Brenna Holeman

The plan had been fairly straightforward: we were to arrive by train in Bucharest, the capital of Romania, around 8pm. We had already booked a hostel in the city, but we wanted to purchase our train tickets for Varna, Bulgaria, while we were still at the train station.

We had just spent a week in Transylvania, the famous home of Dracula, and so had arrived in Bucharest from the small town of Brasov. The week had fulfilled our every expectation and then some, with green landscapes, cobblestoned towns, and plenty of castles perched ominously on hilltops, perfect for sleeping all day and drinking blood all night. Why we had come to Romania at all was an impromptu decision, a three-week holiday booked between two friends who wanted to see an unusual part of the world. We had looked at a map and chosen a place we knew nothing about.

18 countries together. That’s a lot of laughs, and a lot of great moments, but it’s also a lot of tears and a lot of hardships. Travelling together can be one of the most difficult challenges your friendship will face, but, if you follow these tips, you’ll ultimately become even better friends, and closer than ever before.

So, how can you travel with your best friend…and still manage to be best friends at the end of it?

There’s an incredible mix of emotions we get right before we set forth on a new adventure: excitement, anxiety, anticipation. The beauty in travel is that we never really know what’s going to happen once we arrive in an unfamiliar place.

Except for these things. These ten things will definitely happen.

A few weeks ago, I was contacted by Katrina from Eating London about joining one of their tours. If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you may have noticed that I haven’t accepted many tours or trips; it’s just a personal thing. After reading Tom’s post about the same tour, though, and when I realised that the tour would take place in my neighbourhood, East London, I became very, very intrigued. Since moving to London I’ve decided that I’d like to do a bit more “backyard blogging”, which is writing about the place in which you live. As I live in the best city on earth, and in the best neighbourhood in the best city on earth, this means writing a lot more about East London and how much this part of town has to offer.

There, standing on the bridge that would take me to my flat, is a young man, his arms outstretched in wanting embrace, his face delighted at the sight of me. Looking at him you would have thought we were old friends, new lovers, that we had shared laughs or drinks or at least a handshake.

I have never seen him before in my life.

This place was sacred. Bodies burned day and night on the ghats, the steps leading to the Ganges; it was not uncommon to find bits of ash in your hair or on your skin. I balked at the chance to drink tea with the holy men after I learned that the Ganges was the source of the water, even though, as my guide told me, “It will make you closer to India.” I watched each morning as men and women bathed in the river, washed their faces in the river, drank from the river. Hindus and Jains came here to die, the Ganges serving as the divine cosmic road to salvation. Tourist boats rode up and down the water, the people on them snapping photos of cremations.