I recently had a good friend come to stay for a week and half in our tiny little town. A word for the wise – that is too long for most in our tiny little town. Being autumn and getting colder, although the weather wasn’t terrible, there is still a limit to what we could do. On days where the sun takes until lunchtime to pierce the fog, it still feels dismal and cold and motivation is low.
Birthdays while travelling seem to take place at two extremes. You either find yourself among a bunch of awesome people, and the fact it is your birthday propels everyone into party mode resulting an epic night. Or it’s lonely, in a city among people you haven’t connected particularly well with, which then becomes a half-hearted kind of tragic day.
It has to be one of the most insufferable phrases to come out of an expat or traveller’s mouth upon their return home. I’ve heard it countless times myself and I’ve seen the expressions on the faces of people receiving it. Hell, I’ve even thought it, though hopefully I was able to hold myself back from actually spitting it out.
I love European jet lag. LOVE. IT. If European jet lag was a food, I would eat it daily, if it was a cream, I would lather it all over myself, and if it was an alcoholic drink, I would be perpetually intoxicated. Probably not many people say that they love jet lag, but let me be clear on the type of jet lag I’m talking about here – I’m talking about the jet lag you get when you travel from Australia to Europe, not the other way round (west, not east).
My recent trip to Australia for our wedding almost felt more like a working holiday than an actual holiday, due to the large amounts of somewhat boring (though essential) tasks that had to be undertaken, interspersed with crazy, emotional drinking sessions.
an aussie in austria 