Going To Extremes

[For this post, extremes = Europe+]

For my very first plane trip EVER I flew from Newfoundland to Spain.  Admittedly, there was a very quick transfer in St. John’s (we literally had to run through the airport to the other plane), but then it was off to Malaga, Spain.

This was a part of a trip that my high school planned every 2 years.  My sister had gone on the trip 2 years ago, so my parents had to let me go. Three cheers for sibling rivalry!

Before this the extent of my travels consisted of summer trips to St. John’s, and one family vacation (when I was 8) to Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, Prince Edward Island, and Maine.  I’d never flown in an airplane or travelled on a train (the Bullet was decommissioned in my early years).  I’d never been outside of North America (I also don’t consider going to Maine as visiting the USA, since we really only went there to buy a canoe).

So yeah, my first “real” trip was a big one – Spain, Morocco, and London.  It was a while ago, so some of the memories are hazy, but I still remember lots of good stuff.  I feel like this is a cop-out (I’m not telling you anything about the trip after all), but I’ve got to stretch this stuff out.  Can’t run out of things to say after only one week, right?

And yes, I have since travelled by airplane and train since then.  My favorite was the old train in Belgium, which may not have been the most comfortable, but was definitely the coolest.

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