As long as I can remember I’ve either been on the road or planning to get on the road.
Since arriving in London as a 24-year-old with 60 quid in my pocket, I’ve been to more than 56 countries. Traveling by boat, bus, truck, car, mini-van, camel, plane and the kindness of strangers. I have bunked down in places from a rat-infested hut somewhere on the border of Guatemala and Mexico to, once (sigh), a 6-star resort in the Maldives. I have slept on the pavement in Santorini, also only once (this is not recommended). I walked the Inca Trail in Peru on a whim, in clothes bought at the local market. My rain gear on that trip cost one dollar. There are lots of funny stories. And some not so much.
I was born in London. My earliest memories are waiting impatiently, coloring-in books and sweets in hand, for the train from Paddington for summer holidays in Cornwall. Brunel’s vaulted station roof forever stamped in my mind as an icon of the good times ahead.
At five I moved with my English mother and Italian father to South Africa. We flew. Somewhere between Rome and Nairobi, I realized that Father Christmas actually had his full operation there above the clouds. Even though the tragic truth about Santa was later revealed, the space above the clouds has always retained its magic.
Some years later, after school in KwaZulu-Natal and university in Cape Town, I went back to the UK (generally in London, but always on the move). In those days when I moved flat (often) my entire belongings were easily flung into the back of a black cab.
Now, after many adventures, I am based in Wellington, New Zealand. An amazing city with big weather, great coffee and plenty of attitude! Kiwis are possibly the world’s best travelers and I’m in good company.
From Santiago, Chile to San Francisco, California and from Montevideo, Uruguay to Boston, Massachusetts I have been up and down both sides of the Americas. Across Europe, Australasia and lots of lovely islands in between.
I love actually traveling – being on the move. That one time where you achieve so much by doing so little. I hardly ever get bored on the road. But, I love arriving even more. Flying into a new city at night with the lights all spread out underneath. Magic.
People often tell me they think I’m brave. But I can tell you that I am not. Inside my head, I am quite a worried person. I’m a nervous flyer, I get anxious about food bugs, bombs, traffic accidents, rats, earthquakes and fires in high-rise buildings. But, you only live once.
As one of my best travel buddies once said to me “Sue, a helicopter might drop on your head, but it probably won’t.”
So, I live in an earthquake zone, fly often, visit cities that have been bombed, eat strange food in hot countries, stay in tall hotels and sometimes go on long walks on my own. Rats I cannot do though. Definitely not.
The thing is, my curiosity about the world and its creatures (except rats) and my desire to go to the next place far outweighs all those niggling fears. And also yolo. Life is short. Who knows – tomorrow we might all be living in Gilead…
Here I will try to share some stories of adventures (good, bad, and mad) and – more than anything I hope – the sheer joy of hitting the road!