My Two Francs

I want to start off this blog with a little bit of ’splaining.

When I travel, I write. I always have.

It’s one of the few true forms of expression I genuinely love to do... whether it’s here, rambling on my blog... or scribbled into one of my many memory books. I have quite a few of them. Writing things down is how I make sense of things... no matter what they are. It’s where my (occasional & perceived) humour meets honesty (often mixed with a bit of exaggeration) ...and more often than not, chaos.

Anyone who knows me knows I love to travel.

And, as anyone who knows me also knows, I tend to find humour in the things that happen both around me and to me... whether they’re positive, negative, or somewhere in between. I never intend to sound particularly negative, but yes… I will admit it... I can be negative sometimes. And I can be stubborn sometimes. And I can be pissy sometimes. And I can be judgmental sometimes.

All of that. All of the above.

But...

I can also be positive.

I can be witty.

I can be smart.

I can be caring.

I can be thoughtful.

I can also be emotional... sometimes to the point of being overly emotional.

All of these things. All of the above.

Maybe. I think so.

On good days. Yes. Maybe.

Yes.

Damn straight.

When I travel, I seem to attract a certain level of disaster... and... both fortunately and unfortunately, that’s often where my best writing comes from. Perhaps not even my "best," but my favourite writing.

My stories and my words are meant to be humorous and taken lightly... even when they come from mishaps and stress and chaos. So if I ever happen to insult anyone (that I care for) in the process, please know that it’s never intentional... and I apologize profusely... to some of you. lol

My imagination sometimes takes the wheel... and I’ve also been known to add a bit of flair to my thoughts (occasionally), though not necessarily my actions or my words.

Could I sprinkle in more fluff and joy and positivity and love?

Sure.

But that’s not always my style. If that’s what you’re after... read Judith Joy. My writing comes from a place of fun, truth, and a genuine desire to share the messy, funny, human side of travel. As well as the shenanigans in my own head.

Hey. I'm not perfect. I don't ever pretend to be. When I mess up, I try to make it better.

When I fall, I get up. Or at least I try my best.

And if you read closely, you’ll notice that I probably berate myself more than I ever do anyone else. From this moment forward, I’ll keep doing what I love... writing, in my own way, with my own voice and my own vibe. And if you don’t like it… that’s okay.

Just don’t read it.

Cool.

With that said… I just spent the day in pouring rain in Geneva.

It was grey. It rained.

I walked. A lot.

Sorry to be negative, but it’s true. All true.

I wandered through Parc des Bastions and admired the Reformation Wall... a monumental tribute to the leaders and ideals of the Protestant Reformation. Hmmm… I guess it’s a refreshing change from the Catholic overload. Then I meandered through the Vieille Ville and made my way to the L’Horloge Fleurie, the famous flower clock by the lake.

Very rainy.

I tried to make it up to the United Nations buildings, but the pouring rain had other plans in store for me. Instead of continuing with my Geneva sightseeing, I decided to pop into a wee restaurant to charge my phone… only to remember I was... in fact... in Switzerland.

Uh-oh...

The plugs weren’t the same as in Italy, and of course... I didn’t have my handy adapter for my charger.

Why am I never prepared?

Because I’m a clown.

Then came the panic-watch stage as my phone quickly died. Following that, I became obsessed with finding a shop that sold a proper charger plug for my cord. The problem was… it was Sunday... and almost everything was closed. I finally stumbled upon a tiny convenience store and bought one... for an astronomical price.

Not being negative… I’m in Switzerland. It’s true. Everything here is ridiculously priced.

At last... I found a little café, grabbed something to eat and drink, yet mainly focused on charging my phone enough to navigate back to my hotel.

And… tomorrow, I’m off to Sicily.

I need to get back to my happiness and my love of travel.

This week has been heavy... and I’ve had enough. It’s time to return to the joy of wandering streets I’ve never walked before, tasting food I can’t pronounce, and seeing this big, beautiful world in all its messy, fabulous glory.

Travel isn’t about perfection. Ever. It’s about curiosity, laughter, small (and big) disasters that make great stories, and moments that lift my heart.

So here’s to finding wonder... even in the rain. Here’s to getting lost, laughing at myself, laughing at everyone and everything... and remembering why I fell in love with travel and travel writing in the first place.

PS ~ I miss my dog... ❤️