Finally, after working thirty-two days straight, I've relented and taken a day off. Last night after wiork, I caught a train down to Brighton, by the seaside. Well, it was a train when I boarded, but changed into a bus somewhere along the way. Long story.
So here i am in Brighton, staying for a couple of nights with Becky, who invited me through my website. It's a cool but bright Sunday morning- almost afternoon now- and after the big cooked breakfast Becky just prepared, I think we're about to go exploring the sights of Brighton.
It's not often that I meet someone who's travelled more than I have, but I tell you I'm way out of my league this time. Becky has travel stories that'll keep you up till two in the morning, like last night for example. Her loungerooom is adorned with photographs from around the world; a boab tree at sunset in Namibia, a lone cyclist on a Sudanese desert track, a slope of windswept trees in Patagonia, street dancers in Buenos Aires, Argentina.
Her extensive travels include:
* eighteen years growing up in Brazil
* a year cycling from London to Capetown
* three months selling jewellery at a market stall in Japan
* six months cycling in India, getting hit by a bus, cycling into a sewerage ditch, and setting fire to her hotel room .. all in three days
* three months in Turkey
* three months working in a backpackers hostel in South Africa
* being attacked by gypies in Romania (the same two gypsies on two separate occasions)
.....and she's only thirty. Crikey!
Gotta go to the beach. See ya!
