In life, we’re always changing and growing. Often, it happens without even realising it. We start to want different things and forget about those that we once held above all. That’s life, after all. But there are times where these shifts are like…
I peep out the tiny, oval-shaped window. My heart almost skips a beat, marvelling at the expansive snow-capped mountains. The ambient sweet song with the violin string adding a cinematic touch, as we glide effortlessly over the Rocky Mountains.
I pull the steel door handle closer to me and use my left hand to put the left headphone up to my ear. What song should I start with today? This has become my morning tradition, I ponder, as I wait for the lift.
“I spend all of my money on travel…” It’s a common phrase that gets tossed around a lot in traveller circles. “I invest in experiences, not things.” And while we travellers are nodding our heads, a lot of people don’t agree.
I sit in my strategic airport floor position. Feet crossed, shoes off and notepad open to a blank white page. My flight ticket resting between the bent, loved pages of my passport. So much more than a piece of paper, but a sign of what’s next. It’s a process that’s become familiar to me. I’ve learned to give myself an…
I’m the only one outside. I’m either brave or crazy. The white sludge submerges my now freezing toes. I can’t help but giggle. I was on a mission. A caffeine mission. I look up to see the outline of a man. His black eskimo-type outfit stands out against the…
There will come a time in your life. A crossroads. You could go one of two ways. Normally, one is the ‘safe’ option and the other is unknown. Like peering into the distance on a misty, cloudy day. You can’t quite see what’s out there, but somehow you know it’s beautiful. This is my life.
Sometimes, our expectations sell us short. Sometimes, the expected simply pales in comparison to the unexpected. So, expectations. Why do we cling to them? Sure, the expected keeps us going, safely. But that’s just the beginning. The unexpected, well, that’s what changes our lives.
They’re right, you know. Money can’t buy you happiness. But, travel can. You learn that the things you need to live are there in your backpack. And all the life experiences you’re yearning for are out there, waiting for you. I recently spent eight months in living in SE Asia.
From a young age, we’re told what to do. Our parents teach us that if we behave, we’ll get rewarded. ‘Do what you’re told and you’ll get a treat.’ How many times have we been told this? All is well and good when we’re young and learning important principles and life skills.
One moment. One decision. One second. It’s all it takes to completely change your life forever. “Are you guys ok?” It was a message that popped up on my Facebook. ‘Australians in fatal Bali explosion.’ My heart instantly weighs a tonne. I continue to read.
Ever since I went on a plane for the first time at six years old, I knew that I wanted to travel forever. Actually, I’m writing this article sitting on an airplane. After that childhood turning point, one thing led to another and now I am hosting a travel program for remote workers…..
Travelling is expensive, right? “How do you afford it? Your blog must be going well…..” If I had a dollar for the number of times I’ve heard this, I’d be a millionaire. A real millionaire. Sure, I’ve had some great help with my blog, but that’s not how I fund most of my travel.
He’s walking around on the beach, looking down. It’s dark. What is he doing, I think to myself. He bends down, rests his elbows on his knees, and picks up a crushed, sandy plastic bottle. Brushing the black sand off his hands and onto his cream cargo shorts…..
It’s 8pm on a Saturday night. Nursing our bellies, full of $2 Pad Thai, we open the heavy, black gate of our guesthouse. Triple J’s ‘Like a Version’ is singing to us from an old desktop on the messy bench. A scatter of tour brochures surrounds the area…..
“The dust. It was everywhere. We couldn’t breathe. I could smell the stench of bodies from Brooklyn.” My friend and I exchange a glance – eyes wide, both in horror. We’re in the backseat of an Uber – driving down Lower Manhattan towards our loft. Turning left onto Greenwich Street…
I was 22 when I came to London over 6 years ago. I gave the parents a kiss goodbye and went in search of travel, excitement, memories, barrels of alcohol and perhaps a girl or 2 to wake up to along the way. The typical Australian traveler.
I’m sitting cross-legged up on a cushioned bench, tapping away on my MacBook. The grinding coffee is drowning out the soft background beats. I’ve got the best seat in the cute Canggu café, Ruko – right under the fan.
Brat, Curry and Leber could all well be the last name of a trio of inventors, scientists, or corporate power personified. However, in this case, they’re not. Prior to my trip to Hamburg, I’d been advised to try a few delicacies.
A box of Old El Paso was about as authentic as it got for me, cooking wise. But in my defense, the canary yellow box did promise “authentic Mexican food in your own kitchen.”
“Let’s go out dancing,” she beams, her big brown eyes unavoidable. As my day is ending, hers is starting. I can feel her energy and it’s rubs off on me. “Sure, but I’m warning you, I can’t dance,” I warn. Laughing at me like I’d made a joke, she guides her feet into her shiny black heels, without second-guessing the height of the heels.
Prior to arriving at Marseille, the stories I heard consisted of cars being burnt if they failed to display their allegiance towards the local football club, Olympique de Marseille, and that it was the drug and murder capital of France. But what caught my attention was that Marseille was voted as the cultural capital of Europe in 2013. Whether or not the first statements were true, the latter certainly was.