Day 1: 43 cents

I've spent the last ten months valiantly trying to get my life put back together.

When I was 19 I dropped out of university on a whim, but sensing that there was something more out there for me. In one of my many spur of the moment decisions, that are never even remotely thought through, I set off for London to work as an aupair. I had 200 pounds (that my dad gave me), no experience in childcare, and knew absolutely no one on that side of the ocean. It was brilliant. I enjoyed my time in London so much, but the time came to move on. Not that I was bored with London, because just like Samuel Johnson famously said "when a man is tired of London he is tired of life." So, it wasn't really that I was tired of London, but I was getting antsy.

I had done a bit of traveling for work and otherwise while I was staying in London. I had been skiing in Austria with the family I worked for, I had celebrated my 20th birthday making love to a charming French bartender under the bright Parisian lights, I had been on a weekend escapade to Oxford where I thought I would expand my mind and broaden my knowledge, but where I instead ended up having a threesome with 2 Belgian men one night, and sex on a church lawn with a fellow Canadian the next. I had spent a week in the south of France where I enjoyed a romantic evening of skinny dipping, beer, pizza and sex on the beach with a 35 year old French gardener. All of these were wonderfully fun, and highly inappropriate. But I wanted another adventure to completely shock my system. I wanted to feel that terrifying exhilaration I had felt when I first set off for London. And with that I set off for Spain to walk 800 kilometers across the country completely unprepared.

I could write about the Camino (the pilgrimage across Spain) for a lifetime. I could tell you about how I missed my flight from London on the way there, and had to spend the night in a deserted French town outside on the street. I could tell you about how people would actually stop me on the street to take pictures of my feet because my blisters were so bad. I could tell you about the time I had sex in a church stairwell with a German man, or the time I slept with a Spanish man in a bar bathroom, or the Englishman in a hostel in Pamplona, or the Croatian guy who got us a hotel in Leon only to set off into the night when he found out about the Spaniard. Really, when I set off to walk to Camino I thought it would be a wonderful opportunity for me to live a pure life. What sort of trouble could I really get into on an ancient pilgrimage? But trouble seems to stalk me no matter where I go or what I'm doing.

I returned to Canada in November 2008, after having missed my flight from London to Canada and spending 2 days in 3 of London's airports with absolutely no money. I couldn't get from Gatwick to Heathrow and ended up sitting in the middle of the airport on my backpack crying until a nice British couple offered to give me a ride to Heathrow. They were some of the most kind and genrous people I have ever met. They bought me some water, gave me some fruit and crackers, and 5 pounds to buy breakfast in the morning.

When I got back to Canada I was unemployed for 5 months (not totally true. I did work at a coffee shop for 2 hours), and living in my Grandmother's basement. That is until she kicked me out. The reason? Apparently I was smoking crack in her basement. I can assure you, I was not.

And that is how I came to find myself homeless and only working parttime. Thankfully I have wonderful people in my life that let me crash on their couches or floors. It's now been five months since I've been kicked out, and I still don't have a place of my own. I've finally found full time work (oddly enough it's the same job I had before I set off to London) and I'm looking for an apartment for October. Everything is right on track. Finally, some stability in my life.

So it's no wonder I'm bored. 3 weeks into my job and I want another advenutre. Bigger this time. But I'm aware that if I want to go bigger it's going to take some time. I figure I can set off on my trip around the world in 2 and half years.

With a grand total of 43 cents in my bank account I've decided it's time to start saving up. Giving up lattes, eating out, and reducing the amount of cigarettes I smoke. I hope by gradually limiting myself I'll be able to quit.

So it begins. I have no money and no idea where I want to go. I want to see all the beauty there is out there and have all kinds of experiences, good and bad.

"For the eternal soul is never contented; it ever seeks exaltation." - Khalil Gibran.