This flu might as well get the best of me. I hate being sick.

After two days of pretty much lying in bed, nose running like a sad parody of Niagara falls and multiple half-awake dreams of creatures and non-creatures alike, I force myself awake like Tutankhamon forces himself from a thousand year’s rest.

Why? Because there’s an Audi that needs delivering. More to the point, needs delivering with a deadline. This car needs to be in Finland on Friday morning! And I need to be on a flight to Venice on Saturday to meet with my workaway-family.

Four days prior:

*Clackety* *Clackety* It’s 4 am and I find myself in something that might as well be a U-boat from a Soviet submarine-film: The Budapest-Beograd special. Seriously. The night began when this Jürgen Prochnow-lookalike guy took my ticket and shoved me into this small pitch dark couchette-cabin with a Hungarian railway logistics expert. Apparently the heating in the cars hadn’t worked since the 70s, so included in the ticket price were double duvees, which Jürgen provided with great relish.

So you don’t freeze, you know. That’s fair, right?

Yes, this would be my cell for the next 8 hours. One of the only times in my life where I’ve actually longed for a proper Intercity2 night train-car.

Border control marveled at my Finnish passport with its hologram and all. How quaint. My ego slightly twitched as I suddenly was something of an exotic: a citizen of a faraway country with impressively technological bureaucracy. But I soon humbled again, when I remembered how awkward and unsafe a passport with a remotely readable RFID-chip actually is. I let them ogle, though. The graveyard shift on the Hungary-Serbia border probably isn’t the most interesting of things. A Finnish passport around these parts is pretty much akin to gold, by the way. No one suspects Finns of anything, so border control tends to be a doddle.

Something like 4 hours into Serbia now. Which is not saying much, with this rickety submarine-train moving at less than 50kph. Not to say that it’s a bad thing. These tracks are more crooked than an EU-politician. The Hungarian fellow even told me about a derailed train earlier this year. I didn’t need to hear that, c’mon man! But Serbia, holy hell. Some 6 months ago I wouldn’t even dream of stepping outside Finland. And here I was, closer to backwater-Europe than I’d ever been..

The bathroom was not so much a bathroom but more a closet with a sink. I’m not even sure I was meant to pee in there. Oh well.

So I’m out to get a friend’s car. It’s stuck in Serbia with plates about to expire and needs rescuing. I hope it’s ok. Damn. I hope HE’S ok.

Three days prior:

Welcome to Belgrade! And don’t I feel Soviet now! This country has been bombed to shit a dozen times. And the Soviet era can be seen in many places. Yet, there’s an air of honesty and hard work wherever I look. So un-Russian. I guess ultimate adversity makes people focus on the important issues. The weather is becoming increasingly warm and sunny the closer I get to Nis. That’s bound to be a good sign!

The car is fine. Zero issues. The hotel is fine, booked a room. And the women in this city. Are FINE. Incredible to see so many stunningly hot women in such a small city. Too bad I’ve been awake for too long and need to sleep. And the flu is catching up..

But I gotta come back here and meet these girls! My women-adventures in Budapest have been rather tragicomic up until now. Closest I’ve gotten to a girl’s pants was that time on the nightclub dance floor, which isn’t exactly something you write home about. OR blog about, I guess. The only that would’ve ended up in anything concrete would’ve been in the nightclub-toilet.

But seriously though, how fucking tasteless would that be?

A sidenote regarding women, I actually ran into the two hotties from before. In the Budapest metro. How unlikely is that? But, as it happens, not even fate helps my odds of getting laid. =)

Two days prior:

5 am, it’s dark outside. The Audi hasn’t been fired up in months. I have my qualms with VAG-products, but a brand new Audi should have no trouble shaking off a few months idle sitting. And like from under a palm tree, the 2.0TFSI hurdles to life.

I can feel the flu coming on. It feels really bad this time, but my body says not yet. I need to get off the road.

200km to Budapest. Border control ahead. As suspected, Finnish passport and plates pretty much guarantee a troublefree passage.

For a small moment I consider rejoicing the fact that I’m back inside the EU again. But what did I leave behind? Sunshine, gorgeous women, friendly and helpful people? Only to be met by some Romanian fuckwad who insisted on washing my windows. For free, he said, which I presumed meant “for a fee”. Oh, and here’s the kicker – he wouldn’t accept 100 forint for his trouble, which I figured would be more than enough for that amount of work. The douche actually insisted on getting more, a minimum of 300 forint. I was in a pleasurable mood, so I gave him 150 forint and told him to kindly fuck off. A cold shower of EU-attitude, I thought.

Almost in Budapest now. My nose is running, and with it, my time. I needed to get to bed. So here I am, looking at a map on my phone, trying to navigate to a parking garage, wiping my nose, watching the traffic, and my phone rings.

It’s the new tenant from my old apartment in Finland. He’s paid 30€ for my old washing machine, and confused about how it works. I’m like “listen mate, I really don’t have time for this right now.” But this guy, in his broken English, wanted me to provide him with instructions on how to start a 30C program. I had trouble grasping the unreality of the situation at this point. I patiently explained how a 30C program is started, and that my interests in becoming a long-distance helpdesk are limited. It’s insane how people expect some sort of warranty and guarantee and on-site helpdesk when they buy a 7 year old appliance for lunch money.

Almost two days I spent in bed, working off the flu. Now, still in weak condition, I’m sitting in a hotel lobby, waiting to have breakfast with my grandmother.

Before heading to Krakow, Poland. It’s a 6 hour drive through Slovakia, said google maps.

-Jay

edit: make that a 7 hour drive. Slovakia is horrible.

Wow, she’s a colourful one. Oh, I can’t approach her. I need to get to this restaurant.

Oh there she goes. Cute as well. Oh, shame. Now let’s see where this restaurant is.. so I turn right here and..

What, is that her again? Maybe she’s looking for the same restaurant. Damn she’s cute.

For fuck’s sake man. Where are your balls. This is getting weird. Just go tell her that she’s cute!

She was Serbian. She had the most contagious smile. She was so incredibly cute. And SHE WAS NOT SINGLE! *dies* As a positive note, though, she reminded me of how easy it is to talk to someone on YOUR wavelength.

So I’m slowly getting over my approach anxiety. Slowly. Slowly starting to understand who I wish to approach, who is just meh, and who is just an excuse to not approach. Slowly. It’s a slow process. But it’s a process, nonetheless. I’m yet to take one of these days and just do pranks and talk to everyone I see. It’s much more of a Finnish stoic style for me – approach everyone who tickles your fancy. Which isn’t everyone.

I’ve imploded my tiny little brain from this blogging-course. Brainstorming audiences, brainstorming topics, brainstorming how audiences think of topics.. It requires some heavy duty creative work, let me tell you. Today I got around to visiting a local spa to clear my head. I dunno if it worked, but at least I got a few fresh ideas. And experiencing an outdoor pool, clear skies and sunshine, and girls in bikinis .. in the middle of fucking winter? Something a small boy from Finland doesn’t exactly see every day.

This blog thing though – it’s something special. Sure, I’ve done diary blogs and dumbass business attempts in the past, but this is something totally different. I hope I don’t fall behind, the others seem to grasp it better than I do! I even bought tickets to a course conference in Florida. I’m not sure if it’s to prove to myself that I can do this, or because I believe in myself enough that I can invest so much time and money in this.

In any case, it WILL happen. This is what I was meant to do. Steve Pavlina said to write down stuff you want to do until you break down in tears – that’s your life purpose. For me that was freeing people from the slavery of societal norms and pressure. Sure, watching 12 Years as a Slave helped. But that’s what it needed.

Another International Meeting Point, another interesting night. Met some familiar faces and some unfamiliar faces as well. It’s funny how easily you can create a presence in a room just by talking with people. “This guy knows everyone! Everyone seems to have fun with this guy!” I didn’t even realize what was happening until a familiar face from the last meet was playing eye games with me. She was cute. So I played along.

She smiled a lot. I like smily and quirky people. And brunette as well, which is always a plus in my book. But what’s this? There were two of them. Two women. Both hot in different ways. Both amazing and interesting.. and both with a slight interest in me and my odd little world. Now I’ve had enough of games and playing and whatever to last a lifetime, and I enjoyed the company of these fine women. What do you do in this situation?

You take a deep breath and chill out.

I was interested in getting to know these people. Anything else was a friggin’ bonus. Not that I’d be a passive ass. I totally took iniative and made sure everyone had a damn good time. But I will not need anything from anyone. On a certain dancefloor I had a close time with the other of these women, a cherry blonde with a hot ass and quirky outlook on life. Which was fun. But I wanted to get to know her.

Yeah, I’m a sentimental fool like that.

I’d rather not get anywhere than make some crappy one night stand with someone I don’t know. This is entirely incomprehensible to most people. Now, don’t get me wrong. Sex is fun, and I won’t shy away from making my intentions clear. But only with the right person. And having said that, I’ll take an awesome conversation over sex any time. Now don’t kill me Ryan, I think an awesome conversation more or less leads to sex. But I’ve yet to find awesome sex without an awesome connection beneath. And sex without it being awesome is just boring.

Two days pass, and the cherry blonde hasn’t exactly been enthusiastic about meeting me again. Now far be it from me to presume to know what goes on in other people’s heads, but I’d be rather surprised if she hadn’t gotten some wicked buyer’s remorse* from that night! And don’t get me wrong, I think it’s kinda cute, and I can’t not see the funny. But rather a shame if we never see again because of that. This is exactly why I don’t peddle into the nightgame-realm: people have got their heads so cluttered with booze, group pressure, and social norms, that it turns into a manipulation game.

A game which I don’t play. So I’ll just drop a message to her next week.

In any case. I had a great time. These people were amazing. And I hope to see them again.

..

Gah who am I kidding. I totally want these women naked in my bed.

*Buyer’s remorse

I don’t usually delve into the pickup-lingo, but I kinda like this particular term, since it describes the feeling so well. It’s like buying a new car. First you feel so enthusiastic and hyped up about how awesome and cool the new car is in the showroom. You feel like your world is complete because you are now able to buy this car. You’d be willing to sell your house just to finance this car.

But you go home in your old car, because a slight bit of sense kept you from making rash financial decisions. The next day you feel like you’re coming down from an emotional high. Into a slight hangover, even. You can’t see the car for its magnificence anymore. All you see are the downsides to the equation. You may even begin to resent the idea of buying this new car. The damn thing, it tried to cheat you into a stupid decision!

That’s why salesmen hate the idea of a customer coming back later, and they want a signature immediately.

That’s why you don’t kiss and fondle a girl on the dance floor without taking her home immediately.

Getting your online business running isn’t the easiest task in the world. And none of us have bottomless pockets to run from airbnb to airbnb and hope for free lunches.

Here’s a few sites that’ll help you travel smart and cheap, while still keeping a fair amount of freedom and time to work on your business and income.

Workaway.info

This piece of Reissumies-rye bread is my last. Any of you Finns out in the world will understand the significance of this event: a silent moment of contemplation. I didn’t even run it through the toaster. Just ate it dry and enjoyed every last dry fibery bit of it. I’m a romantic fool, yes, but it became a small little rite of passage for me. Two weeks out here, and I’m slowly growing accustomed to the world.

Last piece. I’ve always had a close relationship with this curious bit of bakery. But it’s gone. Along with it the word “friend”, no longer a static object, but rather something dynamic. Friends are out there to find. Some of them I’ll see again, some of them maybe not. The word “home” now refers to my airbnb. This rather dated airbnb apartment, with a slight bug problem and broken .. everything. But at least it offers a great sleep.. alone.

Bugs. This one is called Frank.

I offered Frank something to read.

Yeah ok, alone next to the bugs. But that Hungarian girl? Cute as she was, it won’t make up for the altogether nice shy girl fact. Yes, I’m bored easily. And sadly, she could not keep up. Hell, I’m afraid of breaking such a delicate flower! Nah, it’ll have to stay an innocent little coffee break.

Prime time and I’m the only customer! Thankfully salad was delicious.

The French girl though? Yeah, we had a colourful chat about cooking and psychology at the coolest little coffee shop ever! Seriously, the couple running the place were practically hippies in their pyjamas and the place was decorated like Indiana Jones’s carry on manpurse! My French date got some chocolatey goodness with strawberries and I had a nice cuppa white tea. I figured it was altogether a bit too friendly in the end, so I moved things along to the next place, but she had to be going. I thought we had, not a lot, but a bit of chemistry, but alas my kiss close failed in the most spectacular “let’s just be friends”-fashion.

Awesome. Sure, first I felt like I had returned to my altogether familiar neighbourhood of the “friendzone” and my heart fell through several layers of hell. But a couple of minutes after I felt great! I had tried my best, had a great time with an amazing girl and I was still alive! Rejection has its merits. The next day I did my first street approach in Budapest. Not because I was bitter and heartbroken, no. But because I had learned that rejection means exactly nothing, and I gave closer to zero shits than ever.

Damn it, no cute girls anywhere.. No, hold on! She’s cute! She’s practically gorgeous! Oh but I can’t, she’s got that nasty face on. That means she’s angry and will yell at me if I approach. Can’t do it. Nope.


Wait. WHAT THE FUCK am I saying? Turn around. Move your damn feet and go get that girl!


She wasn’t nasty at all. She had a lovely smile and thought my nervousness was rather endearing.

Awaiting her master

sashapua.com‘s Ryan Black told me he saw no sign of entrepreneurship in my life. And I could only agree. So, next to meeting people, the motor secondus for my digital nomad-escapade was getting my online business running. Since my previous mentorship had proven a brilliant investment, I applied into an online course in blogging under this one fella, who shall remain anonymous for now. Let’s just say he’s the first of many bloggers with a realistic feel of the market and a clear sense of directing his students. The course wasn’t free of charge, and I’ll be working my ass off to make results. I haven’t even gotten through the first module and it’s proving to be fascinating!

Of course my budget can’t handle these wild investments without a significant boost. So, as it happens, a friendly family from workaway.info e-mailed me to be an aupair for them. That’d take care of accommodation and food. And on top of that, I’d get to teach English by playing with a couple of kids! In fucking Venice.

Venice. I’ll be working in Venice. How did that happen?

Oh, Harold.

So, just to clarify: My business is taking huge strides forward, I’m slowly getting used to the idea of chatting up girls on the streets and I have a chance to help this family as a nanny. =) Oh! And a friend from Budapest entertained me with the idea of working an HR job.

Seriously. When I say this is becoming something exciting, you must understand my complete meaning: Hollywood would reject this script for reasons of incredulity.

It’s been two weeks. I’d have accomplished nothing in Finland in this time.

.. yeahp.

Reporting from Budapest, this has been Jay.

Get rid of your stuff and start a minimalist lifestyle

Home is behind, the world ahead, Peregrin Took said. This part of LOTR has always resonated with me: the idea of leaving your home to head into complete unknown and possibly never return. I always thought I’d be the one to sit around and rot in one place. Maybe go work abroad sometime. In the future. But sit comfortably in front of my computer for now. I’m not one for adventures.

No, not me.

After Sasha Daygame’s bootcamp, my world changed. I had just come back from an evening in Helsinki, frustrated at how empty the city felt after London. It was a gloomy and rainy day, and I was sitting on a train, listening to some drunk spew his bullshit. Finnish news topics were the same old propaganda and I was angry. I was angry and frustrated. As always, I vented my frustration over some instant messaging service to be met with a friendly, if surprising bit of insight: “No one is forcing you to be here, man.”

“No one is forcing you to be here.”

No one indeed, I thought. And suddenly I felt no more anger. All the frustration was gone. I had to go. It was the only way. Go where ever and find that same feeling I had in London.

That feeling of belonging.

Cut to four months later, in an airbnb in Budapest. Home is behind, and all my possessions have been reduced to fit into two suitcases. The world is ahead. Or London rather, which is where I hope to be heading, after I’ve set the groundwork for my business.

Saying goodbye to the apartment that had carried me from the gutter into a position, where self-improvement was possible was rough. Some junk I had carried a true emotional worth. Some of these appliances and furniture bits had followed me through countless homes. They all had names. They all had stories! Thankfully I was able to stow away the most important items, like letters from girls I used to know.

Friends and family were surprisingly supportive, and most were even surprised that I hadn’t gone before. I’m like hey thanks for telling me, dammit, if it was so obvious!

Some partings, of course, were harder than others..

So, after a rather hectic weekend moving crap and emptying an apartment and not sleeping at all (shout out to Timo for helping), grandma gave me a lift to the airport. Story pretty much continues way up to the next day, because I thought it’d be a good idea to sleep at Budapest airport, and reserved the airbnb only for the next night. Yeah, sleeping at the airport was a horrible idea. I’m totally not cut out for that.

But, on the bright side, while roaming the nighttime airport, I met a cute graphic artist Czech girl, so I guess it was worth staying up. She smiled a lot and had this idea of moving to Tel Aviv to work in warmer weather.

But no worries! I had a good rest on the Budapest blue line metro, which offers a cheap place for a nap in the daytime! In the end though, nothing beats a real (couch) bed, which was a godsend after being awake for way too long.

The Hungarian women though, wow. They are gorgeous! I fired up Tinder pretty soon to get a grasp of the locals, and it was almost comical swiping right constantly. But, as usual with me and Tinder, no amount of swipes seemed to create any matches, so I gave it a rest eventually.

Had an awesome night at the International Meeting Point Budapest and got to know some wonderful people. The first person that caught my eye there was this cute girl with strawberry coloured hair, so since I’m into this conquering fears business, I went to tell her she’s beautiful. And who’d a thunk it? I ended up having a bit of a French lesson with two French hotties. And a third French hottie later, but he was a guy. And spoke no French to me. So he doesn’t count! No, for realzies though, thank you IMP-ambassadors for making this sort of event happen!

Regarding Tinder, I did end up getting a match with this Hungarian girl. She seemed feisty and colourful enough, so I asked her out for frozen yogurts. So that’s fun!

Also, that French hottie with strawberry coloured hair? Surprisingly she was interested in human interaction and psychology, so of course I wanted to get to know her more! So we’re meeting for coffee tomorrow. Not bad for a social recluse on his first week abroad, eh?

Daygame wise, today was the first time in months I did anything regarding the subject. Daygame is when I chat up women on the streets, or just stop a beautiful girl to tell her I think she’s beautiful. But I figured, life is short and I absolutely must get this sorted. So after an excellent dinner, I went for a bit of a stroll. Even though it was bloody cold and the wind chill factor must’ve been something towards the low end of a Finnish winter. Not too long after I saw this amazing brunette on the other side of the street. And she was flying like some sort of Hungarian gazelle. I had to run to have any chance of catching her. Which I actually did, in the end!

But I choked. And did nothing.

Fuck.

Tomorrow I need to do an approach or few to get my mojo going, so I won’t be a total bore on my coffee date.

It’s now Friday evening. City is Budapest. I will be your guide on this journey of ups, downs, fears, loves, failures and successes.

My name is Jay, and I wear hats.

Relaunching this blog platform with a new name:

Two bits of luggage
Referring to the two bits of luggage I’m carrying around. This’ll be a travel diary, where I’ll log all or most of my mishaps and escapades and silly antics. Since I’m a traveller attempting to build a financially free lifestyle while meeting awesome women, there should be some pretty cool stories ahead!

Also, I realize the concept of polyamory raises questions in many of you. I hope to shed some light on how true honest polyamory can actually work. And if I can’t make it work, at least there’s potential for some juicy drama, eh?

Enjoy reading. Or don’t.

-Jay