Travelling in your 20’s vs your 30’s

Hi. I’m 30 now. LOLZ. I write this post from the office of my 2 bedroomed apartment, where I live on my own. I’m sipping wine and about to eat some cheese and olives while watching the Olympics.

This is a lot different from life in my 20’s. Where you would most likely find me at the computer in my bedroom of the house I was sharing with friends, drinking beer and quickly smoking roll-ups in between games of Call of Duty. Man, I was addicted to that game.

I’m only a few weeks into this whole being in my 30’s malarkey, but over the past 12 months I’ve definitely felt a shift in my lifestyle desires. Not only in my living situation but travel, too.

Here’s some of the differences travelling in my 20’s to travelling in my 30’s.

The packing:

In my 20’s I packed the night before. The only thing I actually cared about getting right was my phone charger and hair straighteners. Everything else is YOLO.

In my 30’s I set my suitcase down on the floor two weeks in advance – I pack anything I don’t need until the holiday and make a list for the rest. I even weigh the case because I’m soooo adult now, making sure to leave enough weight to bring home some Ouzo and perfume.

The airport:

In my 20’s we buy a beer from the bar. Even at 5am. Then go to the gate, buying a can of beer from the nearest shop.

In my 30’s I grab a latte from the bar at 5am and don’t drink wine until after take off. Not because I want wine. I always want wine. But because I can’t hack my booze like I used to and would probably fall asleep at the gate.

On the plane:

In my 20’s I’d buy one of those small packets of pringles and play candy crush or that logo game on my iPad. REMEMBER THE LOGO GAME? I’m wasted on beer, too, so it’ extra fun.

In my 30’s I’m reading a Chuck Palahniuk novel and worried about getting too drunk. There’s a couple behind me, they have a child and it’s crying. I’m reminded of how I’m going to die alone.

At the hotel:

In my 20’s is a hostel. We have to figure out how to use a train or bus to get to it. Someone has wrote ‘cocks = balls’ on the communal toilet wall. We dump our bags and go do some shots. I pee under a big truck on the way home and end up in a bin because I think it’ll make a hilarious photo.

In my 30’s we follow a Thomas Cook rep to our transfer coach then check into the hotel and spend an hour relaxing. Then have a wander around the local area and marvel at how close our hotel is to the sea front.

During the day:

In my 20’s we woke up at 11am and thank the Lord for no hangover. We go and find cheap food. PIZZA BABY. By 1pm, we’re drunk again.

In my 30’s I wake up at 7am and go to the hotel gym before relaxing around the pool. I spent an hour talking to our holiday rep about booking a boat trip. I’m feeling risky at 2pm so order a beer around the pool.

At night:

In my 20’s night and day is the same. Apart from it’s now 6am and we’re lost in the centre of Amsterdam. It’s chucking it down with rain and we’ve been walking for hours because all the streets look the same. We’ve somehow ended up at the train station and have to get a bus back. We hang our wet jeans on the radiators and shiver ourselves to sleep.

In my 30’s we’re all showered and dressed up by 6pm. We have a walk to pick a restaurant to try. I’m scared of getting dehydrated so drink water after my glass of wine. We make it back to the hotel in time for the kids disco and bingo.

The souvenirs

In my 20’s I buy a condom that says ‘Czech me out’ for the guy I’m seeing back home and think I’m the funniest girlfriend in the world.

In my 30’s I buy a penis shaped bottle opener for my housemate. Because my humour hasn’t changed that much at all.

Disclaimer: These accounts are all true stories based on my holidays to Paris, Amsterdam and Prague in my early 20’s, vs going to Crypus at 29.

o. 
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