advice Challenges India Personal Solo Travel Women

Happy, Safe and Solo: Travelling in India by Yourself

Posted on February 7, 2013

When I told my dad that I was going to India by myself, his face fell. No matter that my cousin had travelled for a year through the country on her own; no matter, too, that I’d been travelling solo on various trips for the last six years. No: in his opinion, India was something else entirely. The reputation the country holds for being unsafe – particularly for local and foreign women alike – is normally enough to ring all those internal…

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Scotland

The Scottish Obsession with Whisky

Posted on February 4, 2013
Edinburgh whisky Distillery blogmanay

“Do you mind not taking photos right now, please?” The long haired Scotsman at the front of the room looked over at me pointedly, as I sat back guiltily in my seat and tried not to feel like a naughty school kid. He clearly felt all my attention should have been focused on him – and right he was. When whisky is the topic of conversation, there can be no distractions. Particularly in Scotland. “Now, if you’ll just look at…

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Challenges Ecuador Personal Spanish Challenge Travel Plans

Am I Incapable of Learning Spanish?

Posted on January 23, 2013

Wherever I travel, there’s a need to learn the language basics of the country I’m in. Getting to grips with ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye’, ‘what’s your name’ and ‘how are you?’, and the all important ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ is simply common courtesy, and everything else you pick up is a bonus. But in January 2013 I made the decision to travel long-term through South America, and ever since then one fact has been weighing heavily on my mind.  I don’t speak any Spanish.…

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Scotland

Monsters and Murders in the Highlands of Scotland

Posted on January 20, 2013

On the Old Perth Road, not long after you exit Inverness city centre, there’s a Shell Garage petrol station on the right hand side of the street. Beside the outer wall of this petrol station sits a crumbling stone marker, which reads, “This is the supposed burial place of King Duncan, 1140.” The marker stands on a barren corner of pavement, seen only by speeding cars and the occasional pecking pigeon. Shakespeare’s retelling of this murder, of King Duncan’s fatal stabbing…

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Europe Festivals Scotland

Old Thoughts at a New Year: Edinburgh’s Hogmanay

Posted on January 12, 2013

We’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet, for the sake of auld lang syne… The last time I crossed over the border from England to Scotland, I was ten years old and driving for a day and a night in cross-legged comfort from the front seat of my dad’s car, where I voraciously read a ton of Goosebumps novels and a couple of Jacqueline Wilsons. Our destination was Perth, where my mum was performing in a play at the local…

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Travelling in 2012: A Photographic Roundup

Posted on December 31, 2012

It’s been an odd twelve months. I knew this year would involve a lot of travel, but I didn’t count on quite so much. This time last year, I was mainly blogging for my friends and family; now, I feel like I’m writing for a much bigger audience. And three continents and ten countries later, I’m planning my extensive trip to South America in February next year, and viewing it in a totally different light to my six months in Asia.…

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England Volunteering

Helping the Homeless: Volunteering with Crisis at Christmas

Posted on December 29, 2012
Crisis at Christmas volunteering homeless

My first volunteering shift with Crisis at Christmas was in December 2007. My first task was clearing the food trays in the canteen, after the guests had finished their breakfast. I was eighteen, slightly overwhelmed and completely unsure about how I was supposed to behave. The first instinct I had was to just keep my head down and not speak – and what was I even supposed to say anyway? How come you guys are homeless? I didn’t want to offend…

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England Grief Personal

Why It Doesn’t Really Feel Like Christmas to Me

Posted on December 26, 2012

When I was younger, we used to spend Christmas at my grandma’s house in the country. It was a big old farmhouse, filled with spiders and dust and a whole bedroom of mysterious collectibles that belonged to the grandpa I never met. Along the upstairs corridor there was a window, its sill scattered with ornaments and sprigs of plastic flowers in glass jars. And every Christmas Eve, I used to sit and stare out at the darkening sky, straining to…

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