Heart-warming travel tales from other backpackers

About two years ago Peter (of gapyear.com fame!) and I decided to take a trip out to Botswana for a bit of a break from the rat race that is Ipswich life. We flew down to Johannesburg for a few nights before we were scheduled to fly out to Sowa Pan in the great Mgadigadi in central Botswana. However, complications arose when the light aircraft we were to travel in had to take an extra person at the last minute, so one of our seats was cancelled necessitating an extra 2 day stay in Joburg. I had been to Botswana before and therefore insisted that Peter take the seat, which he duly did (and then mocked me by calling to inform me that he was in the pool drinking brandy sundowners). In the meantime, I had to find a place to stay, so I contacted some old friends, one of whom agreed to lend me some couch space in the house he was renting a room in. The owner of the house turned out to be a very lovely young lady, and once in Botswana I felt compelled to call her and invite her up with us. She turned me down of course (I said she was a lady!) but agreed to meet up when I was back in Joburg. The trip over, I got to spend one night in Joburg, and we had to fly up to the UK again. I didnt see her again for three months, then saw her for a week, then another three months absence, and eventually I gave in and flew back to South Africa one last time... we are getting married in August, and it goes to show that you have no idea what you are missing out on until you get out there. Just do it! Jeremy Green

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Sleeping in dodgy accommodation, hours spent waiting at airports (and train/bus stations or the side of the road with your thumb stuck out) and delays are all part of a backpackers life; but why does it always happen at the worse time. A romantic weekend in New York is a sure way to win anyone’s heart; and it was the least I owed to my long suffering girlfriend, Claire, who never sees me due to my wanderlust. A modern art themed hotel in the village, a helicopter ride across Hudson Bay followed by dinner and dancing as we cruised around Manhattan Island was going to be the highlight of the weekend, before we went our separate ways yet again. Well, that was the plan. The East Coast of America experienced its biggest blackout in thirty years as we were flying to New York. Miami was to be our new destination, along with thousands of others. So many other people in fact that the only beds left vacant were in a motel that even the cockroaches had moved out of in disgust; just the start to a trip that would involve hours at the airport and another days travelling to make it to the Big Apple. Arriving at the Port Authority with only three hours to spare before Claire’s flight back to France, there was just enough time to run into Time Square, gaze at all those neon lights for a few minutes before running to the catch the A train to JFK. Romantic hey!! Matt Scott

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