Spanie na dziko w Macedonii

Camping alone as a woman – are you gonna die?

Considering what people have told me about camping alone as a woman, I should be long dead. Serial killers, sexual predators, wild animals – they are behind every corner, just waiting for vulnerable girls in their tents. At least according to what most people seem to think when I tell them I camp alone. How can you keep yourself safe and not freak out about every potential danger waiting behind the thin canvas of your tent?  

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Ohrid

Travelling by bike in North Macedonia – practical guide

Imagine roads with almost no cars, going through vast mountain landscapes and along pristine lakes. Add ancient cultural sites and mystical orthodox churches with byzantine frescoes. Combine it with 300 sunny days in a year, great food and outstanding hospitality. North Macedonia, Balkans hidden gem, is a perfect destination for your cycling holidays. Here are some practical tips to prepare for your trip. 

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Lake Prespa

Paradise lost – cycling in North Macedonia

Every time I visit the Balkans, it’s like coming back. Although, I’ve never lived there, I feel this Yugonostalgia, missing something I never knew. Maybe in my previous incarnation, I was driving a Yugo or Zastava for a state-planned vacation? The South is paradise lost, wrote Kapka Kassabova in “By the lake”. Her story about Lakes Prespa and Ohrid gave me an impulse to visit North Macedonia.

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Silence ain’t golden – using Couch Surfing as a woman

CouchSurfing references are a tricky matter. They should be your compass in the quest for the right host. My only negative CS experience happened despite 80 splendid references on the host’s profile. Moreover, it took me 13 months to write him a review. It made me wonder if we can rely on the references at all. How often are things left unsaid? Why is leaving an honest reference so difficult? What can we – solo traveling women – do to be safe (and protect others) while CouchSurfing?

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Kyrgyz Tales, Part 3: Jottings from Karakol

It was like in a base camp. I mean, besides electricity, fast wi-fi and the shop around the corner where you could swing by in your flip-flops. Also, we were in Kyrgyzstan’s fourth biggest city and none of us was even close to being a mountaineer. We were all regular tourists. The mood was truly basecamp-ish, though. We would maniacally check the weather forecast and played cards for hours to kill the time. Sometimes the noise of squealing tires followed by the rumble of crashing cars drowned out the monotonous sound of the rain on the tin roof. Another jerk went through a red light on the intersection in front of the hostel.

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