6:22 pm in Cardiff, Wales. I have £12 and 55 pence in my pocket. The rest of my cash is approximately $50 American, $25 canadian, and €10.74. A hostel is about 200 yards away, but have I booked it? No. I’m 4 pounds short of a bed and I’m really dreading swiping the plastic card to get more cash. As long as its in the bank, I don’t spend it. So, this Starbucks is graciously letting me use their wifi (for the price of their cheapest item) as I try to figure out what to do about a place to sleep tonight. A park bench sounds fun and exciting. The thunderstorms forecasted do not. At the moment though, the sun is somewhat shining and the clouds are white and soft, not at all what thunderclouds look like. On Monday I will be back in a warm train headed to London and then Surrey. Until then, I am entirely indecisive about what to do.
I’m not broke yet, but I’m sure enough bending. This street I’m on, St Mary’s Street, is quite busy and bustling. Perhaps if I wrote on cardboard “traveling canadian £4 short of a hostel room” and then started dancing or singing I could be in an actual hostel bed by 10 tonight.
Now, dear worrying family, it’s not as bad a picture as I’ve painted. I’ve never been much of an artist. I have funds to survive, and I will be fine and grand and everything will work out peachy keen. But, for now this story is going to be carried out in real time and the ending shall be told when its happened.
The five minutes I’ve spent in the Cardiff air have been lovely and I’m sure I’ll enjoy this city.
On a different topic, the bus ride here was a bit haywire. I feel as though the bus driver was maybe trying to audition for Fast and Furious 7 the way he swerved in and out of traffic and sped up to get through the round-abouts.
This traveling business sure is fun ad adventurous, I must say.
Good evening, world.
All my love,