have plagued our minds.

We looked into getting it fixed because it’ll be cheaper than 500 euros but that didn’t work out. We also snapped the brand new aerial when we were in Amsterdam, the car park beam was lower than we thought. It got to the point when we would just hysterically laugh about it.

Anyway, getting the full deposit back, baby! The man was like ‘oh, it’s only a little scratch, no problem’ – I said that in a French accent. James said he couldn’t stop shaking the mans hand and practically skipped back to me.

Not much else happened on our last day so I present to you:

Things I Never Wrote In A Blog Post, With No Context At All, In Fact I’m Not Even Sure What Some Of Them Mean.

Emily ‘Have you got the money pouch?’
James ‘I gave it to you! When we were in Barcelona!’
*We never went to Barcelona*

Whenever James sees a shoe buffer in a hotel we stay in he buffs up his trainers.

Smells like holiday.

They still advertise cigarettes in Europe. Also prostitutes? Or strip clubs? Something about 100 girls, 11 till 5. No idea what that’s about.

In the supermarkets it’s always the men stacking shelves and the women at the till.

James ‘So people don’t think we’re lazy taking the lift I’m going to walk out with a limp.’
*Actually walks out with a limp*

*Sitting in our hotel in Dunkirk, looking at what’s nearby on the internet*
James ‘Bruges is nearby. It’s closer than Canterbury.’

Things I’m Bad At

  • turning on strange showers
  • what floor or room number we are
  • helping as passenger driver
  • remembering what car we fired and where we parked it
  • where I’ve put things
  • cities and crowds

Things I’m Good At

  • map reading
  • not getting stressed
  • looking after money
  • at seeing far in the distance
  • at remembering to check we have all our belongings

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Back to normality, back to driving on the left side of the road, back to saving a bird from James’s conservatory as soon as we got back? No, I don’t think it’s ever normal, what I am I thinking.

Arriving back to the beginning of our road trip

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I know I’m dramatic and playful but this doesn’t change the fact that I feel like Harriet The Spy, for reals. It was a joke a few posts ago but I feel like I have embodied her. I have my go to’s with fitting in, I have my distractions, I have my innocence, then BAM I’m writing everything you’re saying, stranger. Yeah, you, in Amsterdam telling your boyfriend he could sleep with a prostitute but you wasn’t going to pay, I was there listening but looking like I was just simply having anxiety in a world of my own (both are true actually). Getting a little dramatic now. Let’s calm it down… and just call me a spy, scrap the Harriet part for the sake of people that haven’t seen that wonderful film.

Fun fact of the day, I wanted to be a spy when I was younger. That was the dream.

Confused? Cool. Here’s me fitting in on our European adventure, when in reality all sorts of wonderful mysteries are going on in my head and notebook.

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Our last long drive started with James driving the wrong side of the road out of a car park and nearly crashing. First time it’s happened this trip. Three hour drive to Dunkirk today, through three countries. The Netherlands, Belgium then into France. Luckily I found my travel sickness bands for this last part and the ferry tomorrow.

We haven’t got anything special planned for today.  Stupid statement seeing as we never have anything planned, what I mean if that it’s a budget hotel kind of night and eating peanut butter sandwiches while watching TV. Way to spend a last night, right? I agree.

This morning we explored Valkenburg a little. I loved the location of the hotel but I couldn’t handle how trippy the floor made me feel. It’s one of two things – it is a haunted hotel and specifically our room was infested with demons, or the floor boards were at an angle. One of the two. Valkenburg has the only castle on a hill in The Netherlands, and it was destroyed by their own King to stop the French from invading it.

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A funny memory just came to me on this drive, of when my family and I drove around America. I’m not sure of my age but I think I was below ten years old. I’m the youngest, then there’s my brother who is two years older and my sister who is five years older. In the front there were three seats which was/is so strange, being used to there being a gear stick instead. So Mum and Dad made it a punishment to sit in between them anytime us kids would fight.

Problem with this plan is that I loved that seat, the gimmick hadn’t worn off for me. So there’s my parents threatening us with essentially a naughty step and while it worked for my siblings I was always all for it! Now, I have a four year old brother and two year old nephew and I can imagine the pain my parents had to go through when I was eager Emily practically begging to sit in between them.

It would work on them though, they would scream bloody murder.

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We’ve arrived at the beginning. We spent our first night in Dunkirk and now our last night. Currently parked up at Dunkirk beach at 3:28pm. Bit different weather to the first time and really Dunkirk isn’t really much without sun. It’s a bank holiday too, which we didn’t know (knew it was for England). So nothing at all is open. I googled it and kept on reading about shopping hours in general and it said that many places don’t open on Monday mornings anyway! Lucky buggers! Remember when England wouldn’t be open on bank holidays, boxing day or new years day and you had to stay in with family? And now we have a choice whether we should stay in with family or go shopping at ASDA.

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In a very reminiscent mood right now. Of this trip and in general. Childhood memories and the last two weeks are flying at me left, right and centre.

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Watching a French family play together in the distance. I feel such a heavy calmness on my chest. It’s probably the beer I cracked open as soon as we parked up to be honest.

Mixed with actual happiness, of course.

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Visiting The Netherlands, not Holland

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I see people walk by with travel guides in their hands, reading up places and on missions to go find them. I once thought I so wanted to be like them. They’re the people who are organised, the ones that have diary’s and calendars and use all the pretty stationary you see in shops. In the past I’ve tried, because they look so well put together. But I’m not. I’m not well put together, for a start I often forget to brush my hair, I loose things (often my mind), I’m a day dreamer and I’m currently wearing a jumper that I tie dyed myself. Not exactly the image you have in your brain of a lady with her diary/travel guide. Secondly, I would forget to pick up the travel guide up because.. I find them boring.. Is that bad?! Have I offended someone? I love travelling and always have, but I don’t really want to know all the details about the place, it doesn’t bother me. Just a little bit of info is cool. I’ll quite happily just walk about and hope for the best.

I think it must be all about what you deem important, because I don’t forget to pick up and write in my travel diary if I have a thought. Maybe it depends on what you’re ‘searching’ for. They want to learn about the place, and I? Probably learn what these places do to me.

This relates to the first title of this road trip – do you free more or less free knowing the world is our oyster? There isn’t a wrong or right way to travel, you can literally do what you want and that includes nothing. You can do nothing. Once that thought is placed on me I find I do more of what I want.

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We finally saw a windmill everyone, finally saw one! Didn’t realise you had to go searching for them, I pictured them being everywhere and hard to dodge. The one we found was right next to where we stayed our first night in The Netherlands, oops. We were going that way to Maastricht anyway. And conclusion after kicking up a fuss (but didn’t actually at all)?… It looked just like windmills from England. It was a windmill. Just in another country. But we did it!

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Nothing quite like having a wee when you’re at bursting point, then celebrating with a beer.

The market stool man was saying how much he likes London and we were saying how much we like The Netherlands – so we are going to swap places. He said ‘I’m going to live in Bromley!’

No one is ever that excited for Bromley.

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Like I was saying yesterday about Amsterdam being larger than life and full of personality, which takes away mine – here I felt complete in who I am, my personality is in full force. Not that I was shoving it in peoples faces. People here are still quirky, it’s not a quiet city, there’s a bookshop in a church, that says it all. I suppose, for me, Amsterdam is like Camden and Maastricht is like Brighton. That’s the best way I can explain it.

Isn’t it a shame that I have to describe places with places I know. The more I’ll travel it might turn into ‘Winklebottom was very much like Gravy Boat Mountain’, not ‘Amsterdam is like Camden, init!’

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Maastricht is a winner, in case you couldn’t tell. I loved it. It’s just one of those places that was perfect, couldn’t find a fault other than it’s an expensive city. Oh and someone working in the church told us not to go through a certain door because ‘you don’t fit’. Now that could have been a translation problem but he did an awkward giggle after, as if he felt bad saying it. Bit weird. If it is what he meant, that’s two days in a row we felt like we didn’t ‘fit in’. A hotel and a church. It didn’t take away our experience, it’s just a shrug of the shoulders and walk away with our beard, backpack and leggings. James wearing the leggings, me wearing a fake beard and one arm each in the backpack, of course. That might be why.

An English couple we met, who moved out 7 months ago, explained that the top part of The Netherlands is called Holland, and that’s the part reclaimed from the sea. The bottom part, which seems posh, is The Netherlands and are apparently against the top of the country? Suppose like northerners and southerners in England. He said they’re meant to be nicer in the south of The Netherlands (where we are). Well, I much preferred it to Amsterdam, if that’s anything to account for?

I haven’t checked whether this is true, just took his word for it.

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We stayed half an hour away from Maastricht in a town called Valkenburg, which again just blew our little minds. I love how many times we have booked places to stay and they’ve been amazing, all by coincidence. And did we fit in? No clue, didn’t check. They have a statue of a modern day, naked lady so surely it’s not a problem that my leggings are see through at the back (didn’t actually know and James didn’t think to tell me till we went to bed, and yet I wore them the next day too) (I’m really not a travel guide/diary lady am I?).

A coach load of older people turned up at our hotel, drove all the way from Manchester – 14 hours it took. So strange to go from not hearing a lot of English in forever to all these northern accents moaning about how many stairs there are. The Europeans love stairs. We learnt this day one, just like they are learning. Then late at night as I was writing my post for yesterday we heard English football chanting. How peculiar, we said to each other and put on our raincoats and hats, popped in our pipe, whipped out our magnifying glass and went out to investigate.

A bunch of English lads were jumping around the street in football kits. They just got off a party bus and were singing ‘Winter Wonderland’. Of course the Mancs were outside watching in disgust. Probably the whole town really, doesn’t seem like a party town – though does have 3 casinos (unless we walked past the same one 3 times – no travel guide see). Brought the biggest grin to James’s face though. We wanted to start jumping around with them, I’m sure they would have accepted it. Then we were discussing how my Nan loves football and would have gone off and joined them and she’ll turn into their Queen.

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James’s quotes of the day;

‘You can tell we are in a rich area – the state on the fashion’
*as someone cycles past in heels*

‘Look! An English flag, lets eat there!’

*Man has his head in the stocks and joking with his family*
Emily: ‘Throw some rotton fruit at him!’
James: ‘Shit on his face!’

Sleeping in a cell

I wonder how Dutch people choose whether their choice of transport is bike, car, bus or tram. Or even boat I suppose, but how could anyone be that ridiculous to only transport by boat.

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We’ve driven to France, Belgium, Luxembourg, Germany and now The Netherlands. Netherlands – not so fun to drive. We were spoilt rotten with the roads in Luxembourg and parts of Germany, but here it’s known for how flat it is. The roads are flat and straight.

Also, haven’t seen any windmills yet.

What’s the point in stereotypes if we don’t see any windmills? This is day two here after all. I wrote in the beginning stereotypes are true, perhaps they’re not. Did see some clogs for sale though, and it seemed genuine and not a gimmick, and I so totally wanted some but they were 30 euros and all I would achieve from that would be the short lived thrill of buying them.

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Yesterday when we were searching for a place to stay (which consists of going on comparison sites, checking the map to see where to go and trying to spend as little money as possible) James impulsively booked a hostel in an closed prison, in Leeuwarden. My initial reaction wasn’t ‘oh, goodie!’ because it just sounds intimidating. James was so excited though.

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Oh me, oh my, it is cool. And! Bunk beds, baby. I’ve never had a bunk bed before. Looked up the history online and it said it was once a place of torture and public executions, which is nice staying in a room so unpleasant for others. I read that they think it’s haunted too. I didn’t feel horrible though, I felt very comfortable.

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For dinner we nipped to a supermarket and I had two sandwiches. Crazy. I’ve really missed a good sandwich and I haven’t been able to risk buying one yet, being a veggie and all. The toilets are far and few between on a road trip to risk it. They were superb I tell you. Ate them in my prison cell, gazing out from the bars at the channel and people strolling by. How free they all are, they don’t appreciate it.

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On the ground floor there were shops and even a tattoo parlour. James wanted to get a tattoo just to say he got it in prison. That’s a good enough reason for your first tattoo, right?

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Oh miserable looking Emily and James there. We were struggling with finding a place to stay in Amsterdam, within our budget, for the next night. It’s a Dutch holiday and English bank holiday so all I can conclude is that both countries have swarmed to Amsterdam for the weekend. On AirBnB there was a sofa to sleep on in someones apartment for 70 quid. In the end we booked somewhere an hour away which is fine for us. James has been twice or three times before and I’m not a massive city person.

We were going through the places we have stayed so far in the shared living room/bar. This is night 10. We have gotten to the point where we only remember the places that really stood out for us. We had to go through our emails to remind us where we have been. Maybe this isn’t a thing for everyone but we both have awful memories. The prison will obviously stand out. Along side Luxembourg, the B&B in Duppach and last night celebrating the Kings birthday. How very random.

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Turned up to The Netherlands and it’s The Kings birthday

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21 miles till Eindhoven in The Netherlands. I didn’t enjoy my first experience of AirBnB. I found it weird that we were literally staying in someones room. It felt dodgy, but James didn’t care less. He still stripped and slept fine, I decided to sleep in my sleeping bag on the bed and woke up through out the night. I forgot how much I loved sleeping bags though, oh God it’s so comforting. I shuffled right down to the bottom like I used to do as a kid and looked up at the opening like I was in my own cocoon or cave. I had a hoot, as you can tell, while James was being an adult in his duvet watching BBC news – the only English channel. I had anxiety yesterday and I swear that the sleeping bag helped.

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James’s day started with a cigarette outside as usual. He said he was leaning on the wall outside the apartment in his drowsy state that I know all too well. Well, well, unbeknown to him be was leaning on all the buzzers to the building – so an old man came to open the door.

5 days we were in Germany, that’s the most in one country so far – and seeing as we have 5 days left it’ll be the most we spent in one country on this trip. Europe seems like such a community. The freedom of travel is amazing, just popping to Belgium to buy a sleeping bag or going down a hill in Luxembourg and up in Germany. It’s such a shame England are leaving the EU. I believe in unity.

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Turns out we have arrived on the day of The Kings birthday. Looks like there will be parties going on, but we are still oblivious to how they will celebrate other than with bright orange balloons and posters. Nindhoven is decked out. I feel like we’re detectives piecing together all the clues. Call me Harriet The Spy – bloody loved that film.

It’s a bit misleading really – do they clean their shops and streets everyday at 10:17 or is it for the King? It’s amazing. We literally turned up to The Netherlands to this. Maybe the festivities were last night because I just trod in sick. More clues.

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Cat calling is disgusting in all countries, fun fact.

Found a stage covered in orange balloons and DJs setting up, street vendors, bars opening. Definitely today. Definitely a party. ‘Kings Day’ a local said, ‘they get crazy’. Another said last night was Kings night and today is Kings day, but turns into another Kings night and the bars stay open till 4am. The streets are filling up with people dressed all in orange.

We watched some sort of birthday presentation on the TV. It made no sense but we were still entertained. The Kings daughters less so. Maybe they should forget the language and see it from our point of view.

It all rings a bell actually, the Dutch couple in Duppach was saying about Kings Day and the kids have time off school and everyone celebrates. Like the Queens jubilee. Except that wasn’t her birthday but loads of people at her concert thing kept saying ‘Happy Birthday’, and everyone watching on TV was like ‘what?!’. Remember that?

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The little town where we are staying are also celebrating. Roads closed so had to walk our suitcase to the hotel which was in the middle of it all. I joked to the receptionist that we would be disappointed if it wasn’t like this next time we come.

The time when we always check in, about 3, is when we have a little rest and I write up a post from the day before from my notes, but ladies and gentlemen we are wild creatures, I tell you, that took off into the..day.. and went straight out.

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The whole town has come out, and we are part of it. A stage, beer, stools (which seems to be more of a boot fair rather than a market). They said they don’t get a lot of tourists in these parts, but here we are, two English tourists joining in the celebration for The King. We both said we felt like we got into a festival for free.

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I would have liked to of gotten an orange hat or crown that people were wearing. Luckily I was wearing my bleach dyed jumper, so I was a little orange. I think subconscious I must have known.

We went to a pub which had such a friendly, joyous vibe. It was another moment when I felt so lucky to be on this road trip. Random as fuck. People merry on something were dancing around singing Dutch songs. One old guy put my hood up up and started to sing to me and another bloke stroked James’s beard. I even put on makeup for The King. Didn’t wash my hair though, he’s not my King. Then we went for a Chinese. Just amazing.

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James’s words of wisdom for the day;

‘I’m the only one wearing joggers. Maybe you don’t wear joggers on Kings day.’

‘They haven’t cottoned onto the whole beard thing.’

*Looked up articles whether a beard is acceptable in Europe, and read something about usually only artists have them*
‘I’ll take the photo, I’m the artist here.’

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All the way to Dusseldorf to buy leggings from Primark

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The ‘I can’t believe we’re here’ phase has seemed to calmed down now. It’s settled in that we are in fact on a road trip and have been for a week. So much so that I’ve even had to hit myself awake sometimes and then I’m like ‘oh, yeah, shit, I’m in Germany.’ It’s so easy to settle in and accept circumstances.

I wonder how I’d react now if we couldn’t get a bed for the night, now that the holiday high is starting to wear off a little. I might be slightly more worried and less hysterical. We haven’t had that problem again though and I can’t imagine James would allow it anyway.

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We are still waking up at 7am (6am English time) and it’s turned into a routine of ours. James has even woken up first a few times – that’s mad I tell you! This might be normal for some but us in England/real life aren’t as active. We like a lay in. My parents and James’s parents will tell you the same. We are the type of people that you fake being shocked if you see us before 9am. Or even 11am. Yet neither of us want a lay in here. Maybe that’s the key to the ‘perfect life’. Live a life where you want to get up at 6am and get going.

Just got a euro coffee from Aldi and on the road to the Haribo shop. Fun fact: Haribo was founded in Bonn (where we are going) in 1920 and is a abbreviation of the founder Hans Riegal, and Bonn. All supermarkets do a wicked thing where if you recycle your glass and plastic at the supermarket you get money off your shopping. Top tip there, for anyone thinking of travelling to Germany.

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Clear skies, windows open, suddenly it started to hail and it hit me in the head. Then 2 minutes later, gone.

Road tripping seems to be a lot of trying to find the next toilet without having to buy anything. But not many places let you pee for free, if I have to buy a cake so be it. Then it’s a lot of trying to work out how to use their strange automatic machines to flush, wash or dry your hands. The female toilets are the letter ‘D’ by the way, James found that out the hard way.

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I feel like ‘old Emily’ having a notebook constantly next to me. It feels good. If I or anyone had to sum up an Emily from 16 years to 20 it would be scribbling in a notebook. Writing what was going on around her – literally, peoples conversations – and her deepest thoughts – which were mainly about death. Then that girl let go of it a little, moved to Malta for a year, had to behave (pretend) like an adult, had relationships, and dealt with mental health problems. I suppose the writing about death was a sure sign of mental health problems on the horizon. Or maybe they kept them on the horizon because it was my outlet. I think I also got too worried about being original rather than just doing it. I’m sure all my thoughts are an a culmination of things I’ve heard or read anyway, like everyone else. That’s okay though, but I put pressure on myself. So I stopped.

Anyway, looks like she’s back, baby. And although a lot less pondering about the afterlife (for now muhahahaha) it feels so good. Took me 5 nearly 6 years but I feel like I’m finding my footing again.

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We saw a Woolworths. Probably not the same thing as what I’m thinking but still worth noting. I mean, we also went around Dusseldorf and to a delicious food market. Lost the car at one point and no charged phone to help us find our way, so we stormed the streets retracing our steps with the knowledge that our parking ticket was soon to run out, but both of us forgetting the exact time. There’s just no point in being super organised is there? We both reach the same point. We both survive a road trip. We meaning us and them – the unorganised vs the organised.

Staying in Neuss in some randoms apartment from Airbnb, and probably bed early to get up at 6am. We are reborn I tell you.

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James;

‘Here’s something you can write about – they have donor kebabs everywhere.’

‘I think this German weather is more bipolar than me.’

Emily: ‘I wonder if ‘bitter’ in German is ‘you’re welco-‘
James: ‘Scum.’

‘I’ll like to explore Dusseldorf more because it’s posh and I think I fit in here.’

We bought one of the postcards from the first photo without translating it, but wrote our own translation on the back of it. We will frame it when we get home.