A Little Clarity.


It’s time. Time to pick up my laptop. Time to dust off the keyboard and once again, time write a post I’ve been dreading – not just the ‘white girl’ drivvel about ‘following my dreams’, that probably only my Mum reads.

Truth is, I’ve had two naps today and it’s now 3.00am… I’m cranky and there’s not a hope in hell of sleeping. So I’ll make short work of it.

It’s been almost 7 months since I boarded a plane in rainy ol’ Manchester, hauling my hefty backpack behind me. Eyes brimming with tears *ahem* enthusiasm, and off on my very own quest for ‘self discovery’… meaning that, 24 years in, I knew very little bugger all about myself apart from what I thought was expected of me.

Just over half a year later, and counting down the final few days of my Asia expo before I board an ‘Air Asia’ special to the gleaming shores and shark infested waters of Oz, I think it’s time to come clean…

The inevitable happened. I’ve changed. Moved on. And outgrown ‘My Happy Rucksack’.

**which was only a matter of time really because it literally sounds like fresh merch from My Little Pony’s ‘back to school’ collection. WHAT was I thinking?!

But seriously.

I feel hollow when I read back through my life as it was, just 7 months ago. I sounded like every other privileged Westerner whose idea of ‘adventure’ was to ‘boldly’ quit my job, totter to the other side of the globe and stare the ‘unknown’ in the face, from the comfort of the well-trodden tourist path, that is…


I’m not knocking people who do the same. It’s inspiring, empowering and bloody brilliant that travel is such a commodity in the West. It’s great that everyone, whatever their age, can sample a little more of the world than the one they grew up in. It’s wonderful that people are able to make businesses through blogging / making films about their adventures and encouraging others to take the leap too. It’s also hugely important for developing tourism trades in the countries which really depend upon it.

I’m not against any of that.

Point is, I don’t want to write about ‘me’ anymore. My story isn’t new, it’s been done a hundred times over by people just like me – who get tired of the old and need an awakening.

I like to hear stories, other people’s stories. I like to tell them, share them, give them a voice. I’m a journalist at heart and, looking back, this was the most provoking reason why I carefully selected it as a profession.

I’d just forgotten.


Now, I’d like to use it. Somehow. (I haven’t figured out how). To do something good and make a little mark on the world.

It’s time for a new chapter. It’s time to be selfless.



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