A Perfect Day in Nepal

Ghatghai, Nepal

The snow capped Himalayas paint the horizon. Birds of every colour flock together, hoping to catch unsuspecting fish. Crocodiles sun bathe on the banks of the river. A rhino saunters closer, so he can enjoy the green pastures. It is a beautiful afternoon in Nepal. As the sun sets, shades of orange and cherry illuminate the sky above and the water below. To the east the snow capped mountains shine like precious jewels. Village children pause their play to wave and say hello.  Soon the sun is replaced by the moon and a million shining stars. It has been a perfect day in Nepal

The City of the Dead and the Burning of the Corpses

Varanassi, India

Some call Varanasi the city of the dead.

In India, Varanasi is considered sacred. Hindi people come from far and wide to participate in ceremony, bathe and burn their dead. I am on a small boat that is slowly making its way up the Ganges to take part in a Hindu ceremony. On the river bank beside me they are cremating their dead in a mass Hindi funeral. This is done in open fires for everybody to see. Over 200 bodies are burnt in these fires each day. The flames burn 24 hours a day, seven days a week. The dead are burnt according to their class. Those in the highest class are burnt with the most expensive wood. In the Hindu religion it is believed that if someone is burnt in Varanasi on the ghat (bank) of the Ganges their souls will go directly to swarg (paradise) and be relieved of the torment that is (reincarnation) moksha.

The flames illuminate the darkness, which sends a shiver shooting down my spine. The sounds of chanting and music can be heard in the distance. I am given candles to lay into the Ganges. I am told to make a wish. I place my candles in the river one by one and watch them float elloquently beside the boat, then sail into the distance. I am not sure what to wish for?

Since being in India I have developed a deeper appreciation of how lucky I am. I did not know what to wish for because I already have everything I need.

Christmas on the Ganges

The River Ganges, India

I have spent Christmas day sailing on the Ganges in India. My day started early as the sleeper train came to an abrupt halt. I wrapped a blanket around my cold bones and peered outside. It was still dark. After a delay I was alighting the train at Alanbad station. I was then shuffled into a vehicle that would take us on a two hour journey to the Ganges. We stopped for breakfast and it wasn't till then that I remembered it was Christmas day. As India is a Hindu country they do not celebrate Christmas. Just like any other day it is a fight for survival for many Indians. 

A short while later we are making our way through villages. Dirt covered children pump water from wells, carry heavy loads and tend to live stock. I think of Christmas day in Australia. Across the ocean children are tearing open their presents, flooded with momentary happiness. 

Finally after 18 hours of travelling we arrive at the Ganges. I hop aboard a small sailing boat with my new friends. Soon we are enjoying an Indian banquet as life (and death) on the Ganges floats by. I spend the remainder of the day relaxing as the motion of the vessel hypnotises me in and out of sleep. The sun sets as we arrive at a sand bank that has been selected to be our home for the night. We pitch our tents and a camp fire is lit. Christmas evening is spent around the camp fire drinking Chai and eating scrumptious food. We reflect on our journey so far and all that we have seen. I fall asleep to the sounds of the Ganges and the howling of wild dogs. Another day in India.

Merry Christmas to all from India.

Culture Shock

Delhi, India ~ Agra, India

I would not describe culture shock as sudden alarm, disgust or surprise. It is more like a creeping discontentment, or melancholy. An empty feeling in your chest. The word shock is misleading. You expect that if you are in shock it will be dramatic, something you can easily identify. You don't realise it can sneak through a window without you noticing.

I am on a train from New Delhi to Agra. The heavy fog that has coated the Indian capital has begun to dissipate. But to be honest I do not like what I see. The poverty assaults your every sense. I now realise poverty has a smell.

I had heard so many stories of India. I knew of the slums, I had been warned of the child beggars. It's the finer details that takes you by surprise. It's the lines of men, women and children defecating along the railway lines. It is the child with old eyes that knows of a life no different.

Delhi

New Delhi, India

I could show you a photo, but it would not do justice to what I have seen.  When you arrive in Delhi you are assaulted by so many different aromas and sounds. Your mind is racing struggling to keep up with the chaos that is India. The roads are bursting with cars, bikes, buses and livestock. There are no obvious traffic laws, just the constant sound off horns, yelling and screeching breaks. The streets are bordered with rubbish; feral dogs, cows and street kids fight over the takings. Everything looks broken and dirty. Even the children have old eyes. There are smells of rotting meat, human excrement, curry, smoke and incense.  The smells are so intoxicating that you can taste it. But among all this ugliness there is color. Sari's of every shade draped over beautiful Hindi women. Bustling Bizarres with hawkers selling foods, clothing and materials that hold more colours than a rainbow.

What an incredible experience

A Singapore Sling, Wicked Witches and a Night at the Zoo

Riverside, Singapore

I am currently in Singapore on a five day stop over on my way to India. I landed in Singapore three nights ago, giddy from the complementary in flight cocktails. Since arriving I have done nothing but eat amazing food, and take in the sights. Singapore is not like any place I have ever travelled to before. It is clean, safe, easy to navigate and the standard of living is high. I plan on enjoying the creature comforts, as I know my next destination will be a complete contrast.

Last night I went on a night safari. There were lions, and tigers and bears (oh my). I sat in an open tram, as we weaved through equatorial Africa, the jungles of Asia and the  Himalayan foothills . There were elephants, rhino's and giraffes and for a second it was like being back in Africa or Indonesia as the animals approached our train. I sat back, relaxed and enjoyed the ride.

Then today I went to the theatre and saw Wicked the musical. The untold story of the Witches of Oz. It was a spectacular performance. I sat on the edge of my seat captivated by the narrative, the music and extravagance.

Actually extravagant is probably the best word I could use to describe Singapore. Since coming hear I have stumbled across play groups that teach three year old children Mandarin, phonics and mathematics. More designer shops than people, and Christmas decorations like no where else. 

Singapore has been an interesting place to visit, but it is India that I have really come to see.

Me Plus Three

Nadi, Fiji

I have always travelled independently. This year I have explored southern Africa, Asia and Indonesia as a lone nomad. I had complete control of my itinerary. I shared the joys and tragedies in written word, for the face sitting in the seat beside me was ever changing.

Now it is me plus three. Me and my friend set off for Fiji a week ago with two children in tow. I have to admit as we raced around the airport with our kids, anxiety sat in the pit of my stomach. I would have to negotiate every decision made. There would be fighting, stress and tears. It turns out that negotiating enhanced the experience. I grew as an individual and as a friend. I actually enjoyed having the faces beside me remain unchanging. I shared the joys, beauty and frustration with my friend and two children. Me plus three; that has a nice ring to it.
 

Bula

Nadi, Fiji 

CRASH

Nusa Lembongan, Indonesia

Today I made the impulsive decision to rent a motorbike.

I figured that on a small island things couldn't go to wrong. Before I begin telling this story I should confess that I do not know how to ride a motorbike.My experience of riding such machines is limited to a small three wheeler Yamaha when I was 8 ( I crashed that too). But I put that to the back of my mind and decided to give it a go anyway. I managed to start the damn thing and take off down the rocky gangway. Within  a minute I glanced at the flashing petrol gauge and realised the bike had no petrol. 'that's fine' I thought "I will take the bike back'. Then I made a discovery. In the short time I had been riding I had managed to get lost. I decided I should ask someone for directions. But I was to make an even worse discovery. I had forgotten where I was staying.

I tried to stay calm. 'The Island is only 2 square kilometers, it can't be too hard to find". But it turned out it was. I bumped in to an Aussie tourist who was friendly enough to join me on my scavenger hunt. All we had to do was turn my bike around and retrace my steps (so to speak). Easy does it, no need to panic. As I was turning the bike around I pulled back to hard on the accelerator. SMASH, I managed to crash the automatic bike that a four year old can drive. I had performed this stunt for half the village to witness. The bike was relatively undamaged, but my pride was shattered. I dusted myself of, not sure whether to laugh or cry.

Then I saw the sign, "Nanuks Bungalows 100m". The damned sign had been there the whole time.

The Emotional Rollercoaster

Nusa Lembongan, Indonesia

Travel is unique because it is like nothing else in the world. You can find pleasure in unexpected places, and you never know what to expect. Something wonderful can suddenly become painful. Travel makes you reevaluate everything you believe in and question who you are as a person. Yet despite the challenges and heartbreak travel can bring, there is also so much beauty and joy. 

This leaves you wanting the board the emotional roller-coaster again and again, regardless of the whiplash.

Fields of Bali

Bali, Indonesia

The Art of Haggling

Seminyak, Indonesia

I am a terrible haggler. I think I have sucker written on my forehead. The western guilt I used to carry on my shoulders has lessened since I first started traveling. Unfortunately this has not improved my ability to barter in the slightest. I think a key factor that contributes to my hopeless haggling ability in Maths.  I suck at Maths even more than I suck at haggling. The other big factor is that I hate saying no. The word seems so toxic when it come out of my mouth.

Today I tried to buy some cheap flips flops to cover my naked feet. 450,000rp the young Balinese male said. I stared at him in a daze, 'hold on isn't that 40 Australian dollars' I asked myself. 'There is no way he would even try and get me to buy a pair of rip off thongs for forty dollars' I told myself. "Maybe it's 4 dollars and the argument in my head continued' My dazed look set me up. He began smiling broadly ('"this dumb broad is considering it'", is what I am convinced he said to his mate beside him).  Finally I reply with "that's to expensive". Then the supposed fun began. I got the price down to 100,000rp which was still 10 times more than they were worth (even in Australia). I handed over the money, because I  am way to nice. I smiled at him and said "I know you are ripping me off", he smiled smugly back. So I marched of in my rip of, Rip Curl thongs, cursing myself. 

I have had to walk back past him three times already today and he smiles and waves and tries to get my attention. I call back "these flip flops are hurting my feet, I think I was better of bare foot" He laughs, and so do I. I am hoping my bartering skills develop soon.

Flying Away

Sydney, Australia

My homeland always appears more beautiful the day I am leaving it behind. Even the suburbs appeared pretty this morning, basking in the dawn light. In a couple of hours I will be boarding a plane for Indonesia and my mind is racing.

It was only 56 days ago that I arrived back in Australia after my travels through Africa and Asia. I experienced and learnt so much during that time away. Coming home was a roller coaster of mixed emotions. It was a struggle to process how all I had experienced could fit into my normal life. I returned to work, and I realise now that I wasn't the same person. Living the same life was not going to fulfil me. My job suddenly became soul destroying

Last week I had a car accident. I lost control of my car on the freeway  and skidded up an embankment at 100km's p/h. The car somehow self navigated its way around a concrete wall and small trees. The paint from my car soils the concrete wall, evidence of how close I had come. My car rolled several times back down the embankment throwing me around like an out of control amusement ride. Miraculously the car landed back on it's wheels. I walked out without a scratch, the angels had protected me that day. 

But I was shaken with the realisation of how quickly it could have been all over. So as I set of for Indonesia today it is with the recent reminder of how short life can be. I will make the most of every moment 

One Month Later

Sydney, Australia

It seems like a life time ago that I was working in Africa and travelling the world. But I have only been back a month. It is amazing how quickly life returns to normal. I thought there would have been a profound change inside me, that everything would be different. But I look at my life and things seem exactly the same. I took the same route home from work this morning, ordered the same coffee at my favourite coffee shop and returned to the same house.

Maybe I am more grounded, more aware. Seeing and experiencing so much must change a person. Things have returned to normal so fast and slipping back into routine has been surprisingly easy. I realise that I rarely talk about my life overseas, about the tragic beauty of it all. About the inspiring people I met, about the remarkable things I learnt.

So where do I go from here. Do I allow my self slip into a monotonous existence. I want to make the most of every moment. That is what I loved the most about being abroad. I never wasted a second. 

Simple Beauty

Sydney, Australia

Sunsets that look like artwork, trees swaying in the Autumn wind. It would be easy for me to become depressed now that I am back home and confronted with reality. I have had my moments of melancholy, wishing I could fly away again. However this morning something shifted. As I watched champagne coloured leaves surrender to the breeze, I remembered that life is beautiful. Seasons change and I need to be grateful for the wonders that each day brings.  I look forward to travelling again; seeing and experiencing a world different to my own. But for now I will remember to enjoy life's simple beauties.

Coming Home

Sydney, Australia (3 days after return)

I have been home for three days now and my body is weary. I am not sure if I am still jet lagged or maybe I am a little depressed.

I go to the travel agent before I even unpack my bags. “Maybe I will go to India” I say to the lady. “Have you travelled before” she asks. “Actually I just got home yesterday” I reply.

Coming home is comforting. I take large gulps of shower water. I drive my car with the security of knowing where I am going. (Being careful to remember that there are in fact road rules here. I cannot honk my horn instead of indicating).

It is the first time in four months that my feet are not caked in dirt. I can drink tap water again and the cool crisp air is refreshing after sixteen weeks of humidity.  I get to sleep in my own bed and finally unpack my bags.

But it is quiet here and it feels like something is missing.

Coming home has been is in part a paradox. Realising that everything has changed, yet nothing has.

I am not sure if I am different. I know I don’t want my life to become average. I have seen and experienced too much to be content with monotony.

So what now?

In time I am sure I will be able to understand how I have changed and what I should do next. But for now I feel like I am in limbo waiting until I fly away again.

Spontaneity

Sa Pa, Vietnam (day 113)

"It's disrespectful not to accept a drink when you visit someone's home" one of the girls whsipered with a smile. So we downed our eleventh shot of rice wine. Soon we were dancing and partying in a small village in Sapa. The drinks kept coming and the night got crazier. I was having the time of my life at this unexpected village party.

I realised this morning that this spontaneity is what I have grown to love so much about travel. Every day is an adventure and a suprise. Sometimes travel can be stressful, draining and heartbreaking. But mostly my travels have been exciting, inspiring and enlightining. Surrounded by beauty and culture.

I decided before this trip began that I would keep my mind open and make the most of every opportunity. I have been rewarded with memories that will last a life time and new knowlege that can not be learnt in books. I have grown more resilient and more mature.

I look forward to travelling again and learning and growing even more.

Beautiful Vietnam

Sa pa, Vietnam (day 111)

I am not sure if I have ever seen such a beautiful sight. As morning breaks in Sapa a sense of peace sweeps through me. I open the window of the bus and let the crisp dawn air flow through my hair. I can smell the faint aroma of cooking smoke and last nights rain. The mountains stretch far into the horizon and are wrapped with mist. Crops cover the mountains and steep valleys like an optical illusion. 

As I draw closer to the end of this journey I get lost in my thoughts.  I have have had the most amazing four months of my life. My journey had been tragic and beautiful, heartbreaking and inspiring.

Vietnam...The Highs and Lows (So Far)

Nha Trang, Vietnam (day 101)

My ability to write has somewhat deteriorated due to lack of sleep. So I have decided I will use dot points to sum up my highs and lows in Vietnam so far.

The Highs

• Exploring the Chi Chu tunnels in my red shirt.
• Cuddling a snake on the Mekong River
• The sleeper train from Saigon-Nha Trang (now that was fun)
• Mud baths in Nha Trang
• The spectacular scenery
  

The Lows

• Waking to the sounds of screaming at 4am in Saigon. A Vietnamese man had broken into a friends hotel room. She woke up to find him crawling past her bed
• Watching another friend fall through the floor of a long tail boat on the Mekong River. She fell into the motor and has he ankle shredded. She was rushed to hospital on a motorbike (that's right a motor bike). She then had the amazing experience of a Vietnamese rural hospital.

Changed

Saigon, Vietnam (day 100)

I am not the same person I was one hundred days ago. I cannot define how I have changed but I know I have. 

Diary of a Street Kid

Sihanouk ville, Cambodia (day 95)

I forgot for a second. I forgot who I was and where I was; it felt good. I long for those few short seconds before I wake up. Where I can float between a dream world and reality. Where I can forget how messed up my life actually is. I want to stay in that moment forever but my ankles itch with fresh mosquito bites and my stomach gnaws with hunger pains. So I crawl off the ground and begin my day.

Sorry I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Kun and I am nine years old. I live on the streets of Phnom Penh, Cambodia. My mother died of Malaria three years ago. Now it is just me, my dad and my sisters. My dad lost his right leg after he kicked a landmine so he can’t work. So now it is up to me to make sure we survive.

My sisters sell bracelets and books in the city. I do whatever work I can. Some days we make lots of money. I proudly carry home a big bowl of noodles and our family has a feast. On those days I get to go to sleep with a full tummy. Other days we don’t make any money. Then I have to try and steal so we can eat.

Sometimes I find myself crying. When I realize what is happening I pinch myself real hard. The weak cannot survive in Cambodia. So instead I get angry. I look at other kids my age and I am filled with envy. I would love to go to school or giggle with my friends in the park. I get angry at my mum for dying and I get angry at my dad for only having one leg.

I hope one day that I can make more money. So we can get our own house and the girls can go to school. We will be able to feast on food every day and be able to forget what hunger pains feel like