Beautiful, bountiful Bali...

Best thing about Bali: the awesome locals     New skill acquired: a) riding a moped b) riding a moped with three kids on it as well as me     Local food: unimpressed     Local wine: very impressed     Number of pairs of sunglasses that have broken since setting off: 9     Items of clothing lost through laundry services: over 20     Items mislaid during travels: over 30 (including very expensive, barely worn running shoes lost by airline)     Trips to A&E: 2     Thing I miss the most right now: mince pies!

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

POST 11: 23rd December 2016, Ubud, Bali.   

I knew when I wrote that I hadn’t yet used our emergency medical kit, that it wouldn’t be long before it was required. Talk about tempting providence. Two days later, our last night in Luang Prabang was made memorable by a trip to Laotian A&E for multiple stitches to my cheek. (The reason for this is not very glamorous – I banged it on the back of a chair whilst stooping to pick something up in the dark).

The hospital was VERY basic. So the idea of a needle so close to my eye ‘sans anaesthetic’ did not seem like much fun. Instead I ‘suggested’ (forcibly) that I use my own steri-strips, despite, somewhat naively, not knowing whether this was even feasible. It was a risk that paid off. I may have spent the first week of our stay in Bali resembling a cage fighter (with my rather large facial dressing) but all is well now. Just another scar that should fade. I hope!

Photo caption: off to practise my moped skills (top left); what happens when you don't take an umbrella with you in rainy season (top right); a passion fruit from the tree in our garden next to our private temple (bottom left); BoboMama me-time - or so I'd hoped (bottom right)

Luckily Bali is an incredible centre for healing of all sorts. It is not for nothing that it is called the Island of the Gods. It seems to offer everything: beautiful natural scenery (including an active volcano, tropical jungle, verdant rice fields and sandy beaches); a smattering of superb restaurants (particularly if you are into the burgeoning vegetarian/vegan/raw food movement) and a local population that is super friendly, warm, thoughtful and kind. And here, in the ‘cultural capital’ of the country - Ubud - we are the beneficiaries of its most amazing and also oddest attribute: the meeting of two very different sets of spiritual practices.

Photo caption: view of the still-active volcano, Mount Agung, from Xanthe and Raphael's Steiner school (top left); the walk to school (top right); the view from our villa (bottom left and right)

The most visible sign of Bali's religion is its inhabitants' adherence to the multiple ceremonies that are held throughout the year - even birthdays are celebrated twice! These either welcome or shun certain types of spirits but mostly just appease them so that they leave us well alone. This is because 'butakala' or potentially negative spirits will only do harm if neglected or provoked. So villages and homes are dotted with ubiquitous offerings of flowers and food: the women lay them out daily on household shrines, temples, near rivers and in and around the entrances to houses. Since they are known to be particularly active on certain days, at certain times of day, in specific locations (known to all locals), processions with various effigies are regular occurrences at which traditional dress is donned, gongs and drums are banged.

Photo caption: every day Ibu Wayan comes to visit (dressed especially in ceremonial gear) and leaves her home-made offerings at our temple as well as dotted around the house and entrance. She says some prayers, lights a joss stick and sprinkles water on each and every one in order to bring "good sleep" and "relaxing". 

Alongside this, there is the sometimes slightly JP Sears-esque New Age version, in which tourists, drawn to Bali for its remedial network, can supplement their inner-journeying with heart-opening cacao ceremonies, chakra-balancing yoga, past-life and ancestral clearing, harmonic body songs, deep dive dance, conscious communication sharing circles and holographic kinetics. (To name but a few of the mind-bending, alternative therapies on offer.) Healing tonics, raw chocolate brownies, gluten-free pizzas, dairy-free ice cream and kids' brown-rice bento boxes are all readily available here; the local supermarket sells frozen wheatgrass shots, organic palm nectar and spirulina flakes, and even the cinema is an organic, vegan one.

Photo caption: snapshots of last week's ceremony to appease the 'butakala' or potentially disruptive spirits  

It is both awesomely refreshing that alternative healing modalities are so readily accessible - I have hugely benefited from dabbling in a few of them - but it can also get a teeny bit annoying too: just about every westerner you meet is a therapist of some sort and conversations over heard in cafes can border on the self-consciously esoteric - on our very first morning here we stumbled into the nearest café only to catch the end of someone’s description of their most recent shamanic astral travel. As you do.

So whilst my inner Bohemian is loving it, my inner Bourgeois is having a superiority-complex field day: are these guys for real? What kind of planet have I landed on? The latter half of me is not alone: I have recently heard this phenomenon described as Bali ‘bla bla’. Which makes me laugh. Because it sums up the potential weariness that I feel might ensue when I have been here so long that I just crave some football talk. And I hate football. Just anything that offers a glimpse into something that is a bit more grounded, solid, real.

Photo caption: offerings along the bridge over the nearby stream (top left); another shrine to the river (top right); safe-guards for homes come in various forms: offerings, an 'aling aling' wall just behind the main entrance ('butakala' can't turn sharp corners), warning messages (bottom left); and statues of Ganesh the protector, who also inspires us with faith that obstacles will be overcome (bottom right)

Thus it’s been an interesting three weeks. And definitely relaxing. We have been honing our manifesting skills and managed to up our game yet again by finding ourselves living in an even more spacious, luxurious pool villa than the one in Thailand – this time adorned with beautiful art and sculptures and set amongst the most incredibly scenic as well as calming paddy-field vista. All because we waited until quite near to our arrival date before offering a handful of AirBnB owners the price we could afford rather than taking any notice of that which was publicised.

Photo caption: our pimp Balinese villa  

Waiting until the last minute has never been my forte - after all, Virgos are renowned for their perfectionist planning - but through practising patience and allowing life to FLOW rather than carve my own groove through or against it, I am amazed at how much we have managed to ‘achieve’: two fabulous schools for the three children, a gorgeous yoga studio just 5 minutes walk away, a car and scooter, a lovely babysitter and a brilliantly-talented, weekly masseuse, all within a few days of arrival! Through being clear about what we wanted and trusting that it would show up, we managed to secure all of this purely through serendipitous meetings with key people at random times in random places. Or maybe it’s just Bali. It is said that this island will bring you whatever you need to experience on the next step of your journey. And that’s exactly what it has done for us: some easy living after quite a bit of stress in Laos, a spot of luxury, a precious four hours a day to ourselves during the week and some healing thrown in for good measure.

Photo caption: New-Age architecture (top and bottom right); Cacao ready for the ceremony (bottom left)

The only thing that is missing is Xmas cheer. Which is probably a blessing really considering how much of a humbug I usually feel in England in response to the ruthless commercialisation of what was originally a pagan festival of light. But it would be nice to indulge in it a bit. So we have made our own advent calendars and snowflake decorations (Kirstie's homemade Christmas, eat your heart out) and we have found a fun place in which to enjoy a family Xmas Eve supper (which includes face-painting, kids' corner, Christmas carols and even a visit from Santa. In Bali!)

Photo caption: an example of Balinese creativity and artistry (top left); a sacred tree near Coco's school (top right); our local, organic/vegetarian/vegan (of course) cafe (bottom left); home-made advent calendars (bottom right)

It may not be a traditional Xmas - no tree or tinsel this year - but it will be fun and unique: the Balinese masseuse is booked for Xmas morning (it is not a holiday here) and afterwards, we will be enjoying a three-course vegetarian/vegan/raw menu in one of the cool, local cafes (that acts as Andrew's office during the week). I did however insist on investing in some festive tipple - I bought a sneaky, duty-free bottle of Dom Perignon 2006 whilst transiting through Kuala Lumpur airport - after all, it's not Xmas without champagne and a wine specialist needs nothing but the best!

Happy Xmas everyone! xxx

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...

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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!

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Taking the rough with the smooth...

3 SMALL KIDS, 2 CRAZY ADULTS, 1 YEAR TO TRAVEL THE WORLD POST 7: 22th October 2016, Mae Nam, Ko Samui, Thailand. 

We were bound to make mistakes at some point. And I guess that point is now. It all started because of the internet. This hardly exists in Myanmar and when it does, it is very, very, VERY slow. The kind of slow which means you absolutely cannot download an image and opening a simple text email takes maybe half an hour. Which is a good thing if you want to be in the now and disconnect from the modern world and all of its distractions. But not so good if you need a reminder that there IS a world out there full of normal people that are not on a year-long travel adventure with three kids under 7. And not so great if you need to research your next destination.

Photo caption: Bagan - temples galore

Our plan was always not to plan. To give ourselves the freedom to do what we fancied when we fancied it. So the only thing that was set in stone when we left the UK was that we would be spending one month in Greece as a warm-up to travelling and then flying on one-way tickets to SE Asia, starting with the still pretty-undiscovered Myanmar. Having initially thought that one month was not long enough for us to do the country justice - it is HUGE - and having considered (naively) how we might overstay our month-long visa, we ended up staying only three weeks.

On the whole, they were a good three weeks and the country gets a big thumbs up: the people are genuine, warm, very sweet and totally trustworthy; the food is delicious; the country is beautiful and apart from the tourist destinations  such as Bagan and Lake Inle where there is comparatively more pressure to buy certain things, you are pretty much left to your own devices to enjoy your trip in the way you choose. The accommodation however is very expensive for what you get, and after weeks of living in nice but very standard guesthouses, being ill for 7 days with a fever and suffering burn out after having been such conscientious tourists, we were kind of desperate to leave.

Photo caption: some of the hidden gems inside the temples

Because the problem is, in Myanmar, there was no possibility of us NOT being tourists as the accommodation in our it-has-to-be-basic-because-our-pot-of-money-needs-to-last-a-year price bracket was so basic that chilling out in it was not an option: too small, too dark, too depressing. We did end up paying to spend a couple of hours lying by someone else’s pool but in the end we needed a proper break: from moving around every three days, from sightseeing and from being with the kids 24/7.

We initially thought of Myanmar's only beach destination but since it is super expensive (over US$100 a night per room when we try to spend half of that as we always have to book two) and to get there would also require expensive internal flights, we thought we could go somewhere nearby which would be just as nice beach-wise and offer a better standard of accommodation.

Photo caption: some intricate carvings inside one of the temples in Bagan (left); Buddha's mother and auntie with Buddha himself being born from his mother's hip (right); more Buddhas (bottom)

So with ten minutes spare and a very dodgy internet connection at our disposal (if you sat right next to the router you could get a few minutes in before a) a power cut b) the router failed c) you were eaten alive by mosquitoes) we settled on Thailand: direct flights from Myanmar to Bangkok (where we needed to collect more anti-malarial drugs) then onwards to an island. Any island!

I had read about fellow travellers sending their children to a friendly school on Ko Samui so we settled on that. Job done. Flights booked. Hotel booked within walking distance of the school. Sorted. Before heading out to supper I thought we should probably send another message to the owner of the Thai school just to double check that there was room for the three kids (we hadn’t heard from her in a week) and to tell her that we would be arriving in two days time.

Photo caption: playing football with the locals in one of the temple grounds (top left); With our horse driver and some local kids that lived just next to one of the temples (top); yet more Burmese wanting selfies with our kids. We were stopped at least once every five minutes (bottom)

On checking our mail after supper: disaster! The school had shut down with no notice just the day before! And even worse perhaps, our 30 day visa coincided perfectly with rainy season which, on Ko Samui, starts at the end of October (we arrived on the 21st) and lasts until the beginning of December. So having been very excited about the prospect of chilling out, giving the kids some much needed structure (they have really missed school), some sun, sea and sand time and a chance for Andrew and I to get some work done in order to help pay for our trip, all of a sudden I was dreading it. No school, no beach time, no sun, no chance of any time to ourselves to work or chill out and a very touristy, expensive location.

Photo caption: monks heading out to ask for alms (top left); our horse driver in Bagan was a huge hit with the kids (top right); outside the back gate of the largest temple in Old Bagan (bottom left); Andrew dwarfed by its front gate (bottom right) 

So here we are on Ko Samui, a stone’s throw from the school that is no longer in operation, with the other French school shut for two weeks' holiday, the sky is cloudy and it is spitting with rain, there is as much wind now as on a blustery, October day in England and we are staying in a pretty expensive hotel surrounded by expensive beach restaurants on a very small budget. In addition to this, Raphael is suffering from his second tummy bug – he was sucking the bus rails in the airport and just cannot NOT lick things or stop eating with his hands – and to top it all off, he left his beloved monkey (without whom he cannot sleep and without whom he has NEVER been parted) in the hotel in Bangkok. They have assured me that it was put in the ‘express’ post to us here yesterday. My fingers are doubly crossed and in the meantime, we are pretending he never existed. Oh, and did I mention that we spent half of our one day in Bangkok in A & E because Xanthe (unsupervised) stuck a cotton bud so far into her ear that she made it bleed and I was worried she had burst her eardrum? It's all fun and games with three kids under 7.

Photo caption: the full-moon festival of lights which is the start of 9 days holiday in Burma. The main temple (top left); monks at one of the smaller temples (top right); a Burmese comedy performance (bottom left); candle-lit temple (bottom right)

As a result of all this, I am not feeling too great about things. In fact I am feeling pretty crappy. Angry with myself that we didn’t plan our next destination better (even though in my defense, I know this was impossible given our unreliable internet connections), resentful that the school we were planning on visiting shut without announcing this on their website and irritated that the probably once-pretty canal next door to our room is being widened in order to let the imminent rains flow better into the sea (think Caterpillar tractors going all day long).

I am also disappointed in myself for not being better at homeschooling (the two hours I spent on it this morning nearly killed me), annoyed that I am missing chats with my best friend and soul mate with whom I never have more than 10 seconds discourse before we are interrupted by one of the kids, and frustrated that I seem to be craving my home routine so much when all I do in England is moan about the cold and how unfulfilled I feel. Worst of all, I am disappointed in myself for feeling unhappy at all. If I were a Buddhist or perhaps an altogether better version of myself, I would be feeling grateful for my beautiful surroundings, my simple but elegant bungalow which is only 5 minutes walk from the sea, the delicious local food, my flat stomach (hooray!) the 30 degree heat and the fact that my children are happy.

Photo caption: Ko Samui - island life

But I guess that is just part of being a human. Just because we are travelling doesn’t mean that everything will suddenly become awesome and that I will suddenly require less time to myself or less time to chew the cud with Andrew. And just because we are somewhere new and exciting doesn’t mean we won’t feel tired or overwhelmed. Or that I won’t miss home. Because I do. I guess this will make returning even sweeter but for now, I'm just going to try and sit with this feeling. However difficult. This adventure was always going to be a journey. Both an outer and an inner one. And facing difficulties and even harder for me, accepting them, is all part of learning to take the rough with the smooth...

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

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