myblogs

  🧳 I Packed for 5 Days Like I Was Moving to Another Country Let me start by admitting something: I am  that  traveler — the one who packs for every possible scenario, weather change, mood swing, and fashion emergency. When I planned a five-day trip to the mountains last month, I told myself,  “This time, I’ll travel light. Just essentials. ”  I genuinely believed it. Spoiler alert: I ended up packing like I was preparing to move abroad. It began with the basics: a pair of jeans, a few t-shirts, one jacket. Simple, right? But then, the spiral began. “What if it rains?” I added an umbrella, raincoat, and waterproof shoes. “What if we go out to a nice restaurant?” In went a dress and heels. “What if the weather suddenly drops to freezing?” Boom — thermal layers, gloves, and a woolen scarf. And that was just clothes. Let’s not talk about toiletries. Full-sized bottles of shampoo, conditioner, body wash, two moisturizers (for dry and extremely dry skin), sunscreen,...

 🐢 Slow Travel and Slower Realizations I used to think travel meant ticking places off a list. Paris? Done. Goa? Checked. Udaipur? Took the selfie. I believed movement was proof of adventure. The more I moved, the more I thought I was living. That changed during a trip that was supposed to be “quick.” A 4-day getaway to a tiny hill town I'd barely heard of. But thanks to a landslide (and perhaps fate), I ended up stuck there for nearly two weeks. And that’s when I accidentally stumbled into the world of slow travel. The first few days were frustrating. No signal in the guesthouse. No major tourist spots. Just quiet streets, tea stalls that closed by sunset, and a view of the same hills every morning. I felt antsy, like I was wasting time. “I should’ve picked Manali,” I muttered to myself. But slowly, the pace around me began to seep into my bones. I stopped checking the clock. I started walking without Google Maps, letting instinct (and smell of hot samosas) guide me. I visite...

 📱 Digital Detox... Until I Got Lost Without Google Maps It sounded like a noble idea: a weekend off the grid. No social media. No emails. No notifications. Just me, nature, and “real presence.” I had been doom scrolling for weeks, feeling disconnected from myself despite being hyper connected online. So I declared it—my Digital Detox Weekend. I turned off my phone on Friday evening, stuffed it into the deepest corner of my backpack, and boarded a local bus to a quiet hillside town two hours away. The plan was simple: read a book, journal, hike a bit, and maybe find myself along the way. Day one felt magical. I sat under a tree sketching birds I couldn’t name. I watched the clouds roll over the hills and felt proud of myself for not reaching for my phone every few minutes. I ate without photographing my food. I watched the sunset without checking if it was “Instagram-worthy.” I even slept better. But then came day two. I had planned to explore a nearby waterfall trail I saw me...

 ☕ Cafe-Hopping in a Foreign City to Avoid a Quarter-Life Crisis. It started with a meltdown over oatmeal. Not the oatmeal itself, but what it represented: routine, boredom, and the terrifying realization that I had no clue what I was doing with my life. So, like any millennial with a credit card and a craving for distraction, I booked a solo trip to a city I’d never been to—Lisbon. My only plan? Cafe-hop until I figured things out. Turns out, Lisbon has more coffee shops than I have existential questions (barely). On day one, I wandered into a sun-drenched spot tucked in an alleyway where the barista had a man bun and tattooed arms that spelled out "amor." I ordered a flat white and sat by the window pretending to journal. In reality, I people-watched and scrolled through job listings I had no intention of applying for. Every day after that became a ritual: wake up, Google “aesthetic cafes near me,” and walk to a new spot with the vague hope that caffeine and croissants w...

 🛏️ When I Booked the “Cute, Budget-Friendly Hostel” That Was Neither I fell for the pictures. Again. The listing showed fairy lights, smiling backpackers, and a rooftop view that looked like it belonged in a Netflix rom-com. It was described as “a vibrant and cozy budget hostel with a community vibe and modern facilities” . It had four stars, 73 glowing reviews, and the price? Too good to be true — which, spoiler alert, it absolutely was. Let me take you to the moment I arrived. The tuk-tuk driver squinted at the address twice before dropping me off at the end of a narrow alley. “It’s in there,” he said vaguely, pointing toward a dim-lit lane that looked like it might lead to either a hostel or a horror movie set. With my 12-kg backpack and blind optimism, I walked in. The first thing I noticed was the smell. Not the smell of food or incense or even city life — no, this was the damp, mildew-scented perfume of forgotten basements. The once-pink walls were now a shade of “mould...

 🥴 A Tale of One Bad Street Food Decision There’s something magical about street food. The sizzle of a hot pan, the smell of spices wafting through the air, the locals crowding around a tiny stall like it’s a Michelin-star kitchen. I’ve always believed that if you want to taste a place, taste its street food . So on my third evening in the city, I followed my nose down an alley lined with stalls and made the decision. Everything looked too good to resist. There were sizzling skewers, deep-fried wonders, and bubbling pots of fragrant gravy. But my eyes locked on a small vendor selling something I’d never tried before — a spicy-looking stuffed fritter topped with tangy sauce and raw onions. The vendor smiled and said it was the “specialty of the region.” I didn’t even hesitate. It looked chaotic and delicious — the exact combo that makes travel food exciting. First bite? Explosion of flavors. Crunchy, spicy, tangy — all the things I love. I devoured it in under three minutes an...

 🗺️ How I Tried to Plan Every Second of My Trip (and Then Gave Up on Day 2) I’m the kind of traveler who makes spreadsheets before a vacation. I like order. I like knowing exactly what time I’ll leave the hotel, when I’ll arrive at a museum, and how many minutes I’ll spend eating lunch. So naturally, before my recent 5-day trip, I made a minute-by-minute itinerary. Literally. From 8:00 AM breakfast to 8:45 AM walk to the metro station — everything was planned. I even added buffer time and weather forecasts. For the first 24 hours, things went perfectly. I arrived early at the airport. I checked into my hotel like a travel blogger who knows the drill. I followed my “Day 1” plan exactly — visited the historical sites, ate at the recommended local cafe, and ended the evening journaling about how I was crushing this travel thing. It started with a delayed breakfast. The cafe I’d marked as “Must Visit” didn’t open on Tuesdays (which my spreadsheet did not warn me about). I stood ou...

 🛫 The Airport Anxiety Diaries There’s something about airports that turns even the most confident traveler into a bundle of nerves — and I am Exhibit A. No matter how many times I fly, I can never shake off the uneasiness that creeps in the night before a flight. What if I forget my ID? What if my luggage is overweight? What if I get stuck in security and miss my gate call? Welcome to The Airport Anxiety Diaries — where logic is missing and overthinking has priority boarding. It usually begins the evening before. I lay out my clothes, double-check my flight timings, and yet still set five alarms for the next morning. Because, of course, if I wake up even 5 minutes late, I will somehow miss everything , right? The hours before the flight feel like an exam I didn’t study for — even though all I have to do is show up with my passport. Packing is another chaos saga. I start strong with a list — clothes, chargers, toiletries — but soon spiral into packing random things like a sewing...

 🧭 The Solo Trip That Made Me Realize I Don’t Like Being Alone That Much I had always romanticized solo travel. The idea of waking up in a new city with no plans, sipping coffee by a window, journaling my thoughts, getting lost in art museums or cobbled lanes — it felt like the ultimate declaration of independence. So, when I finally booked my first solo trip — a four-day getaway to a quiet hill town — I was both nervous and excited. This was going to be my moment of self-discovery. Spoiler alert: I did discover something — that I really like being around people. The journey started strong. I had my playlist, my Kindle, and a camera ready to document every moment. The train ride was peaceful, and I reached my Airborne with the thrill of adventure buzzing in my chest. Day one was lovely: I explored a local market, had lunch at a quiet cafe, and went back to my room to watch the sunset with a cup of tea. I thought, “I could get used to this.” By day two, the silence got louder. M...

  🧳 I Packed for 5 Days Like I Was Moving to Another Country Let me start by admitting something: I am that traveler — the one who packs for every possible scenario, weather change, mood swing, and fashion emergency. When I planned a five-day trip to the mountains last month, I told myself, “This time, I’ll travel light. Just essentials. ” I genuinely believed it. Spoiler alert: I ended up packing like I was preparing to move abroad. It began with the basics: a pair of jeans, a few t-shirts, one jacket. Simple, right? But then, the spiral began. “What if it rains?” I added an umbrella, raincoat, and waterproof shoes. “What if we go out to a nice restaurant?” In went a dress and heels. “What if the weather suddenly drops to freezing?” Boom — thermal layers, gloves, and a woolen scarf. And that was just clothes. Let’s not talk about toiletries. Full-sized bottles of shampoo, conditioner, body wash, two moisturizers (for dry and extremely dry skin), sunscreen, lip balm, hair ser...