Travel with Spirits

Category: Solo Travel Reflections

  • Cities in Between 🌇

    Cities in Between 🌇

    Where Sustainable Travel Becomes Visible

    Most trips are defined by destinations. Capitals. Landmarks. Final stops.

    But when traveling overland across Europe, what shapes my understanding of movement are often the places in between.

    These are not highlight cities. They are transfer points, regional stations, ferry terminals, and small towns connected by secondary lines. They are rarely the reason for travel, yet they make travel possible.

    Regional routes that quietly hold the network together.

    A regional train waits at a modest platform. It is not high-speed. It is not new. But it connects smaller towns to larger systems. People stand beside their luggage, watching the doors open and close.

    Sustainable travel depends on these routes. Not only flagship intercity lines, but the everyday infrastructure that feeds into them.

    Rural towns that remain connected by road and rail.

    Along the way, the train passes through villages that rarely appear on itineraries. These places are not tourist destinations, yet they remain connected. Flying would bypass them entirely. Rail and road move through them.

    Connectivity is part of sustainability. If infrastructure does not exist beyond major hubs, lower-impact travel becomes limited.

    Stations that serve residents more than visitors.

    At a small-town station with faded lettering, tracks run past ordinary neighborhoods. No airport-style controls. Just platforms and schedules. These stations represent continuity.

    Road travel makes transitions gradual.

    Crossing a bridge by bus, the skyline appears gradually. Overland travel reveals transitions rather than compressing them. It requires more connections, but keeps distance visible.

    Not a destination, just a pause in the network.

    Rain falls on a small regional platform. The train pauses briefly before continuing. No landmark. No dramatic arrival. Just a functional stop within a larger system.

    High-density hubs supporting regional lines.

    In larger stations, departure boards list regional and international services side by side. Commuters, families, and travelers move between platforms. Sustainable mobility relies on density.

    Daily routines unfolding beneath train schedules.

    Under digital timetables, passengers buy coffee and snacks. The system works not because it is dramatic, but because it is routine. Lower-carbon travel depends on repetition and use.

    Transfers and waiting are part of the process.

    Waiting is part of this structure. Transfers take time. Choosing rail or bus instead of flying often means accepting these pauses. It also means staying connected to geography rather than skipping over it.

    Sea crossings integrated into the land network.

    At a ferry terminal, passengers queue quietly. Ferries are not zero-emission, but in many regions they act as essential connectors where bridges do not exist.

    Multi-modal travel depends on what exists between cities.

    Two cyclists sit beside their loaded bikes at a bus shelter. Their journey depends entirely on the infrastructure between cities.

    Sustainable travel is often discussed in terms of emissions per passenger kilometer. Rail generally produces far lower CO₂ than flying. Buses often fall in between. But numbers alone are not enough.

    Infrastructure determines what choices are possible.

    In parts of Europe, rail lines end. In others, buses fill the gaps. Ferries connect coastlines. The cities in between are where these systems overlap and function together.

    Flying reduces travel time by skipping space. Overland travel moves through it.

    If sustainable travel is about lowering impact, it is also about supporting the networks that already exist. And those networks live in the cities in between.

  • Beyond Railways: Buses as Real Connections in the Balkans 🚌

    Beyond Railways: Buses as Real Connections in the Balkans 🚌

    Low-carbon travel is not always seamless.

    In parts of Europe, especially across the Balkans, railways simply do not connect in practical ways. International routes are limited, slow, or suspended. Borders between EU and non-EU countries involve passport checks, customs procedures, and unpredictable waiting times.

    In these places, buses are not a secondary choice. They are often the only one.

    Where Rail Ends

    High-speed rail dominates headlines, but buses quietly fill the gaps.

    At Barcelona Nord, I was reminded that Europe’s transport system is layered. Trains dominate Western Europe, but buses extend the network.

    Andorra appears not as an exception, but as routine infrastructure.

    There is no railway connection between Barcelona and Andorra. The only realistic way into the Pyrenees is by coach. The three-hour ride climbs steadily. The road narrows. The air cools. It is not dramatic. It is simply how the region functions.

    San Marino: A State Without Rail

    Where there is no rail, the bus is the system.

    San Marino has no active railway. To reach it, I took a bus from Rimini.

    The road winds upward from the Adriatic coast.

    The route climbs into the hills. There is no visible border checkpoint, but you are crossing into a sovereign state. Here, buses are not an alternative. They are the infrastructure itself.

    Crossing the Balkans

    A regional hub where road replaces rail.

    In Podgorica, buses connect Montenegro to Serbia, Kosovo, North Macedonia, Albania, and further into the EU.

    Skopje, Pristina, Thessaloniki. Road corridors where rail is limited.

    Cross-border journeys are tangible. Drivers collect passports. Officers board the bus. Luggage compartments are opened. Sometimes the process is quick. Sometimes it takes much longer. You feel the border.

    Everyday Mobility

    Practical vehicles forming the backbone of regional mobility.

    The buses are practical. Seats worn. Curtains faded. Air conditioning inconsistent.

    Daily mobility, not curated tourism.

    Passengers include workers, students, families, traders carrying large bags.

    Informal logistics networks moving alongside passengers.

    I once watched a washing machine being loaded into the luggage hold. It did not surprise anyone. These buses move people and goods together.

    The Part I Struggle With

    Scheduled stops determine comfort.

    There is one reason I still prefer trains when possible.

    Many long-distance Balkan bus routes last eight to ten hours. Most coaches do not have onboard toilets. You wait for scheduled stops. When you need a bathroom, you wait for the next one. And the facilities are often basic, sometimes not particularly clean.

    This is the only part of long-distance bus travel I genuinely struggle with. Trains offer more space and consistent facilities. On buses, comfort depends heavily on timing.

    Extending the Network

    Where rail ends, road continues.

    Despite these limitations, buses extend Europe’s mobility network where tracks end. From Barcelona to Andorra. From coastal Italy into San Marino. Across Balkan borders where rail infrastructure was never rebuilt or modernized.

    They do not compete with trains. They replace what does not exist.

    Sustainable Travel in Imperfect Systems

    Mobility shaped by geography and history.

    From an emissions perspective, buses sit between rail and flying. In Europe, rail averages around 14g CO₂ per passenger kilometer. Coaches often range between 25–60g. Short-haul flights typically exceed 150g.

    Rail is clearly lower. But in regions where rail does not exist, the real comparison is not bus versus train. It is bus versus flying.

    In the Balkans, choosing the bus is not about chasing the lowest possible number. It is about working with the infrastructure that exists.

    Sustainable travel is rarely about ideal systems. It is about making the best possible decision within real ones.

    In much of the Balkans, and in mountain states like Andorra or San Marino, buses are not secondary transport. They are the backbone.

  • Traveling Europe by Interrail: Learning to Arrive Slowly 🛤️

    Traveling Europe by Interrail: Learning to Arrive Slowly 🛤️

    Trains as the backbone of low-carbon movement

    In 2025, from May to July, I traveled across Europe with a three-month Interrail pass. It was about choosing trains as the backbone of my movement, and letting distance, time, and transition become part of the journey.

    After walking the Camino, my relationship with movement had already changed. I no longer wanted to “arrive” abruptly. I wanted to enter places gently. Trains offered exactly that.

    A train station is not just a stop, it’s a pause between places.

    Unlike flying, where space collapses into departure gates and arrival halls, train travel stretches geography back into something human scaled. Cities don’t disappear all at once. Suburbs thin out. Factories become fields. Fields turn into forests. Sometimes forests rise into mountains.

    You don’t just arrive somewhere.
    You watch one place slowly become another.

    Watching landscapes change, instead of flying over them.

    Daytime train journeys became my favorite classroom. Sitting by the window, I learned how light changes across hours and regions, morning softness over farmland, harsh noon sun on platforms, clouds gathering near borders, rain streaking across the glass somewhere between countries.

    Weather mattered again. Temperature mattered. Time mattered.

    Inside the train, time stretches and the mind settles.

    Interrail made this rhythm possible. With one pass, I crossed borders without severing continuity. Different languages, different rail systems, but always the same ritual: finding my platform, reading the board, stepping onto the train.

    Stations became thresholds rather than stress points. Some were grand and echoing with iron and glass. Others were quiet, almost empty, with only a bench and a sign. Each one held a pause, a moment to breathe between places.

    Borders feel different when you cross them on the ground.

    On platforms and inside carriages, I encountered people I would never meet in the air. Commuters heading home. Elderly couples with grocery bags. Backpackers half asleep. Families sharing snacks. Solo travelers staring out the window, just like me.

    We didn’t always talk, but we shared time and space. Travel felt communal again.

    Travel becomes communal when you move at human speed.
    Not every train is polished, and that’s part of the story.

    Choosing trains was also a conscious environmental decision. Rail travel produces far lower carbon emissions than flying, especially within Europe. But beyond numbers, sustainability became something I could feel.

    Less rushing.
    Less disconnection.
    More presence.

    The journey itself was no longer something to endure. It became part of living.

    Choosing trains as the backbone of low-carbon travel.
    Movement without rushing.
    Travel that stays close to the land.

    What surprised me most was how trains changed my sense of arrival. By the time I stepped off, my body had already adjusted. My mind had slowed down. There was no jet lag between where I was and where I had been.

    I arrived whole.

    Traveling Europe by Interrail taught me that sustainable travel is not only about lowering emissions. It’s about aligning movement with the nervous system, with attention, with care.

    Trains didn’t just connect cities.
    They taught me how to arrive, slowly, gently, and with intention.

    This article is part of my Sustainable Travel Series, exploring how movement, culture, and low-carbon choices reshape the way we travel in Europe.

  • From Camino to Sustainable Travel 🥾

    From Camino to Sustainable Travel 🥾

    It has been almost a year since I set off from Zamora in late March and began walking the Camino de Santiago.

    Those three weeks on the Camino did not give me clear answers at the time. Instead, they planted something quietly. Over the months that followed, that seed slowly grew, reshaping how I understand travel, movement, and arrival.

    Spring on the Camino, when the river slows, my pace follows.

    In 2025 Spring, I chose to walk the Camino step by step with my own body. Later, I spent three months traveling by train and short-distance cruises within Europe, moving gradually from city to city. This rhythm made something very clear to me: when movement slows down, the body, emotions, and awareness are able to arrive together.

    I used to travel very differently. I moved frequently between continents, Europe, the United States, Asia, often within short periods of time. Those journeys were efficient and exciting, but they left me feeling fragmented. My body would already be in a new time zone, while my thoughts were still lingering on the continent I had just left.

    At dusk, the landscape changes slowly—an invitation to pause.

    The way I traveled in 2025 was not only about reducing carbon emissions. It became a shift in how I live. When I stopped rushing to cross distances and allowed myself time to truly enter a place, something inside me softened and aligned.

    On the Camino, I often walked alone. My footsteps landed on dirt paths and stone roads, passing through open fields, forests, streams, and quiet villages. The yellow arrows appeared again and again. They did not rush me or promise a destination, they simply pointed forward.

    The arrows don’t point to an ending, only to the next step.

    And yet, I was not always alone. Along the way, I met pilgrims from many different countries. Sometimes we walked together; sometimes we simply shared a short pause. Language was not always necessary. Under the same sun and with the same tired legs, understanding came easily.

    In the afternoons, we would stop at small village bars, cold, freshly poured beer, simple tapas on the table. Spanish sunlight spilled across the wood surfaces, a light breeze passed through the streets, and time felt generous. These ordinary moments became some of the clearest memories of the journey.

    Cold beer, olives, and a pause that feels exactly right.

    The train journeys and short European cruises that followed continued this same rhythm. Cities were no longer places I skipped over; they were connected, one by one. Outside the window, landscapes changed gradually, and my thoughts were given space to settle.

    This way of traveling feels gentler, to the environment, and to myself. It is not about achieving perfection or zero impact, but about making conscious choices before each movement.

    Now, I find myself drawn to this kind of travel, where movement is not only about reaching a destination, but about practicing a way of living that can be sustained over time.

    When the body, mind, and spirit arrive together, the world opens itself in quieter, kinder ways.

    This article is part of my Sustainable Travel Series, exploring how movement, culture, and low-carbon choices reshape the way we travel in Europe.

  • Welcome to Travel with Spirits: Tasting the World, One Spirit at a Time

    Welcome to Travel with Spirits: Tasting the World, One Spirit at a Time

    Have you ever wondered what it means to truly taste a place—not just its food or drink, but its stories, its energy, and its soul?

    Welcome. I’m Megan, and this is Travel with Spirits—my personal project, spiritual compass, and ever-evolving conversation with the world.

    🌍 Why I Started This Blog

    Travel has always been more than sightseeing for me. It’s a dialogue. A shared moment with a stranger. A sip of something unknown. A street corner that teaches you something about yourself.

    This blog was born from my desire to document the intersection of travel, local spirits, and spiritual insight. From sipping mezcal under the stars in Oaxaca, to quiet reflections in Buddhist monasteries in Thailand, I started noticing something: every country has its own rhythm—and its own drink that carries centuries of wisdom, laughter, pain, and joy.

    Through Travel with Spirits, I want to capture those moments.

    🧭 My Mission

    To explore the world with curiosity and respect—one country, one story, one spirit at a time.

    I aim to:

    • Share authentic travel experiences across the globe
    • Celebrate local spirits and drinking cultures as a window into human connection
    • Reflect on spiritual and philosophical insights inspired by each place
    • Encourage dialogue and openness across cultures

    This isn’t just about alcohol—it’s about spirit, in every sense of the word.

    🔮 My Vision

    By the end of 2030, I aim to visit 100 countries—not to tick boxes, but to listen, taste, reflect, and connect.

    Through this journey, I want to build bridges:

    • Between ancient wisdom and modern travel
    • Between people from different paths
    • Between outer exploration and inner growth

    🤝 Let’s Collaborate

    Are you a traveler, writer, distiller, spiritual teacher, or someone building soulful experiences?
    I’m open to collaborations in travel, storytelling, spirits, or meaningful business ideas.

    Let’s create something together—something that inspires, connects, and expands.

    📲 Stay Connected

    Follow more moments and musings on Instagram:
    👉 @travelwithspirits

    Let’s raise a glass to the world—and everything it teaches us.

    Welcome aboard.
    This is just the beginning.

  • 👋 Hello World… and Welcome to Travel with Spirits

    👋 Hello World… and Welcome to Travel with Spirits

    This isn’t just a blog. It’s a toast to the world.

    I’m Megan — traveler, spirit lover, philosopher at heart, and the soul behind Travel with Spirits. Whether it’s a glass of local wine in the Croatian hills, a shot of rakija in the Balkans, or a quiet tea moment in a Buddhist temple, I believe every drink carries a story, and every journey carries meaning.

    🍷 Why “Travel with Spirits”?

    Because I don’t just travel for the places—I travel for the people, the stories, the flavors, and the philosophies that live within each destination.
    And yes, I love tasting local spirits (the drinkable kind), but also the deeper spirit of each place: its energy, rhythm, and soul.

    ✨ What to Expect Here

    In this space, you’ll find:

    • Travel reflections from around the world
    • Stories behind local drinks and traditions
    • Thoughts on spirituality, growth, and global connection
    • Conversations with strangers who became teachers
    • A countdown to 100 countries before 2030 🌍

    🤝 Let’s Connect

    This blog is just the beginning. I’d love to hear from you—whether you want to collaborate, share travel tips, or simply raise a virtual glass together.

    Follow me on Instagram: @travelwithspirits
    Or say hi: travelwithspirits@gmail.com

    Cheers to the road ahead.
    Let’s travel, sip, reflect, and grow—together. 🥂