A Backpacker’s Crash Course To Europe

Last fall, I had the opportunity to backpack Europe for just shy of 2 months. I left with not much of a game plan, and learned nearly every perceivable lesson the hard way. Despite this, it was an incredible trip that I was so fortunate to have taken.

After I returned home, I had multiple friends of mine who felt inspired to do the very same thing, and many of them were asking for advice on exactly how to do it.

Perhaps you’ve always wanted to do it, but you just never knew where to start? Perhaps you never thought you could afford it? Perhaps you are just scared of being alone, overseas? This blog post is my attempt to answer many of those questions, as well as give you some practical advice on how to make it as fun an affordable as possible.

It’s not as expensive as you might think

1) Timing is crucial

I for one, don’t really care if I’m in Europe in July or September, but apparently that’s not the case for many. If you extend your trip to late Summer and early Fall, you’ll save thousands,

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My R rated faith

Coloring books; I think that’s where it started. I used a dull crayon to begin my childish masterpiece and brought to life a giant, and a kid, and this kid defeated the giant with a slingshot. Later, I watched a remake of the scene, played out by a pickle and a cucumber.

Later on, I read a story about a kid, undermined and unvalued by his family and forced to spend most of his days and nights alone in wilderness. He managed to survive the brutal land by learning how to kill some of the most dangerous creatures in the world without traditional weapons.

The giant was a Nephilim, meaning he was part demon and part human and he terrorized the country.*

The kid tells the freakish demon/giant that God was going to use him to kill him, then takes down the giant with the same methods he learned in the wilderness, and then hacks off his head and holds it up in the air. Afterwards, a kid who had about as much social contact with women as he did with the enemy, ends up winning the beautiful daughter of the most powerful man in the country.

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5 Kinds of Girls Who Can’t Seem To Find Mr Right

One of the most common things I see on social media, is a plea from a girl for a certain type of man that she’s looking for. “Find a man who will do this or that for you” with perfectly framed snapshots of a couple on a swing, or a cute wedding scene, or a 40 year anniversary to depict that there is this utopia in a romantic sort and that most of it lies in this idea that you “just need to find the right guy”.

I support that. I am in no way against women being selective and waiting for a guy who will treat them with respect and honor. I would want nothing less for my sisters, or a future daughter of mine (if that ever came to pass).

But from what I’ve noticed, there is far more involved in a romantic utopia, than simply “finding the right person”. You see, many times, the search isn’t half of the issue with a girl. The problem lies in what a woman will accept, and what a woman actually gravitates to, and that goes far deeper than whether a particular guy does cute things worthy of postcards.

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Picasso Rode the Waves

Picasso road the waves. Today I toured the Picasso art museum in Barcelona and I got to see the works of Picasso, from his self portrait when he was 15, up to his mosaic pieces later in life.

I saw that he went through phases, and was perfectly ok with that. His most popular paintings and the style he was eventually known by, wasn’t even birthed until later in his life.

There was a period of time where he only painted in blue. He was reading depressing books, and so he felt that blue was a color that was most melancholy and he painted everything in a blue palette.

There was a period of time, where he only copied another artist. He spent years copying someone else and every piece he painted was just a recreation.

He went through a phase where he only painted what he saw out of his balcony. He had a dove cote there, and he would just stare out his patio at the doves and paint…for years.

Picasso road the waves.

Often-times as an artist, I’m scared of waves. I have this impression,

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