I know, right? Intense title for a blog post.
I’ve been around the world a couple of times, and I’ve learned a few things. One of the most prevailing is this: freedom is a completely subjective concept. Some of the most liberated individuals I’ve met have come from countries we view as oppressive. To illustrate this, let’s compare Vietnam with the good old US of A. Continue reading
Right. I’ve heard too many people say that they would love to experience the mystery of Asia, or the adrenaline of New Zealand, but they just can’t scrape the money together. Is that how you feel?
*slap!* Continue reading
If you’ve never been backpacking before, it’s likely you’ve never experienced the sweet mayhem of hostels.
If you go travelling for an extended period of time to pretty much any country in the world, chances are you’ll wind up in a hostel sooner or later. Before visiting one, many people (my old self included) picture hostels as grim places – cheap, slept in bunk beds, grimy backpackers, grimier bathrooms, no personal space… and to be honest, that’s exactly right.
The thing is, though, they’re brilliant. Continue reading
It’s always the same.
Arrive in a new place, ask some backpackers where to go, and inevitably you’ll be warned of all the tourist hotspots. Continue reading
I wasn’t sure whether to post this. It’s a bit of a downer. Fuck it, let’s be brave. There’s nothing to fear from difficult conversation. Continue reading
When you’re strapped to your backpack and stumbling your way around the globe, your weight fluctuates more than a D-list celebrity’s. It all depends on the country you’re in, and their culture. Continue reading
Waitomo is a little village on the North Island of New Zealand. I don’t think anybody who’s been there would disagree with me when I say that, above ground, the village doesn’t have much going for it. Nah, all the fun is to be had about 30 metres beneath the surface. Waitomo Caves are an extensive tangle of tunnels and caverns and rivers that are jumbled and ragged like the London Underground’s Neanderthal ancestor.
My dad’s Christmas present to my brothers and I last year was a weekend break to Copenhagen. I’d met a few Danes travelling who were delightful, but I’d never given any thought to their home country – beyond being astonished at how fluent their English was, which as a general rule is better than my own slurred, expletive punctuated dialect. Continue reading
You’ve got to love the Kiwi’s knack for naming things.
Hot Water Beach was one of the first stops on my month exploring NZ. On the Kiwi Experience bus, fifty or so of my fellow backpackers, all fresh faced and eager at the start of the three-week tour, giddily watched the green hills of the North Island roll by. We stopped at a supermarket en route and grabbed the essential alcohol as well as reluctantly spending precious travelling money on food. Continue reading
As my plane began a fairly turbulent descent and the lurch of a mild to middling fear of flying kicked in, I cranked up my headphones and put on some Rolling Stones.