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Travelling as a solo female isn’t as dangerous as people tend to make it out to be. But in this part of the world, I feel more vulnerable than I have anywhere else, and I’m not entirely sure I’m okay with it.
Apparently, even I have my limits, but they aren’t as dramatic or as impressive as you might expect. Costa Rica, of all places, is where I finally broke down, and ran back home. Here’s why.
Once again, I’ve lost a whole pile of my things in a foreign country. But instead of this spurring me to reject materialism and all its perceived evils, I choose to embrace it.
I’ve been a designer for most of what I’d consider my adult life, and it still drives me crazy. When you start off complaining about design and end up writing it a love letter, it’s clearly a love-hate relationship.
I’ve been so busy, I completely abandoned blog posts for six months. In that time, I went to ten different countries, bought a motorbike and learned to ride it, and made a few websites.
People are always telling me how lucky I am to do what I do. A lot of it’s about luck, sure, but it’s also a lot of work. Here’s how I make it happen.
Feeling adrift in Istanbul, a city of minaret spires and sludgy coffee that spans two continents. More rambling on “home” when you’re a vagabond.
How landed myself in a Thai jail and came out on top: more stories of stress and madness from one of the world’s hottest, maddest cities.
I spent a month slow-travelling through Southeast Asia’s broken places. My tales of losses, gains, and high-powered automatic rifles amid the chaos.