Escape Routes: 101
For the complete NOOB-Note, this is 101, for each location, and indeed, each topic, I will be creating an expanded article. This is just the beginning.
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As Americans (yes, I’m so sorry, this is written for Americans, I love all of you, but my specific knowledge is how Americans travel) we have a ridiculous privilege with our passports. I have Philippine friends, Indian friends, Palestinian friends and friends of so many Passport classifications. All of whom have to work so hard to get anywhere. We are able to go so very many places relatively easily. Our biggest hurdle tends to be oceans.
At least for now.
So, if you are looking for an escape, you’ve come to the right place.
Bonus Quiz: What is your Escape Route?
Visa Free Countries
The Magic of the American Passport (and Its Limits)
As an American, you can travel to 182 countries without needing a visa in advance. That means in many cases, you can literally just show up with your passport, hop off the plane (or cross the border by car), and walk into a new country like you're flipping to the next page of your story (Note, this doesn’t mean walk in and stay forever, but many many many countries have 90 days on this). Now, some of these countries are visa on arrival or e-visa, but it’s still SO MUCH EASIER than citizens of so many other countries.
No embassy visits. No paperwork nightmares. No "please wait 4–6 weeks."
Just... go.
Canada and Mexico? Drive right in.
Europe? Most of it gives you a 90-day welcome hug.
Some countries, like Albania or Georgia (the country, not the state), let you stay for a full year.
But—like any good spell—it changes.
This list isn’t permanent. During Covid, doors closed. Some still haven’t fully reopened. And some countries, like the UK, are transitioning to E-visas—which means that same “walk-in” you did eight years ago may soon require a few clicks and approvals before you arrive.
So before you book anything, always check:
Do I need a visa to enter this country?
You can find this on the official government page of the country you’re visiting—or message me, and I’ll dig it up for you.
How long can you stay?
Most visa-free or visa-on-arrival entries give you 90 days (think Europe, Japan, South Korea).
But a few hidden gems—Albania, Georgia, and sometimes Serbia or Costa Rica—welcome you for up to 365 days without hassle.
That’s right: an entire year without setting foot in an embassy.
Just be careful not to overstay. Immigration isn’t cute about that.
Going through Immigration
(Because when you’ve never gone through Immigration, it can be a lot)
After the hours of travel, the dry air, the awkward naps and loud announcements, the last thing you want is to shuffle into a giant line of equally exhausted people. But that’s exactly what immigration is: a long, winding queue, often through roped-off lanes under fluorescent lights, leading to a row of glass booths where uniformed officers sit behind small windows. You will usually see signs telling you not to take pictures. Some airports feel welcoming. Others feel tense. Either way, this is the moment where you officially ask the country to let you in.
Things to Know:
Try to find a bathroom before immigration, as once you are in line, it will be difficult to leave
The hallways to immigration can be long depending on the country, so you might be walking for quite some time.
I like having a rolling carry-on with 4 wheels ( so I can lean on it. If you have a really heavy carry-on, you will be carrying it, and it could suck.
You will need your passport—keep it in hand, not buried in your bag.
Some countries require a visa before arrival (check this in advance).
Others offer visa on arrival—you might need cash or a digital form filled out.
Immigration cards or forms are sometimes handed out on the plane. Fill them out early.
The officer may ask:
– Where are you staying?
– Why are you here?
– How long are you staying?– Who are you staying with?
You don’t need to give a full story. Just answer clearly and calmly.
Some countries take fingerprints or photos as part of entry.
Things to Have With You (not packed away):
Passport
Visa approval (if required)
Address of where you’re staying (a hotel, hostel, or friend’s place)
Return/onward ticket (some countries ask for proof you’re leaving)
Any documents you used to get your visa—like a school letter, invitation, or bank statements (if you’re unsure, bring a digital copy just in case)
A pen (yes, really—forms are still often paper) that won’t leak all over your suitcase because of pressure.
Where to go:
If you’re leaving to become someone else
Georgia (the country)
Visa-free for Americans for 365 days, no questions asked.
Mountains, wine, Orthodox icons, techno, and real “otherworld” energy.
Best for: Slow transformation, mystical hikes, café writing, ancient cities
If you’re leaving because you never fit in
Albania
Also visa-free for 365 days, criminally underrated, beachy and Balkan.
No one’s watching you here. You get to start weird and stay weird.
Best for: Building new rhythms, healing shame, going feral by the sea
If you’re leaving but need to work online
Portugal (Digital Nomad Visa)
Gives you space, sunlight, and good Wi-Fi. Lots of English spoken, especially in Lisbon and Porto.
Best for: Writers, freelancers, witches-in-transition. Bonus: Pastel de nata.
If you’re leaving because your old life collapsed
Mexico (180 days visa-free)
Close, easy, affordable, and spacious. Beach towns, mountain towns, colonial towns, desert towns—choose your flavor.
Best for: Rest, reinvention, language-learning, deep grief + tacos
If you’re leaving for joy, even if you’re scared
Italy or France (90 days Schengen)
Yes, they’re touristy. Yes, go anyway. These places are soaked in beauty and decadence and old, old stories.
Best for: Falling back in love with your body and the world. Writing in notebooks.
If you’re just trying to get out and figure it out
Serbia
Visa-free 90 days. Friendly, affordable, complex. In the Balkans but not in the EU or Schengen. Great for visa runs and wanderers.
Best for: Planning your next move from a cool café with a cigarette and a Turkish coffee
The World Is Safer Than You Think (But Also—Don’t Be Stupid)
Let’s get one thing out of the way:
The world is so much safer than you think.
And yes—you still need to use your damn brain.
People talk about travel like it’s this terrifying, dangerous thing.
They’ll warn you about pickpockets in Naples, scams in Thailand, strangers in Morocco, “what if you get kidnapped” in literally any non-Western country.
Sure.
And your hometown has drunk drivers, creepy uncles, and overpriced rent. The United States is becoming less safe by the day, and it has never been overly safe for the majority of Amercans. Let’s not pretend risk is only found overseas.
I was 28 when I left the first time.
A Mormon.
Homeschooled.
Sheltered to the point I hadn’t even heard of Couchsurfing, let alone imagined I’d ever use it.
And then I found myself—alone—housesitting across Europe. I lived out of a carry-on and a backpack. I figured out my first visa from a hostel bed. I carried fear and freedom together, zipped into the same coat pocket.
I have:
Followed a boy who didn’t speak English who insisted he knew where we were going down a train platform in Poland at 9 p.m. after my train schedule changed without warning—in a station that didn’t announce anything in English (yes, it was the right train; yes, I checked 3 times).
Gotten on buses and trains in Morocco where I understood absolutely no signage and still made it to the right city.
Got stranded in the Moroccan mountains because of snow. Snow. In Africa. No one talks about that part.
Rode in a stranger’s car for four hours in rural Spain, because BlaBlaCar is a thing and intuition is a muscle.
Walked around Naples in sandals, ate pizza at the place from Eat, Pray, Love, didn’t get pickpocketed, and had the time of my life.
Was that brave? Or stupid?
Yes.
Both.
And also: That’s travel.
There’s a measure of trust you have to build.
In strangers.
In the system.
In yourself.
You make friends, because people are people EVERYWHERE. People have the same concerns, hopes, fears, all over the world. They care about their families, they worry about the future, they eat delicious food, and they are deeply, incredibly human.
But trust isn’t the same as being naive.
Let me be very clear:
Do not turn off your brain.
Don’t follow everyone.
Don’t assume someone will save you.
Don’t pretend you’re invincible just because the plane landed.
Do your research. Carry backups. Learn how to say “Where is the train?” in five languages. Have just enough paranoia to keep you alive and just enough magic to keep you moving. I keep my hand on my purse in a lot of places. Keep duplicates. Learn laws. And don’t do anything stupid.
What this blog is:
This is not a "quit your job and move to Bali" newsletter.
This is a "you’re allowed to leave" newsletter.
This is for the misfits. The former homeschoolers. The people who are late to everything—including freedom.
This is for the girls who didn’t grow up traveling. For the queers. For the quiet ones. For the ones who weren’t raised to believe they could belong anywhere.
I’m not going to sell you a travel fantasy.
I’m going to teach you how to escape for real.
Paperwork, visas, feelings, logistics, grief, language-learning, train platforms, all of it.
Welcome to Escape Routes.
You weren’t meant to stay in the pond.
You’re not crazy for wanting to go.
And yes—you can figure it out.
Packing
The “Oh, I Didn’t Think of That” Packing List (for 3 Weeks of Travel)
We’ll do a full guide soon—but for now, here’s the short list of things people don’t pack but should. Trust me, future-you will thank you.
Travel Witch Essentials:
A scarf – Not just for fashion. It’s a blanket, a head covering, a privacy curtain, a temple-appropriate cover, and an emergency towel. Make sure it’s big and wide and that you LOVE it.
A pen – For immigration forms. For train notes. For writing down the name of the weird pastry you loved so you can Google it later. Check the type of pen because some will die in pressurized cabins in an airplane.
One small container of laundry detergent or bar soap – Because you will want to wash your underwear in a sink. Even if you think you won’t.
A mini pharmacy – Painkillers, electrolytes, anti-nausea tabs, period supplies, your meds, and something for mystery food regret.
A fold-flat tote bag – For groceries, souvenirs, or when your backpack is just done.
An emergency backup card or $100 cash – Because banks fail, apps crash, and borders don’t care.
Digital + physical copies of your passport and visa – One in your bag. One in your email. One in the cloud. One in the void.
Adapters AND a small extension cord or travel power strip – Because one plug is never enough and your hostel bunk was built in 2003.
Flip-flops or shower shoes – You may end up in a hostel, a beach, a questionable shower, or a midnight coffee run.
Compression packing cubes or vacuum bags – You can fit more and stay organized while living out of a suitcase like a traveling librarian.
Safety pins & a small sewing kit – Because zippers betray and buttons wander off.
Emergency pads/tampons – Even if you’re not due. Travel shifts everything. Everything.
Bonus: For the emotionally seasoned traveler
Earplugs or noise-canceling headphones – Planes. Snorers. Children. Late-night dance parades. Yourself, panicking. (I love my loop earrings and huge headphones set)
A ritual item from home – A tarot deck, a favorite tea, a mini candle, a photo. Something that reminds you who you are.
Your damn charger cords – Yes. Double-check. Right now.
Getting around
How to Get Around When You’ve Just Escaped the Suburbs
You’ve landed. You’ve got your bag. Now… how do you go places?
Don’t panic. There are systems—ancient and chaotic as they may be.
🚄 Trains: The Kingdom of Timetables and Assumptions
Europe loves trains. They’re usually fast, scenic, and fairly easy to book.
Get an app. Use Trainline (UK/Europe), DB Navigator (Germany), SNCF (France), or Rail Planner (Eurail).
Validate your ticket. In some countries, you must stamp your paper ticket before boarding or risk a fine.
Trains may not speak English. The signs might say “Gleis 7” instead of “Track 7.” That’s okay. Breathe. Check the time and destination.
Bookwitch Tip: If the train changes platforms suddenly (looking at you, Poland), ask someone nearby. Most people will help you if you ask like a lost elf.
🚌 Buses: Slower, Cheaper, Often Weirder
Good for crossing borders or reaching smaller towns.
Apps: Flixbus, Omio, Rome2Rio
Cheaper than trains, but expect longer travel times and less legroom.
Double-check station names—they’re often on the edge of town.
Bookwitch Tip: Bring snacks, water, and download your maps offline. You will lose signal.
🚗 BlaBlaCar: Carpooling with Strangers in a Magical Way
This is legit: BlaBlaCar connects you with people already driving your direction.
Usually cheaper and more fun than a train or bus.
You’ll see reviews and profiles—choose someone you vibe with.
Payment is handled through the app. You just… show up and ride.
Yes, you will feel like you’re about to die the first time. But it’s incredibly normal in Europe. Trust the system—and your gut.
🚕 Local Transport & Rideshare
Download the right local apps.
– Europe: Uber, Bolt
– Middle East: Careem
– Morocco: InDriverAlways check if a local taxi is cheaper—sometimes they are, sometimes they’re not.
🗺️ On Foot: You Will Walk More Than You Think
Europe is walkable, but uneven cobblestones are real.
Bring actual shoes, not just cute ones.
Download Google Maps offline or use Maps.me in case you lose signal.
✨ Final Spell Components:
Always check if you need to buy AND validate a ticket.
Trains leave on the dot. Buses leave when they feel like it.
If you’re unsure, ask the nearest grandma. They always know.
Don’t expect constant English. But you can get anywhere with time, patience, and vibes.
What They Never Told Me About Travel (and What I Know Now)
I was raised on books.
Anne of Green Gables taught me to find wonder.
Lord of the Rings taught me to leave home.
Georgette Heyer taught me that wit is a weapon and longing has its own language.
My grandmother loved to travel. She’d talk about distant cities with a glint in her eye and show me elephants from the entire world.
I knew I wanted that. I wanted more. More story. More world. More truth.
And now that I’ve been to a few corners of this earth, here’s what I know:
The best part is always the people.
Not the perfect photo.
Not the place that “looks good on Instagram.”
Not the fish-holding Tinder-style trophies of travel.
The best part is talking to someone in a hostel bunk at 2 a.m., both of you half-dreaming.
It’s meeting a stranger in a dressing room and learning her mother’s story while you try on clothes.
It’s running into someone you know in London or Finland, and realizing just how magical planes and cellphones are that that can happen.
Travel isn’t about being better.
It’s about being less separate.
Travel as an Unspelling
As Americans, we’re the descendants of people who’ve been in this country for 250 years or less.
We’ve forgotten what came before.
We’ve lost eons of story, of ancestral rhythm, of myth, of meaning.
We inherited colonial gods, fast food fables, and a belief that our version of reality is the right one.
But when you travel...
When you sit on a cracked train bench with a stranger in Georgia...
When you eat with your hands in Morocco...
When you see the same grief on the face of someone who doesn’t speak your language...
You begin to remember something older.
Something truer.
You start to understand that you are not the center of the story.
And that’s not a loss.
It’s a relief.
“Travel isn't always pretty. It isn't always comfortable.
Sometimes it hurts, it even breaks your heart. But that's okay.
The journey changes you – it should change you.”
—Anthony Bourdain
This isn’t about escaping your life.
This is about reclaiming your place in a larger one.
You don’t need a perfect plan.
You need a passport, a bag, some trust in the road—
and the courage to admit you’re still becoming.
Bonus Quiz: What is your Escape Route?