I came to U.K as refugee a when I was about 6/7. Thank you my mama.
I’m not from a family with a culture of travelling for leisure - as we all initially left Angola because of the war. Growing up I didn't know many friends who traveled much either. The first time I got on the plane again being a family trip to Genveva. From that day, I had always wanted to travel, but always felt too scared to do so alone. There's also that whole money thing too, I guess.
Eventually, I said "fuck it!" I booked flights to Rotterdam and flights back to London from Berlin. I didn't really know how exactly it would work out - I just knew I would have to do it and figure it out. I gave myself an extra challenge of not paying for accomadation - using Couchsurfing and Tinder to find places to say (except from the little stopover in Geneva with family).
Although a relative short one, I floated around Europe for 12 days, alone. I found some new friends, went on dates, managed to get a photo job, got lost and fell to a short spell of overwhelming loneliness. All in all, it was hard, but one the best thing that I have ever done.
So, I was born in Angola and left when I was about 5/6. I can’t recall much of then. My mother told me about how connected I was to my grandmother when I was a kid. Speaking to my mother, she told me that I would cry when I didn’t see her for way too long. Which is really funny, because this was the first time seeing her in nearly 20 years and I fucking teared.
Enjoy.