The Good, the Bad and the Ugly...

3 SMALL KIDS, 2 CRAZY ADULTS, 1 YEAR TO TRAVEL THE WORLD POST 13: 5th March 2017, Ubud, Bali.   

6 months ago, we took our two eldest children out of school, our youngest out of nursery, stacked most of our boxed-up belongings into six self-storage units, lent out our car, rented out our newly-renovated house and got on a plane to Greece.

Given that we are now just past the half-way mark of the entire trip, here is a round up of what went right, what went wrong and how we have changed. And for an update on our physical progress, click here!

COUNTRIES & PLACES VISITED (for at least one night):

GREECE (4 weeks living like locals): Athens; Nas (Ikaria); Ermoupolis (Syros) - we based ourselves in Nas (the last hippy outpost of the island and the source of its culinary fame), first, in a hostel and then in self-catering accommodation. Travel-wise, we interspersed longer day excursions with shorter trips and added a 3 day spell on nearby Syros to break up the month (and celebrate my b'day)! This worked well although the driving was quite tiring given the state of most of Ikaria's roads and the fact that it is actually much bigger than it seems on a map!

Highlights: feeling like one of the family in Nas; the to-die-for cakes (orange semolina, baklava and cheese cake); the crystalline sea water; dancing into the night at the village panigyria. (Read more in my 4 Greek blogs: So long, Farewell, Auf Wiedersehen, Goodbye; When in Ikaria, do as the Ikarians; First the Shabby, now for the Chic & Eat, Pray, Love)

MYANMAR (3 weeks exploring): Yangon, Bago, Inle Lake, Old Bagan, Mandalay - this was our first Asian destination. We backpacked our way round the country using public buses and hired, private mini vans. The thrill alone of being back on this continent (with its exotic smells, tastes, sights and sounds) kept us going for two weeks until the slightly too-fast pace of travel caught up with us and we all got ill with (dengue?) fever. This forced us to adapt our strategy and slow down. We found that 3 nights was the absolute minimum we need to stay in one place in order to get a sense of it without feeling rushed, and 5 nights in the same hotel is the minimum we need in order to retain the energy to continue at that pace.

Highlights: the sheer scale and splendour of the Buddhist temples; the generosity, hospitality and easy affection of the Burmese. (Read more in my 3 Burmese blogs: The Land of Temples, Pagodas & Stupas; Magnificent Myanmar & Taking the Rough with the Smooth)

THAILAND (4 weeks living like locals): Bangkok; Mae Nam (Koh Samui) - Thailand was booked as a last-minute respite after so much exhausting rushing around in Myanmar. There was also the lure of some beach time and the promise of an international school. In our haste however, we'd forgotten it would be rainy season (so beach time was limited), and the school turned out to have closed the day before we arrived. This taught us to plan ahead a little more. We stayed put in the same town on the same island, firstly, in a hotel and then in a luxurious, self-catering, private villa (off Airbnb). The latter not only saved us loads of cashola but also gave us a real sense of belonging and quickly felt like home. As in Greece, we hired a car and explored the island during day trips.

Highlights: shopping like locals at fresh markets; driving a truck; trekking in the jungle; Thai curries. (Read more in my 2 Thai blogs: Taking the Rough with the Smooth & Time Out Thai-Style)

LAOS (2 weeks exploring): Luang Prabang, Nong Khiaw, Muang Ngoy - we felt ready for an adventure again after living like expats on Koh Samui so travelling round Laos seemed like a good idea at the time. Unfortunately however, we didn't quite realise how non child-friendly it was with its exclusive, chic restaurants and equally exclusive (for different reasons) adventure tourism. Using public transport (boat and bus) to get around was hard, because the former are pretty terrible (no pee stops, no meal stops, crummy seats and no suspension) and the heat during the daytime was relentless. Accommodation wasn't great either and the people weren't very welcoming, so even though we followed our new strategy of staying in one place for at least 5 nights, Laos was probably the worst leg of our trip.

Highlights: travelling up the Mekong by boat; the dramatic, mountainous scenery of northern Laos; my decadent facial at Amantaka. (Read more in my 2 Laotian blogs: Exposing Cultural Differences & It's the People that Make the Country)

INDONESIA (16 weeks living like locals): Ubud (Bali) - Bali was also booked as a last-minute respite from Laos and originally we only planned to stay for the festive Xmas season. But the slow pace and quality of life available in Ubud, quickly prompted us to extend our stay. We have enjoyed just one (pimp) Airbnb villa for the entire duration. Having finally outsourced schooling, we have been proper expats for this stint of our trip and have not really done any sightseeing or cultural activities!

Highlights: the welcoming warmth of Pelangi school; the breadth of healing modalities available in Ubud; finally learning Bahasa. (Read more in my 2 Balinese blogs: Beautiful, Bountiful Bali & Living Life in the Slow Lane)

LESSONS LEARNT:

What worked:

• lugging two English and two French (very bulky and hugely heavy) anthologies of bedtime stories around with us. These help create familiarity and routine in new and foreign bedrooms.

• not bringing toys. Luckily the kids have each other and having a private pool definitely helps. (Thankfully, Peppa Pig is also accessible worldwide).

• taking daily probiotics. I'm convinced that this alone has greatly reduced the overall incidences of runny tummies especially given how prone the two youngest kids are at both licking public objects or putting their (unwashed) fingers in their mouths at all available opportunities. In fact, aside from our Myanmar blip, severe upset tummies at least once in each of the kids (thank God for codeine phosphate), an ear infection, a parasitic infection, an anemone sting, countless mosquito bites and the two self-inflicted ailments that resulted in trips to A&E (a damaged ear drum and a cut to the cheek), we have all escaped pretty unscathed.

• bringing a plug-in night-light for the kids (left behind in Thailand).

• carrying a mini sterile kit: I was able to convince the doctors not to attempt a non-anesthetised stitching procedure on me and to use my steri-strips (which were not available in Luang Prabang hospital) instead.

• giving up on homeschooling: unless you have permanently opted out of the official schooling system in your country, do not attempt to home/un-/or world-school your children. This is only for the very patient, very creative and very motivat-ing (and -ed) type of parent. Needless to say, we both sucked. Enrolling the kids in the nearby international nursery/school was the best decision ever: they are now thriving and we have some time to ourselves! The girls have picked up the basics of a new language, they have made friends with children from a whole range of different nationalities; they have reconnected to a working rhythm including homework, show-and-tell presentations and class assemblies, and they even do weekly yoga and gardening. What Raphael gets up to at nursery is frankly awe-inspiring and way better than anything back home.

What didn't work:

• assuming that our children (7, 5 and 3) would suddenly become adventurous eaters because they were being exposed to different flavours and styles of cooking. They will now just about (aka be forced to) eat food that is a tiny bit more "spicy" than they are used to. Please note "spice" for them means an-amount-so-teeeny-that-it-is-barely-perceptible of soy sauce or coconut milk, as opposed to actual spice or chili). We have therefore found that it is much easier to order them western dishes when out and we try to be as self-catering as possible.

• bringing audio CDs: most hire cars are so basic that there either are no speakers in the back or it is impossible to vary the balance between front and back sets. Since most don't have air con either, you need to open the windows in order not to die of heat. It is thus very hard for the kids in the back to actually hear any of the story being read unless the CD is on full volume. Bobomama then gets deafened as well as bored silly so we quickly aborted this as an entertainment option.

• bringing large versions of expensive toiletries to "get me through the trip". This only works if you are not travelling with a back-pack into which you have to squeeze all of your family's stuff. Unfortunately for me, most of my wholesale-sized, exorbitantly-priced Dermalogica facewash oozed into the recesses of my wash bag during our first month away as a result of being squashed. I have since resorted to buying toiletries on-the-go. Hopefully I won't look 20 years older on my return as a result.

• global travel adaptor plugs: these are so top heavy in order to accommodate so many different types of plug, that they topple out of sockets. Avoid.

 Travel 'hacking' tips:

• negotiate on Airbnb! Prices are geared towards one or two night-stays and are usually ridiculously high. For stays longer than this, email all the villa owners whose places you like the look of, and offer them the price that you can afford to pay (however small this might seem in comparison). You might get some outrage but some will respond and you will end up with a good 'local', long-term rate on a very nice place.

• do not pack anything on the outside of your rucksack even though there are hooks to hang things off and nets to secure things behind. These are deceiving. It will get nicked.

• use packing cubes. I had never even heard of these before this trip but they have quickly become indispensable. They divide an otherwise chaotic mass of stuff into individual compartments, and can be used as mini suitcases when staying somewhere short-term with no room to fully unpack.

• most visa applications specify that you need to provide proof of an onward journey on arrival at customs. This is a major hassle if you don't actually know where you are going next or when. So don't bother. We have not once been asked for this (touch wood).

So.....

Have we changed? Yes! Are we definitely going home? Yes!

Our trip has not always been easy on a practical or emotional level, and there are undeniable challenges of travelling abroad, including: super uncomfortable Asian pillows; huge hotel bills (thanks to having to book two rooms to accommodate 5 of us); the stress of trying not to lose too many things every time we change destination; the very basic standard of very basic accommodation; lack of privacy (villa staff come and go as they please, unannounced - the gardener has seen me naked at least 5 times); the sometimes intrusive, physical curiosity of Asians; tropical insects - particularly cockroaches and scorpions; trying to avoid the heat of the burning sun and trying to avoid catching mosquito-borne, dengue fever.

But the benefits of being far from home far outweigh the disadvantages, including: outsourcing the cleaning and laundry; living in luxury accommodation with staff; owning a private pool large enough to do proper laps in; constant warm temperatures; swimming in warm seas; the magic of fireflies; sleeping under a magnificent starlit sky; being serenaded nightly by cicadas and frogs; re-visiting the uber-luxurious Amanresorts.

This year of travel and exposure to other ways of living has helped us to work out who we really are. I always saw this 'gap' year as an opportunity to be re-birthed into the blue-print of me that was hiding behind the masks. The me that lay beyond the adopted habits of my peer group and generation, behind the family patterns I have inherited and absorbed, underneath both the societal belief systems that have been imposed on me, as well as the pervasive collective attitudes of my socio-economic class, culture, race and nationality. And it has done all that and more.

Will we carry on exactly as before on our return? I hope not. Because doing things that are out of the ordinary (and out of your comfort zone), keeps you alive. It is also fuel to the engine of gratitude. I want to continue to feel alive and grateful, so I want to continue to travel. That doesn't mean I don't also appreciate my creature comforts. I no longer crave some aspects of English life as I did after a month or so of hard-core backpacking, but I am not ashamed of admitting that I do miss some aspects of the life we had and am looking forward to it resuming.

The solution: to be based in the UK during term time and to dust down our backpacks for some adventure travel every school holiday. Is this realistic? Why wouldn't it be? We are, after all, the creators of our own reality. I want to incorporate what to me, is the best of both worlds: Bourgeois and Bohemian. And I can. So I will. And this blog -  and you, dear reader, - are going to hold me to it...

To see where we are on a map, click here!

Did you enjoy this post? Let me know in the comments or by sharing it with other social media! Don’t forget to use the sign up form to receive my latest posts via e-mail. You can also follow me on facebook, youtube, twitter, instagram & pinterest!

Living life in the slow lane...

3 SMALL KIDS, 2 CRAZY ADULTS, 1 YEAR TO TRAVEL THE WORLD POST 12: 27th January 2017, Ubud, Bali.   

Ever since I first backpacked around Indonesia as a fledgling 20-year-old, I have secretly wondered if I could live here full time. 21 years later and 8 weeks into our 4-month-long stay, my dream finally seems to have materialised. Leaving for a 2-day visa run to Singapore this week and realising that I really missed the Balinese vibe, only confirmed just what it is (aside from the obvious) that attracted me all those years ago.

It is the speed of life. It is so SLOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWW: here, no-one is ever in a rush; no-one is ever in a frenzy and no-one takes pride in being ‘too busy’ to stop to do something else. People talk meaningfully, they always look you in the eye and everyone’s movements are considered and deliberate. Time doesn’t seem to be measured here in quite the same way as it is in Europe; there is no notion of either ‘on time’ or ‘late’, and group as well as individual schedules are flexible whatever the ‘importance’ of the action being programmed: just as yoga classes, language lessons and even religious ceremonies often start late, pupils and adherents often turn up late. No one is fussed about a few minutes (or hours) here and there because there is no notion of missing out (on the part of the attendees) and there is no concept of disrespect (on the part of the organisers).

Here, timeliness is not a quality to aspire to so it is not considered ‘rude’ not to do so. Indeed, there hardly ever seem to be any grounds for taking offence. The Balinese live in harmony with the flow of life and accept that with flow, naturally comes flexibility.

Photo caption: just one of the hundreds of ceremonies that take place nearly every day throughout Bali but our first as participants. This one was in honour of Saraswati, the goddess of knowledge and wisdom. It was celebrated in temples across the country as well in schools - this one was held for Pelangi school parents, pupils and teachers. Needless to say, it started an hour and a quarter after the 'scheduled' time. 

This is also the case on the roads. There is no sense of possession over lanes and so no resulting outrage from those in the one opposite to your own if you spend too long in ‘theirs’. In fact, here, the act of overtaking takes priority over any other manoeuvre: oncoming traffic slows down to give you more time to complete it and vehicles move to the side in order to make room. Horns are used thoughtfully in warning rather than angrily to sound outrage - if you hear a ‘toot’ it is because the driver behind you is gently informing you to be careful because he is about to overtake.

The Balinese accommodate each other – slowly – and the overwhelming vibe is that of working towards harmonious balance: with one another, with nature and with the gods. Life is lived very much in the present moment. They literally embody the spiritual mantra that not only does everything have its time and place but that everything is perfect as it is. Just observing this being played out around us is calming and nourishing. So bit by bit, we too have followed suit and just as ‘busyness’ is contagious in Europe, ‘slowness’ is as infectious here. There simply isn't any other way to be.

Photo caption: Offerings or "canang sari" epitomise the deliberate slowness of life in Bali. Even the word itself is made up of ca - beautiful and nang - purpose as well as sari (essence). Whilst they range from the simple coconut leaf trays left daily around the house to the fantastically intricate kinds offered up on a full moon or ceremony day, they are always beautifully crafted to combine various elements that each represent a major Hindu god. Flowers (which are a symbol for sincerity and love) each represent a different deity and are placed pointing in a certain direction (white for Iswara which points to the east; red for fiery Brahma which points to the south; yellow for Mahadeva which points to the west and blue or green for cool Vishnu who points to the north). Placed on top is a stick of incense - as it burns the essence of the offering rises up to heaven. They are seen as a kind of selfless act - an offering of money and time made partly in gratitude and partly in appeasement to the potentially 'mischeivous' lower spirits. Equally importantly, the act of making them (always a female task) offers a chance to pause and meditate in communal creativity.  

This slow pace is particularly good for me because my natural inclination is towards the opposite: I speak fast; I react fast; I think fast; I move fast. Going from ‘a’ to ‘b’ was always a self-imposed mini challenge: how many calories could I burn in getting there? How much muscle power could I convert into accelerated motion? How late I could I leave it before setting off for the next destination thereby maximising the time allocated on whatever I was doing before? I often listened to reply instead of to understand; I used to try to fix things in order to move on rather than patiently witnessing their unfolding.

Having previously always lived in capitalist societies, whose mantra, 'time is money', had until now seeped insidiously into my belief system, I always thought that speed was necessary. Not only because I had so much to cram into my ‘tight’ schedule: three small kids to manage, a house and its chores to oversee, a wine events and consultancy business to run, womens' circles to organise, blogs to write, yoga classes to attend, runs to be completed – how else could I possibly fit everything into a day? But also because I secretly loved (and still do) the adrenalin rush that comes with speed, the thrill of acceleration, the whiff of danger it exudes.

Photo caption: family-time Balinese style. 

I thought that working in a frenzied state was not only desirable but laudable. But what I didn’t get and do now, is that acting rushed never does extend time. In fact, it usually does the opposite. And so pushing through instead of surrendering to the flow meant that I never felt that there was enough time, regardless of how fast I completed things. It also meant that I was rarely in the present, distracted instead by the ticking hand of the clock and what was next on my ‘to do’ list.

Here, on the other hand, the time at my disposal feels more spacious. I really can be a human being rather than a human doing. Bali has allowed me to slow down, to be more conscious and as a result, to tune into my intuition, heart and emotions. Now it is they that lead the show rather than my busy, cluttered state of mind.

It definitely helps that we have a weekly masseuse, that I outsource our laundry and ironing, and that there is home help who sweep the floor (yay) and make the beds (double yay – isn’t it so much more relaxing to climb into a neat bed that wasn’t made by yourself)? It also helps that the two eldest kiddies are at school with the youngest at nursery in the SAME venue, which means that for the first time in 7 years, I have one drop off, one pick up and a WHOLE DAY in between to do WHATEVER I WANT. Oh yeah!

Photo caption: Bali's simple, timeless pleasures are food for the soul: the sight of locals tending to their land, atmospheric sunsets, lush paddy fields and exotic beaches. 

But it is more than that. I have changed my attitude: I no longer feel guilty that someone else is doing my washing, nor that I am not the sole provider of entertainment, comfort, instruction and love for my children. Crucially, I no longer feel that it is my duty to do everything and to be everything to everyone just because I am not yet contributing enough financially to feel justified in doing my own thing. Instead, we have realised as a family, that by spending that little bit extra on outsourcing what you can, you get SO MUCH MORE. You get the extra time that would have been spent on chores of course, but you also get space. And from that stems a desire to create that comes from inspiration instead of from a self-inflicted pressure to perform. This then leads to real productivity and true abundance. I hope so anyway. I'm working on it!

I still speak fast. And think fast. But I move a bit slower and I feel less rushed inside. Now, rather than letting it annoy me, I enjoy the ‘bonus’ relaxing time that arises if a class starts later than its scheduled time; I travel in a leisurely fashion and leave more time to get to places; I have implemented a daily meditation practise (something I never felt I had the time to fit in before) and I have started to listen more actively. I have also started to breathe slower, to widen my shoulders and to open my chest (and not just in downward dog). And in finally surrendering to time, it now feels like there is so much more of it!

So the travel part of our year-long adventure has temporarily stalled - the kids and I are even learning to speak and write the local language. We have made a conscious decision to get stuck here, to explore living abroad in a slower and more meaningful way than is possible when just passing through. To quote a friend, Bali has become our 'happy place'. And that surely, has to be something worth pausing for….

To see where we are on a map, click here!

Did you enjoy this post? Let me know in the comments or by sharing it with other social media! Don’t forget to use the sign up form to receive my latest posts via e-mail. You can also follow me on facebook, youtube, twitter, instagram & pinterest!

It's the people that make the country...

Most ubiquitous Laotian menu item: baguette     Longest time we have spent waiting for our first dish (restaurants are painfully slow - only one dish is cooked at a time): 1hr 30 mins     Favourite Laotian moment: being ushered through to the front of the customs queue (because we have "babies") and being waived through with a smile despite not having the required documents or passport photos with us    Least favourite Laotian moment: noticing that the head a woman was chopping up for her restaurant belonged to a small dog     Waterfalls visited since start of trip: 4     Run-ins with dangerous creepy crawlies: 4 (2 scorpions, 2 snakes)     Foreign words learnt: 22     Transport tally since start of adventure: bus, ferry, minivan, truck, longboat, motorbike, car, aeroplane, taxi, motorbike/car-powered tuktuk     Items of packing still unused: hairdryer, carbon monoxide alarm, mosquito nets, emergency medical kits (thank god)

3 SMALL KIDS, 2 CRAZY ADULTS, 1 YEAR TO TRAVEL THE WORLD

POST 10: 23rd November 2016, Muang Ngoi, Laos.  

I most definitely underestimated how hard it would be to get back into 'travelling' mode. We are struggling: with the 'basic' nature of backpacker accommodation, with the lack of family-friendly activities on offer and with generally being on top of one another.

Whilst I was looking forward to being on the road again after three weeks in one place, the comparatively ‘harsh’ reality of living out of our rucksacks with no room to unpack, no decent water pressure, low wattage light bulbs and fellow travellers sharing our communal living space (and as a result, our family dynamic) has thrown us all a bit. (It didn’t help that our last accommodation was not only the most spacious, most luxurious and also cheapest we have sampled so far).

Photo caption: travelling upstream from Nong Khiaw to Muang Ngoi by longboat (top), getting the kids and our luggage (all 9 pieces) from the boat pier to our guesthouse by tractor-cart (bottom)

Whilst the kids are certainly not being more annoying than before, here everything seems just that little bit harder. Unlike Greece and Myanmar which offered a great deal more to do that was family-friendly, in Laos, such activities are very thin on the ground. We seem to fall between the two groups of tourists who are catered for: that of the adventure backpacker looking for jungle zip-wire thrills and that of the slow-paced but well-off retiree who frequents and encourages the proliferation of high-end restaurants and hotels which price everyone else out. We belong in neither camp: the kids are too young for the former's activities and the latter doesn't want us anywhere near them. We did well this morning by playing football and cards on the village field outside the school - the local kids all swarmed to share our ball and look inside our bags at our toys and sunglasses. They were super keen to learn the English words for the animals on our playing cards and repeated them eagerly. It was lovely. Other days we have attempted watered down versions of the adventure activities on offer. But most walks are either too hot or too long for our kids and result in crying on their part and frustration on ours. So whilst most travellers on the island are either hiking in the jungle, kayaking on the river or chilling out in their hammocks enjoying the view, we are grappling to find some sort of family-friendly entertainment for the kids. Which means zero down time unless we give them an iphone to watch cartoons. This is what has been happening on an increasingly regular basis - so much so that I am feeling very guilty about it.

Photo caption: paddling in a cool stream that emerges from a large grotto used by the locals to shelter from daytime aerial bombardment during the Vietnam war (top left); one of a series of multiple, turquoise-hued waterfalls in the middle of the jungle (top right); the mighty Mekong (bottom left); some of the moon bears that had been rescued from captivity on a bile farm - extracted for use in traditional medicine (bottom right)

So we are not really loving it here. It doesn't help that most of the locals we have met so far are neither warm nor welcoming. Most are very wary of us and even the children either stare at us blankly if we wave or smile, or else laugh or leer at us. Laos is also the first country in which the kids have been told off: our guest house complained no less than four times on the account of the children acting like children. This was after said guesthouse failed to show up at the airport to collect us but before they gave us one hour’s notice to check-out (they had double booked the room). They then 'helped us' obtain last minute bus tickets to a new destination by charging nearly double the normal price. Add to this our recent 'crotch grabbing' incident (see last post) and all in all, we're not feeling the Laotian vibe.

Perhaps we are judging them unfairly by comparing them to the ridiculously affectionate and honest Burmese who set the Asian best-host-nation-bar very high. It could be that Laotians are just naturally more reserved. Or perhaps they resent foreign tourists as many of the Thais also seem to? (It wouldn't be surprising given how many of them spent years of their lives in caves avoiding aerial bombardment from the Americans:  this country has the hideous distinction of being the world's most heavily bombed nation - 30% of the 2 million tonnes of 'ordnance' dropped on them during the Vietnamese war never detonated.) Who knows. In short, we seem to have lost our travelling mojo.

Drying chillies (top left); every sort of roll you can imagine for sale at the night market (top right); barbecued meat and fish skewers (bottom left); exotic fruit stall (bottom right) 

What Laos certainly does offer on the other hand, is an intriguing mix of colonial and local architecture, international cuisine and magnificent natural scenery. Luang Prabang offers all three and reminded me of a cross between Ubud in Bali (with its hip bar and restaurant scene back-dropped by jungle) and Kyoto in Japan (with its narrow streets lined with neat, wooden houses interspersed with temples). That said, we didn’t love it there either. There was something almost too twee about it. Too many gorgeous little shops and beautifully-converted boutique hotels for my liking; a few too many cute, colonial-style cafes and smart restaurants for it not to feel like it wasn’t a bit over-designed and unnatural. Almost like a Laotian-themed, long-weekend resort for moneyed Asian expatriates. And since we are not travelling in this capacity right now, I found it a bit annoying. (Ok, I admit it, I was jealous. I wanted to be staying at Amantaka – my old employer – with unlimited financial resources to splash out on fine food, wine, shopping and cultural trips).

Photo caption: traditional and colonial architecture in Luang Prabang

As for natural beauty and local colour, Muang Ngoi, the sleepy, car-less village where we are currently staying, provides this in bucket fulls: a stunning view of the murky, fast-flowing Mekong and an opportunity to witness what a bustling thoroughfare this is as long boats shuttle from one settlement to another laden with people and goods; water buffalo bathing in its waters and grazing on its grassy mounds;  villagers with conical, bamboo hats tending their small-holdings in the foothills of the surrounding craggy mountains; small children, pigs, dogs, cats, geese, hens, cows and goats all wandering round the narrow village streets; caged squirrels and birds competing for attention and freedom. It made the long journey here from Luang Prabang worth it (5 hours of bum-numbing, pot-hole hopping mini bus to Nong Khiaw for one night followed by an hour of longboat - there is no road - the following morning).

Photo caption: temples, Buddhas, shrines and monks

But despite all this, there is still something missing in Laos, for me. It may be that we were spoilt in Thailand where we actually got to live like a local rather than a tourist, or maybe we are just tired of being on the road. Maybe we are fighting our natural, northern hemisphere-trained body clocks which are desperate to wind down and 'hibernate' and so we are feeling our usual wintery weariness despite the local climate. Personally, I think it is because I have realised that it is the people that count over and above what a country has to offer in terms of scenery, cuisine or sights. For me, the way the people either welcome you in or don’t is what makes or breaks a destination. To be treated like a local even though you are a tourist is what stays in your heart and memory for far longer than the image of the waterfall or mountain view. And in this respect, Ikaria and Myanmar are still in joint pole position.

Photo caption: a land of juxtapositions - fresh tobacco for sale at the weekly Muang Ngoi village market (top left); temple and tuk-tuk (top right); a posh bakery in Luang Prabang (bottom left); a village house with its loom out front and finished goods for sale (bottom right)

So rather than continue on south and travel overland to Cambodia for a month and then pass overland once again to Vietnam where the children are enrolled in school, we have decided to ditch our (most recent) plan and head for Bali, one of my two most favourite places on earth. Despite having been at least 15 times during my 8 year stay in Hong Kong, I haven't been back since 2008, and like all travellers, am fully aware that the places we seek out as authentic and special quickly become 'ruined' by our very presence. I am hoping that this won't be the case here and that the Island of the Gods will not only reclaim its unique hold on my heart but that I will finally get to share this with the children. And if that doesn't resolve our current malaise, we're heading home!

To see where we are on a map, click here!

Did you enjoy this post? Let me know in the comments or by sharing it with other social media! Don’t forget to use the sign up form to receive my latest posts via e-mail. You can also follow me on facebook, youtube, twitter, instagram & pinterest!

Exposing cultural differences...

3 SMALL KIDS, 2 CRAZY ADULTS, 1 YEAR TO TRAVEL THE WORLD POST 9: 19th November 2016, Luang Prabang, Laos.  

There is a reason that the areas and things we are used to are referred to as our ‘comfort zone’. When we know our way around, when we are familiar with the types of people who surround us and with their role in our lives, when we can pre-empt people’s attitudes or ways of doing things, life becomes both comfortable and comforting. Which can be lovely - I’m actually missing it a bit right now - but it also breeds a kind of apathy.

Which is why travelling can be so exciting. It breaks that mold of control and convenience and allows you to experience things afresh, as though for the first time. Nothing is taken for granted, you have no expectations and as a result you are constantly required to think on your feet.

The primary reason we chose South East Asia as this year’s travel exploration ground, was for the degree to which it would challenge us: its climate, topography, politics, language, development, food and customs could not be more different to ours. We were drawn to the sheer scale of its Otherness.

And we were enjoying this hugely until yesterday, when the challenge with which we were suddenly faced seemed to stray disturbingly into the moral/immoral category: we found out (the hard way) that in many parts of Asia, children are not seen as having any personal or physical boundaries; that those parts of our body that we, in the West, would consider private and off-limits, are simply not viewed as such here. Across India, Indonesia, Thailand, Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam (which is, apparently, the very worst offender), children’s bodies are considered totally accessible to all those who are curious, affectionate or just having a laugh at their expense: pants are lowered to have a look and crotches are pulled or grabbed to check gender. Very young boys are the most common targets.

At first, I thought it was just us. I freaked out. We very nearly left the region in a knee-jerk state of shock (having experienced an even more unsettling episode in Thailand). And two episodes in six weeks is enough for me to consider that as a sign to leave. But after doing some research I found out that not only are these acts very common – there is much anecdotal grumbling about it online – but here they are seen as totally acceptable. Indeed, children's bodies are poked, prodded, pulled and squeezed without shame, in full view of anyone who happens to be around.

The crucial difference behind our varying perspectives on the matter seems to be underpinned by what we assume is the intent behind the act: in the West, where touching another person without their consent can be and usually is, an illegal act, only those that cannot help themselves fall prey to the ‘crime’. In South East Asia however, (I am assured) there is no element of sexuality present at all. Which (kind of) makes sense since the perpetrators are usually from a much older generation and of the same sex as the object of curiosity.

This made me feel a little better. But it certainly didn’t help me get my head round it being ok. And it definitely made explaining to the kids what is ok and what is not ok, what is 'good' touch and what is 'bad' touch, a whole lot more complicated.

I have now come to very weird, resigned state of mind that is not exactly accepting in terms of condoning, but accepting in that there is nothing else I can do to change things. It is futile for me to demand respect for physical boundaries when that notion does not even exist here. (Interestingly, in Laos, there is no concept of possession: the word for ‘mine’ is the same as that for ‘yours’. I wonder if this has anything to do with it?)

So we wanted a challenge and by God, we got one. (Note to self: be way more careful what I manifest!) It would be an understatement to say that my cultural boundaries have been stretched. But they remain intact and in place. I am newly aware of just how different we can be beneath the veneer of sameness. I’m taking nothing for granted. Once again, I have no expectations. Our Thai and Laotian episodes have served as a cultural awakening that has made me grateful for, and slightly crave, my personal ‘comfort zone’. But we are not quite ready to return yet...

To see where we are on a map, click here!

Did you enjoy this post? Let me know in the comments or by sharing it with other social media! Don’t forget to use the sign up form to receive my latest posts via e-mail. You can also follow me on facebook, youtube, twitter, instagram & pinterest!

Time-out Thai style...

Favourite local dish: Thai curry     Food I am now sick of: Thai curry     Number of pairs of sunglasses that have broken since setting off: 8     Illness tally: dodgy tummies - 2, fevers - 3, mosquito bites - thousands     Biggest success story: kids' swimming skills     Biggest challenge: initiating homeschooling without causing a fight     Thing I miss the most: hot yoga     Budget: blown by exactly the same amount for two months in a row. Solution? We upped it.

3 SMALL KIDS, 2 CRAZY ADULTS, 1 YEAR TO TRAVEL THE WORLD

POST 8: 5th November 2016, Mae Nam, Ko Samui, Thailand. 

So, the rains we were waiting for? Well, they came. In style. I'm not talking about a little bit of drizzle here and there. The kind that covers you with a glossy sheen. No. Big, fat, oversized globules of liquid that splat on you and soak you from head to toe in around 30 seconds. Thai rainy season is not like some other versions where the heavens dump their load during an hour or so and then blue skies return. Here, when it starts, it doesn't finish. And in our experience so far, lasts for between one to three days. Straight.

Photo caption: the state of the "roads" at this time of year makes for both scary and exhilirating exploration!  

Luckily for us, for the first time since we left, we are holed up in a rather flash, two-bedroom pool villa which boasts all the mod cons including drier (so unenvironmentally friendly but nothing else works in this humidity), English cartoons (for emergencies), snazzy air con and super fast wifi. Oh, and a huge communal, jungle-view, infinity pool, as well as a gym. And it just so happens that it is our cheapest accommodation to date. Go figure.

Photo caption: our pimp pool villa acquired through heavy negotiation on Airbnb

What the rains have forced us to do is to chill the &^%$ out. We needed to after 7 weeks hard-core travelling. And we will not regret it with 8 weeks travelling just round the corner. And yet I still find this SO hard to do. At least I have twelve more days here in which to practise. Because Thailand is the perfect place for it. Why? Because that is all anyone seems to do around here. Most shops or businesses have just the one member of staff/owner that spends most of their time lying down or sleeping (in full view of the entrance) until a customer actually walks in. Because they can. There is no shame in 'slacking off' because that is not how it is seen.

Photo caption: our homeschooling project: beach manadala (top left); it's never too early to learn how to make a mojito (top right); sampling the tempura prawn at our village 'walking night market' (bottom left); our local, dragon-adorned Chinese temple (bottom right)

And that is part of the beauty of the (unspoilt) Asian way of life: ever-increasing sales and capital growth are not the key factors for success here, just earning enough to supplement your lifestyle/pay for your rent/contribute to the daily shop. So there is no marketing, not many billboards and no pushy sales talk. We, the consumers, are under no outside pressure to buy (this is not the same as 'inside' pressure - there can be a fearsome pitch if you cross the shop threshold) and they are happy with the business they can get.

Photo caption: the coolest and most eccentric jungle bookshop (top); coconuts galore (bottom left); mobile vegetable stall (bottom right)

The problem is, I just don't resonate with Thailand in the way I do with Indonesia. I never have done. Firstly, I'm not a great fan of the type of expat that is drawn to live here permanently. Rather piggishly, I don't feel they portray the best side of British culture and rather selfishly, I don't like being reminded of that when I am abroad. Secondly, there is something I find unsettling about interactions with the locals. In comparison to the Burmese for example, they are exceedingly reserved, they seem to be holding something back, sussing you out and their slightly poker-faced way of dealing with us makes me a little nervous. There must be a reason for this. Because as the Asian chairman of a corporate behemoth once reminded me, there is a reason that Thailand is the only SE Asian country never to have been colonised.

Photo caption: hidden natural jewels lie just beyond the 52km-long ring road (aka tourist 'strip')  

That said, I am feeling happier here than I was. Not that my mood on arrival had much to do with where we were, on retrospect. I was so angry with myself for being ungrateful for what surrounded me - the exotic otherness that I so often crave when I am fully ensconced on my parochial hamster wheel back home. But today I had an insight that came to me during my first-time-in-five-weeks-run that put everything in perspective, as so often happens when I go running. And it was this: that as cliched as it sounds, I am who I am. And I shouldn't feel bad for not being anyone else, or for not holding anyone else's opinions or values.

The insight came off the back of realising that I have a short pleasure span. This is not to be confused with attention span - I can be very focused (most would probably say 'intense') and I am one of the most methodical people I know - but I need variety. So whilst this year has been a time to court my bohemian side after nearly 20 years of pandering to the bourgeois, I already feel ready to go home, to reinsert myself into the predictability and routine of the school term, the four seasons, the festive Winter grind that is Halloween, Xmas, Valentine's day and Easter.

Photo caption: and when the sun comes out - we make the most of the beach! 

And what dawned on me today is that that is OK. I am not a bad person for wanting a life that is full of both (Asian) adventure travel and a habitual schedule. It is not ungrateful to want more than what you have right now or to want to mix it up from time to time, however good you have it right now. It is just WHO I AM. This came as quite a relief and means I no longer castigate myself every time I see an Instagram shot of a school fireworks display and feel a teensy weensy bit like I am perhaps missing out.

Photo caption: exotic (and HUGE) Thai flora and fauna

It doesn't help that Thailand is definitely quieter than it would usually be at the moment and not just because of rainy season. Their 'beloved' King died just before we got here and mourning is a long drawn out affair which not only involves wearing black for 30 days but also not partaking in any form of celebration be that a fire show or any other type of entertainment. Amazingly (to me), 95% of the population is adhering to this and most of the clothes stalls are now selling only black garments which is quite an odd sight for such a hot country.

Indeed, such is their devotion to the royal family that many businesses on Koh Samui are now closed whilst the owners pilgrimage to Bangkok to 'pay their respects' to their former ruler. From my tentative enquiries with taxi drivers (usually the source of all knowledge), I understand that the official mourning period lasts for one year. I can't help but wonder whether we in the UK will be as conscientious in our 'devotion' when the time comes?

Photo caption: clothes stalls full of monochrome items (top); even a modest village house boasts its own 'memorial shrine' to the King (bottom)

So, all in all, this period of in between-ness has been challenging and rewarding in equal measure. I am learning to chill out (kind of), we are getting used to spending time together as a family without an exploration 'agenda' and we are experiencing a more domestic side of our 'living like locals' goal: one that involves shopping in a sprawling hypermarket every other day as we indulge our (expensive) desires not to eat like locals for every single meal of the day and more excitingly, one that also includes popping to the nearby, local market to try our hand at recreating at home, the curries for which this country is renowned. We haven't quite managed this yet - probably because, with my neophyte enthusiasm for new and unusual ingredients, I am putting them all in together. Which is not the Thai way. Unsurprisingly, specific things go in specific dishes. (I found this out to my embarrassment this morning as I was reprimanded by the market stall holder over my incorrect usage of lemon grass: NOT for curries. Oops.)

Photo caption: curried crab anyone? (left) the curry paste stall in our local market (right)

In twelve days we leave for Laos where we will backpack from the top of this long, thin country right down to the very bottom. Which means twelve more days to practise relaxing, twelve more days to get more into my book about manifesting abundance and twelve more days to action this in real life on my as-yet-unknown, online Money Abundance Challenge run by my new fellow-worldschooling-mum-of-three-travelling-friend, Natalie Jenkins (EFT expert and coach). Oh, and perhaps I'll try the odd £6-an-hour coconut oil massage or two for good measure too...

To see where we are on a map, click here!

Did you enjoy this post? Let me know in the comments or by sharing it with other social media! Don’t forget to use the sign up form to receive my latest posts via e-mail. You can also follow me on facebook, youtube, twitter, instagram & pinterest!