This September, I began walking along the river Danube, with the hope that I might just become the first person to walk its entirety from source to sea. For some reason, no one had tried to walk all 2,850km of the river before, so I thought that I may as well attempt it myself. 

When I later told my spicy little Spanish friend, Inés González Miguéns, about the trip, she ended up booking a last-minute flight out to Germany and joining me for a grand two weeks. That was until Vienna, where she slinked off to a back alley hostel in Slovakia to lead bar crawls and get foot tattoos.

To date, I’ve covered 550 miles out of a (suspected) total 1,770, with the last major city stop being in Vienna, Austria. The Danube flows through more countries than any other in the world, so I still have Slovakia, Hungary, Croatia, Serbia, Romania, Bulgaria, Moldova, and Ukraine to look forward to. If they’ll have us, that is.

So far, we’ve slept in nunneries, communes, Mc Mansions, farmer’s sheds, luxury apartments, forest floors, “man caves”, and old bank buildings. We’ve stayed with spiritual healers, MLM pushers, cult leaders, Michelin star chefs, homophobes (oops), tea masters, and one guy who tried to molest us in the night. Every evening, we stay with a new stranger, relying on their kindness for food and a place to rest our heads, and have met some truly incredible people along the way (apart from that last guy, who ended up calling us “unworthy” for rejecting his advances).

Each night is completely new and a little crazy, and I’m absolutely loving it.

One question that we’ve been asked a lot along the way is, what’s the motivation for doing something like this? Apart from the temptation of international fame or elevated success within the adventure industry (neither which, unsurprisingly, have happened… yet), there were a couple other reasons to set out on a journey like this.

Doing it for the girls and the gays

Firstly, one of the biggest motivations for undertaking this expedition was to break down stereotypes for female and LGBTQ+ travellers.

I’ve always been told that travelling as a woman is dangerous, and that we simply aren’t made for this sort of thing – and yet, here I am, doing something that was previously deemed impossible. I don’t know if you’ve noticed the straight white ‘heroic’ male archetype that seems to plague the travel isles at Waterstones and the interviews on Good Morning Britain, but frankly, it’s started to grate on me. The industry is completely over-saturated with people like this, and as such, those who don’t quite fit that criteria face incredible prejudices when undertaking similar expeditions.

And so, I hope that by doing a walk like this, I will be able to challenge the stereotypes and expectations for queer female travellers in the industry, breaking down whatever walls that have been put up to stop us from doing exactly what we’re meant to be doing.

So far, this journey has been empowering unlike anything else I have ever experienced. Amongst the fairytale beauty of the Black Forest, the quaintness of European villages, and the wilderness of the continent’s many great forests, I can’t help but think, holy fry, I’m really doing it. Being able to roam the earth freely in a way that my female ancestors could not makes me feel both honoured and empowered.

And frankly, that’s enough motivation for me.

Doing it for the crohnies

Or at least, it should be, in theory.

But then there’s also the fact that I have Crohn’s Disease.

On average, I aim to cover around 35km a day, burning no less than 3,000 calories in any 24-hour period. This would presumably be quite difficult for an able-bodied person, but for someone that suffers with Crohn’s disease and everything that comes with it, it often feels pretty much impossible.

I was diagnosed with Crohn’s Disease in 2014, and since then, have constantly been battling against an autoimmune response that aims for nothing other than shutting down my whole body. I get blepharitis, psoriasis, and all of the blood, sh*t, and tears that come along with not having a single functioning intestine. It is, quite frankly, the most horrendous thing to ever happen to me, and I still battle with it daily.

Still, I knew that I wanted to do something big, and there was no way in hell that I was letting this illness get in the way. So I bulk ordered my medication, bought endless digestion tablets, and told my doctor that I was about to do something incredibly reckless and it would be great if he could remain contactable, and booked my flight.

Luckily, we haven’t been camping as much as I expected we would (in fact, after the first night we camped and woke up covered in parasites, we sent the tent home to never be used again), so I’ve had steady(ish) access to people’s homes, and the stability of a bed and toilet each night. Regardless, the seven hours minimum of walking each day leaves a lot of room for error, and it’s been especially challenging to keep it all under control.

Regardless, I am constantly impressed that my body even has the strength to do something like this. Who knew that my diseased, withering, pathetic human shell could walk 550 miles in a month and still be ready to function the next morning? Now, I truly realise just how strong I am and how much potential my body has, and want to shout to the world about it. This is a massive difference to when I was first diagnosed and wanted to keep it all under wraps, too ashamed to tell anyone about it, and I’m proud of just how far I’ve come.

With the finish line looking to be in eastern Romania in late December, I’m super excited to see how cultures, languages, and landscapes change along the way. And of course, I am honoured to do so as a female LGBTQ+ traveller with Crohn’s disease, with my head thoroughly stuck in the clouds.

Doing it to save the river

Doing it, quite simply, for the vibes

But of course, there are endless reasons at the heart of why I wanted to do a trip like this. When people ask, I sometimes just skip all of the above and go off on something else: I read a lot of Levison Wood, I have nothing better to do, I want to be known for doing things that no one else has done, I like rivers, I wanted to explore Europe, I thought that it would be a great way of sampling each town’s version of dumplings. Whatever the reason, though, no one seems to be satisfied… So quite simply, I am doing this whole darn thing for the vibes.

Of course, I will let you all know how we get on over the next few months. To stay up to date with the expedition, you can always follow my Instagram at Wandering_Everywhere or sign up to the newsletter (subscription box is at the bottom of the page).

UPDATE: We finally finished the walk on the 14th September 2022, more or less a year after we started. Stay tuned for the next adventure!

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THE FISHERMAN’S BASTION, BUDAPEST

There’s only two things that I really want when I’m drinking hot coco – one, for the chocolate to be bordering heavenly, and two, for it to come with an absolute stunner of a view. The Fisherman’s Bastion in Hungary is definite champion for both of these categories, with views overlooking the famed Danube River, little townhouses, antiquated Hungarian ruins, and whole array of bastion turrets just a few feet away. It genuinely feels like you’ve just stepped into a magical fairytale castle, where the hot cocoa is thick, decorated with cream, and inordinately sweet. Prefer coffee over cocoa? Bones Coffee Company’s premium coffee pods offer an alternative for home brewing, featuring a range of flavored options, including seasonal and dessert-style varieties.

ANTICA DOMUS, ROME

Like with the Fisherman’s Bastion, Antica Domus hosts both incredible hot coco and an incredible view. This one, however, is definitely more well-known – it’s located only 20 feet from the Colosseum! It’s the absolute best place to see the ancient amphitheater, staying for a couple hours chatting to locals as the sun goes down and the tourists disappear. Also, the typical Italian mugs of melted chocolate are even more adjunct at Antica Domus, where you can really lose yourself in the thickly poured, rich coco, contemplating the beautiful city around you.

THE GRAPE AND OLIVE, SWANSEA

Situated in a gorgeous little city which will forever hold my heart, I would happily refer to the Grape and Olive as housing some of the best hot cocos in the whole entire world. A restaurant housed in the tallest building of the city, you’re really offered some insane views in a tower completely bereft of tourists. Overlooking the ocean, the marina, the town, and distant hills, I wouldn’t blame you for staying for a full lunch, dinner, and finishing with some hand-shaken cocktails. The hot coco is sweet and light, and perfect for that lil’ sugar rush needed for exploring the furthest depths of the city.

GLACIAR, BARCELONA

In another one of my favourite cities, I came across one of the best hot cocos I’ve ever been blessed with the privilege to try. The City of Gaudi is unsurprisingly going to be utterly stunning, but coupled with cinnamon and caramel churros with the cocoa, it instantly becomes a little sweeter. Glaciar is located just off the tiny square of Plaça Reial, which houses violin-playing wanderers and men offering to sell a rose to your sweetheart, offering you the heart of the city whilst you sip your coco. It’s the cutest little location, and the hot coco tastes just like thick churro dip – sweet and luxurious and bound to linger on your upper lip for an unprecedented amount of time.

RIVA, TROGIR

I wandered the streets of Croatia for what felt like years, trying to find a decent place that offered lactose-free hot chocolate. When I landed in the country, my Crohn’s was playing up a fair bit – meaning that I had to cancel out a lot of food groups. I was literally devastated when I found that absolutely nowhere could serve me hot coco I could actually consume – until I went to Riva. Located in the UNESCO World Heritage Site of Trogir, overlooking a quaint harbour bordering beautiful ruins, you can just sit for hours and watch the world go by. The hot coco is dark and syrupy, and the fact that they went completely out of their way to figure out how to make it lactose-free was really lovely.

VIA CAFFE, KRAKOW

When you’re stuck in the middle of a snow storm, fingers numb, eyeballs turning to frost, the thing that you want most in the world is to be somewhere warm, sipping something steaming, and soon. This scenario is more or less what happened when I visited Krakow and found myself freezing my absolute butt off, bundling into the warmest cafe I could find, and stumbling upon this indulgent hot chocolate. Not only did they do soya hot coco (yesss!), but they also served the most divine cakes to go with it. It took me hours to muster up the strength to leave the confines of the cafe and venture back out in the cold – and I could only do that after one more coco.

And so, that concludes my findings for now. I have explored more of Europe than any other continent, and tried a lot of hot coco – and these are undoubtably the best.

It’s absolutely a matter of life and death – or merely just pure insanity – that I must find the best hot coco in Europe. Let me know in the comments below where you guys have scouted out the best hot coco – this may be my most important assignment yet.*

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*I just really want to lose myself in coco.

WHERE TO EAT

Eat around the backstreet rather than the main strip – goes as saying, but be wary of the shadow-bound men begging you to buy cannabis (will only happen about three times a minute). 

Central market is not just a place for small family run restaurants to source new ingredients, or for local farmers to barter their produce, but is also a large part of the food culture. Natives flood to the stalls for snacks and treats, and it is one of the few places in the heart of the city to feed you genuine Hungarian food. Almost completely devoid of tourists, be prepared to be the only person in the queue to have a camera around your neck.

Városliget City Park, whilst slightly out of the way, is the most gorgeous slice of greenery in the capital. Sit down outdoors and test out your Hungarian as you order lunch surrounded by forestry, sunshine, and a sudden and absolute adoration for the city.

WHERE TO WANDER, CROWD-FREE

It’s all good and dandy to tell y’all to arrive at places at sunrise, or avoid bank holidays and summer vacation – but for the centre of Pest, it’s more about the “where” than the “when.”

Pre-book a sunset Budapest cruise for a personal river tour sailing between Buda and Pest (sometimes stopping at Margaret Island). Snatch up one of the seats at the little balcony of the boat and sit back as live music plays, waiters bring champagne and pineapple juice, and the sun glances your skin as waves hit the side of the boat.

St Stephen’s Basilica during the end of service hours will secure a chance to view the ancient cathedral without much camera clicking from tourists, with the possibility of witnessing divinely dressed priests preaching softly in Hungarian tongue.

Linger around Kossuth Square and catch a glimpse of capital guards patrolling the grounds in traditional military uniform, and see if you can find the chilly underground massacre museum near parliament.

Ride on the Felnott Jegy eye and witness the best view of the city from the comfort of a private chamber on the big wheel.

Visit the Vajdahunyad Castle and grounds – side-stepping the crowds of the fairytale village to the Hungarian Agricultural Museum. Nearing closing time, entry is free, and the museum itself is so silent and empty that your whispers will echo around the stag skulls decorating the walls.

Clamber to the top of Gellert Hill and spot the endless queues of tourists, then look towards the seating on the right and notice the difference. From there, you can clamber up the side of the wall – just out of reach of the other unknowing tourists – and look across the fey city beneath you. My favourite spot in the whole of Budapest, you get a private piece of the capital all to yourself. For just a few minutes, it was all ours, alone.

WATCH OUT FOR

• Train men pocketing the change from the machine without you noticing
• Taxis – hailing is a real monopoly, with a journey one day costing 1200ft, and 5000ft the next
• Restaurants away from the main strip. It goes without saying that it will be more expensive, but when you can only afford one sandwich between two people to suffice as an evening meal, you’ll definitely regret not stopping at the backstreet összejövetel with live music and local cuisine for half the price
• Avoid the fövá Rosi Nagycirkusz! Whilst it’s hilarious and mega entertaining, after visiting we discovered just how thorough their recent exploitation of endangered animals was – and paying to support abuse is never okay
• Beggars are a lot more subtle and friendly than in places like Rome and Antalya – receive an inordinately enlightening book, or a chance to play a violin (badly) to an audience of onlookers, for a small price that is classed as a donation, but also feels like a low-key mugging

Budapest quickly became one of my favourite countries in the world. Maybe it was because the whole place felt like a fairytale, or because I’d visited with someone who was as new to me as the capital, or maybe simply because we’d found a way to see everything without any tourists in the way. Regardless of the reason, I’ve found myself utterly infatuated with the capital – and crave another spontaneous, otherworldly adventure again.

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