Here I am writing under a red-headed tree, enjoying the perfect winter weather – sunny with a crisp, cooling breeze.
A book is the best travel buddy you can have. A book doesn’t whine when he’s tired. He doesn’t bitch about getting lost. He doesn’t argue on whether to stay in or check out a bar. In the guest house or under a coconut tree, a book will follow whatever good and bad decisions your impulses desire.
1. Gave myself scars with a story to tell in Phuket, Thailand
One of my favourite things is my trusty backpack. It wasn’t expensive, it’s tearing at the sides, but it has brought me places near, far and wide.. He was there with me on my first ever trip, his zippers trying very hard to not bust open from the amateurly packed excessive clothes.
I started travelling, not holidays, not getaways, but really travelling when I was 18. It started in US with a brother and a job, it escalated to Mauritius with a group of strangers and a volunteer stint, and then it evolved to the Middle East with a backpack and a guide book. I gave my heart to the wonders of travel and I never really got it back.