Unconventional Adventuring - JTs Tales From the Trail

Unconventional Adventuring - JTs Tales From the Trail

Jill Thomas is a rambler, traveler, and storyteller with a big laugh who believes life takes her where she needs to go, no matter the roundabout path.

I have a hard time understanding why people don't like the things I do. For instance, my husband (whom I affectionately call Stormy) teases me because I often add milk to his coffee, even though he likes his coffee black. He is good-natured about it but gets a little fed up occasionally. Yet I persist in adding milk to his coffee. I also can't wrap my head around the fact that he doesn't like lemon in his chicken soup.

I am lucky that Stormy and I share one thing we both think is fun that most people don't enjoy. We love lengthy, exhausting, often overwhelming rambles in foreign cities, especially in places completely unlike where we live. For us, the best rambles are in areas with difficult-to-navigate sidewalks, unfriendly smells, crowded outdoor markets, surprising modes of transportation, chaotic traffic, and a high potential of getting lost.

When traveling to a 'point of interest' in a foreign city, we walk, even if it takes hours and the route is uncomfortable. The walk is often the point for us rather than the place of interest. Stormy takes pride in never taking a cab and has frequently pushed me to my breaking point.

There was a time in Colombo, Sri Lanka when we were looking for a dive bar we had read about in a novel. Finding it was challenging, and we spent hours lost in chaotic, crowded (yet fascinating) neighborhoods. When we finally found the bar, it didn't look welcoming, so we abandoned the plan. I was hot, dirty, and overwhelmed, so I insisted we go for a drink in a fancy hotel lobby to recover. Stormy isn't a fan of fancy, but he knew that I would have had an epic meltdown if he didn't submit.

Later that same trip, we took a train to Jaffna, a city recently recovering from a civil war where the only foreigners in residence were UN workers. We had to track down the Station Master in the Columbo train station to be issued a ticket. We spent an hour in his wood-paneled office while he did his best to dissuade us from going. We wandered every street in that war-torn town, examining bullet holes in the walls of the homes while carrying rocks in our pockets to throw at the many mad dogs.



Sri Lanka - Unconventional Adventuring - JTs Tales From the Road
Then there was a time in Tunisia when we took an overnight train to a date palm oasis in the Sahara desert called Tozeur. We arrived at 2 am and were two of only five people to disembark from the train. The other three were locals and had people pick them up.
We hadn't booked accommodation, and this was before the internet was widely available. So we walked for hours looking for a hotel in the middle of the night. We finally found one, but Stormy made us leave when they insisted on charging us for yesterday, even though it was today. I was frustrated, but there was no dissuading him.
Unconventional Adventuring - JTs Tales From the Trail
When we left the hotel, we sat on a curb in this worn-out town and made an Orangina and vodka cocktail to buoy our spirits. An hour later, as the sun rose, we found another hotel I affectionately described as "Ali Baba's Palace had a baby with the Holiday Inn." We fell asleep being serenaded by a French couple having a knockdown, drag-out fight in the room next door. I wouldn't give up this memory for the world.

When Stormy suggested we walk to the bus station in Guadalajara to buy a ticket to San Miguel Allende, I didn't resist. The walk took two hours, and much was on busy, loud, crowded streets in neighborhoods most tourists never find. The bus station was decrepit and worn to the bone. We wandered from one terminal to the next, saying "boleto San Miguel Allende" to various people in booths with no luck.

Finally, a woman phoned her friend, who spoke English and passed Stormy her phone to figure out what we wanted. It turns out we were at the wrong bus station.

Later that evening, we were strolling through a quiet neighborhood when we walked into a travel agency and bought the coveted bus ticket. I realized Stormy knew we could do this all along, but purchasing tickets at the bus station was cheaper.

However, Stormy knows that one of my favorite things is figuring out how to travel through a country like a local and walking through neighborhoods other tourists don't venture into. He knew I would not have missed the bus station experience for anything but likely would not have agreed to it had I known about the travel agent option. He is crafty that way.

Unconventional Adventuring - JTs Tales From the Trail
We were Guadalajara for a month and barely entered a museum or church and didn't take any tours. We hardly ate in sit-down restaurants with a waiter and only took taxis to airports. We've walked over a 100 miles exploring streets and neighborhoods. I have tripped over messy pavement and had a spectacular fall two times. My stomach was often upset from the food. I suspect very few people in the world would like to do this with me, so it makes me appreciate Stormy.

This kind of adventurous exploring is my happy place. It is what I like to do for fun. There will come a time when it is no longer possible. In the meantime, I am grateful to have a partner who shares this with me. 

So Sole Sisters, as you ramble through your world this week, think about something you love to do for fun that perhaps other people don't understand. I look forward to hearing about your unique passions in the comments!


1 comment


  • eilish Scanlon

    When I’m in a foreign city, I find a hairdressers, usually in a back street and get my hair washed and blow dried. Not because I particularly want to look good but to chat with the local hairdressers who are often much better at giving advice on the locality than many tourist officials. In Japan, I got a head massage as part of the blow-dry. In Queenstown, I met the stylists for a drink after work and was immediately part of their gang. My latest was in Portugal, where the hairdresser didn’t have great English but said she would practice with me. She noticed that I was looking for someone on facebook and said " you search friend on facebook" I replied that I was actually looking for my cousin but only as she would have the contact details for the taxi-driver, Andre whom I needed. I had earlier messaged my friend in Portugal but she was obviously golfing and not picking up. The hairdressers then discussed whether any of them knew Andre and asked me what I knew about him, where he lived, his second name but I was no help. The entire salon were discussing Andre and who he might be when my golfing friend texted me with his number. Everyone cheered and were genuinely so happy that I had found my taxi-driver. It was a lovely experience and my hair wasn’t bad either.


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