I've been reading loads of travel blogs recently and have been slightly shocked by how relatable everyone's stories are. It's as if I've written parts myself! I guess the effects of travelling is just something that only another traveller can understand and it doesn't matter how different you are, the experience of travelling will always unite you.
Over the next few days I will post a couple of quotes from these fellow traveller's blogs. Here is the first, from a Peace Corp volunteer after service in Vanuatu, my home from home:

"Saying goodbye here is so hard because we may not ever see these people again. It's sort of like planning an infinite funeral. We can send letters and photos, but it will probably all be very one sided, with few replies. We'll fly across the world with an invisible thread connecting our hearts forever to a tiny, largely unknown island in the South Pacific. No matter how many stories, pictures, speeches, and examples we share with people back home, it will be impossible to convey how much this whole experience has completely rocked our world, changed our perspective and given us a new pair of life goggles."
(Bittersweet Goodbyes, by Sheridan: http://www.travelblog.org/Oceania/Vanuatu/blog-541005.html)

When i read this I nearly cried, it is exactly how I felt, how I still feel about the 'bittersweet goodbye' Whilst I was happy and excited to go home, doing what I believed was the best natural progression, saying goodbye was a huge challenge The thought of never seeing these people, that I considered, ever again was heartbreaking I think of them everyday, and pray that one day I will see them all again

Saying Goodbye to Travelling?

The prospect of never travelling again is completely soul-shattering, but it is something I have to get to grips with. I mean, to be honest I’m being a bit dramatic, it’s not that I’ll never travel again, I will but not for a very long time! I have to be sensible now because I have allowed myself to fall into a deep pile of debt. I have no one to blame but myself and, as well as this, my desire to travel meant the sacrifice of many experiences at home. I just need to concentrate on work and university next year without planning my next travel venture because it isn’t going to become a reality for a long time.

It is a really sad prospect, mainly the thought of not being able to go back out to Vanuatu for another year or more. I really hoped to be able to go in the summer holiday, but that just doesn’t seem to be an option, even a trip in 2012 doesn’t seem to be on the cards. I really didn’t want to have to leave it til any longer than 2012. For one most of the children I really care about would have moved on and two I promised them I’d be back. It’s such a predicament.

However I can't give up on the hope to go back, I will and I will continue to travel, but not until I am in a far more stable position financially- so it is not goodbye to travelling but gudbae long naoio mo lukym yu bakegen in no long taem (goodbye for now and see you again soon).

Review of the Years

2009

The end of 2009, for me, was like the end of an era. The end of University; finally breaking free from that student bubble I had lived for the best part of my life. A sad event, if I’m honest. I thus made sure that I made the most of the year, meaning glam-packing as much as possible. After ‘The Epic African Adventure’ I was off to Malaysia on a back-packing trip with an impressive 28ltr backpack, and despite this, I still managed to look glam! A couple of weeks after my return I was back in the motherland, this time with the whole family. Within a month of returning preparation started for Vanuatu, (yes, the glam-packer did make it to Vanuatu, surviving village life, in fact favouring it to London city life!).

Besides all the travelling, I was finally feeling the rewards of my ‘superfluous’ degree. After slogging my guts out writing all those words I got the best result EVER for the dissertation. I was awarded a 1^st and a Pearson’s Education Dissertation prize. I think, if I remember correctly, I had the best dissertation of the department. That result, more so than the actual overall 2:1, made for a very proud graduate.

After much discussion and some gentle persuasion I decided on the Masters route. The journalism thing hadn’t worked out, I did the entry test with no preparation, and although I had a respectable score it wasn’t enough for that specific institution. However, I was slightly elated with the results, the thought of starting the course made me feel somewhat trapped, so I was glad. I later chose the Master, which was to be taken after the 6 months I would spend volunteering in Vanuatu.

2010

2010; a year full of ‘changes’, man, 2010 has been such a monumental year. I began the year with THE BIG CHOP, waving goodbye to all the processing and straightening and all the other time and money consuming thins related to my hair.

After so much frantic and anxious preparation I was finally ready to jet off to Vanuatu 20^th January 2010!

Vanuatu turned out to be the best thing I’ve ever done IN MYLIFE! Nothing gets better then spending 6 months on a remote Island in the most obscure country, teaching the most lovable endearing children in a small under-resourced village primary school, living amongst the ‘happiest people in the world’, adopting their culture and customs. No amount of words can describe how fabulous it was. After the placement I reluctantly moved on to Auckland to spend a couple of days with a friend I had met whilst working out there 2 years prior. Next stop was Fiji. Fiji was, well Fiji, lots of Bula and Fiji time, great great fun. The last stop on the way home was L.A. At first I didn’t quite like it, but I think that was more to do with reverse culture shock. L.A is a city of extreme materialism and Tanna, Vanuatu is the exact opposite. But, after a day or two and a couple of rides on the public bus I had fallen in love with the place. I would go back there any day, definitely a better experience than New York.

Once home, home sickness and reverse culture shock struck hard! In a confused frenzy I decided to defer my Masters entry, meaning another year out. I think the thinking was I was gonna save enough money to fly back out to Vanuatu A.S.A.P! That didn’t happen. I then decided that maybe teaching was my calling and tried desperately to get a job as a Teaching Assistant, which proved harder than I though it would. I mean, in Vanuatu I was qualified enough to take a full class fulltime, but at home I couldn’t even work alongside a qualified teacher as an assistant. The whole process was totally soul shattering. And to top it off, at a time in my life when I had no commitments; no job, no studies, no relationship, to keep me in the UK and away from travelling, I couldn’t travel. I had no money. Such a catch 22, I bet that as soon as I save enough money to travel again I will find something to hold me back...Like, my new J.O.B. Just when I though all hope was gone, I got the call, a week later I had the job. Teaching assistant at the infant school attached to my old junior school, a place full of fun joyful memories. The job doesn’t start till Wednesday 5^th January 2011, but I’m ever so excited, and slightly nervous at the prospect of becoming as attached to the children as I did to the ones I taught out in Vanuatu. Nonetheless excitement is definitely the dominant emotion.

Does this mean that I’ll be hanging up my travelling sandals to become a teacher?...Only time will tell, but I doubt it.

Happy New Year and a Happy New (?) Me!

What a non-event! Wow, OMG, seriously, it’s so tragic I can only laugh. Things can only get better hey...I hope so! No, I’m sure it will. I’m coming out of the dark, rediscovering me, re-embracing me and the progressions in my life! So much has happened in the previous year, so much so that people will say that I’m a totally different person; I’ve changed. But what I say to that is “I haven’t changed, I’m just one step closer to discovering who” If people are not willing to accept the ‘changes’ then, they ain’t willing to accept me. But, and yes there’s another but, I must begin by accepting myself and I feel that I can safely say that I do. I love me, doing what I love and loving what I do.

The Epic African Adventure- Part II

The first part of the adventure began with three which became four then to become 2 at the second part of the adventure began. People say the best way to test a relationship is to move in together, I’d say go on holiday together beforehand, oh, and add a family member to mix, that should sort out the bad from the good.

Anyway, enough of the philosophical stuff back to the glam-packing. As I stepped foot in Accra and smelled the air I knew that I had arrived home. Egypt had been amazing, as I said previously I could have gone home without going to Ghana and looked at the holiday as the best, even with the other drama. We were picked up by our father, who was doing what he does best, reminding the people of Accra whose boss, and driven to our home away from home. The first couple of weeks were spent getting reacquainted with Accra, we had visited for the first time the previous year, but only had a week, much of which was spent seated in the back of a ‘chauffer driven car’; seeing Ghana through the eyes of a tourist. This time we were to get around by tro-tro; travelling like the locals. Tro-tro’s definitely have their advantages, the price for 1, less that 20p for a ride into town, I call that a bargain. Then there’s the jokes to be caught, like when the driver gets into an argument with another tro-tro driver who is angry at the fact that his customers have been stolen. So funny and not in anyway intimidating, because if you know Ghanaians you know they don’t fight, just bluff and shout, really loudly. We spent most of the time in Accra, visiting the beach, dining out, clubbing, (a non-event) and seeing the sights. We then ventured out of Accra, Thank God! Not that I have anything against Accra, I love it, but I was just desperate to see more of the country, it annoys me that one can feel they’ve visited a country when they haven’t stepped outside of the tourist hubs. We didn’t get to see all the sites I had planned or wanted to but we did get to Kumasi and Mole National Park, and that makes up for it. The trip to Mole was a hellish couple of days. We had to begin by taking a 12+ hour coach ride to Tamale, which would have been fine if I hadn’t been for the fact that I had vomited before boarding the coach, then realised I had been joined by monthly friend without any prior knowledge. Once in Tamale we were met by Prestige, who was later to be deemed the most foolish man to grace this planet and taken to one of the worst hostels, worst than the Luxor one with the seedy owner. At the hostel we wiped ourselves down with baby wipes and prepared for the next part of the adventure. We had been told that we were to board a metro mass bus; the worst public transport EVER , to Larabanga, site of Ghana’s oldest mosque and the closet any public transport could get to Mole National Park. When we arrived at the bus terminal there was mass confusion. We were asked to pay bribe to the driver so that we could stand on the over crowded bus. The whole point of being escorted by a local was to avoid paying bribes, but what can you do when your escort is just as money hungry as the rest. So anyways we paid way too much to get on the bus just for me to hyperventilate as it took off. Everyone panicked, but our chaperone that was inept to say the least, and was offered the seat of a pregnant woman and prayed on by someone who assumed that I was having some mini heart attack or something. I felt so guilty taking the seat but at the same time didn’t want to be seem like some kind of fraudster or hypochondriac so just sat down and let it happen. As I felt better I offered the seat back, but the woman didn’t refused to take it back. Once in Larabanga we were approached by a man who is infamous in the Ghana guide book, one that I only bothered to read after I had travelled, offering us a bed for the night. He had claimed that my Aunty had phoned up ahead to arrange for us to sleep in the village, but whether it was true or not I was not staying in the village. We wanted to keep moving and get to Mole. The guy then offered to get someone to drive us to Mole on their motorcycles, we refused, one I was scared of riding one, and secondly I didn’t want to pay someone I didn’t trust to allow me to sit on their motorcycle. I knew the walk to Mole was doable, even if Prestige claimed it wasn’t, so we walked in the heat of the day to the park. It was long, but so worth it when we reached the park. Going to Mole National Park was a highlight of the trip, I only wish we had longer there and some more clothes. We opted for a walking Safari, simply because it was the cheapest, but to be honest we would have been disappointed if we had paid the money to sit in a truck. We were so close to the animals, it was amazing. The park is such an asset to Ghana, but it’s just such a nightmare to get there. With some development, mainly of a form of tourist transport to the park then it would start becoming the attraction it has the potential to be.

The Epic African Adventure- Part I

The African adventures didn’t stop with that trip to Tanzania. Summer 2009 was home to THE EPIC AFRICAN ADVENTURE and a summer to remember. Six whole weeks in the continent starting with a week in Egypt followed by 5 in Ghana (hardly epic, but back then it was, and even now looking back it was epic, but, for other reasons). Egypt, what can I say about Egypt? It was cheap, dirty and hot. No, really, it was HOT, I got struck by heat stroke on a few occasion causing much distress and hysteria, (well hysteric laughing). But heat aside Egypt, and more importantly the way we chose to see Egypt, made for a fantastic adventure. I could have gone home after that week and been really satisfied with my holiday, Ghana was just the cherry on top of the icing on the cake, a very nice cherry.

We, (my then P.I.C (Partner in Crime) and sister ) started off with a night in Cairo, we then flew down to Aswan in the south, the home of the Nubian people, a place that we assumed would embrace us...We were sadly mistaken. Aswan was by far the hottest part of Egypt that we visited, and where I suffered heat stroke. Whilst in Aswan we visited all the major attractions and had a felucca ride up the Nile. Not the type that luxury tourist are used to. After haggling a cheap ride, pissing off the captain, we were relegated to an old abandoned felucca full of moss and other undesirable plant life. Our captain Mohammed removed an old sweaty rag from his even sweatier robe and proceeded to insufficiently clean the seat before we sat down for a nice cruise up the Nile. Since being in aswan we had yet to meet any Nubians, in fact we were slightly confused by the whole Nubian thing. I had read that Nubians were the early Egyptians before the Arabs colonised the North of Africa. I was under the impression they were the ‘real Africans’ of Egypt. Mohammed told us he’d take us to a Nubian village on a nearby island. Before we landed we were given a little speech by Captain Mohammed about how Nubians were not Egyptians, he said it with a kind of disgust for them. We entered the village and were offered a tour around the village, we declined knowing that it would only mean further Baksheesh, a major drawback of Egypt. There’s only so much one can be expected to tip before it become ridiculous, I mean there was a guy sweeping the street, just because that’s his job and on seeing us he turned and asked for baksheesh. WTF! Seriously, and he was serious, I mean the whole baksheesh to me was like begging. I know that the Egyptians are proud of the fact that there aren’t many homeless people begging, but what they seem to be oblivious of is that fact that the whole country begs as an occupation, seriously it’s terrible. Anywhoos back to the Nubian village, we refused the tour but he took that as an insult, we were family as fellow Africans. We reluctantly took the tour after being assured that we wouldn’t be charged for it, we were shown around the village and given some brief facts before being ushered to what can only be described as a show room, where they hoped we would be convinced to part with our money. After having another bout of heat stroke we left behind disgruntled guides who were unsatisfied by the tip we had given. We got back into the felucca perplexed, the Nubians looked exactly like the Egyptians, and there was no telling them apart. I thought they would be darker skinned, as every time we walked through a bazaar we would be asked if we were Nubian, so strange. To me, the Nubians were a bunch of people who had been outcast by the Egyptians forced to live in suffocating villages on an offshore island. The locals disliked them, despite not even knowing what they looked like, must be some historical hatred like most. The end of our time in Aswan really threatened to ruin our whole trip. In the pursuit to subside our hunger we braved the Aswan night to get some food. The town was abnormally busy, (abnormal for us but normal for them) I guess the fact that the sun had gone down made the town more desirable. The streets were full of people, each with their own insults for us. Each person, every moving car, we passed had something to say to us. It was crazy like we were in Eastenders when a big plot bomb is about to be dropped. “What’s up Nigga!” “Africano” “Obama, we love Obama” “Nigger Nigger!” was heckled to us at every turn, it was horrible. Then a woman, carrying a baby, shouted “SODA SODA” fingers in our faces, malice in her voice, what was going on, and what the hell was ‘Soda’? When we finally got to the restaurant we began to penetrate what had just happened. We decided to ask the waiter what the word had meant. I had though she had said resoda, so obviously he didn’t know what we were talking about, but then we tried soda and we saw the light bulb switch on above his head. He then claimed ignorance, soda, that a drink he said, like Fanta. Finally after much probing he told us it meant black, but it was not a derogatory term, gave us the whole we are family speech. Anyway he goes off tells a colleague and they start laughing, so we start looking over pointing and laughing to make him uncomfortable, and man did it work, it made the event something to laugh about, not to mention the great pizza that was at the end of the line of hecklers. So after Aswan we travelled to Luxor by train, in Luxor we were better received, thank god, I think it’s partly to do with the towns obsession with Bob Marley. Luxor was just as eventful, we were joined by my friends sister, my friend was lusted over by the hostel manager who, unbeknown to my friend before it was too late, conned us when he realised there’d be no nookie. On the plus we visited the valley of the Kings, with student discount thanks to my Oyster card and library card and all the other ID’s I used (apparently everyone looked like me), I managed to fool people that I could speak Arabic and we picked up some great quotes to keep us laughing on the road. Next, was the unplanned stop of Hurghada, a trip forced on us by the seedy conniving hostel manager in Luxor, but, Hurghada turned out to be one of the best parts of the trip, if we take out the drama, back stabbing and break up. In Hurghada the head scarf came of and the skirts got shorter. In order to respect the Egyptian people I had taken to wearing a headscarf in Aswan and dressing modestly. Once in the resort of Hurghada all of that went out the window. I really loved Hurghada, the people were so nice, in fact if I were to go back to Egypt, no I mean when I go back to Egypt I’m going straight to Hurghada. Gosh looking back the trip was so eventful, in a good sense, anyway need to finish this post so will fast forward to the end. After Hurghada was Cairo and Giza. Again fun fun times. Free massage, jumping photos in front of the pyramids and move money hungry conniving Egyptians, seriously some people just have no shame. All in all the 9 days spent in Egypt are truly unforgettable as are the characters we met.

Revisiting The Past

So, where to start? How’s about where I left off? That makes the most sense. Just before I pulled the plug on this blog I was off to stamp my jewel encrusted foot on another, previously, undiscovered land. Jeez how imperialistic does that sound. Anyways, in April of 2009 (some time ago), myself and my older flew off to Tanzania, first stop, and only stop, Makadi beach. From what I remember, it was an extremely chilled holiday. Serious R and R. It wasn’t my favourite holiday, which is no reflection on the country or company, it’s purely based on the type of holiday it turned out to be. I discovered that ‘resort’ based holidays are not my preference. I just hate to be in a country and not get a real sense of what it’s all about, to never meet a real local, who lives and breathes the country rather than living to serve tourist and jump through hoops for a foreign investor. Nonetheless I have plans to revisit Tanzania, however this time actually visit the country. Even so, I did have a good time, I think it’s impossible not to when the sun is shining and the palm trees are gently swaying.