Living in Toronto is expensive. Rent alone costs $2500 per month. To supplement my income I started renting my master bedroom on Airbnb. Fast Forward two guests and I find myself with one invite to Houston and a second to an all inclusive stay at the Cannes Film Festival. Tempting, but travelling to the South of France with a single, 42 year-old Filipino woman could be more trouble than hosting 20 year old girls for a Future concert. I can try limiting it to a little wine in my belly and a lot of tongue in my ear but this time my refusal less likely to result in a mountain of cocaine on my table then a few tabs of roofalin down my throat. Still, I could meet Brad Pitt.
Despite having no real intentions to go, the Cannes offer is the impetus I need to start looking at flights. I start looking for trps from Toronto to, well, anywhere really. Just getting off the continent for the first time is enough excitement for me. Within minutes of Googling I find a flight to to London for $260 Canadian, $80 cheaper than a 45 minute flight to my hometown. A few days of deliberation and a flight still available I threw caution to the wind and booked the trip. A one way flight across the Atlantic with no plans and no return date.