Words by: Gloria Lau

Emma’s Edinburgh Escapade

I purchased a plane ticket from Spain to Edinburgh and stayed a week at a guy’s apartment; a guy who I met in a hostel kitchen in Barcelona for less than 5 hours.

It didn’t seem scary to me until later. It was “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”—very spur of the moment, very European, so dreamy that I could never forget. I was in Spain that whole July for an internship that I ap- plied through my Journalism degree with Monash University.

Not only did I order a pistachio gelato with my broken Español, but I also met this guy, Ivan, at the hostel. I decided to travel all the way to Edin- burgh (by myself) and stayed under his roof for a week.

I wasn’t even scared of being held captive in a foreign country, and for that courage, I got the best whiskey I have ever had and six consecutive rare sunny days in Scotland.

Indigo’s Italian Intuition

“Feel free to come out of your room and have some marijuana with my friends and I!”

That’s what my Airbnb host—and his two adult friends — asked me the night I stayed in Bologna, Italy. I decided to stay in — what feels like — a half-way city, after I parted ways with my other Monash friends. Home to the best strawberry cheesecake gelato I could ever ask for, the city was amazing.

I decided it wasn’t safe to join the party in the living room because I was all by myself, and they were three adult men, so I did what a normal Asian girl would have done—locked myself in the room and slept like a baby.

Becky’s Barcelona Beat

“That’s some cute pyjamas you are wearing!!”
“Cool, cheers! I am from Melbourne!”
“Awesome! I’m from Sydney!”
“Wow, what a coincidence!”
“Have a goodnight!”

This adorable conversation was screamed out loud between myself and a random Aussie guy I bumped into outside of a night club while I was on a rescue mission, in the middle of the night, on the awry streets of Barcelona.

I was on my way to find two of my Aussie girlfriends, who — my other friends had assumed — left the club three hours earlier, before the rest of us. Apparently for the drunks it was more like three minutes rather than three hours.

Turns out they didn’t leave the club. An hour after their supposed departure, the rest of us had returned to our hostel. One of the drunks, Zoe, called me. She was shouting into the phone, saying some Spanish grandmother was angry at her, and the other drunk, Tara.

Cut to my darling pyjama conversation — when I had to return to the nightclub and dazzle the Abuelita with my half-broken Spanish. I got my girls back safe and sound, though.

Talia’s Tinder Triomphe

The easiest way to acquire a free tour guide for Paris is Tinder.

I didn’t get a SIM card in Paris so I had to confirm the time and place to meet my beau before leaving the house. Having no data was bad enough, but when my phone hit 0% battery power, part of my heart died with it.

I couldn’t get a hold of the guy I was supposed to meet in front of this museum. Luckily I described myself beforehand: hairstyle, outfit, bag. Not to mention I was almost the only Asian there at that time, so he found me pretty quickly.

We walked around, telling each other our life stories. ‘Before Sunset’ really hyped me up for Europe. Then I took him to a second-hand book- store I really wanted to visit. The smell of old books and wood cupboards are my favourite scent in this world. While I was searching for ‘Plato’; he was busy laughing over some silly comic book.

I guess he was “tired” after reading the comic (that realistically didn’t require much brain energy) and wanted to take me somewhere for a nap. Sounds legit…not! I politely told him I wasn’t feeling sleepy at 4pm, and so I ditched him. Luckily he didn’t follow me back to my hotel.