Travel Log: Copenhagen

Monday 6:50

With an early start this morning, I ventured out into the crisp morning air. The only sound coming from birds – a fresh perspective on a city life.  Today I am off to Copenhagen, Denmark. It’s a city I’ve never been to, yet experienced vicariously through those having borrowed my guide book. I’m currently sat in a café in Gatwick Airport waiting for my avocado on toast; one of very few vegan options I could find. I’m surprisingly awake for having woken up at 4am, perhaps it’s the excitement of spending the rest of my day in a new city.  Or perhaps it’s the 4-shot Soya cappuccino I just finished. This trip is very unplanned for me; I got my Danish krone at the airport, I have no idea how I’m getting from Copenhagen airport to the hostel, nor what my plan is for the return home tomorrow. I suppose time will tell.


I must be more than halfway to Copenhagen by now. The sky is the clearest of blue, allowing the sun to glisten perhaps too brightly off the plane’s wing through my window. I somehow always get a window seat, and I couldn’t complain less. It’s an interesting thing to be so close to nothing; so far away from everything you’re used to being near. Buildings insignificant and the rushing lives of those in the streets of London invisible. I feel calm, and I feel un-rushed in my impatient descend on Copenhagen. I’d like to think, as I look out at the world below me, if my plane were to fall that it would be caught in the soft grips of the clouds blanketing the earth.  The clouds – they bring us rain, food for the soil under our feet – they also separate London from the world beyond. We stop looking up after a while because we are so used to seeing the grey barrier above our heads; we get so accustom to looking down at our feet, knowing our direction, our daily path. It’s nice to be above the clouds, to feel as if there is nothing stopping me from seeing new things. I am amongst the unreachable. With the unexpected wifi on board, I feel confident in my plan once I land. I know I will take the metro, a 3-zone ticket bought with either coins or credit card, and I will get off at Hovedbanegården otherwise known as Copenhagen Central Station. From there I will walk to my hostel, check in, and carry on with aimless wandering. According to the flight tracker, we are 24 minutes from Copenhagen. The descend has begun, I am now gently leaning forward with the plane; gravity pulling me towards yet another destination to tick off the map.


My feet are ready to fall off. I got to Copenhagen Central Station just after midday and spent 20 minutes lapping the perimeter trying to find my hostel; suddenly earning a major appreciation for my Citymapper app in London. I found my hostel and then went back out in search of anything that defines Copenhagen as a city. I still feel near anxious being here. Not because of it’s size or population mass, just the fact of I know nothing about it. I always prepare my holidays, map out places I want to see, where I want to eat, I teach myself the language basics; this time I came in blind. After wandering in the heat and eventually discovering what seemed to be a busy part, I opted for a canal tour. A smooth sail into tourist mode. This was beautiful and somewhat informative. More than anything it gave me my bearings and sites to aim for by foot. The hour tour finished where it began, and so did my ventures. Saw beautiful buildings, did some window shopping, but more so just absorbing everything foreign. I followed it up with more wandering until now – Urban Bar, coffee in hand. As much as I am tired, I am also eager to see more and make the most of this 48-hour trip. I am headed to Tivoli Gardens this evening.

Tuesday 12:36

I am currently located in what seems to be the Danish version of Subway – iBagel. It’s pretty good, eggplant salad topped off with a beautiful dollop of humous (of course). I woke up this morning refreshed and ready to tackle another day of touristing. My first stop had to be food, and eventually I found my desired breakfast destination: 42Raw – a café that has surrendered it’s services to the plant-based community. An acai bowl and my new addiction, The Passage by Justin Cronin, made for a beautiful start to the day. Peaking above the city, reaching for the heavens, are spires scattered around the city. All distinctly different, I’ve been finding them an easier alternative to the maps within my guidebook. As 10:30 came around, I aimed high and true, and climbed 95m up Vol Frelsers Kirke. A beautiful old church which presented me with a stunning view of the city. Since my descend back down to earth, I have wandered; seen the Nationalmuseet, Christiansborg Slot, and Det Kongelige Bibliotek. It’s warm, I’m sun kissed veering burnt, but I feel calm and happy. My flight home to London is at 18:55, and according to the Central Station clock on the opposite of the square it’s now 12:57. I have plenty of time to continue this relaxing getaway.

I’ve done a bit of Rome-ing around.

Currently it is 16:10 and I am in the internet ‘cafe’ of my Roman hostel. I arrived in Rome on Monday roughly midday and since I landed on Italian soil, I have experienced a lot. Rather than posting weeks after like I normally would with a holiday such as this, I thought I would take a break from the heat and walking around to sum up my week – I leave tomorrow afternoon.

When I first got to Rome, the excitement that I thought would overwhelm me never came. I walked around that first afternoon convinced there was something wrong with me – I was in Rome and I was barely excited! I guess I had no idea what I was expecting. But over the course of the week, I have fallen in love with Rome as much as I did Barcelona when I was there last August.

The first night after roaming until my feet were aching, I sat under the Colosseum on fallen down marble pillars and just absorbed it. I was sitting under THE Colosseum and when it hit me I couldn’t wait to return the following morning to venture within it’s walls. My second day in Rome was full of everything that Ancient Rome could offer me – a Colosseum audio tour, Palatine Hill, and the Roman Forum; I was standing within the ruins of a city that Julius Caeser built; I walked down the streets that Romulus founded; the history was overwhelming. This part of my trip was definitely a highlight and it one of those things you just have to see when you’re visiting Rome.

A major highlight of the last 5 days I’ve spent in Rome has been the Trevi Fountain. The fountain made famous by film is beyond beautiful. I could have sat there all day if it wasn’t for all the tourists and the men trying to talk me into buying a Polaroid. The first time I came across the magnificent water feature was per chance on my first day of roaming. I didn’t really click what it was until I checked my guidebook and realized that it was the famous fountain I’d seen in the Mary-Kate and Ashley film I’d watched as a kid. I read the history and stepped down and turned my back to the fountain, and whist closing my eyes I threw €1 over my shoulder.  You will return to Rome. Good thing I didn’t throw two, cause afterwards I read that two coins means you’ll meet an Italian man, and the third means you’ll marry them – thanks, but no thanks. The second and third time I went to the fountain was with the intention of finding a highly recommended gelateria. I can honestly say that Il Gelato di San Crispino is the best gelato I have ever had – and this week I’ve had a fair amount, shh. As I ate the creamy honey, chocolate and caffé flavoured goodness in front of the fountain, I felt on top of the world.

Besides the beautiful tourist attractions – Vatican Museum, St Peter’s Basilica (highly recommend paying to climb up the Dome), Borghese Gallery, Pantheon etc – at 11.30pm on Wednesday evening I booked a spontaneous tour to Pompei. The next morning at 7am I arrived at Piazza del Popolo and departed with a bus load of people. The tour guides were amazing and had us laughing before we’d left Rome. The 3 hour bus ride to Napoli and the Ancient City of Pompei was full of Roman legend, culture and history of Italia. In Napoli we visited the National Archaelogical Museum which houses all the artifacts such as household items, paintings, and mosaics extracted from Pompei itself. This was amazing and made me extremely excited to see the Ancient City. After eating Neapolitan pizza for lunch (which is different to Roman pizza) and a history lesson on the food of Italy, we arrived at the long awaited city of ruins. I went into Pompei expecting a few ruins and was astonished at how much more there is to see. When they say a city, they mean a city; main streets, back streets, homes, mansions, graffiti, brothels, takeaway shops, restaurants, bathing house, amphitheatres etc etc. It was amazing, but heartbreaking at the same time. The clear day allowed us to see the looming Mt Vesuvius behind the city – constantly reminding us that a lot of people died there. It really is something I feel lucky to have seen and experienced with the local tour informing us of every small detail they’ve discovered. I recommend seeing it in your lifetime. After the drive home, stopping off on the way to taste test Limoncello, I returned back to Rome so energized and informed of everything Rome and Italy have to offer.

Today, my last full day in Rome, I took my tour guides advice and did nothing but meander. I tried Roman cuisine on the back cobble-stoned roads; paid perhaps a bit too much for a personally embossed Italian-made leather (refillable) notebook; I had the best cups of coffee; I soaked up the warm ‘winter’ sun in Piazzas.

Today I fell in love with Rome. Tomorrow I leave Roma, Italia and I’m not happy about it.

Barcelona, Spain – I’ve been there, you know?

On the 23rd of August, at 2 o’clock in the afternoon, I was undertaking a short journey from London to the exotic and beautiful Barcelona. Barcelona is the second largest city in Spain; settled on the coast of the Mediterranean Sea, it’s population is upwards of 1.6 million people.

My itinerary involved four solid days, and 5 nights, completely dedicated to exploring the city and experiencing the culture through spontaneous adventures. Instead of the expected diary style blog post about my time there, and because it was such an amazing holiday, I have decided to put together my top 4 favourite things about what, possibly, is one of my favourite cities I’ve seen so far.


This is one of the most spectacular things I have ever seen and experienced.

Sagrada Familia is an unfinished, Roman-Catholic church in the city of Barcelona; architectural design of Spanish catalan, Antoni Gaudi. Gaudi’s design is beyond describable.  It’s a place I find so hard to explain to people, even to capture its unique beauty on film proved difficult. The church’s architecture includes beautiful facades, sky-high towers, and stained glass windows that cast a light onto the interior; creating a place of true peace and reflection. The interior roof is designed in such a way, that as you look up, you feel enclosed in a jungle. The feel of this church affected me in such a way, even sitting here now months later, I can’t help but smile and feel calm. I try to regularly meditate to centre my thoughts and encourage inner peace, so while I was at Sagrada Familia  I spent close to an hour of mediation, and the remaining time in complete silence. I was speechless. I did have an audio guide tour which helped me understand the space. I heard something said by Gaudi himself, that Sagrada is place where “people of all religions, any belief, can come together and meditate”. I was in this church for 4.5 hours, and even then, I didn’t want to leave. If you go to Barcelona, it’s well worth seeing and experiencing it’s power for yourself


I was lucky enough to be brought up by parents who believe in wandering and encourage attacking situations with careful spontaneity. There’s something very enchanting about Barcelona in the summer; long days, short nights and a warmth that draws you into dawn til dusk adventures. Every morning, being up before the sun had completely risen, came with a beautiful feeling of wanderlust. I didn’t want to be wasting a single second on sleep I could catch up on back in London. Stepping out of my hostel, being hit by a wall of warmth and fresh, coastal air, every morning was a new adventure that could end up anywhere. The aimless wandering resulted in coming across a beautiful cathedral named Catedral de la Santa Creu i Santa Eulàlia, also known as Barcelona Cathedral. This cathedral was enchantingly beautiful. The most touching part of this cathedral was, after walking under the most beautiful stone archway, finding myself in this hidden square – the Cloister of the Cathedral – complete with the most exotic and cared for jungle like greenery. Here, there was also a pond, home to 13 white, prepossessing geese which represent the age of Saint Eulalia when she was martyred.

Another place I discovered was the Picasso Museum/Museu Picasso. Pablo Picasso was a Spanish artist, with a name most people will come to recognise in their lifetime. He was a human with extraordinary talent, imagination and respect; seeing his art firsthand and hearing his life journey, was inspiring and an experience I thoroughly enjoyed. Museu Picasso was established in 1963, and holds one of the biggest collections of Picasso’s work. I strolled around this museum, alone, with my headphones plugged into an audio guide. Here I found myself immersed in this new world of complete appreciation and awe for unadulterated talent.


Park Güell, also designed by architect Antoni Gaudi, was a place I 100% intended to visit. Originally designed to be a new housing development that would be more one with nature, it is now a showcase for the most unique designs of Gaudi’s mind. This park was beautiful to walk through, and as much as I immersed myself and enjoyed Gaudi’s work, the two most memorable things in this park I think to be less obvious. Within the borders of Park Güell, you can walk up and around to a cross perched on the edge of a hill. The view from this lookout point is spectacular – set up on a hill Gràcia, the park invites all to see over the beautiful City. From this angle Barcelona was a different kind of beautiful I’d seen before. Being so built up you could mostly only see rooftops, but the city is absolutely an urban gem. Ultimately, beauty is in the eye of beholder, and for me, I stood there looking out over that city – smiling.

Park Güell, being a tourist destination with a usual 5 hour waiting time, is home to many buskers. There was one busker who caught my eye, or perhaps more appropriately, caught my ears. He had the perfect, shaded perch under a Gaudi walkway.  Sitting on a fold out chair, his CD and tip bowl at his feet, he smiled whilst playing the most beautiful spanish music. You could see it in his movements; the way he shut his eyes, and smiled as he perfected each verse; his passion for the music reached everyone in listening distance. I was enjoying this man’s music so much, I decided to buy his album and have a chat with him.  When he stopped to take a sip of water, my opportunity came. His name is Rafi Mora. Rafi has been playing in Park Güell for 22 years, and he says he probably will never stop. I bought a CD and he explained every track; where he recorded his music, who he played with, where the music originated – even informed me that a Kiwi man bought a copy a few months back. He truly was a beautiful souled, passionate man, and I still listen to that CD, close my eyes, and imagine myself being back there.


When you go to a coastal city, especially one like Barcelona, you have this deep longing to go out on the sea. The blue, sparkling waves are forever teasing you with every movement. On the second night, whilst walking near the harbour one day, I noticed a Sunset Jazz Cruise advertised. My friend and I decided that the next evening we would return and partake in what looked to be an amazing opportunity. We were right – being one of few cruises that actually left the harbour, we had amazing views accompanied by a live saxophonist and varying jazz music. The front of the catamaran was  netting, which meant once we were sat down at the front of the boat, we were left with the blue to be fully visible below. Drinking a beer with the warm setting sun radiating through my body,  looking out at the city of Barcelona, and hearing a melody of ocean waves and live jazz; I was in heaven. For a not so expensive cruise, it was one of the most enriching experiences.

I went to Barcelona in August, 2015. It is now November, 2015. I am dealing with some serious wanderlust.

Let’s go.

Survival Instincts

From a young age you always hear the phrase ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’, and more often than not people will say this to you as a piece of ‘much required’ wisdom.  As much as I accept this phrase about not holding prejudice based on someone’s outward appearance, I do slightly disagree.

Judgment is an inherent quality that our brain feeds with experience. We have established this instinct for survival; the judgments we make are what permit, or prohibit, things to get close to the core of our lives. Moving to a new country, I found myself surrounded with the unknown in things as simple as a phone shop. I spent the first month making choices purely based off harsh judgment and gut feeling.  There were the initial times of pharmaceutical and grocery shopping, I would walk an extra block to shop at a chain-store over a cheapened corner shop. When I was flat hunting, as simply as talking to a person over the phone, I would judge the landlord on the language they used, and immediately accept or decline the idea. For all I know these are the simple judgements that have extended my life, or have caused me to miss out on opportunities.

So what happens when you take a leap of faith and do leave things up to chance? Once I was settled within a house, had a group of friends, and had all standard life requirements organised, I went through a phase of doing spontaneous adventures; going outside of my comfort zone with relation to cafes, experiences and stores. I think the key point here is that because I was successfully living, not only attempting to adapt and survive to this new environment, I didn’t need that safety net of judging everything as heavily as I once had. I remember phone calls home, discussing this exact topic with my parents.  There comes a point where after the judging and hard work has been done, you do need to loosen the reigns of planning, and live life day by day, decision by decision. Sometimes there are positive consequences to veering away from that planned path of judging things critically. This way of living, or leaving life to serendipity, is what makes for a more rounded life. You come across things you may have never knew existed, you may meet people who are destined to be in your life, or find a new passion.

Judgement is something that is I believe to be socially acceptable when you feel that your life or well-being is at risk. I think that we need to make decisions for ourselves based off our intuitions and personal judgements; ultimately we have to live with our own decisions and choices, so we need to be satisfied with them. Nevertheless, don’t forget to give things a chance; we need judgement to survive, but we need spontaneity to live.

Blissful Brighton

My eyes felt heavy. My whole body tired from only six hours of restless ‘sleep’; the previous night spent socialising on The River Thames, with the best of people. It was the Tuesday of last week I booked a day trip to Brighton; a beautiful, well-known coastal town on the southern coast of England.

Dawn marked an early start; by 7.00am I was halfway to St Pancras getting increasingly more excited to see something other than the familiar brick buildings of London. As the train crawled it’s way out of the underground tracks into the fresh air above, it hit me that the day was going to be beyond beautiful. I don’t tend to find any train journey a hardship; I like to absorb my surroundings, and to admire the people in these little towns going about their days. I respect their ability to live so isolated from city life. I am such an urbanised being.

I stepped out of Brighton Station just before 10am, looked at the glistening water at the end of the long stretch of road, and aimed true. The sun was already proudly taking its place in the empty sky of blue, creating little diamonds on the rim of the horizon.

When I reached the barriers at the top of the steps – the only thing between me and the beach – I stood for a second and closed my eyes.

I took a huge breathe in and could smell the salty sea air; I could hear seagulls conversing above; I could feel the warmth on my skin, and immediately it felt like home. It wasn’t long before my moment of sentimentality was broken by bustling families, all ready to take the prime spot amongst the pebbled beach. It was my time to go do the same. I took my shoes off, went down the steps, and hobbled along the smooth, hard stones and sat down to finally fully admire the view. People were already out sailing the glassy sea, at least 5 boats. I could see the famous Brighton Pier, I contemplated running off to see it straight away but decided with a full day ahead I wanted to take my time. I laid on the stones until I was surrounded by people dragging the ‘Hire Me’ deck chairs and loungers to their stony destinations. Being so close to the water, I almost was glad to be forced off my perch and towards the crystal blue. It was refreshing – cold enough to make me squeal in lack of anticipation –  finding it’s way between my toes, forcing a smile upon my face. I stood here, mesmerised by how translucent the sea could be.

Keeping my shoes off, I then wandered up and down the 24°C heated pavements and wooden pathways of the Brighton beach front. The souls of my naked feet being radiated with every step. I explored the Brighton Pier, looking out at the never-ending clear blue waves, whilst capturing the smiles of kids on carousels and bumper cars. This was an amazing place; a miniature theme park suspended above the water on 116 year old wooden stilts. After moseying around the Pier until I had seen all I wanted to see, I continued East past the Pier before turning around and walking past it all again. Seaside themed boutiques, stalls and food stands. Children gathered around a puppet show. And, what really caught my eye: live music. Because of my hunger, I decided on some lunch before returning to listen. I saw a packed Fish ‘n’ Chip shop on Kings Road; what a perfect idea. I ordered the battered sausage and chip combo, received it in my paper cone, splashed on some vinegar and walked back towards the excitement. Being the documenter I am, I held it out camera at the ready – sea in the background, perfect lighting – and a pesky seagull swooped in and stole one of my sausages. I can see it now, this seagull flying off with my sausage within its beak – was a humorous highlight to my day. After a handful or two of the perfectly cooked chips,  I resolved the 25°C heat with a small tub of Cornish ice cream. With the coffee latte and chocolate flavoured perfection, I sat with my back to the sun, listening to the amazing male duo. I gave all ears, mesmerised by the raw talent and stage presence until I’d realised too late that I was well sunburnt.

Time for some shopping, a good excuse to get out of the sun. I wandered up to the famous North Laine, and The Lanes. Two well known shopping streets. Narrow cobble stoned pathways, windows filled with gorgeous displays of hand-crafted jewellery and artwork. From here I headed to the Royal Pavillion. This building was  beyond describable. The only way I feel I can describe it, is that it didn’t feel like I was in England. Reminded me of an Indian palace; indo-saracenic architecture. A definite must-see.

Time flew by, with all the shopping, the sight-seeing, and the photographs. I realised then that the small time between my wandering through the gardens before the Royal Pavillion, and my train back home, needed to be spent tasting a local craft beer. This I ordered at The Seven Stars on Ship Street (trying saying that fast, ten times). I stayed here until I had the perfect amount of time to slowly wander back up to the hill-top perched Brighton Station. I ended up arriving with just enough time for a relaxing coffee, then home-time.

As the time to depart back to London came around, I was amongst a crowd of Londoners having spent their day the same way as I. The carriage was full of beached-out bodies, crying babies, and limbs sun-kissed from a day by the sea. Beneath the salty heads of hair, and the tired faces, you could see the happiness that a day soaking up valuable sunlight and freedom could bring. As the train pulled out of Brighton station, the residue a top of the train gracefully trailed its way down my window; as if representing the tears of going back to reality. Being alone, I plugged my headphones in and watched the countryside swim by. The trees a medley of greens; the very tips glistening limes as the last shift of the suns beautiful work came to an end. As we neared London, and as we slowly merged with the smoggy orange horizon, I realised that I was leaving quality and joining my life amongst quantity. Then something amazing happened. I saw the London Eye as we rode in Blackfriars Station, over The Thames. It shot a spark of excitement through me, the same feeling as the first time I saw it. It reminded me of how amazing and privileged I am to live in such an amazingly beautiful and unique city.

This really has slowly become, and is now,  my new home.

YOUR life.

Sometimes living the life I lead, I come across small situations that cause me to get anxious; make me want to leave; remind me of how much I miss the comforts of home and family. It’s so easy for people to say “Your parents must be so proud”, “You’re so brave”, which I guess in some respects are both true, but the majority of the people who hear about my story say,

“but you’re so young”

This small quote reacts with me different ways every time I get it pushed into my ears. For starters, people who say this to me, when has age ever been a restriction? (Obviously apart from all those law restricted purchases). Have you heard about the 77-year-old Supergran who runs 100km ultra-marathons for the pleasure of it? Laura Dekker? She became the youngest person to circumnavigate the globe single-handed, at the age of 16 (Not to mention, a kiwi, you go girl), and let’s not forget about the people like my Grandmother, who moved across the world, via boat not plane, at younger ages than I, in the war times, alone. People get so wound up in ages that they forget to even ask why they’re doing what they’re doing. Yes people ask me about my travels, but the majority of the people are so quick to judging me on my age, or where I’m living; as if a zone puts a stamp on my success.

My second response to this quote is for me to want to pull into myself and not speak to anyone at all. This might seem ridiculous, attention-seeking, or pathetic to a lot of people, but for me it’s the only way that I can regain my thoughts. You don’t realise how hard it is to be away from people, until you actually are. I’ve been in London for just over 5 months, and it’s just about this time that I have fallen comfortable into a routine; of work and no play; I’m beginning to miss my oldest of best-friends at home, and in waves of gut-wrenching sadness I miss my family; hugs from Mum and Dad, but more importantly I do sometimes begin to lose sight of why I’m really here. Losing sight is what makes you want to just give up and go home.

Last night, I had a very similar break down. It was not exactly because of being named young, it was more a build up of small remarks, tones, and attitudes from the past week. I had had enough, and walking home staring up at the full, glowing moon above the London horizon of brick, I had a sudden urge. A sudden longing to leave London, go back to New Zealand, lay all over my parents on the couch like I used to, and just feel truly at home again. I posted a photo to my instagram (@paigebolland) and my Dad,  being the superhero that he is, swooped in to save the day. My Dad, and of course my Mama Bear as well, has always known what to say and when to say it. Now I know my moving here was hard for them, but they always said things that cut the doubts out of my mind, and re-convinced me that what I was doing was incredible; a once in a lifetime opportunity, and that I had to do it. So last night, when I felt like giving up, Dad saw the photo with the venting quote underneath, and messaged me.

“Understand kiwi girl, keep your chin up”

Small, but enough to make me smile just like that.

“Harder than it should be sometimes, but it is the big picture the focus is on”

This, being in the state I was in, I replied to questioning what the actual big picture was anymore. To which he responded,

“YOUR life”

He made me remember than I’m here for my own adventures, and that sometimes to get there you do have to put up with people who are jealous; have smaller dreams; less motivation; people who will do anything to hold you back. Yes living here is hands down THE hardest thing I have ever had to do, but it is also the craziest, most beautiful, difficult adventure.

This is MY life, and if you step in my way, I’ll build a ten mile high tower above that so called “big person” you think you are and sky dive off the roof miles past you.

– Thanks Dad x

Eyes Shut

Before I left New Zealand, may not have been obvious to all, but I was more stressed than the average person.

May come as a shock, but moving across the world has its scary and stressful aspects. Prior to actually making my departure for England, the stress came with the planning. Naturally, it’s not a simple task choosing the limited possessions you can take with you, and deciding how you’re going to deal with leaving so many things behind.

Then arriving into a new world, and trying to make a start on your new life, has it’s own unique stresses as well.

My therapy for stress and anxiety is music. The last several nights have been me falling asleep to music, after a good length of time spent in bed – eyes shut – listening to music until my mind shuts down and gives in to sleep. I don’t know if I am the only one, but blocking out the world and trying to analyse the beats and melodies of music is therapeutic and calming, it can distract me from life’s worse stresses. 

I am literally typing this whilst in a trance. Don’t want to think, just want to sit and try not to get overly homesick from the stress that my new, unsettled life is injecting into my usually bubbly mind full of wanderlust. I don’t think being awake all night will help the situation, but it’s inevitable. I need to continue to think positive, and remember that things do always work out. Everything has worked out for me so far, and if I continue to stay motivated and work hard it will continue to do so. Sometimes you just lose track of this simple idea of an outcome, you get stuck in a mind-set of stressing about the impending.

That is one thing about life that is never going to change. The future will always be unforeseeable.

So Paige, think optimism, think now.

Favourite song right now, get into my head (post continued below video):


This draft I found this morning. Since writing this task, all of the things I was originally stressing about have been resolved. I now have an incredible new job with amazing, caring people. I have a new group of friends, and a new found motivation to continue my journey to a healthy mind and body. I am excited for what is it to come because I still do believe that life works out with hard work and perseverance. I miss you friends and family back home, but I strive off the idea that you will always be there when I decide to return.