I'm a planner. I'm organized, efficient and productive. In an obsessive, over-the-top kind of way as well. This time last year, I bought a notebook and divided it into each country that we were visiting, with subdivisions for each area/city, noting down things like places to visit, cheap or free attractions, things to be wary of, places to eat, friends' recommendations etc...
However, after about a month of planning, each and every evening, hours and hours worth of data carefully and meticulously oragnized in my travel notebook, The Boy casually mentioned that he'd rather just 'wing it', as is the nature of backpacking apparently. I had a tantrum and then reluctantly agreed and we decided to use the notebook as a 'reference point' rather than a 'mini-spiral-bound-travelling-dictator'. His idea of travelling was that we would just turn up at the airport, look at each other, shrug our shoulders and find somewhere to stay. Well...you may remember how well THAT went in India (see this blog for details). However, for the most part, anti-planning has been a really exciting approach to travelling for us. It turned out to be so freeing to say "Hey, we LOVE it here, let's stay another week" without the pressures of booked trains or hostels to rearrange. We ate where we felt like eating and visited places that looked like fun taking opportunities as they presented themselves to us. We took advice from other travellers we met along the way, friends, family and occasionally, "The Notebook" and all in all had a really fantastic experience of 'playing it by ear'.
So, at the point of leaving New Zealand, we had been travelling for 8 and a half months, and had pretty much reached "Master Level" in 'winging it', backpacker style. I'd researched Fiji online briefly (remember, no stressing, no over-planning, just a quick glance at "The Notebook" to triple check we could enter visa-free) and found that we could waltz in without a visa, as we were only staying a week or two at most. We flew the red-eye (early hours in the morning) and arrived at about 5am, having had zero sleep, bleary-eyed but ready to explore the islands and find a beautiful beach to chill on for a couple of weeks.
We got our passports checked and the woman casually asked us the name of the hotel we were staying at. We replied, as we always have done, that we haven't booked anywhere, but it was the first job on our list of things to do in Fiji! Cue narrowed-eyed peering from the woman, followed by 'discreet' phone call to...someone. And then "Please take a seat over there" as she tucked our passports away on her desk and called the people behind us to come forward...
Ohhhh, what the heck is this, now?! Just when you start to relax, having winged it through seven countries relatively hassle free, JUST when you think "Yeh, we got this, we got this travelling malarky. We are soooo free and soooo chilled..." then BOOM. You find yourself sitting in what can only be described as a rum storage room but is clearly being passed off as the "Immigration Office for Fiji", looking at a man with scary stern eyes and no smile, wondering what code word you must have used that triggered such a hasty response...
Turns out the entry requirements for Fiji include having somewhere pre-booked to stay in. I think they are trying to avoid a "homeless traveller sleeps on the street" scenario, and fair play to them, but we had not been aware of this requirement and so we were in somewhat of a pickle. We sat in the 'office', surrounded by the boxes of rum (what are they doing with all that rum at the airport?!) and waited to find out if we were in trouble. After looking at us for a few minutes, he said he was going to book us in somewhere and asked us what our budget was. We looked at each other and mumbled something about not having a set budget, but that we basically needed to spend as little as possible. He slitted his eyes and looked at us suspiciously.
"How much money do you have on you now?" he asked. We again, looked at each other and the mumbling began again, "Well, I suppose, we don't have much, but really, in the bank I'd say...erm...maybe...well actually to tell the truth we are in our overdraft, so essentially we erm...have got money but are keen to not really use it so...erm..."
This did not go down well. He stood up and said he was taking George to an ATM and we had to get out this specific amount of money. Now. We clearly came across like those guys you see on "Border Patrol" who are the shadiest characters and you just KNOW they 're getting busted. Except we WEREN'T shady characters and really just wanted to SEE a beach before jetting back to Autumnal England!
So The Boy and Scary Immigration Officer returned with the cash and both seemed slightly more relaxed. And then, reassured that we weren't actually penniless, the hotel booking commenced. He tried to book us into a place on the mainland that we had heard wasn't all that great and whilst he was on the phone I began to whisper out of the corner of my mouth to The Boy... "Tell him we want an island...This is our only chance to have a Fijian Paradise Holiday, we want an ISLAND..."
"Erm...excus...excuse me? We'd actually quite like to stay on..erm...an island? Maybe.... *points to map* this one...please?" Without saying a word, the man picked up the phone and phoned the Beachcomber Island Resort and after a lot of quick mumbling he announced that for 4 nights all inclusive it will cost 'x' amount. The Boy and I looked at each other, both trying to read the others' expression. 'X' amount was more money than we had anticipated, and would cause us serious financial problems on our return to England, but it was the final destination on our round-the-world extravaganza, so surely, we could overspend a little bit?! Our thoughts were interrupted by Scary Immigration Man bluntly telling us that if we don't accept RIGHT now, he will deport us... Right now. And so the deal was done. He booked us 4 nights all inclusive and we finally left the 'office' for our much-shorter-than-originally-planned beach holiday.
We arrived on the island, tired from the red-eye-no-sleep-at-all flight, behaving like zombies, more than ready for our first day on the beach. We were just filling out the forms at Reception when the manager approached us and asked if we were the ones who were collared by Immigration at the airport. She then went on to explain that she had upgraded us free of charge, from a bunkhouse to a private room, because she felt bad about our misunderstanding at the airport.
And our souls sung, and the sun seemed brighter and the sea seemed bluer and our room was perfect. Because, our first impression of Fiji was scary and stressful, and at one point I thought, what's the point?! Let's just get deported already! But the moment we arrived on that little island, our imaginations of the 'Paradise Getaway' began to come true.
The island was tiny. So tiny that, when walking around it one afternoon, The Boy said after ten minutes "The sun is burning hot isn't it, maybe we should head back" and I stopped and looked around and said "Well... we are back, look..." and lo and behold, there was the bar we'd set off from!
The water surrounding our paradise island was ridiculously perfect, being in paradise and all. It was so blue that I kept picking some of it up to see if it was actually coloured blue in my hands. I had a conspiracy theory that the Fijian government must pour tons of blue food dye into their oceans to keep the tourists coming each year. The Fijian people were amazing. They sung as people arrived onto the island and they sung a goodbye song as people left. They organized daily activities including snorkelling and fish feeding, turtle conservation demo, games and competitions, day trips to other islands and of course, the traditional Kava ceremony.
We got to know the staff and even spent an evening drinking Kava and chatting with them in their staff bunkhouse, with one of the chefs giving his Sulu (man-skirt) to The Boy as a gift.
We met some new friends and spent our days sunbathing, snorkelling, eating (3 huge buffet meals a day split up by morning and afternoon tea and cakes, our tummies were constantly full...) reading, playing cards and sleeping. Four days flew by, and before we knew it we were listening to our own Goodbye song being sung, waving our friends off, crying and hugging the staff of the resort, promising we would be back again soon.
And I so hope we will. It was the country we spent the least amount of time in, but it had one of the biggest impacts on me. The kindness, friendliness and fun of the Fijians on Beachcomber was overwhelming and that, combined with our new-found friends from around the globe meant that Fiji will remain as one of my top memories of travelling.
And so, with a strange cocktail of sadness and anticipation in our hearts we set off home, flying from Fiji to LA, and LA to London within the space of 2 days. We hadn't told anyone that we had run out of money and we were coming back, leaving them to think we were staying in Fiji and then exploring America until Christmas, and the excitement of not only seeing our families and friends again, but also surprising them cushioned the sad thoughts that our trip of a lifetime was over.
We surprised George's family in Guildford, and then travelled up to Preston to surprise mine. Then, having felt so very sneaky having been in the country for about a fortnight without any friends knowing, we finally texted round and had a grand reunion.
So now we're home...It seems like only yesterday I was writing about our upcoming travels, wondering where the year would take us and what we would learn. I've been thinking about it a lot since arriving home and I think these would be my top 5 lessons the world has shared with me...
1. Love freely... Just because you should. Not to get money in return. Not because it's your job to be polite. Not because you're scared karma might look upon you unfavourably, but because it's good and right. The kindest, most loving people we've met this year all had one strong characteristic in common...they loved unconditionally.
2. Be scared...A HUGE one for me, with my plethora of fears and anxieties. I used to have spider dreams all the time such was my anxiety of them co-existing in the world with me, but the other day I spotted a teeny spiderling and I gently poked it with my finger. It didn't like it and I kinda felt bad afterwards but I did it. I actually poked a spidey and I'm now invincible!
Well not invincible, but I am braver than ever and will now at least think about trying new things before deciding they scare me!
3. Great Britain is tiny...I used to complain about travelling 4 hours to get from Surrey to Lancashire and vice versa. Now, having experienced a 30 hour train ride in India, a 17 hour minibus ride in Laos and countless 2 hour journeys from Surfer's Paradise to Brisbane just for afternoons out with pals, not to mention the 10 hour flights here and there, I will never again see a 4 hour journey as anything more than a little afternoon trip!
4. Take risks... If I'd believed everything I'd been told about the countries I visited before going, I'd never have left my sofa back home. Every single country was totally different to how I'd pictured it based on hearing other people's anecdotes and even reading guide books. Everyone experiences the world differently, including me! If you hear a country is awful to visit, or scary, or has 10 foot pythons in the toilets and spiders in everyones' bed, take it on, bear it in mind then get up and go and decide for yourself. Opinions are infinite and experiences are unique.
5. Throw the tick list away... My biggest (and most life-changing) lesson is exactly this. I literally wrote a list of things I wanted to see, do, experience and 'tick-off'. Some of them I did, and some I didn't, and it took me a long time to move on from the feeling of 'incompleteness', seeing items on my list not ticked off as I left the country in a plane. Having a tick list also sometimes means you only see things to say you've seen them, and I am, even now, guilty of doing this. When we visited Sydney Opera House, we stood outside it and I said "Right, we've seen it now, shall we get a Subway?" (I was obsessing about Subway that day, it's all I wanted) and that was that. Off we went for a foot long Veggie Delite...
We didn't spend an hour marvelling at the architecture or going inside or actually seeing an opera (do they even do operas there? I assume so but I'll never know?) or learning about its history. We'd ticked it off and that was that. But maybe our experience would have been more meaningful if we had learnt about the woman/man who built it, or the creative reasons behind its unique shape... Don't get me wrong, I have a bucket list and it's exciting and motivating to have a list of things you want to accomplish, but for me, it was quite oppressing to have a tick list, as it made me anxious when we couldn't tick something off, and made me feel false elation when I could.
Since arriving back, the one thing most people have asked is this...
"What was your favourite place to visit?"
And the answer always changes. Because one day, I'll be craving a curry and I'll remember the amazing food we had in India, and India will climb up to my number one spot in the travelling charts in my head. Then another day, I will be cold and wintery in my house and I'll remember the days spent on Thai beaches, enjoying the beauty and tranquillity of such an awesome country and Thailand will be my number one memory for that day. Or I'll see a Facebook post from friends we met in Laos and I'll remember meeting their Lao family, sharing meals with them and painting the little girls' nails in their tiny village home. And Laos will be my favourite country in the world. For that day. And so on.
But for now, the best country in the world is right here. England, where my favourite people in the world live, and where Autumn is every colour of the rainbow, and where a cup of tea is just right.
So I think we'll stay put for now...
Love Hannan xx
However, after about a month of planning, each and every evening, hours and hours worth of data carefully and meticulously oragnized in my travel notebook, The Boy casually mentioned that he'd rather just 'wing it', as is the nature of backpacking apparently. I had a tantrum and then reluctantly agreed and we decided to use the notebook as a 'reference point' rather than a 'mini-spiral-bound-travelling-dictator'. His idea of travelling was that we would just turn up at the airport, look at each other, shrug our shoulders and find somewhere to stay. Well...you may remember how well THAT went in India (see this blog for details). However, for the most part, anti-planning has been a really exciting approach to travelling for us. It turned out to be so freeing to say "Hey, we LOVE it here, let's stay another week" without the pressures of booked trains or hostels to rearrange. We ate where we felt like eating and visited places that looked like fun taking opportunities as they presented themselves to us. We took advice from other travellers we met along the way, friends, family and occasionally, "The Notebook" and all in all had a really fantastic experience of 'playing it by ear'.
So, at the point of leaving New Zealand, we had been travelling for 8 and a half months, and had pretty much reached "Master Level" in 'winging it', backpacker style. I'd researched Fiji online briefly (remember, no stressing, no over-planning, just a quick glance at "The Notebook" to triple check we could enter visa-free) and found that we could waltz in without a visa, as we were only staying a week or two at most. We flew the red-eye (early hours in the morning) and arrived at about 5am, having had zero sleep, bleary-eyed but ready to explore the islands and find a beautiful beach to chill on for a couple of weeks.
We got our passports checked and the woman casually asked us the name of the hotel we were staying at. We replied, as we always have done, that we haven't booked anywhere, but it was the first job on our list of things to do in Fiji! Cue narrowed-eyed peering from the woman, followed by 'discreet' phone call to...someone. And then "Please take a seat over there" as she tucked our passports away on her desk and called the people behind us to come forward...
Ohhhh, what the heck is this, now?! Just when you start to relax, having winged it through seven countries relatively hassle free, JUST when you think "Yeh, we got this, we got this travelling malarky. We are soooo free and soooo chilled..." then BOOM. You find yourself sitting in what can only be described as a rum storage room but is clearly being passed off as the "Immigration Office for Fiji", looking at a man with scary stern eyes and no smile, wondering what code word you must have used that triggered such a hasty response...
Turns out the entry requirements for Fiji include having somewhere pre-booked to stay in. I think they are trying to avoid a "homeless traveller sleeps on the street" scenario, and fair play to them, but we had not been aware of this requirement and so we were in somewhat of a pickle. We sat in the 'office', surrounded by the boxes of rum (what are they doing with all that rum at the airport?!) and waited to find out if we were in trouble. After looking at us for a few minutes, he said he was going to book us in somewhere and asked us what our budget was. We looked at each other and mumbled something about not having a set budget, but that we basically needed to spend as little as possible. He slitted his eyes and looked at us suspiciously.
"How much money do you have on you now?" he asked. We again, looked at each other and the mumbling began again, "Well, I suppose, we don't have much, but really, in the bank I'd say...erm...maybe...well actually to tell the truth we are in our overdraft, so essentially we erm...have got money but are keen to not really use it so...erm..."
This did not go down well. He stood up and said he was taking George to an ATM and we had to get out this specific amount of money. Now. We clearly came across like those guys you see on "Border Patrol" who are the shadiest characters and you just KNOW they 're getting busted. Except we WEREN'T shady characters and really just wanted to SEE a beach before jetting back to Autumnal England!
So The Boy and Scary Immigration Officer returned with the cash and both seemed slightly more relaxed. And then, reassured that we weren't actually penniless, the hotel booking commenced. He tried to book us into a place on the mainland that we had heard wasn't all that great and whilst he was on the phone I began to whisper out of the corner of my mouth to The Boy... "Tell him we want an island...This is our only chance to have a Fijian Paradise Holiday, we want an ISLAND..."
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| ...The view of another teeny island from our teeny island... |
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| ...The view from our room. Green, green, green until you hit the blue, blue, blue... |
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| ...So blue...Just SO blue..! |
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| I mean seriously... LOOK how clear and blue this water is!! This is the ACTUAL SEA! |
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| ...Conquering ANOTHER fear...Water. Oh, and fish actually. Fish freak me out... |
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| ...We won a 'dancing with partners' game and celebrated with a free pitcher of beer... |
We met some new friends and spent our days sunbathing, snorkelling, eating (3 huge buffet meals a day split up by morning and afternoon tea and cakes, our tummies were constantly full...) reading, playing cards and sleeping. Four days flew by, and before we knew it we were listening to our own Goodbye song being sung, waving our friends off, crying and hugging the staff of the resort, promising we would be back again soon.
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| ...Our friend Lauren leaving the island while the staff wave and sing the Goodbye song... |
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| ...About to board our final flight from LA that will take us home! Note the sleepy eyes of a man who is done with all this flying... |
We surprised George's family in Guildford, and then travelled up to Preston to surprise mine. Then, having felt so very sneaky having been in the country for about a fortnight without any friends knowing, we finally texted round and had a grand reunion.
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| ...Jonesy so excited to be reunited with us. See his smile? He loves us so... |
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| ...Our friend David, chef at Beachcomber. He gave us his Sulu, which I wore ever so stylishly... |
2. Be scared...A HUGE one for me, with my plethora of fears and anxieties. I used to have spider dreams all the time such was my anxiety of them co-existing in the world with me, but the other day I spotted a teeny spiderling and I gently poked it with my finger. It didn't like it and I kinda felt bad afterwards but I did it. I actually poked a spidey and I'm now invincible!
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| ...The nightmare spider in Laos. Fears galore... |
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| ...The dreaded 17 hour minibus ride that we no longer speak of... |
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| ...I was so nervous about travelling in India. I had been warned about being poorly and ended up feeling so very healthy and happy..! |
5. Throw the tick list away... My biggest (and most life-changing) lesson is exactly this. I literally wrote a list of things I wanted to see, do, experience and 'tick-off'. Some of them I did, and some I didn't, and it took me a long time to move on from the feeling of 'incompleteness', seeing items on my list not ticked off as I left the country in a plane. Having a tick list also sometimes means you only see things to say you've seen them, and I am, even now, guilty of doing this. When we visited Sydney Opera House, we stood outside it and I said "Right, we've seen it now, shall we get a Subway?" (I was obsessing about Subway that day, it's all I wanted) and that was that. Off we went for a foot long Veggie Delite...
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| ...The obligatory selfie. You can practically see my thoughts of a Veggie Delite..! |
Since arriving back, the one thing most people have asked is this...
"What was your favourite place to visit?"
And the answer always changes. Because one day, I'll be craving a curry and I'll remember the amazing food we had in India, and India will climb up to my number one spot in the travelling charts in my head. Then another day, I will be cold and wintery in my house and I'll remember the days spent on Thai beaches, enjoying the beauty and tranquillity of such an awesome country and Thailand will be my number one memory for that day. Or I'll see a Facebook post from friends we met in Laos and I'll remember meeting their Lao family, sharing meals with them and painting the little girls' nails in their tiny village home. And Laos will be my favourite country in the world. For that day. And so on.
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| ...Home, where the rain refreshes the traveller's weary soul..! |
So I think we'll stay put for now...
Love Hannan xx
