One Year On...

It is just over a year ago that I set off for my travelling around the world. It was a trip that I had thought about doing for a number of years. It was a trip I wanted to do before I went to University but I thought if I went travelling for a year then I wouldn't end up going to University. The plan then was to finish my undergraduate degree and then set off for the trip after graduating. That was until I saw a Masters course that I really liked the look of and I decided to continue my education until I had got through the Masters and THEN I would go on my trip. As the Masters' Graduation was in January I decided to wait until the following summer before setting off. The main reason for this was because the plan for the journey was to spend as little time on a plane as possible and to travel from European country to European Country and then once close enough I would head into Asia and continue my travelling through there with the ultimate destination being Australia by November. Once there I would spend a couple of months travelling about Australia and then head to New Zealand in the new year before setting off for home via Japan and finally the Americas. The original timeframe for the trip was about a year or until the money ran out and I had to set off for home. That was the plan and on the 10th June 2014 I set off on a journey that I knew, for one reason or another, would change my life. 

As I didn't want to spend much time on a plane I got the 3o'clock train down to London where I transferred to the Eurostar for the 5:15 crossing to Brussels before changing to a local Belgium train that took me to Bruges. I had chosen Bruges as my first destination because I really enjoy the film In Bruges so I thought "where better to start?". I eventually arrived in Bruges at about 9pm and was looking for the local bus route that would take me to my hostel. I looked up at the big electronic screen but couldn't see the bus I needed. I managed to find a paper timetable which stated the final departure time for the bus I needed was 8pm. Not the best of starts to the journey. Or was it? Because also looking at the timetable was a girl who also had a big backpack and a perplexed look on her face. I asked her if she knew if there was another way to get to the hostel I was going to and she stated she was also looking for the very same place and had done the same thing as me. As there was now two of us trying to get to the hostel we decided to get a taxi. We were waiting for about ten minutes before a taxi arrived and when it did, we and a Greco-American couple were almost fighting over who had been waiting longer for it. The taxi driver asked where we were all going and offered to take us all as they were all on the way. The girl, Sarah as I would find out, and I climbed into the very back of the car, the couple sat in the middle and off we went. It only took about 15 minutes before we were dropping off the other couple and a further 5 minutes down the road we were at our hostel. Sarah and I spent most of our time in Bruges together until it was time for me to leave 3 days later. I had had my first experience of travelling: I had spent hours travelling between countries, missed the last bus, made a friend, nearly got into a fight over a taxi and before I knew it I was now saying goodbye to the friend I had made. I am a strong believer in everything happening for a reason and my first experience of travelling was no exception. Had I not decided to get the train into London I did, in order to get the Eurostar to arrive into Bruges for 9 o'clock, I never would have missed the last bus and met Sarah, someone who I am still in regular email contact with now. My first friend travelling has turned into my longest lasting friend from travelling. 

From Bruges I headed North into Rotterdam, again chosen for no reason other than I like the song by The Beautiful South, and successfully made my first real travelling transition. In Rotterdam I met some girls from Hong Kong whom I would stay in contact with, AJ in particular, for the rest of the trip including my subsequent journey into Hong Kong, although that was not for a few months. Rotterdam led me into Germany before Poland, Czech Republic, Hungary, Austria and Italy saw my presence on their land. By the time I got to Italy I was more than ready to slow down for a week or two because my journey had only lasted about a month and I had already visited 11 cities, 7 countries and spent no more about three days in each place. This is what I thought travelling was all about, seeing new places and jumping from one place to the next, barely stopping to pick up your hat on the way out. Don't get me wrong, it is a great way to travel but you really have to be both mentally and physically ready and fit enough for the draining experience it turns out to be. No sooner have you arrived in a new place, just about found your bearings, got to know some of the surroundings and some of the people, you are moving to the next place to start it all over again. Each new place I arrived in felt like the start of a new week because you cling to whatever routine you can find when you have nothing to anchor on to. In my head I had been travelling for about three months and everything was flying by. In reality it had only been just over three weeks and the days were starting to drag. One of the reasons for this was because each new place, although the actual layout of the map was different, the history and the culture of each place was surprisingly familiar. Travelling about some of the major cities in Europe and you soon find they all have one very similar feature; World War Two. Most of them had an 'Old Town' that was rich in history, some were recreated as they had been before being bombed in the War and some managed to avoid a lot of the damage. In some cases a 'New Town' was built on the same spot where the 'Old Town' had been as a modern day equivalent to pay respect to what had been before but also to show their horrific experiences as a result of the 1939-1945 conflict. The nail in my European coffin was found in Vienna. Here was a city stooped in history and culture and grandeur and I was walking around it bored. Completely and utterly bored, there was nothing new, nothing really exciting with the exception of the Schönbrunn Palace and its garden set high atop a very large hill. The view from the top was something special but there are only so many times you can climb to the top and look out over the landscape. I was only in Vienna for a couple of days and for me, that was a couple of days too long so I knew I had to change my plan slightly. As part of the original plan I was due to leave Vienna and travel west to Salzburg before travelling North back into Germany, Munich in particular, in time for the final of the football World Cup. I just couldn't face it, I couldn't face going back to a mainstream, mainland European City that would possibly be exactly the same as all of the other mainland cities I had been to. I needed a break, I need to see something different, I needed the sea, I needed the beach! 

Instead of returning North to Germany and risk getting caught up in mainland Europe again I set my compass to South and headed for Italy. This of course would only come after I had travelled to Salzburg and Innsbruck as they were already booked and were sort of on the way. Salzburg actually became a little saviour in itself because for the first time since I left I was surrounded by mountains and hills and more greenery than I felt I had seen in years. It was a relaxing place with fresh air and not a single mention of the War my entire time there. Innsbruck was similarly freeing as the hostel was built at the foot of a mountain and you were never more than a short walking distance away from sheer tranquility. Incidentally while in Innsbruck I also went to a traditional Austrian Dance show which had thigh slapping, yodelling and Dirndls a plenty. Naturally accompanied by a schnitzel supper and a beer. After my little stop in Innsbruck I finally made my way South towards Italy and Venice to begin with. I was treating Venice as a little stop over on the way to my week by the beach. I spent a couple of days there and already I was starting to notice the atmosphere of the trip starting to change. From Venice I went to Rimini and spent a whole 5 days by the beach in one place. I was able to make friends for longer than a day and I really got to know the surrounding area quite well although the main reason I went was to be by the sea, not worrying about moving and being able to focus on relaxing. That's exactly what I did, I went to the beach, I went for a couple of bike rides, I went to a couple of clubs, one of which was an outdoor club, something I never even dreamed possible given the inclement nature of England's weather seemingly all year round and all in all I did very little. It was great. I continued my slightly relaxed style of travelling as I went to Rome where I stayed for 7 days. Far and away the longest time I had committed to one specific place and I was rewarded for this decision. I stayed in a little place just outside of Rome called Zagarolo at the Wiki Hostel & Green Village. This particular hostel was possibly one of the best of the trip because it had everything I could have wanted, it was close enough to Rome that getting in and out wasn't a problem, it was quiet when I wanted it to be but sociable when that was the plan. There was a farmer's market near by that did the best gelato I have ever tasted and at no point during my stay there did I wonder about what I was going to do. For the first time on the trip it didn't matter if I went out exploring or if I stayed at the hostel and read my book all day by the pool. These are just some of the reasons that after I had been to Naples for a few days; where, incidentally, I had the best Pizza in the world, managed to help create a potentially massive conspiracy theory and danced maniacally with a taxi driver on the way up a volcano, all of which are probably stories for another day; I returned to Rome and more specifically to the Wiki Hostel & Green Village.

Another four nights passed before my time in Italy was over and the time had come for me to finally board a plane. It was a fairly short flight from Rome to Athens where I had a stopover in the airport. I landed in Athens International "Eleftherios Venizelos" Airport at about 2 in the afternoon and my onward flight to Kefalonia was at about 5 the following morning. Due to the flight being so early, I had looked at the different options of getting a hostel or hotel nearby for the night but in the end I decided that it would be too much hassle trying to get to and from in time for my flight. So for the first time on the trip I didn't have a proper bed for the night, I also didn't have most of my belongings as they were in transit waiting to be transferred to my second flight. As it was the middle of the afternoon and I didn't have a big heavy bag with me I should have taken the initiative and gone exploring around Athens for the afternoon but I just didn't fancy it, I didn't really know where to go, I had no one to go with and from what I had heard, Athens as a city wasn't very enjoyable to look at. So I stayed and stayed and stayed. I think my waiting time was about 15 hours in the end which on your own in an airport seems to double if not treble in time. Athens, as an airport, is probably one of the better airports to find yourself stuck in because there is a mini museum and there are educational videos about Eleftherios K. Venizelos, the Greek politician the airport was named after. Venizelos, as a matter of fact, is an extremely interesting character and one I would highly recommend researching into if you enjoy political history. The airport is also home to a great deal of shops and food outlets, some of which produce some very fine food, it also has televisions situated at various points that were playing sport and in particular football from the English Premier League. I definitely found that when faced with nothing else to do, even the most mind-numbing activity can become enjoyable. As time manages to do, it ticked around to the time of my second flight and I boarded the smallest plane I've ever been on and made the short jump to Kefalonia.

Kefalonia wasn't necessarily part of the original plan, it is one of the Greek Islands, which were part of the plan, but spending three weeks sat by a pool next to the sea definitely wasn't. The reason for this diversion to the plan was because my friend Sally was flying over to Kefalonia to meet me so we could have a proper little holiday together and we had a fantastic time. We went to the pool pretty much every day at the same time, we became regulars at the Pool Bar, even acquiring nicknames from the bar staff, we ate out every night and we even managed to go on a couple of day trips, when we got on the boat on time of course. The hotel we stayed at was a little family run place and if one of the owners saw us, we found it very difficult to turn down their offer of "Wan' coff'?" or "Glass wine?". The three weeks by the pool with Sally was a great way to recharge the batteries, I read more books in those three weeks than I think I have in about five years, we played bat and ball in the pool until the bats literally disintegrated in our hands and we lay in the sun allowing the UV rays to penetrate our usually pasty white English skin. On our final night in Kefalonia we went to our favourite bar and we were chatting to the staff who asked us where we were headed next. Sally said she was returning home but I explained I was continuing my travelling and was heading to Crete next, more specifically Rethymno. No sooner had the word Rethymno come out, were the staff talking very excitedly to each other in Greek. It was at this point they explained that the sister of the two of the workers, works in a small cafe in Rethymno. They asked if I would deliver a postcard to their sister, to which I replied that I would give it my best shot. They filled out a postcard, I took it and the next day I set off to continue my journey while Sally went in search of the airport for her flight back to England. 

I made my way to the port to catch the ferry that would take me to mainland Greece before getting on a bus to continue the journey to Athens. It was a stiff welcome back to being on the road again because once I made it to Athens I had to make my way across the city to Piraeus. I needed to be in Piraeus as I was getting the over night ferry down to Crete which would be my home for the next week. The ferry there was bearable, I found stuff to do, ate some debatable overpriced food before finally finding a small corner where, using my towel as a cushion, I could try to get some sleep. Once in Crete I boarded the coach to Rethymno and finally made it to my hostel. I was definitely greeted with hostel life once again, but in a good way. On my first night there somebody suggested going to see the sunset at the old abandoned battlements, I agreed to go, as did the person next to me and the person next to them. Before we knew what was happening there was about 15 people all making their way to the battlements and it was possibly one of the greatest sunsets I have ever seen. Naturally the group of 15 didn't stay together, we branched off into a couple of smaller groups but there was still a good number of us who went to find some dinner. We searched for a good hour or two trying to find somewhere everyone liked and somewhere that could fit us all in before we went back to the first place we found and ate there. After we ate we went down to the beach where for some reason there was a chair just sitting in the middle of the sand. I sat on the chair and before I knew what was happening the others were all sat around me in a semi circle, as if waiting for me to tell them a story, so I did. Then we played some classic children's party games such as Duck Duck Goose and when we returned to the hostel, Wink Murder. The next day a group of us rented a car and visited Balos beach, a destination I was the designated driver for and a trip that had its own fair share of drama attached to it. The rest of the week was fairly event free apart from handing the postcard to its recipient, throwing a ice cold bucket of water over my head and taking part in an impromptu sing-a-long session at the hostel. My overnight ferry ride back to Piraeus wasn't quite as good as the first journey as I was hit with my first real illness of the trip. It was a very long night! Once back in Athens I made my way to the airport and flew over to Cyprus where I met my parents who were heading out there for a summer holiday, although only my dad knew I was going to be there. 

I surprised my mum to great effect at Cyprus airport the day after I arrived and I then spent the next 10 days living the life of luxury with them in their hotel suite. It is safe to say that not all travelling has to be a struggle. After spending most of my time, once again, sat by the pool reading books, I said my goodbyes to my parents, easier said than done, and made my way back to Athens airport. This time for the longest of my three visits to the place and once again I would remain awake for the entire duration of my time in the airport. The time finally ticked round for me to catch my flight and I flew from Athens to Abu Dhabi, Abu Dhabi to Delhi and then Delhi to Hong Kong and by the time I arrived, two and a half days had passed since I left my parents. In Hong Kong I met my cousin and embarked upon a stop that would define a lot of my trip. I loved it in Hong Kong, the people were so nice, the scenery was stunning, the food was good quality and extremely good value and the nights out were very enjoyable, if you could afford to fund the drinks bill come the end of the evening. I spent two weeks wondering about the fabulous place before I decided to go North of the border into China for a week and a half...biggest mistake of the trip. Well that might be a bit of an overstatement because some of the stuff there was very enjoyable and the scenery was out of this world but I can confirm that I won't be returning anytime soon. I was only in the country for a week and a half but it was definitely a week and a half too long for my liking but by the end of my time there I returned to Hong Kong for another week or so. During my whole time in Hong Kong I was made to feel very hospitable and a lot of this is thanks to my cousin Dom and his flatmates for looking after me but also thanks to AJ who I met in the first week of my trip in Rotterdam. It is thanks to her that I got to visit Lamma Island, a secluded little spot far away from the hustle and bustle of modern life, I got to busk on the street dressed as Charlie Chaplain, I got to be involved with one of the most life changing events in Hong Kong's history as they protested against the Chinese government and I was able to feel like Hong Kong was home and it was just what I needed to happen.

After I finished in Hong Kong it was time for the last stop on my trip; Australia. Little did I know that not only was Australia about to be my longest stop of the trip but it was also going to be a stop that would change my life, forever, but in a very good way. My first destination in Australia was Perth and it was here that I was reunited with one of my childhood friends and neighbours, Charlie. She has been in Australia over 5 years now and has found herself a husband in Jon and has produced the most gorgeous little girl, Lilly. I was originally intending stay with them in Perth for a couple of weeks, 17th October to just after Halloween when I would head off to continue my adventure. Things changed slightly as I stayed on with Jon, Charlie and Lilly for a bit longer as we were all getting on so well and I had no inclination to leave. I was in a settled little family atmosphere and I was genuinely enjoying myself with them and re-affirmed a friendship that distance tried to silence slightly. I also forged a new friendship with Jon and he led me to one of the best hardware stores in the world and my reasons for thinking that will become clear soon. This store has everything, stuff for the garden, stuff for the house, stuff for renovation on both professional and amateur levels and best of all they serve breakfast twice a week for absolutely nothing. It was during one of the many trips to this store and one of the many breakfasts I ended up having that I got chatting to a very special person. She is one of the genuine hearted people I have ever met and she managed to win my heart quicker than even I realised. When she chatted to me, or tried to chat to me because I went extremely quiet and nervous, I thought she was doing it because she had to chat to the customers to keep them happy. Little was I to know that it wasn't just for that reason. I shall be coming back to this little story in a minute because first I needed to continue my travel around the rest of Australia.

Heading to Adelaide first, I met a new breed of hostellers, people I ended up referring to as 'lifers' those who were over in Australia in order to work and live and stay for longer than just a couple of weeks. These people all knew each other, all ate together, worked together, partied together and did everything together. It was for this reason I found it difficult to join in with them, they were always very welcoming and would accept you if you made the effort but the sheer size of the groups was enough to put even the most outgoing person off. Within about a day and a half of arriving in Adelaide I knew where I really wanted to be and that was back in Perth, I enjoyed the lifestyle I had too much to want to be away from it for too long. So at that point I worked out the remaining time of my trip. I planned to head to Melbourne and then Sydney before returning to Perth and finally making my way to Brisbane where I already had my flight home booked. So, as planned I headed to Melbourne and I encountered what is possibly my favourite city in the world. Before arriving, everyone said to me that I would enjoy Melbourne but nobody could tell me why, it was only when I experienced it for myself that I fully understood. There is something for everyone to do, there is a great sports venues, great theatre and artistic places, shopping districts, rooftop bars, you name it and I can almost guarantee you will be able to do it in Melbourne. I also went on a day trip along the Great Ocean Road where I met a number of very nice people including a Mother and Daughter combination who were far more accommodating to me than I thought possible. Julie and Sarah kept me company on the trip and kept me laughing all day and by the end of it I had made two very good friends. From Melbourne I travelled to Sydney for another brilliant stay in a wonderful city. Sydney held possibly my favourite spot; looking out over the the Opera House and the Harbour Bridge I sat on a bench near Mrs Macquarie's point and had the freedom to write to my heart's content and that is what I did most days.

As per my new plan I headed back to Perth where I was supposed to stay for a couple of weeks before heading to Brisbane to be reunited with Julie and Sarah who offered to be my hosts for the final week of my trip. Once back in Perth, however, things changed slightly as Jon needed my help and so I did what anybody would do and I stayed on for an extra week doing anything and everything possible to help my new friend out. This did mean I wasn't able to see Brisbane for as long but I still had an enjoyable and most welcome time once I eventually made it across the country. I was really made to feel like one of the family once I entered the home of the Gilfoyles and for that I am extremely grateful and very proud. Although I must say this, before I left Perth I managed to get in contact with the girl who served the breakfast at the hardware store during my last stay in the city. Things progressed from a one sided conversation over the breakfast fryer to an actual face to face conversation. Although it has to be said that what we talked about wouldn't make it into the record books as being that momentous. I was still firmly under the assumption she was talking to me out of politeness and a duty to work. I thought things might change when she was invited to spend some time with Jon, Charlie, Lilly and I outside of work for a bit but this thought was firmly squashed when after about twenty minutes she had to leave. I said that I might be back in Perth again the following year and we agreed to stay in contact but after travelling for over 6 months I knew that was the plan with everyone but eventually, with most people, the contact ends. So I set off for my final destination of Brisbane and had an excellent couple of days that gave me a lot of opportunity to reflect on my trip as a whole and it left me smiling.

From Brisbane I headed home, I left Brisbane International Airport at 00:50 in the morning on Christmas Eve. My planned route took me to Hong Kong for a brief stop over before I boarded my final flight for home at 9:40 local time in Hong Kong. I couldn't really describe my emotions, I was relieved I was heading home but there was also a sadness that my trip was finally at an end. I remember landing at Hong Kong and there was a door open on the gangway back to the terminal and I felt a crisp coldness that told me I was back in the Northern Hemisphere for a cold Christmas. I wasn't waiting at the airport for long and soon I was on my final flight knowing that the next time I left the plane I would be back in England again. Sure enough the plane landed safely and at about 14:15 on Christmas Eve I was collecting my bag at London Heathrow. From there it was just a matter of getting the train home which I did with the help of Reuban Cadman who gave me a car ride home from the station. I can't remember what the first thing I did when I got home was but I remember it being dark. My family were out singing at the local church carol concert, just as I had planned they would be. Very few people knew about my return and even fewer people in my family knew. First my Nan arrived back and then my Dad and both were suitably shocked, surprised and delighted to see me. It was a fantastic feeling. That night I slept in my own bed for the first time in six months and it felt so good! The next morning I helped Mum to get things set up and ready for Christmas lunch before it was time for more surprises as my Grandad came over and then the person I was wanting to surprise more than anyone; my sister. It is fair to say Suze loves Christmas more than any other holiday and she hates to spend it apart so I knew the one thing I wanted to get her for Christmas was a massive surprise. Sure enough she came into the kitchen as I was hidden around the corner and to say she was lost for words was an understatement. It was the perfect way to end what had been a fairly perfect trip.

If I thought the final 6 months of 2014 would be life changing I had absolutely no idea that the first 6 months of 2015 would dwarf the changes in comparision. One of the reasons for this is because of one of the people I met on the trip; Kirsten Mofflin. Kirst was the girl who had served me breakfast whilst I was in Perth and the girl I was too nervous to properly talk to. The only thing we really managed to do was exchange Facebook information. From the day we were able to communicate electronically, that is exactly what we did, everyday, as much as the time difference would allow. We had and still do have a connection that I can't fully explain and it is one that led her to make the decision to fly over to England so that we could experience the connection in person, rather than just through the internet. She flew over to England at the start of February and by the end of the February we found out that the connection was going to be everlasting one. Kirst was pregnant!

After we found out the joyous news Kirst made arrangements to head back to Australia to get things ready for the birth and I decided to stay on in England to earn as much money as possible...a decision that is great on paper but extremely difficult when put into action. Having said that though, we have got through it, there is just over a month before I fly out to Perth to meet up with Kirst and Little Baby T, who is going to be a girl, and we are going to set up our own little family together. It has been a whirlwind few months and I've seen more than a few eyebrows raised when they hear about the circumstances but I have no fears that we will be perfectly happy together and everything will work out just as we want it to. I am a strong believer that some things are just meant to be and that everything happens for a reason. I may not always be able to explain the reasons but I do know that you might as well just live in the moment, look to the future and enjoy the ride.

Spitting, Screeching and Sleeping Taxi Drivers!

I think it's safe to say that China and I didn't really see eye to eye on my brief trip into the country. I may just have been unlucky or it might have been the fact that I managed to visit during one of the biggest National holidays but either way I didn't exactly have the the best time.

Everything seemed to be a challenge from the fairly simple task of getting money out of a cash machine to ordering  food, everything seemed to be that much harder. It is the first time on my trip where the general population hasn't had even the briefest grasp of English, which is fine because they have a very complex language of their own to master, but the thing that annoyed me was the rudeness and general disdain thrown in my direction for even considering to speak in English. More often than not they would yell a reply in Chinese before walking off leaving me completely none the wiser about what I needed to do. If this had been the worst experience I think I would have coped OK but this was just the start. 

Spitting is not something that usually bothers me, I'm not a fan of it when somebody does it in public but it doesn't disgust me. At least that's what I thought but apparently when everybody around you is doing it; in the street, in a restaurant, on the bus; you develop, I certainly did, a general hatred for the action. 

As well as the spitting I got the feeling that I wasn't welcome in the country. My first experience of this came when trying to hail a taxi down. One of the people in the group flagged one down, it started to pull over before driving off without stopping. When the first one did this I thought it was odd, after about the tenth taxi did this I got the feeling my group and I were not getting a taxi back! Luckily one of the guys with us could read Chinese and we managed to jump on a bus that took us close enough to the hostel to be able to walk back. Next situation happened whilst walking around the West Lake in Hangzhou, a fantastic place in case you're looking for somewhere to go. Anyway, walking around the lake and I decide to sit on the edge of the lake and just let the world go by. I choose a spot in amongst all of the locals doing exactly the same thing and no sooner had I sat down, that I was being motioned to move by the park security. I tried to ask why but the question was ignored and I had to walk past all of the other people sat on the edge of the lake trying to work out why I was told to move and they weren't. 

Next up and I was once again not understanding the concept of something but this, I think, is a cultural difference. I was in another park, this time in Yangshuo and I was trying to find a nice quiet spot to sit and do some writing. This is apparently easier said than done when at various points in the park, microphones and amps have been set up. For some reason and I'm not sure why but the popular thing to do with this equipment was for groups of 4-5 women to crowd around the microphone and literally screech into it. They all had a book open in front of them with, I'm guessing, lyrics for songs written on but all I could hear was fairly out of tune and out of time screeching. I think that is the only word that will do the noise any justice, at times it sounded similar to fingers nails being dragged down a chalk board. 

Despite the noise I managed to find somewhere to sit down and I started to write in my journal. It wasn't long before his activity was drawing attention of its own. A young lad was walking past and when he saw me said 'hello', I replied by saying 'hi' and then he walked over to investigate what I was doing. Now this sort of situation is the other half of my experience in China. When I wasn't being made to feel like scum of the earth I had almost celebrity status as people wanted to talk to me or take my picture. On one occasion a mother even asked if she could take a picture of me with her 8 year old daughter! Anyway back to the park where the young Chinese guy is making his way over to me. He seemed intrigued by the fact that I was writing in English and asked to read some of it. I accepted because I know my handwriting is that bad that even completely fluent speakers and readers struggle to read it. He tried to read a bit of it before giving up and proceeding to ask me 20 questions to learn more about me and my life. By the end of the conversation he said he wanted to keep in contact but his main concern was that if he sends me an email I won't know it is from him. I try to explain that I don't get many, if any, emails from Chinese people so I'm fairly sure I'll know it's him. He still wasn't convinced and after thinking for a couple of seconds he yelled out the word 'PETER'. I looked at him in shock and he asked if I have any contacts named Peter? I said I didn't think so, so he explained that when he emails me he will write within the email it is 'Peter' and then I will know it is him. I accepted this and sure enough I have received a message to that effect. It made me chuckle at his reasoning that I would know more Chinese people than people called Peter but he was a nice enough guy and one of the better locals I met during my time there. 

I think that pretty much wraps up the main experiences I had in China, well apart from the interesting airport shuttle service I received. I landed in Guilin airport quite late one night and the hostel I was going to had organised a shuttle service to pick me up and ferry me to them. This seemed perfect to me, all I had to do was find the guy with my name on his sign. I did that with and got into the backseat of the car and relaxed thinking I had nothing to worry about. I didn't have anything to worry about until I noticed the car kept randomly slowing down and drifting between the lanes. I think, this is a bit odd, it's almost as if the taxi driver has fallen asleep. To my slight horror, this assumption is correct, I look over at the driver, his eyes are shut and we're slowly drifting into another lane. He wakes himself up after a couple of seconds and continues on his way. The longest he was asleep was when we almost came to a complete stop on the highway and then he tried and somehow succeeded to start the car in fourth gear. I wasn't sure of what to do, I knew he didn't speak much English and I thought if I tried to engage him in conversation in a language he doesn't understand it would make the situation worse. Instead I just made sure my seat belt was as tight as it could go and was thankful it was quiet on the roads and he liked the middle lane so we had room to drift. Somehow we got to my hostel safely and I was very relieved to have been able to walk away from the car unscathed! 

So as I said at the start, China and I didn't exactly see eye to eye but my week and a half in the country has definitely left a solid impression on me. I can say it was an experience I will remember for a while, one that I probably won't be looking to repeat for a very long time.

Five star living isn't all it's cracked up to be

There is a very important lesson I've learnt whilst travelling and that is it doesn't matter what the accommodation is like, they all have advantages and disadvantages and that includes staying in a five star luxury suite in Cyprus. For one week I was very privileged to have been able to stay in such a place after I surprised my Mum at the airport. Before I met my parents my Mum thought I was in India but unbeknownst to her, my Dad and I had created a slight detour to enable the surprise to take place. I arrived in Cyprus the day before their flight landed and booked into a small family run hotel in the middle of Paphos which was very similar to a lot of the hostels I'd stayed in, it even had a usable kitchen which for a hotel is a bonus. I stayed overnight and the next day made my way to the airport. Due to the timings of the buses running to the airport I could either get one that arrived just at the time their flight landed or one that would get me in an hour early. I opted for the early bus and its a good job I did because halfway to the airport the driver pulls the bus over, tells us that he will be half a minute before opening the door and running off the bus. About two minutes later he runs back onto the bus and continues driving, the only reason I can think he needed to exit the bus was because he needed credit for his mobile phone as he spent the rest of the journey with his handset glued to his ear - there are just some phone calls that can't wait! Anyway I arrive at the airport and make my way to the arrivals area, look up at the screen with the flight details on and find out that my parents flight is delayed by an hour so I now have a two hour wait in an airport. Although waiting in European airports is something I have become a pro at after spending nearly 36 hours camped in Athens airport over three visits. I didn't mind the wait, it gave me a chance to get changed out of the clothes I'd travelled to the airport in and I had my book to read and other things to do. Eventually the time ticked by and it came to the big surprise. There I was, sign in hand that read 'Thurmott Tours', camera propped up just above and most importantly I stood in the best place to see the full reaction. I saw my parents come through into the arrivals area, caught my Dad's eye and waited for my Mum to notice me which didn't take long and the surprise was well worth it, the look on my Mum's face was priceless and the fantastic feeling of seeing them both again was brilliant. Once the shock had died off, Dad and I explained everything and the three of us made our way to their accommodation for their holiday. They were staying in a five star luxury suites hotel on the beach, something that was as new to them as is was to me.

On arrival at the hotel we were greeted by the porter and ushered into the VIP lounge where we were given a glass of champagne while we waited for the them to check us in. It was whilst sipping the champagne that we decided to ask to if I could be added into their suite as they were told they had a separate living area with a sofa bed. After much deliberation and negotiation the hotel agreed which meant I was being upgraded from a one star family fun hotel to a five star mega conglomerate suites hotel. And some people try to say that this travelling lark is tough! Having said that, I am well aware I am very lucky to have found myself in such a position although it gave me a chance to see how the 'other half' live. Each morning there was a buffet breakfast served until 11:00 and you can have almost anything you could think of, there was fruit juices as far as the eye could see, numerous varieties of water, champagne (white and pink) and then you came to the foods. Basically if you wanted it, it would be there. Every morning we would be shown to a table and every morning there would be a napkin on the table, for some reason this was always picked up by the staff and draped across our laps. This, I'm sure, is a measure to make you feel welcome but with a buffet and needing to stand up within seconds of sitting down became an annoyance more than a help. Then once we had collected our food from the buffet area we would make our way to the table again and more often than not, my Mum would get to the door that led outside and her plate would be taken away from her and then carried to the table by a man who looked surprisingly similar to Christopher Walken. Again this is a sign of respect but considering my Mum had already carried it successfully for twenty metres, I'd have thought she could have managed the final five to the table. This type of staff help or interference as I started to feel like it was, continued for the rest of the time and I'm sure it's how all the guests are treated. 'The guest must not do anything' which is fine and a welcome break but when a waiter is literally wrestling a bottle of wine out of your hands, things are getting a bit silly. Sometimes it is nice to be able to do your own thing and I actually felt a bit more restricted in what I could do staying in the five star hotel than in most of my hostels. Staying in a hostel is great because you have freedom, you have a key, a bed, a common room and more often than not a kitchen and a locker. The rest is almost literally up to you, staying in a five star hotel, you have a big luxurious private room but that's about as much freedom as you're allowed. After that you're ushered to sunbeds which have already been saved for you, questioned all day if you would like something to eat or drink and basically cared for as if you're incapable of moving. This may sound like I'm being ungrateful for the opportunity to stay in such a fancy place, I'm not, it was a fantastic experience and one that everyone should be afforded. Having said that I think if you want to pour your own water at the table whilst having dinner then you should be allowed that opportunity...at the very least you should be given the dignity that you'll be able to place a napkin on your lap without throwing it on the floor!

Why not rent a car for the day...what's the worst that could happen....

I was in Crete, I had met some really nice people at my hostel, a group of people with a very similar mental attitude as myself. Something I found out fairly quickly after we started playing 'Duck, Duck, Goose' on the beach at midnight before heading back to the hostel to play 'Wink Murder' with a couple of made up stories created by me in between. This was all on the first day I'd met these people, yet another example of how crazy life in a hostel can be but anyway the day after playing children's party games we decided to rent a car. As I was the oldest and seemingly most mature of the group, even though the games were all my idea, I said I would take on the driving responsibility. One of the reasons for this was because I hadn't driven for nearly three months and I'd never driven on the right side of the road before. It would definitely be an experience, one I would surely never forget and I don't think I ever will after the events of the day.

We received our car at about 11:30 and as there was seven of us we were given a people carrier...another first for me as my car at home is a small three door hatchback. I was told by the hire company that I would be covered by the insurance as long as I wasn't driving under the influence of drink, drugs or excessive speed. Fairly sure I could keep to those stipulations we all bundled in and we were on our way. The route to our destination, a beach about two and a half hours away called Balos, was very simple - get on the highway and stay on until you see signs for Balos. Well that's easy enough I thought, we drove to the edge of the little town we were staying in and saw the sign for the highway so we followed that...only to realise I'd taken the road too early and we were going down a road adjacent to the highway. After a quick three point turn I set off back down the road we'd just driven and eventually found the way to the highway. This time we really were on our way. As I said the route was very simple, it was just one long straight road. The journey there was very enjoyable, we had a round of 'The wheels on the bus go round and round' continuing the children's party theme from the night before and a very short rendition of 'Old Macdonald had a farm' before I pulled over to get some fuel. After the fuel stop the conversation turned to a much more serious nature: 'what were we going to name the car?' This sparked a number of different suggestions but in the end we decided to plump for Bessie due to the size and colour of the car. Bessie started off as a big white people carrier but it wasn't long before the dust from the road gave her some nice brown patches, similar to that of a large cow so Bessie was the most apt name. Bessie trundled on towards the destination and after a couple of hours we saw signs for Balos. We followed them and it was only when we started to climb up a mountain that we thought we might not be going the right way to the beach. We pulled over and asked a sightseeing couple to point us in the right direction and they told us we'd passed the turning about a kilometre back. So once again I was required to do a three point turn, this time it was made slightly trickier by the fact it was on a narrow mountain road but I achieved the aim with success...if I hadn't I don't think I'd be writing this now somehow! Anyway we set off in the direction we were redirected, found the turning and made our way towards the beach. En route we went through some very narrow streets that I think I would have struggled to drive down in a smart car let alone a massive bovine styled people carrier. Having said that we got through and made our way to the entrance of the beach. We were required to pay 1 euro each to enter and were then told the car park was a further 7km away. 'That's fine' we thought, 'ten minutes and we'll be there'. Half an hour later and we're still trundling along this road, the reason being it was an unpaved dirt road with large rocks protruding out of the road surface ready and waiting to throw you off track. Eventually we found the beginnings of the car park and while looking for a place to park we were distracted by the sight of a goat sat on the side of the road looking out over the fantastic view off the side of the mountain. When we got closer we realised the goat wasn't sitting, it was in fact squatting, it was literally having a pee with a view, apparently even goats realise that if you have to go to the toilet then you might as well do it in style. Leaving the urinating goat to it's view we found a space for Bessie, the only problem was the necessity to parallel park on the edge of a mountain in a car about as maneuverable as a fat person on an EasyJet flight. I actually managed to park it on the first attempt, I think the thought of certain death if you fail is quite a good motivator! Anyway we parked up and made our way to the beach. We spent a good few hours in one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen although we did make sure we played 'Duck, Duck, Goose' and 'Stuck in the Mud' in the water before we had a little round of the 'Hocky Cokey'. It's a good job the hire car company didn't see this behaviour, they'd have most probably had us sectioned instead of letting us loose in one of their vehicles! By the time it came to leave, we'd had a very enjoyable day and the sun was just starting its fairly rapid descent to the horizon when I got back to the car. I said I'd pick the others up so I got back into Bessie and drove down to the others, they suggested I turn around and seeing a fairly spacious car park I thought it would be easy. It would have been easy as well, my third three point turn of the day, the one least likely to cause an accident...well that would have been the case if the sun wasn't in the most awkward place in the world. It was literally just below the sun visor and my sunglasses were about as useful as a chocolate teapot. I was fairly blinded and not seeing any cars in front of me I guessed it was clear in front. A thought which lasted all of two seconds as I managed to drive right on top of two extremely big rocks, obviously the reason for the lack of cars in front of me. The massive 'bang scrape' was enough to stop me in my tracks and the bumper swinging off as I reversed back suggested that I'd done a bit of damage. On closer inspection we found the bumper hadn't been screwed on at all, it was just pushed and held in place by the wheel arches by the look of it. Seeing this we decided to push the bumper back on as best we could, I managed to successfully turn the car around and we set off down the dirt road again. After about 5 minutes of driving we stopped to inspect the bumper again and it was starting to come off again so we got out to repair it. We'd pretty much just got it back in place when we heard shouts from inside the car...it was rolling down the mountain without anyone at the wheel - the handbrake clearly doing a fantastic job! One of the guys jumped into the driver's seat, yanked the handbrake up as far as he could and the car stopped once again. We went back to continue fixing the bumper and this time we heard a fairly satisfying click when we pushed it into place. It took about an hour to complete the short 7km stretch over the dirt road, routinely checking the bumper was still in place before we made our way back to the highway to drive the two hours back to our hostel. Thankfully the bumper held firm although the guy in the passenger seat did check the bumper every so often...we didn't stop, he just lent far enough out of his window to be able to see. One of the reasons for this was we were up against a time limit to return the car. By the time we arrived back in the town we'd started from we had one last check of the bumper and all seemed fine, the company didn't quibble it either, even if they had I'm fairly sure I would have been covered by the insurance...I wasn't drunk, I definitely hadn't taken any drugs and considering the bump occurred whilst the car was moving at 2mph, I think I qualified for the not excessive speeds part!

Just don't miss the boat....

There's a fairly common expression about the missing the boat to mean a missed opportunity or chance to progress your life in some way. I'm pleased to say that I'm fairly sure I haven't missed any boats in that way...I did however manage to miss a physical boat. It was during my 'mini break' from travelling, by which I mean I spent three weeks sat on a sunbed by a swimming pool with my very good friend from home; Sally. It's not really what people go travelling to do but then what are you supposed to do whilst travelling if you're not enjoying yourself and those three weeks were very enjoyable and relaxing...apart from perhaps the unfortunate luck with the boat.

It was at the end of the second week when we decided to go on a couple of boat trips, one up to the north coast of Kefalonia, the other to visit the island of Ithaca. The trip to Ithaca came first and we needed to catch the boat at 9:15 and we were told to wait at the port, I was given a fairly vague description of where to stand - 'opposite the ferry place' were my instructions. Knowing we had to be at the port for 9:15 we thought we'd get up in plenty of time to get up and out of the door so we didn't miss the boat. With this in mind we got up at about 7:30, considering our earliest wake up to this point had been about 10:00 it was a bit of a shock to the system. Anyway, we got up, got ready and left for the port at 8:15 giving ourselves plenty of time to amble through the quiet streets down to the port. It turns out we had completely misjudged the distance as we made the walk in about 15 minutes and had plenty of time to kill. We went into a small souvenir shop and had a look at the area around the port before we went to sit in a sheltered waiting area. The waiting area was next to the ticket offices for one of the ferry companies so I guessed this was the 'ferry place' from my instructions. We sat and waited for about 45 minutes before we heard the horn of the boat blaring out as it neared our location. I had a look out over the water and saw the boat so made our way to the water's edge which was 'opposite the ferry place'. We stood there and watched as the boat completely by-passed our position and was stopping on the complete opposite side of the port; realizing our mistake we set off walking around the port as the boat got closer and closer to the dock. We thought 'It's that far to walk and they obviously need to allow other passengers on, the boat will wait for us - surely'...surely not was the result. We got to within a stone's throw of the boat, just about to signal it down when it starts to back up, before we can walk another two paces the boat has swung itself around and is motoring off on to its destination of Ithaca. If we'd been late waking up or if we'd got lost on the way to the port it might have been easier to accept but the fact we'd been waiting in the complete wrong place for the best part of an hour definitely left a sour taste in the mouth. This was made worse by the fact that all the way back to our hotel we could see the boat slowly moving through the water, a boat that we could have been on if not for the fairly appalling instructions. When we got back to the hotel I rang up the company and re-booked the trip for another day, this time we knew exactly where to stand.

The new trip day arrived and we knew we could get up slightly later this time and so we did. We walked to the correct part of the port where we were intercepted by a drunk Greek guy - I say he was drunk but I'm not sure that's the right terminology when someone is quite clearly never sober! The reason I knew this was because it was just before nine in the morning, he was fairly well gone and his morning tipple was a bottle of homemade wine. He encouraged us to sit with him and chat while we waited for the boat so there we were sat at a table in the shade while a drunk Greek guy regaled us with stories of his homemade wine...he only stopped talking to say Kalimera (Good Morning in Greek) to a passing car that clearly wasn't beeping at him. Thankfully we heard the boat blow its horn and we hurried to the water's edge eager not to miss it this time. We started walking to the place the boat had stopped on our last attempt and were slightly shocked to find it pulling in to a completely different part of the port. It was at this point when a white haired man came running out of nowhere, literally, yelling 'Follow Me' so we did. The drunk Greek guy was hot on his heels and we weren't far behind...we weren't missing another trip! We boarded the small vessel and were told we could pay on the boat and that one of the staff would find us. The woman who had told us she would find us kept walking past, almost as if she'd forgotten we hadn't paid. Sally and I looked at each other to suggest that we thought we might be getting a free ride...that was until our good old drunk friend pointed us out, what a joy that man was to meet! I shouldn't begrudge paying too much as the trip was very good and we got to see some parts of the island we wouldn't have been able to see otherwise but after all of the confusion with the poor instructions and boat deciding to change its docking point everyday it would have been a sweet end to the day. I know someone who got a very sweet end to the day...our Greek friend, he disembarked and set off in search of his remaining wine reserves, I doubt he remembered much about anything by the time he went to sleep!

The real thieves of Naples...

When I said I was going to Naples, I had a number of warnings about being careful to avoid getting mugged, robbed or pickpocketed while I was there. I am happy to announce that none of these things happened to me during my stay...that's not to say I didn't leave with a bit of a dent in my pocket. It wasn't through being robbed, it was through willingly handing my money over the counter to the numerous 'tourist' activities. Almost everything has a price attached to it which is understandable but when the average entrance price is €10, the amounts soon add up.

I think the biggest money earner of them all is travelling to the top of Mount Vesuvius, you get charged €10 to get taken to the car park then a further €10 to walk from the car park to the top. Although, I think I got my money's worth out of the trip just through entertainment value alone. It all started with what was probably a very stupid decision but it worked out in the end so that's all that matters...right? Anyway I had just visited the remains of the City of Ercolane, also known as Heculaneum with four other people from my hostel and we were walking up to the top of the hill to get the Vesuvio Express, the company recommended to us by our hostel owner. On the way we get stopped by a man called Salvatore, he was a taxi driver who said he would take us to the top of the mountain, well the car park, wait for us then bring us back down to the bottom again. We should have said no straight away but there was something about him that made us think this would be a good idea to go with him. It was the energy he had that was drawing me to say yes, the other part that drew me to say yes was the fact he would be leaving when we wanted and the other thing that was drawing me to say yes was he was offering a good price. Whatever the eventual reason was, we said yes and we all climbed into his taxi, it was a big white people carrier that had about 10 seats and no seat belts...a good start I would say. Within seconds of us getting into his car Salvatore demonstrated what his horn for going around the corners would be. It was the tune of 'Just One Cornetto' and this basically set up the basis for the rest of the journey. He talked non-stop, again showing off the energy that drew me to say yes and when we were about ten minutes into the journey he says do you like music? We all said yes and what a good decision that was...well it wasn't good for our ear drums as it was being played at full volume but it was great for entertainment. It was a mixture of Italian pop, drum & bass, house and a couple of songs by Psy so it was a real mixture. Salvatore's dance moves didn't change however, it was always the same; one hand on the wheel (most of the time) and the other hand moving to the beat either pointing out of the window or rocking from left to right at shoulder height. I'm fairly sure he was trying to get the whole taxi doing his dance moves and as I was sat in the front right next to him, I thought 'what the hey' so there was me and Salvatore dancing along to the music that was blarring out of the taxi as we're going round the tight corners up the mountain. The music was occasionally interspersed with 'Just One Cornetto' as we came to the very tight corners but that just added to the crazy situation that I was in, it was when he took his eyes off the road and hands off the wheel that it became a bit hairy but all in all it was a very fun journey. When we got to the car park he dropped us off and gave us a time to be return to him so we trudged up the mountain, paid our extra €10 to walk to the top, looked around then trudged back down the mountain. I was quite surprised we didn't get charged again to walk down but that part was free and when we got back to Salvatore it was time for another journey similar to the one on the way up. The only slight difference was that he gave us each a postcard from Napoli/Vesuvius as a thank you for choosing him. The way down started with music and at every restaurant or shop we passed he would beep the horn to try and get them dancing too. A couple of them joined in although the majority of people just looked in utter confusion at this sight of a big white people carrier literally rocking with music and absolutely awful dance moves...and lets not forget 'Just One Cornetto'. All in all, what was probably a ridiculously idiotic decision to go with Salvatore turned out to be one of the highlights of the day and the trip so far. We paid Salvatore and said bye to him before going to get what was probably the worst meal I've ever eaten, I didn't think the Italians could get Spaghetti Carbonara wrong but when its presented on a plastic plate swimming in butter with chunks of un beaten egg in the middle, they can get it pretty hideously wrong.

Overall my time in Naples was a very successful one, especially looking at the warnings I was given before I went. Although one thing I will say is to be careful about where you eat, go to the right place and its stunning, go to the wrong place and you'll be paying over the odds for pasta swimming in butter or a panini that's eitherburnt or raw. Pizza is good though, they know how to do good pizza. The title of this piece refers not to the muggers, robbers and pickpockets but to the restaurants that charge stupid amounts for quite simply awful food with worse service and to the countless of museums that charge a high entrance fee to only supply one or two rooms filled with a couple of fairly ropey pictures and sculptures. I would definitely recommend going to Naples but I would advise you to check out the restaurants or museums before you go in...also be wary about your personal safety, just because it didn't happen to me might just be because I had some pure dumb luck...I definitely did on the way up to Mount Vesuvius.

Anything is possible...

From my month of travelling, I've learnt how to survive in social situations on my own; I've learnt how to navigate foreign public transport systems, some of them far more complicated than they need to be and I've also learnt how to adapt to whatever situation is put in front of me. The occasion I'm referring to relates to my time in Innsbruck. On arrival I was told there was a fully working kitchen and when I'd passed through the kitchen, I saw there was some electric hobs. On seeing the hobs, I just guessed there would be a main oven as well...a guess that would prove to be incorrect but by the time I found this out, I had already bought a 'cook at home' pizza. I know the meal wasn't very Austrian but I had had Weiner Snitzel on three occasions and I wanted some cheap and easy food. So I buy my pizza, take it back to the hostel, go into the kitchen and see no main oven; I went to reception and asked if there was anywhere else in the hostel that would have a main oven. Their response was predictable but disappointing, basically they said all they had were the hobs so I now have a pizza I can't cook and no way of buying more food as the nearest supermarket was at least a half hour walk away. I weigh up my options and think I could head out for food but again this would be a half hour walk or I could try and make do with what I have, so that's exactly what I did. I had an uncooked pizza, an electric hob and a combination of saucepans and frying pans. I decide my best option is to try frying the pizza because I think it will be easier to use than a saucepan because of the low sides. The result was surprisingly successful. I wasn't expecting much, to say the least, and what I had as a result was a tasty and nicely cooked, to a point, pizza. The way I did it was to cut the pizza into quarters and put two of the pieces into the pan base down. I felt there was no need for oil or anything like that because the bread shouldn't stick...and it didn't. I left it cooking base down on the highest temperature until the cheese started to melt on top...actually it was as the base started to smoke that I thought it would be done, a quick tap of the base confirmed it was crispy. I quickly flip the pizza over for literally 5-10 seconds then onto the plate. The flip gave the toppings a quick blast although the downside was using a spoon to collect the toppings from the frying pan again but if you do it quick enough they come away easily enough. I do the same with the other quarter in the pan, eat those two pieces then cook and eat the other half of the pizza and pleased with my efforts I go to wash up the pan and utensils I'd used. While I'm washing I hear a strange ticking sound somewhere above the hobs, I look to where the ticking is coming from and I find a mini microwave oven that has settings for standard, non microwave cooking. I stood looking in shock for a couple of seconds and can only laugh that I'd gone through the hassle of frying my pizza when a closer inspection of the kitchen would have shown me an easy and productive way of cooking my dinner. Although had I done the easy way, I wouldn't have found out how easy it is to fry a pizza. I'm not saying I will adopt the method for all of my pizzas but it is always good to know.

The other thing I've found out while travelling is how easy it is to have a conversation or even spend the best part of two days with a person without knowing their name. When meeting someone travelling, the first question isn't 'Hi, what's your name?' It is usually 'Hi, how long have you been *insert place name*, how long have you been travelling? Where are you going next? etc.' It is easy to forget such trivialities as names when you're heading out of the room to find some food with a person when you're hungry after travelling. The name part usually comes as part of a slightly embarrassed conversation from either side or if you're able to overhear it. Other than that you're left with generalisations such as mate or just accepting the fact that you may never know this person's name...that is unless you become facebook friends, in which case you hand over your phone, tell them to write their name in and voila, one name and one new friend request waiting on your account. Everyone wins! Although chances are you may never speak to that person again and eventually you'll end up deleting them but for the short term: Everybody wins!