India, by William Wainewright
University has taught me a lot of things, most not overly academic. Fairly near the top of this list comes the self-evident truth that people who took gap years talk about little else. In my first year I grew to actively dislike such people, who seemed intent upon reminding me of my limited, some would say primitive, travelling experience (planes can fly? In the air?).
I’ll be honest though, having been to India this summer I’m starting to sound like one. Eventually crushed by the gap year brigade, my desperation to join their ranks saw me search for an adventure and the Indian sub-continent seemed the obvious choice.
After all, India is far enough away for the trip to sound moderately impressive, while cheap enough for it not to break the teetering bank account – we found some AirIndia flights for just £320 (and we all know why after one flight’s pilot and cabin crew got involved in a spot of fisticuffs over Pakistan last week). But an adventure it was. India is a truly fantastic country and, bar the odd spot of Delhi belly (which turned into full-on dysentery when we got back), everything went well. The Taj Mahal was great, the auto-rickshaw drivers as dodgy as promised and Ganges dirtier than a night in the Willow. And now, at last, I have done a bit of real travelling that I can bore other people with; did I tell you about the time I got chased by a gang of rabid monkeys?
Barcelona
Barcelona is a city with a wealth of cultural delights, so naturally I was ecstatic when my friends and I decided to head there this summer for my twenty-first birthday (courtesy of a £30 Ryanair return) . It didn't disapoint; Barcelona is an incredible city with a wealth of interesting and inspiring sights. From the legendary Camp Nou Ground of FC Barcelona to the equally impressive architecture gems littered throughout the city.
But as you imagine any lads holiday we moved away from these more graceful settings to life in the city. We explored further away from the centre of La Rambla (which amusingly enough turns into a real illicit centre with prostitutes and drug dealers peppered all over at night), going into back streets to find litres of Estrella Damm for only 3 euros, bars that offered only shots (and over 300 varieties of them, at least a quarter of them involving setting the bar on fire too). One of the most interesting such concoctions we came across was a drink in a supposedly affluent bar that served up a free cocktail on entry that consisted of vodka, ice and Listerine. Yes. Listerine. In fact, as we were initially drinking it and we had no idea of the ingredients, we were ribbing jokes about the cocktail tasting like mouthwash – but no, it really did consist of Listerine, information which we cleverly managed to gather just as we'd finished the drink. Surprisingly, following this my memories of the remainder of my time in this wonderful city have turned somewhat hazy.
China, by Patrick Harte
Lijiashan village, in East China, is not your typical tourist destination. Sitting on the peak of a small mountain, it has no roads, there's no official accommodation and speaking English is an alien concept. Having said that, it's a travellers' dream-an undiscovered gem that's existed for thousands of years, a place where locals live in cave houses and sleep on stone beds .
So I set off alone from central Pingyao (a touristy area that would make even York, even on a summer bank holiday, look quiet). Four and a half cramped hours, two bus changes and a sweaty hike later I finally arrived in Lijiashan. After strolling around the village a few times, I eventually started haggling (in broken English) with a young man called Li. I was sold accommodation in his family home overnight for just four pounds, which included all meals, my very own cave room and an actual stone bed.
Lijiashan, isn't some sort of travel gimmick, and as the only stranger in the village, I got the privilege of watching its residents carry on with their daily business (as they have been doing for the last 1000 years). As night drew in this charm was complemented by one of the most serene sunsets I have ever witnessed, it was bloody marvelous.
Under a canopy of bright stars, my evening became rather more animated. I sank a beer and shared cigarettes with my host, his wife and his father. We attempted to curb the cultural and linguistic barrier by gesturing, drawing and generally being a bit nutty- I even taught Li how to dance to Daft Punk on my phone, a genuinely surreal moment as we raved in the middle of nowhere. At this point Li clearly feeling the moment, went to fetch a pipe and a bag of brown powder, which I can only guess was opium. I politely declined. He got high.
In all, this little trip was a fascinating detour, a trip that would never have happened had I not stumbled across it on the Internet. It wasn't easy to get there, it wasn't easy to sleep, and nothing there seemed obviously worth seeing, but it was an awesome little adventure.
Interailing Through Europe, by Andrew Nichols
There are several things I want to do before I die: sky dive, see England in a World cup final, have a threesome and ‘do’ Asia. One thing I managed to cross off my imaginary list was the running of the bulls in Pamplona.
It seemed the whole of Spain and a fair few drunk Australians were trying to get to Pamplona; we had no train ticket, no accommodation and no knowledge of how we actually got to do the running. However after buying the only remaining (first class, £50 each) tickets for the train, missing it and then jumping on another train without a ticket we arrived in Pamplona.
The population of Pamplona swells to over 1,000,000 for the festival, its small medieval streets were overflowing with revellers enjoying sangria, brass bands and samba parades long into the night. After discovering we had to be awake at 5am to make sure of a place in the running of the bulls we decided to retreat to the nearest park and catch some sleep, the numerous, amorous Spanish couples who kept descending on our make shift dormitory ensure we had a sleepless night.
When 5am came we woke up, With a four hour wait for the bulls to be released rumours that an English tourist had been gored to death rang round the crowd. My mum’s earlier warnings were ringing in my ears. As the time got nearer the atmosphere grew tenser and the crowds on the side of the course grew boisterous. Suddenly a shot was fired and the bulls were released. The crowds of runners surged up the hill, desperately pushing each other out of the way and diving to the side. What we thought were all the bulls charged past in an instant only to be followed later by several more which left us pinned to a wall within touching distance of their muscular heaving frames.
With that it was over, thousands of miles and hundreds of pounds for a two minute adrenaline rush. It was like nothing I have experienced before a mixture of relief, elation, excitement and achievement . A feeling that will surely not be matched until I finally achieve that threesome.