This hobo, like most, is a travellin’ hobo. I move once, sometimes twice, a year. Usually within the same neighbourhood (i.e. I once lived in three apartments between 2004-2005 within a 15min radius in Lawrence Park). Sometimes I move out of Toronto, sometimes I move back to the ‘rents in Miltonia (shudder, no offence Momsies). Sometimes I pack my bags and move out of the country. I guess I’m just a vagabond at heart. For someone who lives out of a bag as often as I do, you’d think I’d be a better packer. But not only am I the world’s worst jogger – I am also the world’s worst packer. I didn’t even pack a scarf when I went home for Christmas. Don’t ask – I don’t know either.
However, as much as I hate living out of a bag, I do love to travel. Maybe that’s why I move so often. (Although my Daddy-O would argue that I move so often in order to force him to carry boxes up and down stairs repeatedly.) It’s always good to get a fresh perspective on life.
Rollin’ with the hobo’s…
So far, I have been to the following countries:
– Canada (duh)
– Denmark
– England
– France
– Gibraltar
– Ireland
– Sweden
– Spain
– USA
– Wales
Not very many when you look at that list. Sure, I actually LIVED in three of those countries, but there’s so many other ones I would like to visit. Top of my list are Morocco, Greece, and Scotland.
Due to the nature of the ‘bo, I usually embark upon shoestring travel. One of the things I like to do most is take impromptu trips only for a night or two, but with a specific purpose. Like when I spent a night in Gibraltar and had dinner in a hotel atop the infamous Rock, looking out over the Mediterranean as a crescent moon rose, with Northern Africa’s Atlas Mountains shadowed in the distance. Or when I travelled something like 29hrs over three days just to drink a Guinness in Ireland (I planned to only stay one night but got stranded when the ferries were cancelled indefinitely due to bad weather). Or when I went north of the Arctic Circle to see Sweden’s Icehotel. Or the crazy days of my week running a charity golf tournament in Phoenix, Arizona, where J and I partied with Carlton Banks.
It’s not that unusual actually…
OK, maybe that trip wasn’t really shoestring travel. It was quite indulgent, and luckily on someone else’s tab! Ha! But it’s the travel stories I will be featuring in my new series of posts on Coco Hobo: The Blog. A series of nights to remember, that’s for sure!
So, pack your checkered kerchief-on-a-stick, warm up that can of hobo soup, and get ready to hit the virtual road with your friendly travelling ‘bo.
There’s a world that’s waiting to unfold,
A brand new tale no one has ever told.
We’ve journeyed far and know it won’t be long;
We’re almost there, and we’ve paid our fare with our hobo song.Maybe tomorrow, I’ll want to settle down,
Until tomorrow, I’ll just keep moving on.
Bon voyage,
x