Toilet Crickets

I have (stupidly) stashed my backpack in a bush to return and find everything I owned stolen (passport included).

I have had over a hundred mosquito bites covering my legs.

I have been so badly burned my whole chest blistered and I had to hide from the sun for two weeks while in tropical paradise.

I have had my camera and iPod stolen at gun point.

I have used many a non-Western toilet.

I have had a random stranger walk up to me and kiss me on the lips (to clarify, this was not fun).

I have had my boat’s motor break down in the middle of the Amazon.

I have been sad, and broke, and panicked, and lonely, and every emotion in between.

I have encountered many a massive cockroach.

But of all the travel blunders I have experienced, the very worst?

Toilet crickets. I effing hate toilet crickets. Every night I’d go to the bathroom, and there would be at least 4 crickets in the toilet, alive and well. And when I daringly sat atop that damn toilet, oh yes, they would jump up.

One night I encountered a tarantula on my way to visit the toilet crickets. Mr. Tarantula and I were fine with each other. I took some pictures of him, and he chilled out. He was cool.

But the toilet crickets? No. They are my number one foe.


Danie is a lovable and insane digital nomad of sorts. If you ever wondered what's a nomad, you've come to the right place. She enjoys oversharing, telling every detail of her life, and chilling on the beach, among other things. Danie is rather odd, and she likes it that way. Be sure to subscribe to hear more of her ramblings, and find out when Danie finally gets to fulfill her biggest dream: cuddling a platypus.

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