Tag: travel

The games we play

Been there done that ner ner ner ner NER!

Sounds like something a child would say doesn’t it? My family and I have a similar little game we play. We’ve all travelled over the years, those more extensively than others and some who enjoy the lazy lounger days rather than the toiling trekking days. However, over the years we’ve all amounted some serious airmiles.

As us three children have all grown and moved from our childhood home, our parents have done some extensive travelling Australia, India, South America and Mexico to name but a few. As I’ve grown, I’ve more than once discovered the freedom age, money and a passport grants you. By no means was I kept locked up at home when I was a kid nor was I kept from the rest of the world. But, how can a parent keep everyone happy when choosing the summers vacation destination? We did the summers by the pool, in different countries every year (more or less), day trips out and about to get a glimpse of the new cultures. I saw fantastic places like Greece, a place where you are surrounded by huge families in backyard restaurants, where everyone tucks in and is squeezed together in pleasure over Mediterranean food and laughter. I escaped the UK weather to Cuba one summer and was introduced to a vast, vibrant culture who worship the sun and laughter. Our hotel opened their beach over the weekends and the whole of Cuba, it seemed, descended on our weekday good fortune, it was an assault on the senses. I was extremely lucky as a child, as I continue to be into adulthood, the snippets of culture I saw travelling as a child lit a fire under me that have pushed me to explore the world whenever I can.

Looking back, we didn’t have much money day to day, and I now understand, that pennies were pinched so we could go on those trips! I’ll never be more grateful for anything else in my life, travelling is one of the greatest gifts to give and, if you’re lucky enough, to receive.

The game that I and a few of my family play, is based on where we’ve been, it often comes into action when an image of a city/country/place is flashed across a screen or brought up in conversation. “Been there” someone will utter after I mention that a new skyscraper has been built in New York, “been there” someone will blurt out when a colleague has been to India on their honeymoon and ‘BEEN THERE’ my mum and I shout when someone muses over a documentary on Egyptian history they saw the other night.

To outsiders, and probably you, it seems like a terrible game with a mix of bragging and a certain level of NER NER NER NER NERNESS.

I can understand that, most definitely, but all in all it’s that personal feeling of achievement to remind ourselves of. Oh I’ve been there, cor remember that trip! Feels like yesterday! Onto the next! It’s become a lot of fun between my family and the once newly introduced Mr W. When it was first introduced to him he was taken aback. Now he just smiles and nods along.

Oh the games we play…

Photo by Dave Watson

Please check out his work on https://www.instagram.com/davewatson_uk/ or at https://davewatson1980.picfair.com/

Confusion over the carbonara

One of my fondest memories of travelling is not even mine.

It’s Mr W’s. 

Four years ago we took an impromptu trip to Rome. Our first time in Italy.

Rome itself was unexpectedly brilliant in the most simple of places and a little underwhelming in other big tourist draws. I’ll do another blog on those really soon. 

My favourite part of the whole trip, is when Mr W told me of his encounter with the cashier in Caffè Italia on Via Di Santa Croce late one evening. As we had spent the better part of the day walking and visiting, our food intake had been small, and we were starving. We wandered into this eatery only a stones throw from our accommodation and Mr W went to order. When he returned he had the biggest laughing smile on his face. His story went somewhat like this:

Mr W: Hello, I’d like to order some food.

Cashier with a exceptionally deep voice: Sì

W: The carbonara 

C: Sì

W: Margherita pizza

C: Sì

W: The Lasagne

C: (a look up from the till and slightly longer drawn out) Sì

W: A Cappuccino

C: Sì…

W: A cola

C: Sì

W: And a tiramisu 

C: (confusion) Sì

Now you have to really imagine how deep the man’s voice was and how long the drawn out nature of the responses were, but I sat in both hilarity and mortification. It slowly dawned on me that we were sitting at a table designed for two and the food definitely wasn’t. We basically had 1 night to try all the foods on our list. Easy right? We then learned that ordering coffee with dinner is unheard of in Italy. Then there’s the amount of food we ordered. Ah when in Rome eh!

It’s funny how food can make the best memories in the most unexpected of situations.

A few years ago we spent 6 days touring Cornwall and Devon. Another first-time trip. And we had the most glorious weather when exploring Newquay, Torquay and Lands End. We even saw a basking shark while looking out to sea from the Minack Theatre. It was absolutely beautiful. At the end of our trip we stayed in a countryside hotel in Dartmoor National Park. We had decided to spend two days relaxing and taking a few walks. The weather decided to send a monsoon which made driving impossible, let alone walking. Stuck in our hotel on a weekday, we couldn’t stomach the monotonous offerings on the tv and made a dash out into the rain. Mr W found the closest possible small cafe and we spent a good 40 minutes driving the windy roads of the national park. We came upon a small town and splashed our way to food and warmth. We each ordered a cream tea. Baked to order the scones came warm and HUGE, with pots of cream and jam. Absolutely delicious! The owner had relocated from South Africa with her partner to run this quaint place. And we are so glad she did! When the scones were finished, she brought more over, when the jam/cream was finished, she did the same. It became a vicious circle which ended with us unable to walk too fast to dodge the raindrops back to the car. Totally worth it.

On our honeymoon, we treated ourselves to a luxurious trip to the Maldives. The restaurant open to us for lunch and dinner was exclusive to our accommodation and was another luxury we didn’t anticipate but was more than grateful for. Each evening, there were dishes to tempt every kind of palate and a chef cooking dishes to order too. On occasion there would be a one-off menu item that could help yourself to. It just happened to be the last item before you reached the tables. Walking through the well laid out buffet every day to get to your table was enough to tempt you to stay all night. Indian curries, delectable chicken dishes and more fresh vegetables than you can imagine. One particular evening, Mr W pointed out a large piece of meat as we perused the offerings, noticing the texture I remarked that it was Tuna. ‘No way,’ he says, ‘it’s way too big.’ Albeit it, the thing was enormous. But I couldn’t hazard a guess at it being anything else. When our waiter came to our table Mr W asked what the dish was, ‘Tuna’, Mr W’s jaw dropped. ‘But it’s so big.’ The waiter said, ‘We have lots here.’ In a bemused kind of way. I had to stifle a laugh as we both realised we were in one of the largest networks of Atolls in the world surrounded by the Indian Ocean and tuna would have been as a Brit getting chicken or pork. Mr W had his fill and learned a new lesson that maybe, on occasion, his new wife did know what she was talking about!

I like to think that when we eat while travelling we are having the most authentic foods because we are in the place that does it best. What I’ve come to realise and indeed appreciate about the food we eat on our travels isn’t its handmade qualities or how much you get for your money, but how in any language we can connect with other people. Be it the confused Italian, the passionate Devonshire baker or the bemused Maldivian. It reminds me that no matter how far we travel and no matter where we end up there are connections to be made. And ultimately that’s the most tantalising part. 

Out of body experience number 342

Usually these happen in my sleep when I have the weirdest dreams. But oh no no. Not today. We have a night-time routine, the same as anyone else really. Lock the doors. Check. Close the blinds. Check. Teeth. Cats in. Evening pee. Check. Check. Check. 

Tonight as I did my sweep of the kitchen I could not help but crack myself up! Today I took in a shopping order and we bought some bits to try for our Scotland trip. As mentioned on previous blogs, we are hoping to squeeze the mighty budget of a 16 day trip to it’s suffocating point, and (!) I absolutely want to be as sustainable as possible. It’s become an obsession. 

At first we planned on living off of noodles, the potted kind, as they’re easily recycled however on a road trip Mr W and I got to talking. We do our best talking on the road. It was on a road trip in 2020, where we put the Scotland trip into motion! Don’tcha know! Anywho, we decided that travelling over a 1000 miles and walking upwards of 10-15 miles a day warranted more sustenance for our bodies so we got thinking about what else we could consume that was nutritious. As the evenings stay lighter and the days get warmer I have been craving fresh and crunchy salads. Not only is it good for the soul it does fight the PCOS that ravages my body! So win win! Oh the digression tonight is real. So we got to talking about buying some salad etc and whether we could get tinned sweetcorn and tuna to add to these salads on the road so we get a real hit of super healthy tasty foods. And then it hit us, tinned food. Metal cans. Recycling. Check! Paper labels. Recycling. Check! So we had a look online and found an array of foods in a can. Mr W is trying some different fishes in sauces, things like mackerel in a spicy tomato sauce, that he can whack on a salad while I dry heave outside. And I’ve gone all 80s retro and found some stews, and ravioli and currys in a can! I mean we’ll have to eat them cold but honestly how long would they stay warm in Scotland anyway. 

I’m made up! We need to wheedle out the good from the bad, and tonight’s delicacy was spaghetti bolognese for me, poured into a bowl. I’m not an animal. And a lamb stew for Mr W. Both got a thumbs up. So the trial will continue over the coming weeks. I have a feeling it’ll make a big difference to the trip having actual food! So team that up with the odd pot noodle and salad, we’ll be raring to go! 

So, the out of body experience came, when out of the corner of my eye I saw all these cans sitting on the countertop. Often I’ll wonder what would happen if I was getting out of the shower and a burglar was to just be there. The doors are locked, no windows open, I’m just a stupidly imaginative person who must think burglars can just pass through a keyhole. Now I’ve just wondered what if someone broke in, and thought wow, that’s a lot of cans, are these guys doomsdayers? Have they got a secret bunker, and why aren’t the cans inside the bunker? Then the image of this burglar, let’s call him Barry for shizz and giggles, wanders round in the semi dark, checking all the door frames for hidden latches to the secret doomsday bunker. 

Sorry Bazza, we’re doing an experiment, mate. Nothing more nothing less. Closest we’ve got to a secret bunker is… 

Feedback will continue on the cans! Watch this space. 

Lockdown in retrospect

Lockdown. Lockdown. Lockdown.

What does that even mean anymore? 

Does it mean we get angry at the neighbours who bypass the guidelines to suit themselves?

Does it mean we have fears that life will never return to what was once ‘normal’? 

Normal for me is travelling. Normal for me is freedom. Plan a trip. Buy an airline ticket. Pack a backpack and go. If I’ve learnt anything the past 10 weeks it’s that there is no normal anymore. They are the words from everyone’s lips. Online. On the phone. From a conversation at a socially accepted distance.

Social distance. Lockdown. Corona Virus. Words you never thought could cause so much pain and upset in this lifetime. Unprecedented is another one. Something so large in scale it stopped the world in its tracks. Like never experienced before. I’m sure the Spanish Flu had the same amount of impact on the human race in terms of fear and confusion. However it is down to the technology capabilities we have today that news is manipulated on a greater scale and reaches around the world quicker than anything else on this planet. So what do we do?

One of the first things I’ve done is to stop reading the news. In the initial weeks I felt panicked at the very thought of leaving my house, my hands were cracked red raw and there was no other topic to talk about. It took over life as we knew it. I’m pretty certain that that happened to 99.99% of the world population. 

Truth be told, I’ve, until now, lived a blessed life of travelling the world when I want to and where I want to. When that’s been taken away from you, it starts to creep up on you that what once was viewed as such an easy vocation, is actually more of entitlement which isn’t granted to everyone in the world. Others panicked about their livelihoods, their homes, their friends and family. For one brief moment, I worried about when we would next leave our doorstep. It all seems so stupid now. Especially in retrospect. As the Uk lockdown slowly begins its ‘easing’, the new panic of an imminent second wave  plays on your mind. So you find yourself stuck in your adapted ‘normal’ and being rigid. It’s the fear isn’t it? It’s not letting you go. It’s self preservation. When this first started I was sad to be kept inside, away from everything I knew, now that’s all I want. Home. Home. Home. Safe. Safe. Safe!

Mr W and I sat in our garden the other day, a cool 2 metres away from my dad, visiting for the first time in over 2 months, and we got to talking about travel. Inevitably, that will be the cornerstone of conversation with me and whoever will listen. And I got to thinking about my time in Australia.

I landed into Melbourne, Australia on 2nd February 2013. Tired beyond belief and yet still raring to go! Two days later, with 7 stops on our tour around the Melbourne coast, we were to witness the first of our Australian delights. Koalas! Up close and personal with a 9 year old, male, who was huge and very focused on his lunch. Hand feeding Wallabies under sparse bushes, dodging the midday sun. Scouring the scorched landscape and glimpsing a rather chilled out Kangaroo. That afternoon, jet lagged and a little awestruck, to beat the fatigue, we dodged the odd tourist taking a pleasant walk down Woolamai Beach and jumped into the roaring waves. The sun beat down pursuing my exceptionally white English skin and if I paused to notice I’m unaware of it now. It slowly dawned on me what we had got ourselves into, this was going to be the most tiring and life changing trip of my life. Soaked with salt water and smelling of sweat and sun cream, I jumped into the surf once more. Sweat, nice, I know. 

Later that day, when the Aussie sun took its leave and the sky turned inky indigo, we watched tiny penguins emerge from the sea and race up the beach to their nests. Above us the jewels of the Southern hemisphere sparkled and trailed across the sky and in front of us the waters kept pushing forward these funky little creatures. And I couldn’t stop smiling. I felt free.

If you had told me that I’d come home, get engaged to the love of my life, move into our own home and get married, I’d have said you had experienced the effects of seawater on an empty stomach. But I did and it’s been its own little whirlwind. A different kind of freedom. A safe freedom where someone has my back forever. Who picks me up when I cry over crap people, who pulls me out of the surf when the water gets too strong and who also knows when to push me back in to deal with it myself. 

So moving forward, I’m going to surround myself with my memories, my new found sense of gratitude for the once viewed ‘small’ things and go with the flow. 

Nothing is forever. 


Take this day by day. And know that you are not alone. Each night is a chapter closing. Each morning is a chance to refresh. You’ve got this. And be kind to yourself. We are each droplets of water in one very vast ocean. Ride the wave, jump into the surf and know when to ask for help. 

Memories 101

When lightning strikes, its effects are said to be almost invisible, a spider webbing of a injury, no real discernible outward scars. It’s said to burn your insides.

Memories hit like lightning. Coming for you whether you try to avoid it or you welcome it’s blast. Heating your heart and soul with its warmth. It happens so sudden that your emotions are released in their truest and most honest form.

I’m laid here, late, in bed. And BOOM, memory floods into me of a moment over 12 years ago. Sitting with a friend outside Central Park, New York, plastic container in hand and a fork in the other, eyes looking greedily at the cheesecake before me. I literally feel my mouth watering at the yester-year mind-image of that snack. In a quick second I went from moving my hand with fork towards the NY goodness to flattening my hand against the plastic of the lid and slamming the container closed as a huge engulfing sneeze shot its way out of my body. It was over in a literal very fluid second. And I quickly recovered to begin my delicious treat… all the while my friend looked on bemused. Something along the lines of me wanting to protect the food from whatever my body was going to divulge from nose, throat, lungs had produced a swiftly executed, almost choreographed, move that ensured complete safety of the Precious. She laughed. I laughed. And we carried on.

I’ll never forget that very small moment, between my friend and I, between the cheesecake and my nose and between me and NYC.

Lightning.

And, oh, that cheesecake, what dreams should be made of!