Why does this exist?
Why do I exist?
Let's answer the vital questions.
I was conceived in the New Forest, in England.
But let's fast-forward a bit. I'm James HALL, winging it around the planet as a digital nomad. Since there's nothing little about my LONG body (more than 6ft) that barely fits in most plane seats, I've become a total expert in better flying, often in long-haul Business class for the price of Economy.
I mostly grew up in the UK, but I did live a year of my childhood in Mauritius, which made me aware of two types of life; one in the suburbs of Europe and one on a remote tropical island. In my 20s I worked in London as a Graphic Designer, but when I turned 30 I decided to live in some other European countries, before Brexit would've made that much closer to impossible. I had just successfully negotiated a DECREASE in my London studio rent! And yet… three weeks later I was chucking out all my possessions and heading off with a backpack and an Interrail ticket. My first lesson of travel; don't go backpacking with a backpack when your itinerary is exclusively confined to cities with decent pavements that will happily accommodate a wheelie suitcase.
After just over a year of making it up as I went along, eventually living in France and Spain and working as an English teacher, for which I was neither qualified nor experienced and yet thrived nevertheless (mentally, not financially); I eventually had no money left and returned to London, staying with a friend and in desperate need of paid work. That was it. I'd had my fun, I'd lived in other countries, I'd thrown myself into the unknown. No regrets. Back to my former life, but this time slightly wiser and less desperate to escape. It was January 2020.
I think you can guess where this is going. Covid consigned me to remote working, with no end in sight and suddenly no possibility to go back to the office. For several months the borders were closed, but the instant they reopened I was on a plane to Marseille. I mean, technically that wasn't possible, so I took a flight to Geneva, a bus to the station, a train to Lyon, another train to Marseille, and a bus to my accommodation. I was going to work remotely in France until the final-final-final Brexit deal was done, and then return to London.
One week later, however, I met the person who would, after knowing me for only a fortnight, suggest we both go and live in Casablanca. When others started going back into the office, I was living in the middle of a wasteland in the suburb of Hay Hassani, and since the Moroccan border shut for six months I wasn't going anywhere (except for the Valley of Paradise in southern Morocco, which I found out really did live up to its name). While Morocco is a wonderful place to visit, the city of Casablanca was less than ideal. After two years we decided to go, but by now had nowhere to go to. So we did the most ridiculous out of all the possibilities, and went to the opposite side of the planet, to try living in Australia. Once again, this was a last-minute decision.
I managed to get out of Morocco. The same can't be said for both of our fortunes at the border. Eventually all visa issues were resolved a few days later, and we packed our bags. Since I knew nothing about long-haul travel, other than it had always been booked for me by other people and I endured it in Economy without liking it, we were booked on the cheapest last-minute option, Scoot. We paid too much, and then more on top because of all the luggage we took for what could've been, and indeed turned out to be, two years down under/upside down/too far away. Twenty four hours of travelling in a tight Economy seat. No water, no food, no entertainment screen, no charger, not even cheap; just moderately cheap-er. It was time to get better at flying.
In Australia, starting from next to zero, I amassed all the knowledge I could find about airlines, planes, seats, points, airports, tickets, airline status… I decided it was all or nothing. I also realised it was an insane amount of complicated information that no sane human would normally be expected to acquire. Learning how to do what I now do all the time took me YEARS, and was TEDIOUS! So I made LONG-HALL, where you can get the info you need for wonderful travels, in a way that is FUN and BRIEF.
And the next bit of this story is found here.
Ces derniers temps tu as été présent dans ma tête telle une tumeur.
Habituellement, ma tête est remplie de rien d'autre que de l'humour.
Être sous le charme c'est agir tel un psychopathe.
Ma tête est si lourde de pensées que je pourrais avoir besoin d'un ostéopathe.
Cette poésie française est simplement la blague d'un ventriloque
Rire au marais de l'amour non réciproque.
Mais mes sentiments les plus intimes ne doivent pas être réprimés.
La tapisserie de ma vie ne sera pas laissée élimés.
An original poem I wrote in French.
If this is not pretentious enough to merit more than the rolling of your eyes, then I will welcome your alternative challenge.
