This is a story about my massive red suitcase with flowers on it that nearly fell apart but didn’t aka Ode to a faithful friend


It’s been a while

…and already talking in clichés

For those of you who know me, you might be thinking “where has she been?”, “Sam, you have a blog?” or “Did she ever make it through Italy without turning into Big Momma?”

To that I will say: 1. Read on 2. Yes, unbelievable I know! 3. No, no I did not. The pastries got me, and yes, they GOT ME GOOD.

It’s been a good long while since I last wrote and I can’t help but get frustrated at myself for not having put pen to paper or rather finger to keyboard sooner. Writing I realised is one of the things I love to do most, and it seems I also get some kind of weird kick out of putting my thoughts into words; reading them later and  proceeding to cringe so unbelievably hard at what I published willingly.

So here we go!

First of all, there are few things I should let you in on since I last posted.

  1. I graduated!
  2. I joined the real world and had a 9-5 job in London
  3. I left said real world job and London
  4. I am no longer in the UK
  5. I am no longer in Europe

And this is the story of how my now rickety, battered, and barely together suitcase and I decided to go against the status quo and sort of go a bit everywhere.

So there she sits in the corner of my room; a bit dusty, a lot broken. Not quite neglected but she’s definitely seen better days; she also definitely used to have 4 working wheels…

The last trip was to be the final one, but I have a feeling it might not be. Her once brilliant red shines still among beaten patches. The last flight was a bit touch and go but with enough optimism, positivity, blessed thoughts, prayers and insane amounts of cellophane, she made the journey. Her outer pocket’s stitching once baring the full brunt of 20 plus kilograms (without a doubt more than what was permitted)  is in now questionable condition, but nevertheless she sits there proudly, her flowers only slightly faded, her big rainbow band casually rested on her handle, just there in case the moment should come, and it will.

My friend since those Erasmus days; many a travel we’ve shared together and many a fight we’ve had; with fellow passengers, bus drivers, scales and each other.

Her journey began in Granada, saving me in my hour of need (how does someone collect so much STUFF in 5-6 months/why won’t it all fit?!/where am I gonna put my rice-cooker? *panics*) and ever since, she’s accompanied me on many a weekend escapade/family visit/new adventure.

So here we are now, in Mexico.

Bit of a switch-up, but like Dad said “You always have to be different,don’t you?”

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