Even when I was living in my tiny studio apartment in Strasbourg with a mini oven, I was still following this vernacular tradition even though I had to spend my days off baking, batch after batch, so I could have my little cookies to eat with my tea during those long Alsatians winter evenings. I’m so attached to this tradition that I couldn’t help but bring it with me in both New-Zealand and Taiwan! As a matter of fact, I’m always travelling with cinnamon just in case I’d like to bake something tasty for my hosts or travel companions.
As Halloween was around the corner, I found out a story which is combining both the orange colour and ghosts, as well as psychopaths, murderers, hanged men and handcuffs.
Can you guess what I’m going to talk to you about? No? Well, I’m going to tell you about the time when I lived in a prison.
The last time I decided to put myself through the joy of having homework was a bit more than a year ago when I freshly arrived in Ecuador without knowing a single word of Spanish. I became aware quite fast that Duolingo was cool enough to have conversations about a cat drinking milk – el gato bebe leche-, but it wouldn’t help me that much to ask for directions, and even start more intimate conversations with locals.
The other night I was invited to talk about my experiences when it comes to accommodations while travelling during a workshop about alternative tourism. It was all organized by the Enjoy’In hostel, which is a project to build a social and eco-friendly hostel in Mulhouse, the city I’m now living in.
I didn’t feel very legitimate to speak right after the Mulhouse’s tourist office and other touristic related companies. What could I bring? In the end, I decided to do as I always do when it comes to talking about travel: I simply told stories.
Like a family, we took care of each other. We cooked together after our shift. Emma used to help me to separate the white and the yolk to bake chocolate mousses. Vincent helped me getting train tickets out of the Family Mart’s vending machine where everything was written in Chinese. I used to go swimming with Emma at Our Beach. I used to sleep with Vincent at the 7/11 convenient store before watching some hot air balloons in Luye.
I wanted it wilder and more adventurous. This is why I chose to leave Taipei to travel the East Coast of Taiwan. According to my plan, I was supposed to spend two weeks in Hualien and explore the Taroko National Park as much as I could, and slowly make my way down south, stopping here and there.
But you know me pretty well by now, and you know that I suck at sticking to the plan.