Home Sweet Home?

Days abroad: 306     Miles covered: 22,448     Countries lived in: 6     Favourite thing about being back: feeling safe and settled in our own home     Worst thing about being back: traffic jams; the weather     What I am loving: no longer feeling ill at ease in a female body; fast, reliable internet     What I am grateful for: having had the courage to go away and the courage to return; my beautiful friends    What I miss most: Asian food     Items travelled with that were never used: mosquito nets, travel hairdryer

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

POST 17: 23rd July 2017, Cambridge, UK

So it’s been nearly three weeks since our return and I still don’t feel like we ever left. I kept putting off this final round-up blog in case things should suddenly change, but they haven’t! It’s really quite odd. We seem to have just slipped back into the life that was waiting for us patiently during our absence.

And it’s a perfect fit. At least physically if not mentally. In that it is actually relatively easy to resume a ‘home routine’ that you’ve had for years, even if it was disrupted by a spontaneous adventure lasting 10 months. Perhaps it really helped that we eased our way back into English culture via the European stepping stones of Greece and Spain. (Which was the plan.) And it definitely helps that I have been very mindful of our potential decompression period: social situations have been measured (family first) as well as staggered (only two visits to school). We only left the house once during our first week. We are taking things very slowly.

Or maybe being back is still exciting enough to hold my attention and the shock has merely been delayed? Because it does feel exciting! I am still finding great pleasure in how sheltered I feel by living within four walls that actually belong to me. There is still joy in wearing clothes that I haven’t worn for ages, in eating foods that I have been craving, in listening to Radio 4, in the constantly changing weather. And there is joy too behind the relief in not having to think or be constantly alert (albeit unconsciously) to new experiences. Because these take up so much mental bandwidth and whilst they are no doubt exhilarating they are also quietly exhausting.

Photo caption: the glorious coastline of Catalunia, my grandfather's birthplace...

Maybe this excitement will pass and I will get restless again and crave the sense of freedom and adventure that has sustained us throughout the past year. But I’m not feeling that yet. Right now I feel safe and secure, comfortable and loved. And welcome! So many hugs; so many warm smiles! It’s been awesome to feel as though we’ve come home to our nest, that we belong, that we are no longer The Other (even if the sense of one’s own ‘culture’ encompasses such a wide range of differences).

Mentally however there have been changes. Big ones. But none that have provoked a sense of ‘readjustment’. Indeed, the changes we have witnessed in ourselves have almost made the term redundant. Because the biggest development has been in our ability to adapt. To go with the flow. To be at ease wherever we are.

The driving factor behind our year away was “a desire to break free of the matrix and our orderly, domestic life; to be spontaneous and step into the unknown; to see what else life had in store for us”. It was all about subtraction: about removing the redundant cultural, social and ancestral chaff to reveal our true authentic selves; to be free of outside influence.

Photo caption: 'our' beach with its medieval castle (top left); fisherman's huts (top right); pine forests galore (bottom left); Mediterranean doorway (bottom right) 

So did we succeed? Yes! It is so much easier to reflect upon who you really are and what is truly important to you when you have the time to do it and the distance from your own ‘stuff’ to be able to put it into perspective. It is far less scary to get used to not wearing a certain mask when you are surrounded by total strangers. Each new day, city and country is an opportunity to re-create your reality.

And did we come back different? Definitely. How different and in which ways? Well, in a nutshell, we are so much more ourselves than we were. Speaking for myself, I am far less needy of validation from external factors and I am far less influenced by them. I am more accepting of my imperfections rather than ashamed of them and I am more open to doing things differently. I am definitely more chilled, a lot less reliant on alcohol to ‘relax’ and I finally feel ‘enough’. I am less judgmental, more tolerant, more patient and generally happier. I live much more in now – less concerned with what could have happened in the past as well as with what might happen in future – and I am far less a victim of worthless mind chatter. Not bad, eh?

I am also much more at ease with the idea of receiving, with the notion of enjoying comfort and feeling pleasure. Which has resulted in a ruthless culling of what I now see as clutter. Because my definition of what is 'necessary' has also changed in line with this new attitude. Is it chipped, scuffed or cracked? It goes. Not because I am being extravagant, but because holding onto things that are 'broken' means energetically attracting more of the same. Moreover, I want only to be surrounded by usefulness, wholeness and beauty. So if it gives me pleasure, it stays. If not, however sentimental my attachment to it, however misplaced my loyalty, however much we may have paid to store it during our absence (a lot), or however many times it may have survived former house move culls, it goes. Which means that 5 estate car-load trips to the tip (with the back seats down no less) and 4 to Oxfam later, we are living in a much leaner household than before.

Photo caption: spending 10 months together slightly made us morph into one - here we each spontaneously wore the same colour scheme (top left); another birthday celebrated on the road complete with cake (top right), a home-made crown (bottom left) and a dinner in town (bottom right) 

The kids have changed too. Especially 4 year-old Raphael who has had to make the biggest adjustment because he can’t actually remember having ever lived in only one place. After all, we were on the move for a quarter of his entire life! So stability is still a foreign concept for him: he describes himself as someone “that changes country a lot” and he keeps asking when we are next going to the airport. Which provokes a weird, dual state in me of both pitying as well as being proud of him.

And all three have matured in intangible ways, often more noticeable to others than to ourselves. One of our new neighbours asked us if we were foreign a couple of days after we had moved in, despite the kids speaking to each other in English. He said it was something about the way they were acting – their confidence, their ease in amongst their surroundings. Another commented that they looked as though they knew how to look after themselves. And despite feeling slightly triggered by this (was there a bad mother implication in there at all?) I chose to see both observations as compliments.

The after effects of spending 10 months abroad may definitely seem a little out of place at times, and certain new habits have had to be swiftly curtailed (eating rice with hands instead of cutlery for example, as well as going out onto the street in pyjamas/underwear at 6am) but I am actively encouraging others: such as the kids' natural curiosity and chattiness with strangers, their openness, trust and easy affection. These are a joy to witness.

Photo caption: our return coincided with a street party just outside our front door! (top left); a long overdue family reunion with all my cousins and their new babies (top right); the river Cam a few minutes walk from where we live (bottom left); happy to have landed on British soil - a family portrait fresh off the plane at Stansted airport (bottom right)

So, is there anything that I missing from our time away? Yes! The heat, zipping about on a moped, Biryani rice, fertile jungles, unfamiliar bird song, local markets, having a private pool, swimming in the sea and open air yoga salas to name but a few. But not so much that I can’t wait until the Xmas holidays. When I hope to dust off the backpacks and unused mosquito nets and get back onto a plane for a new but slightly shorter adventure.

Because I've learnt that adventures don’t have to be mammoth undertakings. They don’t necessarily need to involve long-haul flights nor taking your kids out of school. Because spending just a couple of weeks surrounded by the unknown means that even the basics of daily life take on the allure of the exotic. And that is the key to creating an adventure: to immerse yourself in the new, in the unexpected, to stretch your sense of self, your boundaries and your values. For the benefits are immeasurably awesome.

But for now I am going to indulge in the lack of readjustment, in the surprising ease of our reintegration. I will slowly continue to appease my inner bourgeois - blueberries from Waitrose (even if they are out of season), diamond earrings and high heels, delicious European wine, riding my cargo bike - until the itch in my feet and the whisper from my inner bohemian can, once again, no longer be ignored.

And then, I shall be ready…

To see our entire, 10 month travel adventure route, click here!

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Flying bananas, dancing transvestites and a holy elephant - welcome to southern India!

Highlight of Southern India: Hampi     Best thing about Kerala/Tamil Nadu: the warmth of the people     Biggest frustration: not being able to order plainly cooked food     Biggest bugbear: the ineffectiveness of local laundry services – the kids are looking more and more like street children     New skill acquired: eating very spicy food     Family 'broken sunglasses' tally: 12     Food I am now sick of: basmati rice     Activity I miss the most: going for a run

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

POST 14: 27th April 2017, Goa, India.  

So after four months of a gorgeously tropical but nonetheless predictable daily routine in Bali, we got back on the adventure train, renewed and 're-birthed' (in true Ubud fashion), and flew to Kochi in Kerala. With nothing but a four-night booking in a homestay and no idea where to go next, we prepped ourselves for a culture shock.

Photo caption: Asian fruit stalls are always so much nicer to look at than the ones at home (top left); street vendors on the sea-front promenade. Selling food. Of course (top right); chilling out in the cool, breezy park (bottom left); Kochi's sea-front promenade (bottom right). 

I have travelled to India five times in my youth (to Delhi, Ranthambore, Jodhpur and Jaipur in the north, as well as to Mumbai and Hyderabad in the middle) but never to its southern states. And during each of these trips I enjoyed the cosseting that comes with being either a wedding guest or an ambassador for a global brand (the uber-luxurious Amanresorts or ABN AMRO bank). So visiting again almost exactly nine years later to the day, this time with three kids under seven in tow and no security blanket to ease our potential pain, made me pretty apprehensive.

Photo caption: living in India in Victorian times wasn't easy despite what we might think. A quick visit to the largest church in Ooty confirmed this with lots of plaques for women and men in their 20s and early 30s who had died of fever. This particular lady had already had 7 children by the time she was 30. Ouch (top left); always waiting for food (top right); buffalo road block (bottom left); personalised trucks (bottom right).

And yet the first thing that struck us about Keralan life was just how easy it was. Everyone spoke English! Signs were readable! Streets and restaurants were clean and tidy! And, to the kids’ delight, there was finally a whole range of breads on offer instead of just the usual rice suspects. Here, unlike Bali, there were no stray animals to be wary of nor beggars to hound us. The regional government seems to run a very tight ship: no-one has more than two children (as advised), there is no prostitution, all strays are sterilised and the population is 100% educated (hence the lack of begging).

Kochi was a haven of quiet and calm compared to a typical north Indian city - almost Mediterranean in its outlook. Shopkeepers were super honest and the locals went out of their way to make sure we were happy. For example, when going ‘off menu’ and trying to order some plain, ‘green’ vegetables instead of the usual potato, carrot and cauliflower mix, instead of telling me that this wasn't available, the enterprising young waiter hopped on his scooter and went to buy me some from the local market. On his return, he then explained to his chef how to make them into a Thai 'green' curry. By the time I had realised how lost in translation my request had become, I was too embarrassed to say anything. It was delicious!

Photo caption: Jew town - which surrounds the oldest active synagogue in the Commonwealth (top left & bottom right); excerpts from a book - I never did find out which but I did get quite hooked - that are found on walls dotted all around Kochi - I never did find out why (top right); incense shop (bottom left).

So having left India until the last leg of our trip because I was worried it would be too much of a culture and hygiene shock for the kids any time before then, Southern India in fact turned out to be one of the easiest places to travel around. Hiring a driver to take us (and our mountain of luggage) from Kochi to our final destination in Goa definitely helped. But even our tentative foray into public transport was made memorable by the welcoming nature of our fellow train passengers, their generosity with their food and the spontaneous entertainment provided by our female conductor who kept bursting into song.

Photo caption: Alleppey backwater cruise: Captain Raphael (top left); local houses (top right & bottom left); a typical Keralan house boat (bottom right).

After three days spent exploring Kochi and one sailing the backwaters of Alleppey (slightly underwhelming), we set off on a road trip towards Goa. It took 15 days, with stops in the hill station of Udhagamandalamhere (for some countryside), Mysore (for some city) and Hampi (for some temples).

Check out our progress here!

India is LARGE and most roads are either in bad condition, mere dust tracks or too narrow to drive along at a decent speed. Thus getting from one place to another usually took at least 8 hours of pure misbehaving torture from the kids and lots of screaming from us. So by the time we got to Goa, our proud driver, Greesh (who announced that driving for 16 hours straight is mere peanuts for a Keralan), was well and truly initiated into the worst aspects of our family dynamic. Thankfully, he seemed to take it in his stride. (Indians are pretty relaxed).

Photo caption: long distance driving with kids sorely tests your patience. Having exhausted all possible entertainment options at this stage, I am pictured here (above bottom) resorting to a family air-guitar competition. We would try to leave around 8.30 in the morning to get to our next destination at around 6pm. Our one allocated pit-stop would be at a road side cafe (example above top) which, despite looking very grotty from the outside, usually produced amazing food. We even inadvertently once ate a plate of crudites (more lost-in-translation ordering) with no adverse effects. Word of advice: always travel with your own bar of soap (some restaurants have water but not all have soap) and never look at where they wash up. This alone will make you ill.

Udhagamandalamhere was our first proper stop after a very picturesque but uncomfortable journey on the Nilgiri Mountain Railway. Not surprisingly, this town is more popularly known as Ooty, or 'Snooty Ooty', after the colonials that used to summer here. We stayed in the perfect, period, Rudyard Kipling-esque Lymond House with only three bedrooms, a lounge with a working fireplace and to complete the picture, a beautiful vintage car parked out front.

Photo caption: Lymond house in Ooty (top & bottom left); me wearing all of my warmest clothes at once when temperatures dropped to 9 degrees inside at night (bottom right). Never can I be accused of showing only my best sides.  

But at a whopping 2,300 metres above sea level, Ooty’s description as a 'hill station' is slightly misleading and the fireplace was put to good daily use when temperatures dropped to a chilly 9 degrees in the evening. (To put this into context, the Alpine ski resort of Meribel is located at only 1,400m asl and the highest inhabited town in the Alps is at 2,100m.) The altitude meant we got seriously chapped lips and two days of splitting headaches but on the plus side, I hardly saw the kids when we were in the hotel as they were so happy to have a huge wrap-around garden and swing to themselves in which they could play all day in less than scorching temperatures for once.

Photo caption: Scenes from our five hour journey on the 'toy train' from Mettupalayam to Ooty. Our carriage for 6 which took 11 of us (top left); a hilltop train station (top right); mountain vistas (bottom left); pee break (bottom right).

Here, we continued to encounter warm, friendly and accommodating people. One in particular went the extra mile by arranging the return of Xanthe’s beloved toy rabbit (without whom she has never slept), who had been left a two-hour drive away in our former hotel. It still makes me smile to think of the solo adventure he must have undertaken to be reunited with us - a trip to the bus station from the hotel, a two-hour plus ride on the bus to Ooty (accompanied by whom?) and then a lift from the station up to the hotel. And the cost of his return by “courier escort” which took less than half a day to get to us? A whopping 60p!

Photo caption: the queue at Ooty station when we arrived (top left); the locomotive was at the back of the train rather than at the front and pushed the carriages up the mountain (top right); lush vistas of verdant tea plantations and mountain springs (bottom left); SQUASHED! (bottom right). 

In contrast, I didn’t love our self-catering 'coconut grove' accommodation in Mysore. Never trust a venue on Airbnb that doesn’t show a picture of the bedroom (they have added them since). The city itself however was definitely as grand as it is hyped to be: huge, wide boulevards, immense public office buildings and large, leafy town squares. I loved the almost fairy-tale architectural blend of colonial Victorian and Mugal styles in which these imposing public buildings were built. The jewel(s) in the crown were the former maharaja’s palace and the separate palace (now a luxury hotel) he had built exclusively for his guests, replete with essential helipad. (Because one soon finds that just the one palace simply isn’t roomy enough to accommodate one’s guests.)

Photo caption: Mysore's Devaraja market - the stalls extend far beyond those inside the building (top left); Mysore Palace (top right); the view from the top of Chamundi Hill, 1001 steps high! (bottom left); some of the wares on offer in Devaraja market (bottom right)

As is so often the case, the highlights of our stay were not so much the sights but the experiences we had whilst there: an early taste of monsoon season with an evening rain storm of such epic, scary proportions that it definitely would have been described as a hurricane in the UK (another reason not to stay in amongst a coconut grove); receiving a family blessing at the Chamundeshwari temple (Chamunda - the "fearsome aspect of the Divine Mother" - has been the patron goddess of the city of Mysore ever since she slayed the demon that was threatening its destruction); buying oils from a 12 year old wheeler-and-dealer at the incredible Devaraja market; and my Ayurvedic massage which has to be the most unusual treatment I have ever received.

Photo caption: having received a red bindi from inside the temple (symbolising divine sight), we each received a physical blessing from the goddess Chamunda in the form of a wrist band, tied several times in an intricate fashion as the holy man recited a mantra (top left); a cow on a busy Mysore street (top right); drinking fresh sugar cane juice (bottom left); buying essential oils - geranium and jasmine - inside Devaraja market (bottom right)

It started innocuously enough with a Hindu prayer, after which came a foot scrub administered by one masseuse, during which warm oil was poured into my ears to clean them and then all over my hair and scalp to moisturise them, by another. They then joined forces to administer a vigorous, four-handed “synchronised” (their speciality) massage, which covered very nearly every single inch of my body. (The Indians may seem prudish in daily life but when it comes to wellness, not at all.) It ended with a steam in a Victorian-looking wooden contraption into which you had to climb in order to sit on what looked like a church pew. The lid of this box then closed around your neck to leave only your head exposed whilst you were slowly cooked. I had to ask them to turn it down twice. Afterwards, I was given two mystery tablets to take with my supper in order to “cleanse” my gut (where the toxins amalgamate after an Ayurvedic treatment).

Photo caption: some of Hampi's amazing monuments including a stone chariot (bottom left). 

I was also blown away, in a different way, by our final destination of Hampi. Not knowing beforehand that it was a UNESCO World Heritage Site, nor anything else about it for that matter, we were amazed to find that it is only a tiny village located actually in amongst the ruins themselves.

The site is remarkable not only because most of its historic buildings are so well-restored but also because of the unusual geographical landscape in which it is located: towering temples and majestic palaces rise up out of a palm tree-dotted, desert-like terrain that is broken up by piles of vast boulders, seemingly strewn in every direction. And yet unlike so many other globally-renowned architectural sites, this one was almost deserted! All of which made exploring so magical – you could really feel the ancient energy of the place, despite the daily, 41-degree heat.

Photo caption: temple detail (top left); a pregnant monkey stealing the contents of our bin - I'd filled it with rotten figs: with no fridge nor air con and 41 degree heat, none of our fruit collection survived. She had a feast (top right); river view - where Lakshmi the elephant took her daily morning bath - we never did manage to catch her on time (bottom left); Hampi temple (bottom right)  

Even more amazing was the fact that a two-day, Hindu festival was planned during our stay. We had no idea what this would entail but as it coincided this year with the full moon, it drew hoards of Indian pilgrims from villages far and wide, who either walked for miles carrying their luggage on their head or came by tractor load to witness it. And just as their ancestors would have done before them many centuries ago, they set up temporary homes in, on and under the temples, using them to hang their washing on, to set up shop in or to aid in the display of their wares.

Photo caption: Hampi temple (top left); joining the throngs of pilgrims (top right); bathing in the river to cleanse before the full moon/festival (bottom left); locals squatting in the temples (bottom right).

Indeed, from one day to the next, a little auxiliary town seemed to spring up out of nowhere to accommodate the visitors: shops selling all sorts of clothes, toys, religious paraphernalia, fruit and of course, Indian sweets. There were skills on offer too: hair shavers (it is auspicious to shave your head before being cleansed in the river prior to the festival), shoe shiners, pop-up eateries and even a lone entrepreneur with his mobile, bright blue set of bathroom scales.

As in Myanmar, we discovered that being white with three small kids - two of which are blonde - made us just as much a draw as the festivities themselves. I was constantly being asked if all three were mine (?) and we were never without our little band of followers. These would either just stare at us or try to touch one of the children - I think they thought it brought good luck. Given the number of ‘selfies’ we posed for, I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that the kids are the new Asian Facebook sensation.

Photo caption: Lakshmi the elephant dispensing blessings in the crowd (top left); dancing transvestites accompanied by male drummers and male dancers carrying huge metal poles covered in bells which they threw up and down - heavy duty work! (top right); the crowds waiting for the festival to start - every available roof top was used - even if it was thousands of years old! (bottom left); the chariot moving towards and past us to great cheering (bottom right)

Indians do not do things by halves and the festival itself was a proper extravaganza! The spectacle included a towering, decorated, wooden chariot - the centrepiece and focus of the ceremony as it was dragged by hand from one end of the town to the other - a holy elephant collecting cash and dispensing blessings as it wandered amongst the crowd, flying bananas tied up with bougainvillea (the auspicious aim was to throw them actually into the moving chariot), dancing transvestites, flaming torches, hypnotic drumming and an ecstatic, cheering crowd of thousands.

Photo caption: one of the "golam" drawn in rice flour powder found in front of villager's houses on the festival day. The floor underneath has been died green with cow dung paste, prized for its anti-bacterial and mood-enhancing properties! (top left); enjoying street food (top right); Hampi temple (bottom left); sweetie heaven! (bottom right)

And all this merry making without a drop of alcohol (it is banned in Hampi for religious reasons) or any other form of drug. Which actually made a big difference to the overall vibe. Despite having three small kids and constantly being surrounded by huge crowds, I never once felt unsafe. Indeed, I felt the safest and most welcome I have ever felt at a festival! Everyone was there to have a good time, and I must have heard the phrase "this is true Indian culture" from those around me at least 5 times. Since we were off to Goa the next day to start the next 12 week chapter of our stay in this incredible country, I took this as a good sign...

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

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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!

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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!

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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!

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