I'm lying in someone else's flat, sipping someone else's wine, using someone else's laptop. This is the result of the wonder that is Couchsurfing.org. You make a profile, select your destination and then choose a person to stay with from the thousands of inhabitants on the site. They ask nothing in return except your company; an opportunity to share cultures, stories and life lessons. Perfect. Human generosity and kindness condensed into one website.

I left the Enkvist family a week ago. It was strange leaving them behind; as though I was saying goodbye to my own grandparents. I had come to know them as individuals and as a family; their children and grandchildren, husbands and wives, suddenly being independent was a confusing concept. By the end of my time in Finland, I was ready to go. i needed my own space again, time to be with myself and believe in the strength of my own character to see me across the globe. Somehow though, as I packed my things away, my mind was not excited, not eager to leave. Instead my stomach filled with butterflies and my heart seemed to throb in the chasm of my throat. My eyes swelled with water as the car drove away from me and I was swallowed up by groups of Italian tourists.

Alone again.

Or not. The ferry provided great entertainment; two eccentric spinsters. They latched onto me like a pair of hungry mosquitoes. it was terrifying and amusing at the same time! I was whisked from our cabin to the outer deck to watch Finland become a mere spec on the horizon. Then, I was lead to the karaokee room where one of these fine ladies showed-off her questionable singing skills. I felt quite content watching the pair of women from a distance; their confidence and nonchalant reaction to the sniggers from surrounding people. Yes, I was perfectly happy sitting at the table as they pranced around the room to the ferry's own music band. Then they took my hands and dragged me onto the dancefloor with them. Me, Sarah Howlett, a twenty one year old student with two 60+ years olds dancing to renditions of Johnny Cash and Tom Jones. All I could hear was dad's laughter whilst images of Aunty Phyllis flashed through my mind.

After much confusion in Sweden, I managed to find myself a host. Yashar was my saviour, offering me his spare matress for two nights in spite of the inconvenience this caused him. He directed me to the quirky corners of town: to vintage stores, second hand bazaars and a medieval bar. We chatted over honey beer and a distant violin. It was beautiful. Then the rain came to Stockholm. I was not impressed. After visiting the Contemporary Ary Gallery, what else can one do in the rain? Visit the Maritime museum? The old post office? The cathedral? Of course not! The thing to do when it's raining in Sweden is to visit the world's largest IKEA! cheap coffee, cheap food, cheap crap and a free bus back to the city. Perfect.

I spent a small fortune on a train to Copenhagen, but it was worth it. We crossed over the Scandinavian countryside, its green and blue tranquility stretching for miles. Denmark is quite different to Stockholm; the people are much more approachable and individual, the whole place is a little bit mad! I am staying with a guy who practices meditation and yoga, smokes a lot of weed and lives just a road away from the red light district. A change from the safe family in Finland and the university campus in Sweden. Jacob however is a wicked guy. He's on a journey of self discovery, as we all are. His is just leading him in the opposite direction to mine!

I plan to visit the Carlsberg centre tomorrow and will enter my ninth and final country, Germany, on Sunday. Not long now, my friends, until Sarah is back in your lives and you in hers. Wednesday 1st sees me back in pastures green. I have only one request...

...mum, please can you buy me some apples?! Cheers!