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Backpackers, a decade on

Ten years ago, a slightly more innocent Miss K and I made the decision to continue on our backpacking adventures instead of heading home as planned. After traipsing through South East Asia, Mexico, Belize, Guatemala, Cuba, New York and a mad party week of no sleep in Vegas, we boarded a hellish flight to Costa Rica for Christmas. The flight wasn't bad, I should clarify, travelling on half an hour sleep was. 

We landed in San Jose and realised what a grim prospect Christmas would be there, so we jumped aboard a bus to Tamarindo as quick as we could and started a whirlwind adventure of ziplines, camping on beaches, hostels over water, sailing trips through remote islands, diving, whitewater rafting and many, many parties. 

Some people love backpacking, some people hate it. I love it. There are grim bits. When you're facing a 50 hour trip on transport you're sure is a deathtrap. When you have all your stuff stolen including your passport and photos, and end up stranded in a crappy city waiting for the embassy to reopen after new years. When you realise how much money you've spent and that you're going to have to eventually face the music and get a job. When you wake up in the middle of the night being eaten alive by bedbugs.

But the awesome bits far outweigh the bad. Getting to take your bestie snorkelling for the first time in crystal clear waters teeming with fish, rays and sharks. Meeting people from all over the world you'd never have the chance to meet at home. Waking up on the beach and shaking off your hangover diving into the Caribbean. Having nothing more to worry about than where you're going to go the next day. Staying up all night, night after night. Climbing volcanoes and having your shoes melt. Canyoning. Tubing. Climbing trees and diving into swimming holes. Sliding over rock waterfalls. Farm stays, city tours, and so many, many laughs.

Loving travelling is a love that never leaves you.