Lately Blasmin had been stuck in a right old rut.
She’d semi shaken herself out of it moving away from Fulham and out of the house she’s loved for two years to finally move in with her absolute best friend in the world, Segrena. She’d started a job she didn’t dread getting up for and she had enough male attention to satisfy that side of her vanity …. but something was still missing.
She realised, though she was eating and drinking at secret bars, taking in galleries and just vegging out doing nothing when she’d promised to go for a run, the thing that she had stopped doing completely, the thing that absolutely made her blossom three years ago, was she had stopped actually adventuring.
Today her adventures involved reading absolutely everything about a place before going so she’s already know what she’d order. An adventure was snoozing her alarm before work one too many times or going out without a coat.
Blasmin used to arrive in cities she couldn’t pronounce because she’d stumbled across the name in a Victorian novel. She used to tell strangers they had a nice smile or dare new acquaintances to do outrageous things because it would be funny. She used to dance to every song like it was her favourite and though she didn’t ever get enough sleep, she was never, ever tired. Blasmin used to adventure in every moment, because, my friends, one thing you cannot do is schedule an adventure.
After a beautiful few days sipping Le Bordeauxs in the south of France after witnessing two friends embark on marriage, one of life’s greatest adventures, the breeze of Adventure ruffled through the now short locks of Blasmin’s raven hair and it rippled through her.
and just like that, she’s snapped back into adventure mode.
The next morning she woke up in Madrid, surrounded by a group of Swiss boys who became her tour guides though they knew nothing of the city. She told them they had nice smiles and dared each other to do outrageous things and sipped Spanish beer as the sun came up over Porto del Sol. She woke up to having a breakfast of churros and pure melted chocolate at the oldest Chocolateria in Madrid with a guy from Istanbul with eyes bluer than the Spanish sky because she realised she was always on a diet.
Lose your maps, lose your baggage, loosen your hair, your tie, your shoes and lose your self in a sense of adventure again.
Follow me on instagram to watch me re-kindle my sense of adventure.