I painfully remember the pounds of anxiety weighing on my shoulders as I borded a plane from Boston to The Netherlands. I was eighteen, two months after graduating high school, and I had never been outside the States before. Depite my lack of exploring experience, I had a feeling the travel life was for me. The concept of staying in one place forever just never made sense to me (not that others can’t settle in their hometown and be perfectly happy, it’s just not for me). After my failed attempt to au pair in Iceland, Amsterdam seemed like a nice second choice. And boy, was that an understatement. My mind and adventuring heart was completely overjoyed with the immense amount of fellow travellers and wanderers. Several different occasions, I voluntarily chose to walk alone, confident that I would pick up some friends along the way to stroll and chat with. This plan never failed me once in Amsterdam. Although I haven’t visited Holland in half a year, the experiences there set the base for the rest of my travels. Despite the harsh adjustment to the au pair life with a family that wasn’t my best fit, despite getting lost countless times in the small cities windy streets, and depite getting hit by bikes, the first three months in Europe were some of the best. Because after two weeks in Europe, I had a feeling my “one-year trip” might turn into something much, much bigger..