It’s all in you head…well, almost.

The way we think, and how that affects the human body, never fails to fascinate me. That it can produce such visceral responses to a herd of thoughts and emotions, stampeding through the brain, is chaotically beautiful. Buckling vibrations that emanate so wildly, that they feel as though they could cause anything around you to crack. How is it even possible that your head can overpower your body? However, as quickly as they crash through our organic fleshy-masses, they recede. We are left alone.

Perhaps the reason I’m so enthralled by the concept, is because I don’t believe I feel anything unless it’s like a cannon- ball to the gut. I’m a deep feeler. You could drown in the thoughts and feelings that flood my cranium. Sometimes I do, as I’m sure do many others. This doesn’t mean that I’m holding onto a lamppost, wailing until my lungs fill with blood. I like to reserve my amateur dramatics for rainy days and aggravating members of the general public! No, it simply means I frolic in the waters of these brain-powered bodily sensations. I embrace them and quite frankly, intend to continue doing so.

 

Trust.

Why is that this 5 letter word is so fragile in the hands of humans? A treasure we treat so delicately, yet one we offer to those we care for with an erratically beating heart. It seems illogical. Self preservation would surely dictate we hole it away, in a dark well-cushioned pit in the ground. A pit lined with no fear of dramatic consequence.

We anticipate it’s demise, and we mostly offer it tentatively, but give it up all the same. Then the dry mouth and palpitations start…well for me anyway, but then I’m more of a “where the fuck is that other shoe?!” type of guy. Death by a dangerous sole smashing; I’d really rather not. It’s a bit like watching a crystal ball balance on the head of a pin, and hoping that as time passes, the head will support it’s weight.

I find that more often than not, we observe others as their trust is shattered. Blown apart by lies, omissions of truth, lack of honesty and even noble intentions. It’s heartbreaking. It’s frightening. It’s unfair. It feels unjust, but as depressing as it sometimes seems, it’s not always so harrowing. There isn’t always the need to run for the hills screaming into the wind.

It is in my experience (oh he that believes himself to be so very wise…stay with me here!), that not everyone we happen across is a colossal let down. I mean, there will always be people you want to walk off the edge of a pier, but they aren’t the ONLY flesh-bags out there! Time and again I’ve doled out my trust, to a variety of different vessels and it’s not always led to agonising despair and hellfire.

I’ve found myself in situations, that have made me question if it’s worth the effort. If the potential damage is a worthy trade, to experience the progression of various relationships (family, friends, love interests…the neighbour’s self aggrandising moggy). Hand on heart, I can say it has been. The lessons learnt have helped to outweigh the bad. They’ve also taught me where my limits lie, and what I won’t tolerate. This as a result, has brought me deeper appreciation for the bonds I’ve already forged.

It’s impossible to live a life where some form of betrayal isn’t felt. Betrayal? Too dramatic? Maybe so, but have you ever had someone finish a pot of Pringles after stating they wouldn’t? Aaaaah, now we’re on the same page! My point is, no matter how big or small the affront, our trust WILL be broken time and again. It’s just learning to deal with the fallout, repair the damage and soldier on. It’s never easy, and I’m not saying it’s comfortable, but it can be done.

I believe we trust, because deep down we know it can lead to so much more than regret, disappointment and heartache. I believe it important to trust, because it can be one of the many keys, to finding peace and true happiness.

Troubled Waters.

Sometimes in life, we come up against situations that feel impossible to navigate. Storms that start off small, but then evolve into something much darker and all-consuming. I for one, am no sailor, and could never have anticipated that my life could change so drastically.

These past couple of months, have shown me that I will on occasion, be battered by waves that appear indomitable. Thunderous lashings to beat me down, from the crushing weight of the deepest blue. Left feeling like Davey Jones is a desirable companion.

These waves have come in a variety of different guises, most of them appearing as human. Let me tell you now, these by far are the most treacherous. They can cause immense heartache, and pain that feels insufferable. Fear of drowning becomes a suffocating possibility.

Yet there can, and more often than not, will be a beacon.

I didn’t think that amidst a series of unfortunate circumstances, a guiding light could see me through. However, in various forms I have found several, and the sea although wild doesn’t seem as ferocious. Plain sailing isn’t a permanent reality (and neither is the idea of more nautical themed posts…i don’t know how this came about!), but periods of traversing calmer waters certainly is.

Capsizing isn’t the only option, and I’m glad I know this to be a solid truth.

 

New Zealand Travel Continued, 19th May 2015- Imminent Death at 120mph?

Pulling up outside yet ANOTHER Base Hostel  (I would sooner have taken death by fire), the first thing I noticed was how postcard worthy Taupo was. Situated upon its namesake, the town entertained shops and bistro style eateries. Most were overpriced and being a frugal cretin I regretfully handed over $16 for a ridiculously enjoyable burger, that I ate with far to much lustful enthusiasm. After all I wasn’t there to pose, dining like a hipster tart, no, I was there to skydive!

Along with the other Kiwi Bus plebs (whom I miss stupid amounts), I ditched my stuff and along with three others, got shuttle bussed off to what felt like my impending doom. My travel buddy chris and our new mutuals, Jake and Katherine arrived at our activity with the sun out, ready to illuminate our gravity induced plummeting. So we were inducted, briefed thoroughly on our safety procedures and after handing over our money (the viceral pain of parting with money as a traveler is unreal), we accepted the possibility of becoming high speed meaty cow pats,  or imploding under the mental strain of temporary free fall. Neither of which mattered, because due to ninja like clouds appearing from nowhere it was cancelled for the day.

Day two rolled around quick, accompanied by unexpected nerves. Given a night and morning to stew on it, we were practically laying eggs! Arriving back at the airfield, we suited up, and much to my displeasure with my cap on I looked like even more of a bean head. We partnered up with our experienced divers, and boarded our brightly coloured tin can, that would soon be birthing us at approximately twelve and fifteen thousand feet. I was mildly distracted by hiw ruggedly handsome my dive partner was, but more concerned about having ZERO control over what was coming.

We sat in an electrified silence, I was grinning uncontrollably, watching our tandem partners casually piss around and joke about not strapping us in properly -assholes- until we were ushered to sit in their laps so that we could be strapped in, tighter than humanly possible. Forced intimacy is never a winner, but I don’t know what I was expecting, you can’t really tandem skydive separately can you? Sitting between a stangers legs is slightly awkward, feeling their heartbeat against your back cranks it up to a childlike hilarity.

Reaching 12000ft, Jake and Katherine were the first to jump, leaving me and Chris to ascend to our lofty perch. With barely enough time to blink, or so it felt, we reached our limit and my red headed amigo was ushered towards the door and fell from view. I was then crotch thrusted  (as painfully awkward as it sounds) towards the open sky outside.

“YOU READY?!”

I remember turning over repeatedly, feeling gleefully in a sea of powder blue, peppered with bursts of white fluff. I was doing it! It was surreal, falling towards a ground below I couldn’t see, knowing I could do nothing at all. I was loving every second. It also doesn’t feel like flying, just an exhilarating weightlessness. Breaking through the clouds I was floored by the grandeur of the lake, glistening lazily, enclosed by the surrounding mountains. A sudden subtle jerk and our parachute was open. I was encouraged to take the reigns, after nervously arranging myself into a seated position, excitedly pirouetting on the way down.

Spying the base we honed in, soaring over cars, roads, buildings and our landing point. Legs up, we speedily managed to glide over the field, skimming the grass and skidding to a halt. Back at HQ we unbuckled ourselves, fist bumped and I thanked one of the Radlett dudes on the planet, for not letting me die young, and being a part of one of the best experiences I’ve had to date!

I joined my equally elated companions and we were done. I’d done it!

I’D SKYDIVED!!

12th May 2015- Current Hiatus and Impending return.

As is probably evident by now, I have been failing abysmally in keeping my posts consistent. To seemingly give up on something, that has been largely cathartic, doesn’t appear to be logical. However, there have been underlying reasons that support my absence. To have created this space in order to offload my candid entries, you’d expect me to be forth coming in my explanation. Yet I have decided that on this occasion, some things are better left unsaid, as certain privacies cannot be restored.

Although I will say this much. Life has chosen to throw me a curve ball. My emotional threshold has been adequately tested, and I find myself with a lesson learnt, with more probably jostling over one another to reach me. It feels rotten in part, enlightening in others and then sometimes really bloody bemusing. A bit like I’m at a sleepover and I’ve woken to being teabagged by Fate…not that anyone has ever been enlightened by a ball-sack in the mouth. Or perhaps they have? Clearly I digress, but hopefully you can get the gist of what I’m saying.

It would transpire, that strength is a byproduct of such testing times, ultimately serving to armour me with resilience; protecting me from future knocks. Let me tell you now, I have not been kitted out in a full suit and I get the impression I am to craft the rest myself.

Arduous? Yes! Necessary?…even more so!!

It would be wrong of me, in the face of this temporary adversity, to crawl under a rock and turn my back on a chance to push myself forward. Some of the biggest injustices suffered in life, are the ones we commit against ourselves. So with this in mind, I have no desire to prevent myself from learning something valuable. I am going to choose to navigate myself, through what I now recognise what will be nothing more than a fleeting “cloudiness”. It probably sounds like I’m choking on a self help book and regurgitating it’s contents, but I am learning that present situations are really what you make of them. Just as much, as we are all responsible for our own happiness.

There will be so much ahead of me, some of which is going to steal my breath away, and at other various intervals will have me in the foetal position. This considered, I want to launch myself head first into the thick of it all. I don’t think life is ever meant to be easy, but regardless, it IS meant to be enjoyed!

So, with the sentimental ramblings successfully rubbed up against your eyeballs, I shall now get back on track. Please expect the return of more random shite in the not too distant future.

Thank you if yout are reading this; more so if you have stuck with me x

New Zealand Travel, 27th April 2015- Skulking around the guts of Waitomo

I never thought caving would be something I would indulge myself in. However, when we arrived at Waitomo Caves I was internalising a ball of excitement, big enough to share with everyone in the shuttle bus!

A group of 8 people strong, we were led by Pip and Nikki; two easy going cave junkies that were to make our experience feel like a riot!  They kitted us out in soggy, body odour infused wet suits, one of which I’m convinced someone had pissed in and we were set for a round of photos before heading out.

Wrapped tight enough in our less than flattering new threads, we harnessed up -in such a way, I was sure the slightest pressure would relocate my testicles to somewhere just behind my liver, ran through how not to kill ourselves whilst descending into the cave’s gaping jaws, and proceeded to abseil, potentially to our doom and destruction.

 Hanging 35 metres above the ground at a stranger’s request, and lowering yourself into the unknown is mind boggling, but you do it!! You trust that you won’t let go of the rope, and aid the walls at turning your face into paté. Straddling various rocks on the way down and experiencing a slight rope burn, I was getting into the spirit of losing skin, but happily reached the bottom.

After the final two made their way down, we were a group reunited. Climbing up and over jagged rocks, slick with cool water running down them in tiny strands, and found ourselves at a zip wire overlooking a dark cavern.

Nikki ushered forward the first poor unfortunate soul (Nathan), strapped him in and begun to run him through safety procedures; pretty standard right? I thought so until panic stricken, Nikki accidently dropped the rope! BYE NATHAN!! My heart flew out of my ass, so I can only imagine the terror he felt. I was convinced he was now chutney on the rocks below, until a light illuminated him very much alive on the opposite side, and I turned to our instructor laughing her tits off.

A class act this dame; an untrustworthy little deviant, but a woman after my own heart.

We all had our turn, and the most surreal aspect? Seeing hundreds upon hundreds of glowworms, studding the walls and ceiling like a a star had sneezed, and forgot to cover it’s glittery little mouth. Once safely back together, we sat legs dangling over a rock face just above a river. Being treated to flapjacks and hot chocolate, I felt slightly euphoric. So grinning, I turned to the nearest body (Maethi) to share in my being dumfoubded at what we were doing. We laughed, toasted an occasion we both knew could not be replicated and continued to feed of such good vibes.

Finishing up, our next task as a group was to jump into the river below, with a rubber ring attached to our butts. It was like skinny dipping in the 9th circle of hell. Yet with great excitement, we dragged ourselves along the wall, off downstream at our instructors request. We stopped for a brief lesson on the glowworm and it’s phosphorescent shit -yep, it’s glow is a chemical reaction causing it’s poo to appear luminous- and then formed a chain of bodies, floated back singing a medley of Disney and 80’s hits, slid down a slide like oddly human penguins and stopped so I could take an “adventure wee”.

Feeling relieved I caught up to the group, as we approached our first waterfall. Not huge but big enough to jump from, we launched ourselves into the icy abyss. All of this lunacy involving jumping from heights and into icy waters, was enough to addle my brain…but it was so good, I felt addicted to the rush of it all! Competitively we shimmied, climbed, crawled, dived and swam ever deeper into the depths.

We arrived in good time at a large dark opening, standing potentially on a walkway. Then with dramatic execution, Pip and Nikki turned on some floodlights and soaked the once shrouded stalactites and stalagmites in artificial light. It felt so primal, so ancient and how could this be made any better I hear you ask? A cup of a warm orange tango equivalent and a block of chocolate.

Once we’d had our fill we continued on as we had two more waterfalls to climb, but not before squeezing through the tiniest of spaces. We were making such good time, that we were able to chance crawling through a space no wider than a letter box….well obviously I’m lying! It was however small enough to be fear inducing. Fellow comrade Gina saw the potential flaws in this plan, it seemed as though claustrophobia was about to win out, so I offered a view of my ample glutes by going in front, and calm descended once more.

You feed heavily off of the adrenalie in times like these; being heightened more so by the contagious positivity of your company. This was a point reinforced by a unanimous vote to send me through the next “tight squeeze”, my name being chanted as I was offered to the crack in the wall like a virgin sacrifice. Overly enthused I went.

A decent hight off of the ground, we cautiously cambered through until we reached a narrow tunnel, slick with gloopy mud. Naturally passing through, turned into a competition of who-could-come-out-looking-like-a-fresh-turd, so I dived in and rubbed that crap all over my hairy brown mug! Feeling satisfied I emerged feeling triumphant, only to see the title be awarded to Nathan. I still believe it to be a travesty…

Washing away my momentary failure, in a stream offering us frostbite and the onset of pneumonia, we also became aware of our next waterfall. We made our way to the cascading h20, Pip and Nikki took their positions and each one of us climbed up like pallid cave monkeys. Stopping briefly to pet Cecil the resident eel, we moved on to the next; we were speeding through! I could feel muscles I didn’t know existed, trying to over extend my limbs and haul myself over various rocks. We did it though, cheering each other on and bonding through the sheer madness of it all.

Exiting the cave through a rocky opening and spilling into the night, we found ourselves at our pick point. Escorted back to base, we were grateful for warm showers and chatted feverishly about our shared experience. I, like a colossal prat, forgot a clean change of shorts, but thanks to our amazing instructors, was introduced to a rather silky replacement pair. More concerned about eating thank my 90’s high school gym shorts, I followed the rest in goof spirits to the lobby, there we enjoyed hot soup and she’d load of bagels, and ushered out the last of the day.

We survived! And quite frankly, it as epic.

#amibeargryllsnow?

New Zealand Travel, 20th April 2015- Treks by hoof with Mr Houdini

The “Bucket List”.

An inspirational way to make sure you achieve the goals that seem most unobtainable (even though they aren’t), or a melancholy to do list, that reminds you kicking the bucket will snuff out these opportunities? Whatever the answer, apparently I have one internalised and sitting pretty next to my sense of rationality.

All of this was brought to light, when the chance to ride a horse through the New Zealand countryside, was stuffed under my nose like a bottle of amyl nitrate. Exciting and a bit of a headrush, just not as grubby or desperate.

I arose at the crack of dawn to find I could have slept in much longer. Moments like these inspire me to spout hell-fire and want to burn the nearest village to the ground, however, titan like wrath aside I tool the opportunity to become adequately ecstatic! After pacing around the car park like a complete and utter spud, practically gurning with anticipation, I was collected by an attractive german lass and driven to my equine centred activity.

We chatted merrily about our reasons for traveling so far. Hers was a desire to work with horses as regularly as she could…mine was because I’m a flighty little bugger, with a dream and a tattered back pack with not nearly enough space in. I was commended for being the only guy to have taken up a solo trek.

Being complimented is wonderful, but I’m no good with all of that, so I swatted it away like a wasp at a picnic, laughed awkwardly and desperately wanted to throw myself out of the window and under a herd of passing cows. Luckily we arrived shortly after.

The stables we pulled up to were set against rolling green hills, flocks of ridiculously vigilant sheep and more bovine methane factories, more than likely chewing the same grass they’d undoubtedly shat on. I was introduced to my instructor; a plucky french woman tiny in stature, with a look that would suggest quiet nights in with a well thumbed book. On the contrary, she was as bold as brass and ready to chew my ear off. I was happy to oblige; it was safe to say I admired her spirit a lot!

She walked me to a nearby fence where two incredibly docile horses stood in wait. One, a female,  had a coat that shined like molasses in the sun. The other looked slightly similar to how I burn my toast, a decent shade of dark brown. All urges to butter the latter fine specimen aside, he was introduced to me as Houdini and assigned as my ride.

Mounting my noble steed as my instructor waited on horseback, I trialled a few basic commands and we were off. The trek itself took two hours and starting on the path, I wondered how long it would be before my balls faced the threat of rapid erosion. On we moved, towards more greenery and deeper into the wild…which wasn’t all that wild. What did I expect? Lions? Tigers? Bears? Pffft! Not so much as a possum to offer up an unfriendly bite…

It was however beautiful beyond all possible doubt.

Houdini being no fool, took advantage of our lush surroundings, stopping multiple times so he could submerge his long face into patches of grass, resurfacing ONLY when he had stuffed himself with more than his greedy chops could carry. Encouraged to coax him into resuming pace, I dug my heels into his ribs, to which the loveable rogue decided a hearty dump was the best way to tell me to “fuck off”.

After reaching a compromise with the over consuming beast, I felt smug at having found a way to continue. Houdini clearly dissatisfied with our arrangement, decided to introduce my face to as many branches as possible. I decided it was a game well played; liking this horse was becoming too easy.

Over all  of this nonsense, me and mon ami chinwagged about our favourite horror films and her most recent travel experiences. Mongolia was the one she was most proud of, even acquiring a basic knowledge of the language. Having a zest for picking up other languages, became quite apparent to me as the conversation went on. Definitely one of the most inspirational people I have met in a while.

Of course I tried out a bit of french: “J’adore mon petit cochon rouge!”, to which she laughed enthusiastically. Admittedly “I love my little red pig!” is a fairly redundant sentence these days. Keeping up our new found strain of banter, we passed the time and reached the top of an extinct volcano. The ascent was 100% worth my horse occasionally speeding up, screwing with my fragile mind.

We looked out over the landscape, scattered with the type of trees ready to be assured with Christmas Decorations. A far off lake glimmering in the sun, no doubt mirroring images of a cotton wool smothered sky. A perfect photo opportunity…one I  which Houdini insisted on eating even more. I’be mocked him a lot, but quite honestly I probably eat just as much! Kindred spirits destined to roam and eat together forever? The inside of the volcano was intriguing, it was like looking into a well preserved prehistoric natural reserve.

Making our way back down through the hills and into woods worthy of a Tolkien novel, Houdini, bored of the gentle pace decide a trot would be more desirable. I did my bet to appear as though I weren’t enduring a seizure, much to the delight of my instructor who thought I handled it well enough to try it again. Fear of flooring it and eating gravel aside, we trotted once more and all were satisfied.

Arriving back at our starting point, it was to go down as one of the best experiences I’ve had to date. After dismounting, grooming and then walking my new found friend back to his paddock, I was able to bask in the presence of the remaining quadrupeds. Silently powerful and effortlessly majestic I watched them playfully interact, deciding to make a swift exit when two of them started scrapping, almost shattering that illusion.

Another activity down and one I shall cherish.

Stay with me guys, a few more to come 😉 x

New Zealand Travel, 6th April 2015- Lone travels in a dream destination.

I’m here!! Can you believe that after a decade of dreaming of reaching Kiwi soil, I’ve now been here for 4 days?!

It’s the strangest feeling. Almost a bit like spotting fifty quid on the floor, picking it up giddy as a spring lam, but not being sure enough that’s it’s really you lucky enough to have it. It’s almost a bit unreal. Auckland was glowing, shards of sunlight cutting through the city without a care in the world. And like a splice between London and any particularly large American city, it’s huge and if I’m honest better to look at than to do anything in.

I stayed at Base Hostel. A place where the staff are too cool for school, and your polite enquires are met with a resting bitch face. The guy that checked me in was in desperate need of some uppers, that or a pair of scissors. Man buns are the devils work and bring forth a vile rage in me!

After getting settled I got acquainted with my new roomies, a friendly sweetish girl and four fellow Brits. I spent the first night with Sweden, dining on an imposter KFC with a side order of political talk and rambling that included, black pudding, her current love situation, my need to get to hobbiton and why a woman of around sixty was bending over and flashing us her chuff. Holy water wouldn’t have been enough to cleanse my eyes after that unholy vision.

We laughed and joked and then made our way back to the hostel. The next morning she was off to Christchurch. Someone here said to me that “…having people walk in and out of your life so easily, kind of makes it easier to deal with similar situations when you reach home. It can make you stronger.”

I agree upto a point as it really does depend on who is showing you their heels.

Night 2 was with the lads left over, so we frantically plied ourselves with beer and forged an alliance with some other hostel bodies and secured a pretty nice pub quiz win! I would like to say now, that never has a knowledge of Pokémon been more useful. The nights here seem to go so fast, as before we were really started it felt like the bar was closing. Another night done, 2 more roommates set to leave, and a new day to enjoy.

So as my last newly found friend centred his day around getting tattooed, I stuffed myself with a plate of food big enough to feed most of Auckland, sat basking in the warmth at the harbour and revelled in some overly enthusiastic asians fishing.

Continuing to survey the city, I was met by the end of another day so I took myself to the hostel for an evening of frantic packing, and admiring the new tattoo stamped into the skin of my last room buddy…the following morning with a hurried goodbye, I left.

The following morning found me on the Kiwi Bus at 6:55 and on my way to Paihia -translating to “good here” in Maori- and in the company of two new dudes to share my next set of laughs with. Can you guess where they are from? If you guessed England you’re probably as bored of it as I am. Why are we everywhere?! That said, they are wicked guys, so feeble complaints only.

We arrived with ease, puns shooting around the place like fireworks (our driver was pretty hilarious), Base Hostel round 2 for the next couple of days. Wifi is not free here guys. You will drained of your dollars and approximately zero shits will be given.

Dumping our stuff in our room, we picked up a Malaysian born New Zealander and set off for a hike to fill our afternoon. A walking shambles ready to face doom or triumph! I didn’t realise that our wander would take us an unintentional 4 1/2 hours and we’d have to rely on 1 bottle of water and 2 cookies between us….all the small joys.

We trekked through a forest of assorted shrubbery and densely packed trees, each one so unique, nowhere on earth have I witnessed such diversity. I’ve also never been such a colossal lier. The first hour in was peppered with a touch of excited anticipation of the unexpected. We scaled hills, climbed steep footpaths and excelled in our pursuit of finding a viewpoint, from which we could steal a few snap shots from the unconsenting landscape.

Hour 2 1/2 was full of wheezing (not me bitches), copies amounts of man sweat, a painfully shy blister, birds joyfully mocking our misguided efforts and a wandering german. I can honestly say, that the route taken was incredibly fun, I enjoyed the challenge! I just can’t bear not knowing where the end is. The guys were mixed in opinion, but trudge on we did. The lonely german through a torrent of broken English and wild hand gestures, informed us that we were only 20 minutes away from our second hour being complete.

So we hurried to the end, stumbling across a road and a sign pointing back to our start, that would span 3 hours. Assuming that we were completing a simple circuit was clearly wrong. What could we do but laugh? I suggested and eager mission back through our freshly trodden route, but a singlular cry of blister related dissaproval laid waste to that plan.

So we walked, a travelling quartet of unprepared buffoons. We passed a restaurant midway into our many dices with death along a busy motorway, but the bastards were closed! What self respecting resturaunt/liquor store is closed later afternoon on a Sunday?! Not even a bottle of whiskey to help blur the lines between our feeble attempt at getting home and the discovering the confidence to hijack a passing automobile.

Passing what various forms of roadkill, one of which resembled either a dead emu, or a bear trappers hat with chicken feet glued to it, and having failed to hitchhike, we made it back. Luckily just in time for a barbecue. The steak was charred perfectly and was accompanied by various other carbs. Guzzling it down like a ravenous hounds, we kicked back, sipped ice cold beers and enjoyed each others company, looking back on what was quite a ridiculous day.

#Howdidwemakeitback?

Bali Travel, 1st April 2015- One last beach walk, holiday infidelities and my final thoughts on Bali life.

So my last day spent inside this Southern Asian heat trap, was started much later than intended. Rushed packing, making sure I hadn’t left my brain on the bedside and checking out of my room. I can say with relief, I’m leaving Kuta behind. It’s been great here, but three more days in a place I’ve already been to breeds discontent. It doesn’t mean that I didn’t take advantage of solo trip to the beach.

As I strolled through the surf I took the time to appreciate what an opportunity it has been to enjoy such beautiful sights. Looking out over the ocean proved to be blissfully calming and allowed me to switch of entirely. Just walking along enjoying the moment, was a small piece of something for myself I was grateful to have.

It was interrupted by my shoulders screaming out for a good creaming (let’s keep clean you filth mongers…) because, apparently, the sun was having none of it! Salty beads of discomfort slithered down my body and mingled with their comrades, that were now penetrating my garments. I remained undefeated, but slowly I trooped back to the Kayun Hostel to throw myself under the nearest shower head. Oddly a warm shower made it all feel less unbearable…if truth be known, it wasn’t actually so bad. I don’t mind the heat, I just chose to be a complete egghead and walk around with a heavy rucksack.

After cooling off I rested my bones in the lobby and was joined by a friendly guy from Belgium. We swapped stories on various places we’d visited and I offered up a few tips on where to go, as he was to fresh into Kuta…I mean clearly I’m a local now right?! That would be a bleak realisation. We did a bit of light skimming on more personal likes and dislikes, polite questions, but not lacking a genuine interest. I discovered he liked ramming burgers down his gullet and he was informed on my overbearing love of food generally. A nice guy and somebody I would probably have chilled with if I wasn’t leaving. So making he most of a fleeting holiday friendship, we grabbed a bite to eat.

After chatting at length about various sports -of which I managed to actually have an input- we then swung around to the subject of having a significant other. I shared that I have a boyfriend back home, to which he seemed sincerely enthused that I miss him (why wouldn’t I?) and thought it wonderful I would return home to someone. Confessing that he had split with his girlfriend 3 months prior, he shared with me a recent holiday romance with a Brazilian girl. Happy for him I beamed liked rhe Cheshire cat, but regained my composure sharpish because overkill is pretty ugly, and he explained a bit more.

Turns out he left her a few destinations back, because she had failed to divulge a small nugget of information. SHE HAD A BOYFRIEND. She had been keeping them both under false pretenses the whole time. Now I’m no prude, but cheating is wrong and there are no excuses. When he had found out, moving like a cheetah doped up on speed he got the feck outta dodge, which I find pretty commendable.

I know it is each to their own, but surely if you love someone fidelity shouldn’t be an issue? It seems to be a running theme over here. It’s hard not to hear other people’s conversations, especially when they fire them like sticky bombs into the atmosphere. Humble brags about leaving a loved one behind and engaging in casual bunks ups are quite plentiful. This is the reality for some travelers though and it seems to me like a norm I shall come up against time and again. I find it a little bit sad if I’m honest. Or maybe, I just don’t believe that being young and abroad means forgetting the person you’ve made a comittment to. Promiscuity may be easy, but piecing together a broken relationship? Not so much.

Anyway, we got back to the hostel and said farewell with a hearty handshake. I spent a few hours killing time, tirelessly picking out the many agricultural hazards clinging to my back pack. Who new plant life could be such a pain in the sphincter?! I wanted to burn the fucking thing and then ram the tweezers into the nearest eyeball; tedium was getting the best of me.

Strained patience saw the task complete and I was ready to leave. Security hailed me a taxi, I walk/ran to the door not forgetting to flip the bird at the nearest cockroach (dirty little bastards), and dived in!

I watched the streets slowly crall by. I wish I could say that they whizzed by, but the traffic thought it best that I observe people being offered viagra just one last time…should I have bought some, one last Balinese hoorah?

Of course not, I felt nothing but satisfaction watching other young men, refuse help to maintain their assumed feeble boners. We reached the airport I gave over some of the last of my brightly coloured bills and entered the place that would connect me with my next destination.

New Zealand!

Bali truly will be an experience I shall never forget. Friendly people, a fascinating  culture, beautiful natural surroundings and food that at best is questionable, if not a reason to want to laugh and cry.

I won’t hurry back, but I will remember my time fondly and put it down as one of the best times of my life.

Until next time multiple chicken satays and offensively crap KFC!!

Peace out x

#whyhasnobodysatwithmeyet?

Bali Travel, 28th March 2015- Gili T Vibes and Bittersweet Departures.

The last 2 days have been spent enjoying the wonderful Gili Trawangan, part of an archipelago of 3 islands off the coast of Lombok. We left our digs in Ubud, picked up by a driver that made sure we left fast enough to be practically airborne. There was a small window in which we had to reach the port at Padangbai, as our boat was leaving at 11:00am, but of course we weren’t going to be that prompt were we?

We made a pit stop to pick up two fellow temporary islanders, failing miserably to cope with the rising humidity inside our 4 wheeled hunk of metal. They took FOREVER! A shower when three of your future road buddies are waiting is a borderline sin. Yet a good thirty five minutes later they sheepishly boarded our convoy, mostly being greeted by a wall of resentment. I joked to Bella that as the driving in Bali is at best a big fat free-for-all, we shouldn’t overlook the prospect of speeding.

Regretfully the driver was telepathic. We were moving at speeds of 110mph and reaching for the seat belt I realised didn’t exist, I tried not to envisage myself as soon to be processed minced meat. Which was so very nearly a reality, when a pick-up truck swerved in front of us prompting the best example of solidarity. In unison drivers across the busy motorway honked their horns in indignation, disbelief flavoring the air. It was amusement on another level, I wish there was more collective road rage. We arrived a few crucial minutes before were due to depart, but after unloading and walking to the ticket office we accepted it was more than likely gone. Although maybe not for the reasons we thought. It turned out that the driver had delivered us prematurely and that we weren’t due to leave until 1pm.

 Stepping forward, the male half of our late arriving couple burst into a diatribe held fluently in Balinese! I nearly swallowed my tongue as me and the girls looked at each other bemused. He explained to us that he was convinced we’d been dropped off early in order to purchase the various badly cooked foods at his brothers cafe. I wanted to explain to him, that he was a sly bugger and pretend that I had pepper spray at my disposal. Time passed at a snail’s pace, allowing us to feel truly uncomfortable and sticky, but we did eventually reach our time to go.

 Boarding a beautifully air conned boat we sat in comfort for the next couple of hours, before reaching Gili Trawangan. Stepping down onto the beach, being loaded up like a pack mule and ready to find our accommodation, it was hard not to look back at the tropical waters. A destination we would truly enjoy. Horse and cart ride to the rescue, within 10 minutes we were at Jati Village, small and idyllic stone style huts, thatched roofing and a collection of stray cats. It was wonderful.

 Spending the next couple of days relaxing in the sun we indulged in the hit and miss cuisine, casual cycles around the island (on bikes that were ready to be scrapped), losing our minds over a baby turtle enclosure and snorkeling. The snorkeling was by far the best thing we did. I have never experienced such beautiful sea life swimming over to greet me, as I intrude without repent into their watery homeland. It even partially subdued my fear of being devoured by a massive set of muscle driven teeth! This also included seeing an eel, pale as alabaster, slither stealthily between the coral. It was quite other worldly and a memory I won’t soon forget.

 The nightlife was wicked! Beer, cocktails and more apple Smirnoffs than I care to admit. Barmen dropping corny jokes and puns, like they were at risk of becoming critically endangered and shots being poured into drinks with reckless abandon. There was games of beer pong being played, with an almost Olympian determination and boundless flirting (none of which was subtle). Seeing so many people have a good time was enough to keep anybody in high spirits, even when a blackout cloaked the island in an ebony choke-hold. It is also needless to say that our nights of drinking saw us wrecked. Pizza turned out to be one of the best cures for preventing an early morning hangover, that and ibuprofen with as much water as is possible to consume.

 It’s always a shame when you reach a destination that you can’t get enough of. It all felt too short lived. So we shared our final island breakfast of scrambled eggs on toast, with a rather suspect looking tomato ketchup and ginger stray we named Ginjeesha. I had the delicate little feline right in the palm of me hand, she was mine! Until the woman next to us was served her breakfast first and the easy going minx trotted off to beg for scraps…

 After making sure we had our essentials we did our mandatory wait at the beach, the boat arrived, we got on and Gili T disappeared from view.

 From there the rest of our time together unfolded far too quickly. We headed back to Kuta ready for Annie’s departure the next day, spending the evening winding down and then enjoying a meal at the Hard Rock Cafe. Live music, good banter and good food made it a great last night.

 Rolling into the last day, we took a leisurely stroll around Kuta center, where even THERE I couldn’t get away from the carved wooden penises! We shopped and scoffed down the most horrific version of a KFC that has ever dared pass my lips, immediately followed by a McDonalds to make up for what we didn’t eat…I’m still undecided as to how it ranks as better, steer clear I shall! Then made our way back to the hotel to pack up the first of our trio, ready for her to head home.

 Annie was an absolute laugh a minute, friendly, kind and someone I am glad to have had the opportunity to meet. And now, this left just two of us.

 Feeling the obvious void an Aussie body should have been occupying, me and Bellbags carried on with our day. I booked back into the Kayun Downtown Hostel, full to the brim with newly discovered cockroaches. They were blasting the place with some form of mosquito repellent, one that had us believe the place was on fire it was so smokey. After sucking it up and storing our stuff, we got clean and left for our last dinner. We laughed about all that had passed and joked about the many moments that were unapologetically ridiculous. However, our time sitting at the Kopi Pot delightfully scoffing our Lumpia (a kind of southern Asian spring roll), drew to a close and the second of our trio was to make her exit.

 Getting her various belongings together and saying our final farewells I saw Belladonna off and then returned to the Kayun.

 Simply put, she will remain one of the best friends I have and it’s a wrench to have to go my own way, knowing she won’t be there to laugh at my ridiculous behavior. It has been possibly one of the best holiday experiences with two people I’d travel with again in a heartbeat.

Now it is just me, myself and the street vendors trying to ambush me for a massage.

Wish me luck!

#nowthereisnousyoucansitwithme