Asking for the wifi code in every establishment you go into
When I first started travelling on this adventure, I remember tentatively, apologetically asking the waiter what their wifi code was. Now, I ask before I even order, in every single place - even in my spanish school. It's become quite normal, and places even advertise the fact that they have wifi - and, indeed, I tend to only go into ones that have the wifi sign in their windows. If I did this in London, I'd get a strange look and a no - but that's only if I asked, which I wouldn't as I wouldn't need to.
Becoming Facebook/Whatsapp buddies with someone within the first few hours of knowing each other
When you travel, you become very close friends with people very quickly and the very best ways to keep in contact with people is on Facebook or Whatsapp. With said wifi connection that you ask for at every establishment you enter.
Striking up conversations with anyone and everyone who looks fairly normal - or even quite peculiar and interesting - within a five metre radius
When I left Australia to move to London, I remember thinking that one of the many many benefits was that I was forced to step outside the comfort zone of my friends and meet new people. I had to - I didn't know anyone at the start, nor had a job or home - so I'd have had a very lonely existence if I didn't face the fear and meet some of the wonderfully amazing friends that I ended up meeting. I did this through finding a place to live, my housemates, my work - but never really so randomly. Like on the street or the tube. That would be weird.
While travelling, though, one makes friends all the over the place. I've met some awesome people - indeed, my new Facebook/Whatsapp buddies - by just striking up conversations in the street, waiting for transport, in bars, in cafes, in pools, you name it. Fortune does indeed favour the brave.
I still can't imagine doing that on the Circle Line, though. That would still be weird.
Treating every day like it was a Saturday
OK, this isn't exactly happening to me now as I'm volunteering but generally, when you're travelling, time becomes quite fluid. You don't just lose track of what day it is, once you do remember, it has none of its previous meaning - Mondays are always wonderful when you're on the road, for instance. You have that Friday feeling every single day. Slept through Saturday night as you'd been on an overnight bus the night before? It doesn't matter, because every day is a Saturday. Good times.
Becoming ultra patriotic when something reminds you of home
While travelling, I've heard Land Downunder countless times across the Americas. Not sure why as is it really that great a song? Regardless, every time, I'll sing along, delighted. I'd probably do the same if I heard a Jimmy Barnes song - and I really don't like Jimmy Barnes. If I were in Australia, I'd wonder why I was in a place that was playing that kind of music. And then leave. I found this during the world cup too. Let's face it, the Socceroos weren't going to win it (but lord, how well did they play?!), but I would nonetheless tell everyone they would. Until they didn't. I then lost most of my interest in the world cup.
It's a funny old thing - I'm exactly where I should be and I haven't felt homesick yet, particularly not for a country I haven't lived in for over 10 years and will probably never move back to (sorry mum), but while I'm travelling, I'm 100% true blue.
Wearing - or not wearing - whatever you need to to suit the weather
As I write this, I'm wearing no less than four patterns on my person. Four different patterns that adorn a motley ensemble of clothes: a grey jumper with purple diamonds; a brown pair of leggings with white snowflakes and turquoise hearts on them; black and white llama-d socks; and a white beanie with grey geometric shapes knitted in. Delightful. And god knows how warm and content I am - winter in La Paz is quite cold. And yes, I've worn this outside.
Previously, in Central America - ah, Central America with your heat and beaches - it had been so hot that I would barely go a day without wearing my bikini. Obviously with other things covering my decency and being respectful of local customs, but a bikini nonetheless. And it was fine.
Oh yes, and I can count on one hand all the times I've worn makeup during the last four months.
When you travel for a long period of time, traditional fashion becomes a thing of the past and no one really cares about what you look like, as long as you're a good person and good company. And warm. You're accepted simply for who you are.
Not so at home. I wouldn't be seen dead wearing this ensemble in Londontown. Well, maybe in east London. Maybe that will change when I go back. Unsure.