The World’s Oldest Backpacker hit 50 (countries, years old, states of mind) with no regrets and unrepentant. Someone asked, “How long you been travelling?” Thirty years and counting…. Turning fifty was just like old times, alone and lonely, abandoned by my friends, walking the streets of London without an umbrella or a prayer. The rain hovers around me like weak soup, reminding me of why my ancestors left so long ago. I find solace in a pasty pie and a pint, and I’m glad for it. All that’s behind me now, older but wiser.