5 Reasons Why You Should Go Travelling

I'm now writing for gkbc Academy which is a volunteer blog. You are assigned a subject and write a piece for a company or website, adhering to the word count and and including the chosen keywords. Your work is edited and critiqued by professionals and then published online. It's pretty good.

I was asked to write two pieces, both of which discuss a certain statement, to check the standard of my writing before acceptance. Here's my first:

5 Reasons You Should Go Travelling

I try to convince everyone I meet to go travelling; shop assistants, hairdressers, random people I've sidled up to in the pub after one too many ciders. And, I really believe it.

Granted travelling, especially backpacking, is not for everyone. But if you've ever though about it but doubted you could, then I will try to convince you. Here are five of the many reasons I could list why you should go travelling:



Semana Santa in Antigua, Guatemala

1)   It helps you grow

 Yes, we've all heard it, the Gap Yah staple: "I really found myself at sunrise on a beach in Thailand." Pretentiousness aside, this is really what happens. Travelling changes you, it makes you more accepting of other people, opens your eyes to new cultures and teaches you to appreciate what you have. As twee as that sounds, it's difficult to feel hard done by when you see how some other people live.

2)   If you don't, you will always regret it

That's always a thing that people says, "I really wish I had travelled in my youth", but you never (well, hardly ever) hear anyone say, "Wow, I really wish I hadn't travelled so much and got myself a proper job earlier." Don't let not travelling be something which will hang over you. On my travels I've met fellow backpackers of all different ages, straight from school right up to those who have just retired and are getting out there. It's never too late.

Awesome sloth in the cloud forests of Panama

3)   It's easy

When I talk to people about travelling, they often says, "That sounds amazing, I wish I could do that." Well, you know what? You can. There isn't some secret handshake which you have to learn. Anyone can travel. Yes, even you. Save up, book a flight and plan. And once you've booked, you have to commit. It's that easy. Sure, it doesn't seem that way when you're stuck at  abus station where no one speaks English, or trying to sort out a visa at a border in the middle of nowhere. But remember that the hard times will be a funny story in a few months. Which brings me to my next point...

4)  Memories

Sure, my friends roll their eyes when I start an anecdote with; "This one time, in...." But, it's hard not to. Whilst travelling I've experienced things which I will remember forever, like sitting on a Mayan temple in the jungle watching the sunrise, or celebrating my 27th birthday at a snake feast in Hanoi. I'll have plenty of things to tell the Grandkids about.


An orphanage in Cambodia

5)   The people you meet along the way

Be it the locals or fellow backpackers, those you meet along the way colour your travels in a way which you will never expect or forget. Some you will know fleetingly, others you'll stay in contact with for years to come, but when you think back to a place you've travelled, the people who were with you are synonymous with your memory of that place. It is them who make up your experience.



St. Augustine once said, "The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page." And if that doesn't convince or inspire you, I don't know what will. So, of you're thinking about it, ever considered it or entertained the thought for just a moment, my advice is to just do it. You won't regret it.

Trekking in Chiang Mai - Thailand

NYE 2008 - Rhythm and Vines Fesitval, Gisborne, New Zealand



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Tubing and Touristyness.

"Don't worry, the helmets are one size fits all," they said  "I've never met anyone they didn't fit."
Chris and I look at each other, knowing full well that they have clearly under appreciated the Ashdown Cranium Gigantis.
"Well, you're about to see something really special then," we think. But alas, they did fit - albeit on the absolute maximum size. Orange helmets on, we were ready to go.

After hauling my hungover ass out of bed at 8:00am that morning, and inadvertently becoming an emergency alarm clock for an oversleeping Chris, we had hammered it to Goytre for our day of tubing.

After a haphazard introduction, safety briefing and typo-laden disclaimer, we were invited to own up to any recent surgeries or injuries.

*2 second pause*

"No one? Ok, let's go."

After laughing at Chris trying to jam himself into a somewhat inaccurately chosen size M wetsuit, we jumped into the car and drove convoy for a whole 20 minutes to Dinas Rock. We lost the end few cars on the way there due to a particularly and ill-advised slow acceleration through some traffic lights, but they were eventually rounded up.

Buoyancy aids were donned and rings were selected, we began the walk to the entry point, see below:

It turned out to be an awesome day; sunny, dry and such a laugh. See photos below:

Chris getting jammed on a rock.

Us at the end.

Here's a link to the company, Liquid Friction.


It made me think of the last time I went tubing, which was in Guatemala, an experience that I referred to in an earlier post.

Basically, we had just complete the bikini-clad, candle-holding, bat-brimming caving trip and were floating down the river to La Puente, the bridge.

It is the time that I felt the most touristy.

Ever.

So, they we were floating along really, really slowly, there's people on the bridges watching us gleaming western-white in the afternoon sun. We float a little longer (by the end it felt like we'd been floating for hours) and turn a corner. There is a few families of indigenous people watching on the river bank, washing their clothes. The men sit back and keep an eye on the children whilst the women scrub the clothes, little babies strapped to their backs.

They look up to see us pass, clothes in hand. We float by, excruciatingly slowly, the contrast was stark.

At that point, I felt like a big, arrogant and ignorant tourist, probably spending more in a day than they earn in weeks through farming or selling homemade chocolate to tourists. I may as well have been smoking a giant cigar, wearing a golden crown and waving a Union Jack sewn out of bank notes.

They resumed their washing, it was humiliating floating there in ultimate leisure over exposed in my bikini whilst they went about their daily chores, covered up in traditional dress. Us, on a Brucey conveyor belt of Queen, Country, Capitalism and Empire. I was embarrassed.

The current seemed to dwindle almost to a complete stop and the children climbed out along the rocks to us.

"¿Cómo se llama usted?" they giggle, the people in this region speak Spanish and Mayan dialects.
"Jodie," I reply. They giggle again.
"Jooodddiieeee," they repeat in a comically British accent.
We look at each other for a minute or so, laughing and trying to communicate through my rubbish Spanish.
"Adios!" I say, as we begin to drift away.
"Adios!" they chant.
I wave as I watch them disappear around the corner.

And that was it, the moment of sobriety from the cocktail called Wanderlust.

It really put things in perspective.

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