Let’s talk about money. Travelling for as long as I’ve done is a huge privilege. I had quite a chunk saved up from part-time jobs but I didn’t have enough to fund my whole trip. I’m so lucky to have family who were willing to loan me money when I ran out, enabling me to travel for as long as possible before starting my job. With that being said, the amount of money I spent might be less than you’d think…

So I spent around £1000 a month, which is equivalent to my rent in London to put it in perspective. I did travel in an extremely frugal way in general, but splashed out on activities here and there. Doing a lot of volunteering with free accommodation and food helped bring my average down.

When I set out on my trip I did a rough budget, estimating £790 a month and so £10,000 for 13 months. I spent more than this each month and travelled for 14.5 months. Again, without my family loaning me money I would’ve had to come home a lot sooner! I’m afraid I didn’t keep a proper record of all of my expenses until the last few months so I can’t give a proper breakdown of my spending on different things, but here’s a rough overview of the average cost of a hostel and of a meal. I was going to do an average monthly cost for each place but because I volunteered in some and not others it doesn’t really work - sorry!

I did travel on a budget to the extreme and at times it was exhausting to constantly be as cheap as possible. It’s definitely not for everyone! I stayed in some truly awful places, and continued to stay in them as I didn’t want to spend more money on somewhere nicer. I never went for a fancy meal or even ate western food (this one was fine with me, I loved the local places!). I chose the cheapest travel options and tried to do everything myself rather than through tours. I did actually enjoy this aspect of travelling, it was a challenge and helped me make decisions. It didn’t stop me from doing anything I wanted and I did still splash out on some activities. But I can see how having a bit more money might be helpful, in not having to stress so much and be able to do even more fun stuff in each place.

Some of my most asked questions are about my budget and the cost of travelling. I hope this sheds some light on the matter, but if you’re planning a trip and want more information feel free to reach out!

A huge part of travelling for me is food. It’s exploring different cultures through their flavours and learning about life in that country by what they eat and how they eat. It’s going out for meals with locals and socialising over dinner with other travellers. Food was the main pattern I followed whilst travelling, noticing how it gradually changed from one country to the next. I watched the cuisine change in this gradual sense all the way from England to Indonesia. And that was truly magical and one of my absolute highlights of travelling. It’s not just the food that I became interested in, but how that food is eaten. The idea of three meals is very western and seeing how other places eat was intriguing. Using cutlery is also, of course, western. It took me a while, but I finally got to grips with eating with my hand and found it to be so much more enjoyable than cutlery! It took me even longer to become apt at using chopsticks, and I found the joy in using these too. I cannot wait to find good places in London that offer all of the cuisines I’ve eaten and loved whilst travelling. I also can’t wait to introduce those flavours and dishes into my own cooking. Food was such a big part of my travels, it deserves a dedicated overview post so here it is!

Disclaimer: Yes, food was a big and wonderful part of my travels, but it was also a big and not so wonderful part. Eating different cuisines constantly did really mess with my stomach and I had continual problems with it. I was lucky to only become bedridden twice, but lots of the time I was either clogged up completely or rushing to a toilet! The big part could also bring grief. Deciding what and where to eat every day was so annoying sometimes. I had serious decision fatigue at points and the thought of deciding on a restaurant and then a dish was too much. I never understood travellers who moaned about constantly having to eat out, but I get it now. Being home and being able to just eat some toast when I’m hungry is such a luxury! Okay bad bit addressed, let’s get on to the food.

Best meals

1. Lamb Kleftiko, Greece. Tender lamb chunks cooked in a clay pot with cheese. I ate several during my time in Greece, this first one was by far my favourite. Eaten as my birthday meal with my wonderful friends in Crete. Three of us ordered this, and we all paused and looked to one another after our first mouthful, needing to confirm that what we were eating was truly this heavenly. It was.
2. Boat noodles, Thailand. All of my favourite flavours in one dish, warmth from nutmeg, heat from chilli, freshness from herbs. One of my first meals in Southeast Asia and probably the reason I was so disappointed in Vietnamese cooking, with none of the soups I had there coming close to this one.
3. A Georgian spread, Georgia. Served up to me by Dodo, the old lady that ran the guesthouse that I’d arrived to an hour before, dripping wet and hungry. Here we have aubergine in a garlicy mayonaise, fried potatoes, tomatoes with svaneti salt, khachapuri and a beef stew. Homely and warming and cosy and all of those good things.
4. Happy meal, Nepal. Eaten from Yacdonalds in Kagbeni on the last night of the Annapurna Circuit (the trek I did in the Himalayas). A yak burger served with chips, coleslaw, apple and a seabuckthorn drink. One of the best burgers I’ve ever eaten. Bonus points for the humour!
5. Khao Soi, Thailand. Why this isn’t as famous as Pad Thai I do not know. Creamy coconut curry with noodles, topped with fried noodles for some crunch. Heavenly. This is the second one I had, eaten with Rosaline up in Chiang Rai. She was as big of a fan as I was!
6. Kharcho and Elarji, Georgia. Chicken covered in a ground up walnut and tomato sauce, served with a thick cheesy dish. True Georgian uniqueness, it’s hard to describe either component properly. Very very tasty. I ate this in a little booth in a little restaurant in Tbilisi before heading off to explore the wine region with Micah.
7. Tofu and pork, Laos. I ate this in Laos but it’s actually a Thai dish, as all of the best Laos food seemed to be… Simple but good, the tofu on the bottom was so soft and delicious, the pork mixture on top was salty and flavourful, and the crispy onions finished it off perfectly. I ate this alone in Luang Prabang after having a busy few days with people, enjoying the solitude and the flavours in equal proportions.

Best desserts

1. Mango sticky rice, Thailand. I do not know why this simple dessert is so good, but it really is unbeatable. Mango, sticky rice, coconut milk. That’s it. Rosaline and I were obsessed with this dessert.
2. Yomari, Nepal. A strange dumpling pastry filled with the most decadent dark chocolate and coconut mixture. Chocolate and heavy desserts are so uncommon in Asia that I was shocked by the richness. Really damn good. I ate it on my last night in Nepal, going out to a Newari restaurant to finally try some of their cuisine as I’d heard so much about it from other Nepalese people.
3. Kunefe, Turkey. A shredded, syrupy pastry filled with cheese. My favourite version was one with pistachios on top. All of the desserts in Turkey were pretty special, but normally a bit too sweet for me. This one had the salty cheese to cut through the syrup and it worked very well. I tried this in Sanliurfa whilst travelling with Thalia and Helena, acting as their guinea pig.

Best snacks

1. Apple doughnut, Nepal. Whilst hiking the Annapurna Circuit in the Himalayas, only eating dal bhat and porridge, we passed an apple farm which sold apple based pastries, like this fresh, piping hot, apple filled doughnut. I can’t describe the joy that biting into its crunchy outer layer, down into the warm and fluffy middle and then into the sourness of the apple filling, brought to me. All with the view of the mountains and the weight of my backpack on my shoulders. That moment makes it one of the best things I ate on the trip.
2. Saffron lassi, India. Lassi is a thick yogurt drink and this one was by far the best I had in India. The saffron flavour was subtle but strong enough to deliver, topped with nuts and dried fruit which added some texture as they sank into the clay cup. I enjoyed this whilst walking and observing the craziness of Varanasi.
3. Pistachio paste, Turkey. I still dream about these. They weren’t sweet, had the best slightly gritty texture, with an insane pistachio flavour. I bought a bagful in Gaziantep and ate them really quickly, only to find they’re only really sold in Gaziantep! I managed to buy some in Mardin but they were nowhere near as good. I saved my last one for months and ended up giving it to two Turkish guys I shared a sleeper carriage with on a train from Tajikistan to Uzbekistan. The earthquake that hit Gaziantep had just happened.
4. Peanut chaat, India. A peanut salad, served with beers. Way better than just a bowl of salted peanuts and so quick and easy to make! I ate this sat on the floor of an apartment in Osh, Kyrgystan, with the Indian and Pakistani guys that lived there. We drank beers, spoke about the Pakistan, India conflict and enjoyed this peanut chaat.
5. Bamboo sticky rice, Cambodia. Picked up from the side of the road. Bamboo shoot filled with sticky rice cooked in coconut milk, with beans. A great little road trip snack to keep us going on our tuktuk ride from a floating village back to Siem Reap. We were all shocked at how tasty it was.
6. Pretzel, Germany. No description needed here. A humble snack but I weirdly love pretzels and this one was by far the best I’ve ever eaten. I bought several.

Best breakfasts

1. Roti Canai, Malaysia. Fresh roti served with a tomatoey dahl that was just to die for. Unbelievably cheap, this plate cost 20p. I had my first taste of roti canai whilst working at the rice farm, with the owners delivering it to us fresh some mornings. We’d sit and eat together after working on the paddy. Some of the volunteers would swap the dahl for peanut butter and banana!
2. Greek yogurt with honey and walnuts, Greece. I don’t think I need to describe this dish for you, and I’m sure you can imagine how much nicer it is in Greece. I mean, just look at that block of yogurt. I walked 30 minutes in the pouring rain in search of this restaurant. It was worth every wet step.
3. Bedmi Puri, India. Not only my favourite breakfast in India, but my favourite street food full stop. The bottom part is fried roti filled with a lentil paste, obviously spiced to perfection, served with a potato curry, equally perfectly spiced. I ate this sat in a doorway in Varanasi, watching the bodies being carried to the burning ghats and the people covered in orange. This cost 15p, making it one of my cheapest breakfasts too.
4. Smoothie bowl, Indonesia. A big thing in the more touristy areas of Indonesia and I’m not complaining. Eating this sat literally on a beach looking out at crystal blue sea, peak happiness. This one is dragonfruit with caramelised banana and vanilla crumble. Yum.
5. Cottage cheese pancakes, Georgia. These delightfully fluffy little parcels were found in all of the Russian influenced countries I visited, and it’s a Russian dish. Pancakes made with cottage cheese which gave them the best texture ever. This one was my favourite, served with a lemon whipped condiment and roasted hazelnuts. I ate this on my first morning in Georgia, happy to have some western comforts like a proper coffee after spending the last month in eastern Turkey.

Best coffee

1. Egg coffee, Vietnam. Very delicious, like a creme brulee crossed with a coffee. I had several whilst popping in and out of Hanoi. This was my favourite. Not too sweet, strong coffee, light and fluffy top.
2. Pistachio coffee, Turkey. Once you get past the slightly gritty texture and take in the deep pistachio flavour, you’ll be in love. I think about this a lot. I only saw it in Gaziantep and the surrounding area. Had this one in a traditional caravanserai, with coffee houses and food joints all around.

The best homemade food

1. Christmas dinner, Kazakhstan. No one was more shocked than me by the fact I managed to have a full blown Christmas dinner this year! I mean look at that plate. It was beef wellington rather than turkey, and there are some american thanksgiving additions, but I can forgive all of that. It was unbelievably delicious. Tara from Scotland made it and a big group of us enjoyed it at her soviet apartment in Almaty on Christmas day. It was probably the most important meal of my trip, as a big Christmas lover, and it showed me you can have a feeling of home and community wherever you are in the world.
2. Nasi Lemak, Malaysia. I helped make this, being shown by Kakak at the rice farm. Coconut rice with an anchovy sambal, fried chicken, eggs and peanuts (plus salad and tofu). It was so much fun to learn to make it and I can’t wait to make it again at home!
3. Herring in a fur coat, Kazakhstan. As part of our Russian new year’s eve feast Oksana and I made the traditional Herring in a fur coat dish, which is like a layered cake but the layers are herring and boiled potatoes and veg. It’s quite pretty though. And surprisingly tasty!
4. Cheese fondue, Switzerland. My first meal whilst volunteering with Eva in Switzerland, snuggled up in the mountains above Bern. I was still nervous about travelling and this comforting meal helped settle me into my trip. And you can’t go wrong with fondue can you.
5. Dal Bhat, Nepal. Probably my most eaten dish of the entire trip. It’s eaten by Nepalese people twice a day, everyday, and only whilst volunteering on the tea farm, eating homemade dal bhat twice a day, everyday, did I understand how this was possible. It’s a balanced, delicious and variable meal. It has everything you need and you can have some fun with the different components. The homemade ones made by Kaushila were by far the best I ate.

Food worth mentioning

1. This plate of Czech food, Czech Republic. I wasn’t expecting much from Czech food but I actually really enjoyed it. This dish especially, with its rich sauce, two types of potato dumplings, sour pickled cabbage and tender pork cutlets.
2. Lobio and accompaniments, Georgia. I think this showcases Georgian cooking pretty well. You have the rich and hearty bean stew on one side, and on the other the interesting pairings of fermented veg, pickled beetroot, cheese and crumbly bread. Fun and colourful and delicious!
3. Plov, Uzbekistan. As the staple food for all of Central Asia I feel like I need to mention plov. No I didn’t really like it, but it has its place. Rice with beans and veg and meat and eggs. The problem I found is that its cooked in animal fat so it’s insanely oily. But it was still a big part of my trip. People would want to cook it for me frequently and I could never find the right words to refuse, so I ate my fair share of it too.
4. McDonalds, India. I didn’t eat any from any fast food brands in Asia which is a bit of shame because I’d like to have seen how different they are, but I did try McDonalds whilst in Delhi. Seeing as beef is not eaten in India, and many people are vegetarian, the menu is very different to in the UK! Jenny and I split the Paneer burger and the McTikka Aloo burger. Both were pretty good, but I found the paneer one to be way too sweet.
5. My meal in Myanmar. As the missing piece in the transition of food from England to Indonesia, this meal meant so much to me. As did the fact that I even made it to Myanmar. It left me feeling satisfied in many more ways than just hunger.

Favourite restaurants

1. Karakoy Gumruk, Turkey. My brother and I ate here twice whilst we stayed in Istanbul. Everything we consumed was just perfect. The atmosphere was wonderful, a bit dark and moody with jazz playing and a slight chill to its decorations.
2. Veganway, Nepal. A bit of an institution in Pokhara. If you tell anyone who’s been to Pokhara that you’re going, I bet they’ll recommend this place to you. I ate here several times to try and inject myself with nutrients after eating a rather lacking diet whilst hiking. They served up huge salads which were really delicious, and amazing veggie burgers (the mushroom one was the best veggie burger I’ve ever eaten!). Very cheap too.

A new favourite fruit!

Hello soursop, my new favourite fruit. So many new fruits were tried: mangosteen, ramboutan, lychee, durian etc. But this one was something special.

The most significant food of the entire trip

Something that really symbolised how food slowly changes from place to place was the borek. I wrote a whole piece on it whilst back in the balkans because of it’s cultural significance. I also really enjoyed eating it! And I found it never truly left me, I saw it everywhere. The borek was present in the balkans and in Turkey. The samsa appeared in Central Asia. There was the samosa in India and Myanmar. And then finally, the Banh Cuon in Vietnam! All a bit different, but all fundamentally pastry filled with spiced, minced meat.

The worst food

1. Frog from the garden, overly salted omelette, plain rice. Laos. The frog was still slimy. Any sort of sauce or seasoning would’ve gone a long way. I wouldn’t have eaten it, but I was being slightly starved whilst volunteering here so I ate every last bit of meat on that little frog.
2. Qurutob, Tajikistan. Bread soaked in lard and yogurt, topped with bread fried in lard, served with raw onions and a different type of bread. The whole family eats from this wooden bowl together, with our hands. It tasted like you’d expect. My lips were shiny with the oil afterwards. When I looked in the mirror in Central Asia my eyes seemed to be covered in a film of grease, because of meals like this.
3. Plane food including horse meat, Uzbekistan. That anaemic looking square on the right is horse meat and it was not good. Nor was the rest of this sad looking plane meal.

I have a bit of an overview ranking of country’s food in my head but I’m not going to share it here. Feel free to ask me in person for it though, but expect a whole lot of caveats…

My trip ended with one last long journey. I had a flight from Bali to Jakarta, waited 7 hours in the airport, had another flight to Dubai, waited 4 hours in the airport, had one last flight to London, travelled from Heathrow to Paddington, waited 2 hours in the train station, got a train to Taunton, and finally was picked up by my brother and I drove the final 1 hour home. In total it took 40 hours. I did the entire journey on autopilot to be honest, feeling exhausted and sad. When it came to the drive home I took the long way, I’m not sure why. I guess I really wasn’t ready to get back and face the true end of my trip.

I was greeted by my lovely parents, swiftly followed by a cup of tea, some marmite on toast and a selection of treats waiting for me on my bed. It was really great to see them. But my overwhelming emotion was still just mehness, and that worried me. I spent the afternoon floating around the house and feeling lost and antsy. In the evening we went for a swim in the sea. It was cold and although I love a sea swim and have missed the cold water, it didn’t do anything to improve my mood. We had a pint afterwards, my first proper british ale, and still I was sad (as you can tell from the photo!). At this point I’d been awake for 46 hours and that was hitting me and definitely contributing to my down demeanour. I went to sleep and woke up after 14 hours. As I opened my eyes and realised I was at home my stomach sank. With a bit more energy than the previous day, I did the things I’d been unable to do for so long - yoga in the garden on my mat, hugged my cats, cooked normal food, had a cup of tea, wore different clothes to the ones in my backpack. I did some productive things like booking a doctor’s appointment to check out my continuing surf injury and do a parasite test. I went on a walk in the sun, through the woods and then down to the sea and back. I watched tv with my parents, cuddled up on the sofa. I had a homecooked dinner. I still just felt sad.

I really thought after 14.5 months of travelling I’d be ready to come home, that I’d be longing for all of those home comforts. At times, I was so exhausted from the decisions and the responsibility of travelling. I thought I’d get home and immediately be so happy to have all of the things I’d been missing. I did not expect to feel sad when it came to leaving, and I definitely didn’t expect to continue to feel sad once I’d arrived home.

It’s been a few days now and I feel okay. Not exactly happy, but not so desperately sad. The things I’ve missed are starting to make me happier. I’m adjusting to this life compared to travelling. I don’t like the idea that I’m ‘settling back in’ because that suggests everything reverting back to exactly how it was before I left, and I have so much I want to incorporate into my life that wasn’t there before. But I’m adjusting. I have lots of lovely plans for the next few weeks, seeing friends and family and doing the things I love. And then I move up to London and have all of the fun of creating a little life up there again. And then I start my job… So lots of exciting things to keep me occupied!

I wanted to write this post because people would often ask me how I felt about going home, so perhaps it’s of an interest to people. Also, the way I thought I felt about it and how I actually felt about it when it come down to it, was wildly different! Thinking about returning home was something that gave me a little anxiety when I thought about it whilst travelling. People would comment on how strange it would be for me. I would worry about so many different things. Then I booked my flight at the end of May and I felt okay about it all. I gave myself time to process coming home at the surf camp. I thought I’d done a great job and everything would go swimmingly. How it’s actually been has surprised me a lot. It’s been difficult and I think it will continue to be difficult for a little while. It’s hard to voice this to people as well, without it coming across as me hating home and hating seeing them after so long! It’s also hitting me how I’ve got all of these memories and experiences in my head and I will never be able to truly share them with anyone. On one hand that’s kind of wonderful, they’re just mine, but on the other hand I can feel it becoming isolating at times. So, to everyone who asked me how I felt about going home, the answer is very very not okay!

The surf camp ended and we said our teary goodbyes. I had a few days before my flight home (big sad face) and decided to squeeze in one last stop - Gili Air. Several others from the camp were heading there too so we got a taxi together to the port and caught the public ferry over to the little island. There are three Gili islands off the coast of Lombok and they are characterised as follows: Gili Air is chilled out and with stuff to do; Gili Meno is for couples and there’s nothing to do; Gili T is a party island. Having left both sides of my love triangle behind in Gerupuk and definitely not in a partying mood, I chose Gili Air. It was an absolute paradise. I only had two nights there but I could’ve spent a week.

The island is very small, it only takes around 25 minutes to cycle around it. And you have to cycle because there are no cars or mopeds only bikes and horses. There are very lovely cafes and shops in parts and dense forest and local houses in others. Exploring it by bike was so much fun and reminded me of family trips to centre parcs. I watched sunrise both mornings and sunset both evenings. I did headstands on the beach. I scuba dived and saw lion fish and turtles. I met up with surf camp friends for sunset drinks and dinner, and for smoothie bowls and coffee. I got a traditional bamboo tattoo which was a wonderfully meditative process. I lived my best life and was smiling from ear to ear the entire time.

The last leg

And then it was time to leave. I got a fast boat to Bali where I sat on the sun deck and got absolutely drenched from the spray. From the port it was one last bus over to Sanur where I spent the night. I had one last sunset walk and one final meal. I wrote in my journal and tried to take it in, trying to make myself understand that tomorrow I’d be flying home. I realised that perhaps I hadn’t processed it quite as well as I thought. I had a pit in my stomach and the thought of missing my flight and continuing to travel did cross my mind. I returned to my homestay, showered and packed up my bag one final time. In the morning I got up early to watch the final sunrise. I took my bags down to the beach and watched the sky softly change colour and the sun emerge from the water, huge in its orangeness. I ordered my taxi, of course going for the cheaper option of a scooter, and had an uncomfortable ride with both my backpacks on over to the airport. I flew to Jakarta and spent the day mooching around the airport there before catching my flight home. I’m sure I’ll be happy once I arrive home but in this moment I’m sad to my gut.

Way back at the beginning of my trip I had an idea of maybe ending the trip by flying down to Indonesia and learning to surf there. Many months later, this is exactly what I decided to do. There are three main reasons for this decision: i. I’ve never been in the southern hemisphere and unless I dropped down to Indonesia I still would’t have on this trip which felt wrong, ii. this trip hasn’t exactly been a walk in the park and a few weeks of island life in the sun sounded like the perfect thing before returning home, and iii. I’ve always really wanted to learn how to surf. After a whole lot of research it seemed like the best way to do this was through a surf camp, staying somewhere for 2 weeks and devoting all of your time to surfing. It was also a bit more pricey but with the support of my wonderful parents and the knowledge that I’d likely not have this opportunity again, I went for it. I booked it at the end of May and definitely had some doubts during June if it was the right call. It 100% was. I had the absolute best time at the camp, and it was also the perfect way to end my trip. Staying in one place for 2 weeks with the same people gave me the time and space to begin to process going home. Being able to completely focus on one thing was amazing, it felt so good to devote myself fully to something. Getting to surf twice a day, everyday was just wonderful. The feeling of being out on the water, surrounded by new friends, in the Indonesian sun was pretty unbeatable.

Camp life

Nestled at the end of the village of Gerupuk, the camp was a beautiful space with a big open downstairs area to chill in, with a direct line of sight down to the sea. It had comfy cushions upstairs and our dorm rooms were spacious and without bunks. We had two surf sessions a day, each two hours long. We had theory lessons on everything from how to pop-up and do turns, how to navigate a line-up, and the science behind waves. We had yoga classes and could use the yoga shala whenever we wanted. All of our meals were provided and they were always nourishing and delicious. The other guests were all just great. A big mix of nationalities and ages and backgrounds; some travellers, some on holiday, some digital nomads. It was such a fun gang and we had a lot of laughs together. It was funny to see how quickly I learnt the surf lingo and soon enough I could join in with all of the surf conversations, and there were a lot unsurprisingly!

The surf

I enjoyed every single surf session, even the ones in the unseasonal rain at the beginning of our first week where my eyes became swollen from the salt and wind and spray. Gerupuk bay has several different surf spots and we’d go to different ones depending on the conditions. Our little beginners group of 6 - 8 people would go out on the boat with our coach, Brad from Yorkshire, and the local guys, Swell, O’Cil and Surande. They entertained us hugely, always messing around or shouting something in Sasak (the local language) at each other. All of the surf spots were reef breaks so the boat would take us out to these, much easier than beach breaks as there was no paddling through all of the waves (unless you got caught in the impact zone which I often did…). We’d all sit floating in the calm water besides the break, going out to the coaches one by one. They would position us in the right place for the waves and give us a push if we needed it, to make sure we caught the wave. It was quite a funny process at first, I didn’t imagine I’d be pushed onto the waves, but it worked well and meant I caught basically every wave I went for. I enjoyed every aspect of the surfs. Sitting on my board watching the others go, paddling back with the sun warming me, chatting to the local guys whilst waiting for a wave, and, of course, surfing the wave. The latter is a feeling that’s completely addictive and it meant no matter how tired my arms were, or how beaten up I felt from a wipeout, I would always paddle back out for another wave, another chance of having that feeling. It sounds silly perhaps, but there is something so special about surfing because you are so connected to nature whilst doing it. I’m sure skateboarding is fun, but surfing down a wave is surely infinitely better. In my two weeks I did not become a great surfer. I wouldn’t even say I became an average surfer. I lack any natural ability, but I am now able to catch my own waves (sometimes) and stand up. I often fall off. I almost always get stuck in the whitewash, unable to turn the board back to the top of the wave quick enough. It’s okay to be bad at something. It’s actually quite fun! I will definitely continue to surf, because I enjoy the entire process and I also really enjoy trying to improve.

Whilst I enjoyed every single surf, not every single surf enjoyed me. I had a pretty big crash very early on where a woman’s board somehow went between my legs whilst I was stood up, smashing into my right inner thigh. Below is a beautiful collage of the bruise that caused. I got another bad bruise on my arm from a man’s board running into me. I got a big bruise on my left thigh from falling onto my own fin. I got hit on the head by one guy’s board and the crash looked so bad to people watching that the local guys treated me like a delicate flower for the rest of the session, not letting me go for any big waves and constantly asking if I was okay. There was a big swell at the end of the first week and we battled some big waves even at our beginner spots, where I was washing machined more times than I can count. Bruises formed on both my hips from where they sat on the board, and my ribs became tender from the same. But I survived! I only took one session off, watching from the boat, when my arms had become so tired I couldn’t even pop-up.

A love triangle

Perhaps another reason I loved every surf session was the fact that two of the rather lovely local guys who positioned and pushed us onto the waves had a bit of a thing for me. Luckily they were very close friends so it was all in good spirit rather than anything too serious, although I do think one of them got a bit jealous at one point and punished me by leaving me to be wiped out by a huge wave… He came back around though and I thoroughly enjoyed the attention from both if I’m honest! It also provided fun gossip for our evening run downs in the female dorm. Clearly the strange zinc sunscreen look on my nose and cheeks works for me.

The final experience

The surf camp was the best way to spend my final two weeks travelling. As the friends I voicenoted or called pointed out, I sounded unbelievably happy and that’s because I was. I was the happiest I’ve ever been. Not just because of the surfing and the sun and the wonderful pace of life there, but because I started to process what the past 14 months had been for me. I indulged this reflection by sitting on the beach alone often, with a cup of tea and my headphones, watching the sea and the trees and the boats float past. I cried thinking about going home. I danced thinking about seeing my friends and family. I ran in the wind, hunting for shells and splashing through the shallow waters. And then I would return to the camp and have the luxury of socialising with people I really liked. It was truly wonderful. Thank you to everyone at the camp that made it so bloody special!

Mount Rinjani is the second highest volcano in Indonesia, located on Lombok. The summit is 3,726m and it sits in between two craters. One is filled with dust, one is much larger and has a lake inside, with an active volcano in the middle of the lake. Very cool! I had come to Lombok for a surf camp (more on that later) but decided to squeeze in a trek up the volcano before it started. Indonesia was not on my original plan, and although it would’ve been possible to reach Lombok without flying by boat, I had completely run out of time so I indulged and flew in from Kuala Lumpur. After some research it became clear that you had to do the trek with a guide, mostly because you had to camp up the volcano. There were two main options, a two day trek or a three day trek. The two days saw you go up to the summit and then back down the same way. For the three days you went up to the summit then down to the crater lake, back up to the crater rim and then down a different way. I went for the three day option. The initial tour providers that came up on a google search were very expensive but I persevered and dived into google maps and found whatsapp numbers of local companies. From doing this I found one that was very affordable: £85 for 3 nights including all accommodation and food. The style of trekking was a new experience for me. Porters accompanied us carrying baskets filled with supplies. Despite the 25kg weight and the fact they were wearing flip flips, they still always beat us to each rest spot. They would set up camp for us, cook all of our meals, provide tea and coffee, and carry all of our water for the several days. Whilst it did make me feel uncomfortable at times, feeling like I wasn’t carrying my own weight, it was really lovely to arrive after a long day of walking and be able to just lie down and relax, with the tent already up and dinner being cooked for us. I was also very impressed with the meals provided, always tasty and filling and with lots of components. No boil in a bag rice like on DofE!

The tour guy picked me up from the airport and I stayed in a homestay in a village near the volcano, getting up early the next morning to begin. Sitting in the back of a pick-up truck we collected the other members of our group: a french couple who were only doing two days, a british couple and a british/dutch guy (Tom), both in their early 20s. It seemed like a really nice group. We had to do a quick medical which was just taking blood pressure and then finally we began! The first day saw us hike for around 7 hours, including a long stop for lunch, up a continuous but fairly gradual incline. The path was out in the open so the main issue was the sun and just how hot it was. The british couple quickly fell behind and were struggling. The rest of us went on ahead after lunch and when we stopped and waited at the next rest point our guide caught up with us and informed us that they had turned back! I still don’t really know what happened but it was quite odd. It was at this point that Tom and I realised we were in for a rather intimate hike, with it being just the two of us doing 3 days. Luckily we got on. It rained heavily for the last bit of walking and I realised I forgot to bring my rucksack rain cover, so I sacrificed myself and covered my bag with my raincoat. Luckily it was still hot! At around 5pm we reached our camping spot for the night, on the crater rim at 2650m above sea level and 1500m above our starting point. There were lots of tents along the ridge here. The walk up had been quite busy actually, and there had been a lot of rubbish. The clouds had covered us and we couldn’t really see where we were. It was very cold and I put on all of the layers I had, sadly not many since my wardrobe has fully transitioned to hot climates now. Occasionally the clouds would break in an area and we would catch a glimpse of the summit, or the lake in the crater, or the island down below. Just in time for sunset, the clouds fell down into the valley and we were treated to my bucket list view - being above the clouds. It was breathtaking. I couldn’t stop taking photos and just staring at all of the different angles. We had dinner whilst the last of the sun fell below the horizon. It got even colder and we all said our goodnights before getting into bed. I managed to wash my face a bit by having Tom pour water into my hands. It wasn’t comfy and it wasn’t warm. I didn’t really sleep at all so it wasn’t the worst thing in the world when we had to wake up at 1:30am. Tom said he also didn’t sleep but I quietly disagreed with that as I’d been kept company by his snoring all night.

After a snack of crackers and coffee we started our ascent to the summit ready for sunrise. We set off at 2:15am, armed with headtorches, and it took us 3.5 hours. It was 1100m of elevation gain and it was incredibly steep. I found it harder than I expected! The last 1.5 hours were up a sandy slope and this is what made it so challenging. Each step up saw you slide down a few inches. It was impossible to find a rhythm or get into a groove with it, which made it mentally tough. After just a couple of steps I would stop exhausted, it was hard to force myself onwards again. Luckily it was still dark so I couldn’t see how far there was to go! But suddenly I was at the summit and I was shocked that I had reached it already. After the obligatory summit photo I huddled down to wait for the sunrise. The cold hadn’t been too bad whilst walking but it was freezing just sat waiting. Finally the sun came. It was really beautiful again, but I think more because of the view down to the two craters than the sunrise itself. As described earlier, the larger crater with a lake and active volcano inside was so cool to look into. The best bit was the shadow cast by the summit on the land below. After taking it all in, and taking lots of photos, we got ahead of the crowds and started our descent. While the sand made hiking up literal hell, it made going down and absolute dream. For the first time ever I actually enjoyed the descent, running down and sliding in the sand. The views were also incredible, of the whole island, into the crater, of the ridge we’d walked up blind. Looking back at the last bit before the summit I was doubly glad it was dark whilst walking up, it was so steep and so endless appearing.

Back at camp we had breakfast and then Tom and I set off alone with our guide, down into the crater towards the lake. It took just under 3 hours and we were rewarded with a little gap in the cloud that filled the crater, revealing the volcano in front of us. There was a hot spring nearby so we found this and oh wow, sinking into the incredibly hot water with a view of the waterfall behind, our aching legs crying out in joy and the dust and sweat being washed off our bodies, just glorious. A local guy gave us some soap to use and we went to town. It was the best hot spring I’ve ever been in. Completely natural, just some larger stones placed to create pools in the river. The covering cloud broke and it poured with rain as we ate lunch. We sat in the emergency shelter that was by the lake but the insane number of flies eventually got too much for us to handle and we moved outside. Some local boys who were on a fishing trip invited us into their tent and we sheltered with them. They shared their fish curry with us, we shared our pineapple with them. They rolled us local cigarettes and we smoked together. Still raining, we set off on our ascent back up to the crater rim. This was a bit gruelling. Tired from being up at 1:30am, wet from the rain and the humidity, and legs a bit tired from the morning. But it actually went very quickly and we reached our second camping spot. This one was much quieter and we were treated to another glorious above the clouds sunset. Our neighbours had a campfire and we joined them around this, drinking the local alcohol and chatting. Another very cold and very uncomfortable night’s sleep. This time Tom’s snoring was accompanied by him sleep talking which was quite amusing.

After an early breakfast we sped off downhill. The sun held for the morning but after lunch it absolutely poured again. I fell a few times, probably because I struggled to keep my eyes open from tiredness. Our guide also slipped over and Tom, rushing to help him, slipped in the same spot and crushed him. I failed at trying not to laugh. The guide wasn’t very impressed but actually he seemed very unimpressed the entire time, he was in a big hurry to get back and didn’t seem to enjoy the trek at all. His hurrying worked and we got to the bottom very quickly. Tom sat in the front of the truck and I sat in the back, something I wasn’t super happy about when it started to rain heavily again and I got completely drenched! In the chaos of the rain and trying to shower and get my stuff to the taxi I managed to twist my ankle. I didn’t think much of it until I couldn’t do my usual trick of immediately falling asleep in the car because of the pain. When we had to switch cars I couldn’t put any weight on it and struggled to walk. It had swollen up and I felt sick. Luckily it was just me and Tom in the car so I could elevate my foot on the seat and put the cold banana milk Tom bought for me on it as an ice pack. Through the pain and the concern about it stopping me from surfing, I did find it very funny that I managed to injure myself running to the taxi and not actually on the volcano. By the time we reached Kuta the swelling had stopped getting worse and I could walk on it carefully. It was back to normal by the first surf day and it didn’t stop me at all!

Overall, a surprisingly tough trek with gorgeous sunset and sunrise views above the clouds. The crater with its lake and active volcano was very cool to see. It was busy with people on the first day, but very quiet after that. There was a lot of litter on the first day, plastic and food scraps, but I was almost expecting it to be worse. The porter and guide system was a bit strange and it made me very glad I was able to hike in Nepal without them. Would definitely recommend Rinjani if you’re in Lombok!

Full Moon Check-in

1. Last: In Vang Vieng, Laos.
2. Current: Heading out on the boat at 6am for a sunrise surf, we spotted the huge full moon coming over the hill behind us. The first half an hour of surfing was under the rising sun and the full moon. Magical. In Lombok, Indonesia.
3. Future: Back in England! Pretty insane to think about. Maybe I’ll still be down in Somerset, hopefully camping or doing something fun.

I didn’t plan on going to Malaysia. I thought I’d end my trip in Thailand. But looking at the map it made sense to continue my overland journey to Malaysia, reaching the end of the Eurasian land mass. I had heard little about it from other travellers, but enough to pique my interest. I found the rice farming workaway and was sold - I’d skip the south of Thailand and the crowds that it entailed, trading it in for the less travelled Malaysia. What made Malaysia so interesting to visit was its population; made up of Malays, Indian Malays and Chinese Malays. All Malaysian, all with very different cultures, religions and cuisines. Malay Malaysians are muslim and have their own cuisine, similar to Indonesian I was to find out. Indian Malays are mostly Hindu and most originally come from the south of India, speaking Tamil. Chinese Malays are buddhist or atheist. I really enjoyed seeing how these different ethnicities coexisted, and getting to eat excellent indian, chinese and malay food was also a big bonus.

I’ve spoken about my time on the rice farm in a separate post, but this was my first impression of the country. Wonderful people, wonderful culture, wonderful food. It continued much in this fashion. I travelled by bus and ferry to Penang, staying in the small city of Georgetown (named after King George when Britain took control of it). It’s an arty, foodie hub and it was quite excellent. I’d compare its vibe to that of Bristol, with street art to rival Banksy, but the buildings and culture are superior. Down by the sea there are Chinese jetties, ornate in their curls of clan specific architecture. The Chinese district features British colonial buildings decorated in chinese letterings, advertising the goods sold there. Little India was filled with smells of curry and paan, and shops selling jewellery and saris. Further out the buildings got less beautiful but there were still some cool offerings here. The best thrift shop I’ve ever been into for example. Or a contemporary marketplace filled with cafes and art stalls, or on the Saturday I visited filled with strange pets for sale. I spent my time in Georgetown wandering around the streets, taking way too many photos of building fronts. I stumbled across a free Chinese opera so attended this and found it very strange and of a low quality, maybe why it was free! My main activity was eating. Here’s all I managed to squeeze into my belly whilst I was there:

1. Chinese pork dumplings. Not mindblowing, but good.
2. Chinese pastries, a salted egg bun and an egg tart. Could’ve eaten several more of the salted egg bun. The egg tart was surprisingly cheesy.
3. Bao bun. So much better than the disappointing ones in continental Southeast Asia.
4. Charcoal coffee. They love their weird coffees here. It was fine, not very strong.
5. Char keoy teow (Malaysian). Much like every other noodle dish I’ve tried.
6. Ramly burger (Malaysian). A traditional street Malay burger. Truly insane. The best burger I have ever eaten and will ever eat. It had a distinct taste of chinese 5 spices in the fried chicken batter, super succulent chicken, lots of mayo and a soft chilli sauce, and cheese. It was so good I had to stop walking and eating and sit on the curb to give it my full attention.
7. Soursop. The best new fruit I’ve tried, and maybe my favourite fruit ever. Tastes a bit like yogurt. So good!
8. Chinese herbal soup. Stomach took a turn so this nice broth helped.
9. Dragon fruit and lemon ice cream. Dragon fruit is always disappointingly tasteless, but the lemon was lovely.
10. Pasembar salad (Malaysian). Not a fan at all. Way too sticky and sweet and full of strange things. Wouldn’t class it as a salad either.
11. Mutton keema and capati (Indian). Just delicious. Suitably full I caught the bus to Kuala Lumpur, the capital, for my last stop in Malaysia. Georgetown is in a close race for my favourite city in Southeast Asia, with Luang Prabang. It wasn’t without its flaws though. For the first time in Southeast Asia I experienced catcalling, and to a surprisingly high degree. I had the pleasure of seeing Ethan in KL, a guy I’d met in Armenia months before who is currently studying at Oxford (small world!). He was in KL for a summer internship and offered the sofa bed in his hotel/apartment to me, which I gladly accepted. I took some chill time here, using the gym and the rooftop infinity pool, appreciating the time to catch my breath before a busy few days ahead. I continued my food delights, eating lots of Malaysian food like assam laksa and curry laksa (a really good noodle soup, the assam being acidic and fishy, the curry being creamy and like a Thai Khao Soi); nasi lemak (not as good as the one I made at the farm); Chinese pork and noodle street food dishes; and nasi kandar. A big part of Malaysian cuisine are these nasi dishes. Nasi simply means rice. In restaurants there will be a buffet of different curries, vegetable sides, chicken, eggs and other stuff. You get the rice and choose what you want on top. I found them quite stressful to visit, never really sure of how it worked, but it would always be cheap and fairly delicious, nothing too crazy though. I visited the national museum and rated it highly. I learnt about the history of Malaysia, the Portuguese then Dutch then British rule. The most interesting part for me was understanding how Islam was introduced to the country, through arab traders. These traders were seen as rich and higher class, so the local people associated their religion, Islam, with this. This led to it being adopted. KL was an insane city, very modern but not huge. Unsurprisingly, not my favourite place (still not a fan of big cities). I’m very glad I stopped by Malaysia. Its mix of ethnicities make it the most interesting country I’ve been to in Southeast Asia. The food is incredible. I could happily alternate between Malay, Indian and Chinese cuisine for my whole life. I only scratched the surface of the country and look forward to going back one day to see more of it.

In the final year of my biology degree we had to do 2 projects as well as our dissertations, and I did one of these on sustainable rice paddy farming in Southeast Asia. Because of this I had always planned to try and work on a rice paddy once I got to that part of the world. I wanted to see how paddy farming actually worked, beyond the stuff I’d read about in scientific articles. I wanted to understand the life of a paddy farmer and the reason they farm in a certain way. I wanted the context beyond the narrow and distilled down viewpoint of academia. I found the perfect workaway on a sustainable rice farm in Malaysia and luckily the farm accepted me even though I could only spend one week there. But wow was it an impressionable week. The life and community on the farm was blissful. The rice farming aspect was eye-opening. Let me tell you about both.

Life on the farm

The farm was located deep in the jungle, down a narrow track that crossed over little bridges to reach its destination. There was a big structure near the entrance which was an open sided common room, with a big communal table and a little kitchen attached. There were detached wooden bungalows along a pond, each with its own bathroom (cold showers and toilets to be flushed with a bucket of course). There was a secret path through disused paddy fields down to the river where I would go to sit in the morning and to wash off the mud from the paddy in the afternoon. There was a vegetable garden and opposite this an open sided prayer room turned yoga shala. A little further along the track were the 3 in use paddy fields. The owners of the farm are Captain and Kakak, a truly lovely couple who treat all of the volunteers like family. Kakak would cook most of our meals, conjuring up the most wonderful malay feasts of curries, fried chicken and fish, rice and veggies. For breakfast they would often deliver us goodies from the local stalls, my favourite being roti canai which was thin bread/pancakes served with a delectably sweet tomatoey dahl. I loved the traditional nasi lemak (coconut rice, chilli and garlic sauce with anchovies, fried chicken and peanuts) we had one morning, and Kakak agreed to teach us how to make it the following evening which was great fun. There were several other volunteers who were all wonderful. Together we made jam from roselles found in the garden; Noa and Yannic made a comforting pasta meal one night; and Ali made a banana cake every time someone left. We would all do yoga together each morning, and sometimes again in the afternoon. Each evening would end with several rounds of card games. I could’ve spent months there, it felt like the outside world didn’t exist. There wasn’t much volunteer work at the time, just weeding the paddies on some days and the odd other job, so we had a lot of downtime. I spent this writing, reading and revising my law notes in preparation of my return to the real world. I had a lot of less fun life admin to do too, with all of the pre-job stuff coming through and securing a house in London.

Life was slow and intentional and wonderful. I felt a calm motivation there, fostered by interesting discussions on food security and climate change with Captain and the other volunteers and just the general environment. It was especially interesting to speak to Captain about why he’d chosen to start the farm and use sustainable methods. He told me he had learnt everything from the Quaran, an answer that did cause my eyebrows to raise. His whole outlook on farming was built around his religion it seemed, and it led to a very different approach than I’ve come across in the west. For example, when I asked what he did when there were pests eating the crop he replied “let them eat it, they are as entitled to it as I am, they are part of nature”. As lovely as the sentiment is I’m not sure how helpful it will be in tackling food security. The answers given in these discussions were sometimes strange to me, but always interesting. There would be visitors to the farm which would add to these conversations: a Doctor who had come to look at the stingless bees because he was trialing their honey to help treat neurological disorders, a group from a muslim charity who wanted to start a sustainable rice paddy to help a poor community. Captain gave a talk to this charity group about the farm’s sustainability practices and I even helped out in this, explaining how soil fertility and the cation exchange capacity of the soil interact. Never in a million years did I think I’d be giving a talk on biology during my travels! Thankfully I’d remembered more than I thought from my biology degree…

On our day off a local family invited us all over for tea and to pick fruit in their garden. They took us to the local market where we tried all sorts of delicious food and bought oat milk for our coffees back on the farm. We visited a big reservoir and they took us out on their boats to watch the sunset. It was such a wonderful and unexpected day. The people in Malaysia, and especially around the farm, are some of the most kind and friendly people I’ve ever met.

Rice farming

My work in the paddy: weeding

Before I go into the details of rice farming I’ll tell you about the work I did on the farm, so you can skip the rest if you’re less interested in the science. The farm only has 3 in use rice paddies at the moment, and all 3 had been planted several weeks ago. This means they’re in the weeding phase. Every 5 days we would weed each paddy in one direction, horizontally or vertically. What this entails is us wading barefoot into the flooded paddy with a big wooden brush-like device, with metal nails acting as the brush hairs. The brush is pushed and pulled in between the lines of rice plants (tillers) and it rakes up the weeds that are growing there. As we walk behind the brush we use our toes to pull out any weeds that are too close to the tillers to get with the brush. It’s fairly physical work but quite meditative and I found it very enjoyable.

Captain told us there were 5 reasons for weeding:

1. To remove the weeds which compete against the rice plants.
2. To provide fertiliser, by dropping the weeds back into the water they are broken down and nutrients are returned to the soil.
3. Walking in the paddy loosens the soil which makes it easier for the roots of the rice to grow.
4. Walking mixes up the soil and oxygenates it, reducing anaerobic microbes (microbes that are active when there’s no oxygen). It’s these microbes that are responsible for the high methane emissions from rice, so a reduction in them results in less methane.
5. It’s labour intensive which provides work for local people. The mud is good for the skin and being in the field provides vitamin D from the sun.

The science

The importance of rice
Rice is arguably the most important crop in the world. It provides the majority of calories to over half of the world’s population. Overall, it accounts for over 21% of all human caloric requirements. It is especially important in Asia, making up 75% of the calorific intake in the continent. One fifth of the world’s population rely on its cultivation for income. So yeah, it’s pretty important! It also has a huge impact on the environment. It uses 35% of the world’s irrigated water. It contributes 12% of global methane emissions, and 1.5% of total greenhouse gas emissions which is crazy! The way that rice is farmed is incredibly important in tackling both climate change and food security.

The rice crop cycle
There are two species of rice crop in the world: African rice (Oryza glaberrima) and Asian rice (Oryza sativa). Asian rice is by far the more widely grown and eaten, and the species I’m familiar with. It has four varieties and all the rice you’ve ever eaten is likely one of these. Within the varieties there are lots of different strains and these all take different lengths of time to grow and are suited to different environments.

For any of the varieties the cycle is the same:

1. Rice seeds are planted and allowed to germinate and grow into seedlings. After 5-12 days the seedlings are moved to the flooded paddy.
2. Weeding is done every 10 days until the rice tillers form a canopy. At this point, no sun reaches the soil so no weeds can grow.
3. Once the crop has matured (95 - 250 days depending on the strain) it is harvested.
4. The harvested grain is stored and dried. It’s milled to get just the white kernel which is the part we eat. Further processing may occur, such as polishing or parboiling.

System of Rice Intensification
The type of sustainable farming used on the farm is called System of rice intensification (SRI). It’s a method of rice cultivation that can be used in smallholder farms to improve yields, reduce environmental impact and have a positive effect on the local community. It’s truly a win-win scenario. It has four main aspects:

1. Younger seedlings are planted. The younger seedlings have more potential for growth and resilience than the older ones. This leads to better establishment, higher yields, and reduced pest and disease. It decreases seed requirements by 90%.
2. Single seedlings are planted in wider spaces. This is in contrast to planting a larger number of seedlings covering the whole paddy. It avoids transplant shock and reduces competition between the plants.
3. Organic fertilisers are used rather than chemical ones. Chemical pesticides are also avoided with ecological engineering being a common alternative. This is where you create a paddy environment that naturally keeps pest levels under control. Plants that are the habitat for predators and parasitoids (smaller insects that act as parasites) of the pests are planted around the paddy, these keep the pest levels down.
4. Alternative wet drying is used rather than having the paddies continuously flooded. This reduces water use by up to 50%. It also reduces methane emissions by reducing the activity of the methane producing anaerobic microbes which like the flooded paddy best.

The benefits of SRI:

1. Increased yields. For example, the farm had an average yield of 7.77 tons per hectare and the average in Malaysia is 3.7 tons.
2. Reduced environmental impact in terms of less water use, no chemical fertilisers and no pesticides.
3. Positive impacts in communities with increased labour requirements providing more jobs and better yields providing more income for farmers.

The farm is the first and only SRI farm in Malaysia but Captain has helped set up several other projects in neighbouring countries. It’s undoubtedly the way forward for smallholder rice farming in Southeast Asia.

I valued my time on the farm hugely. It was amazing to see the science I’d researched in practice. It was eye-opening to understand the wider context of rice farming in communities and understand all of the nuances that academia misses. It was also so wonderful to feel like part of a family after being on the road for so long.

After the two day slow boat into Laos, I just couldn’t get enough of multi-day travel so decided to do my trip from Vientiane, Laos to my workaway in Malaysia in one go. I’m joking of course, but having already spent a week in Bangkok and being tight on time it made sense to do it this way. To make sure I capture the full picture of travel up until the last moments of my trip, I’m going to tell you about this mammoth journey.

On the 13th of June I had a slow morning collecting my clean laundry, taking a long shower and packing up my stuff. I wandered into Vientiane centre to spend the last of my Laos kip on snacks, managing to get two bags of homemade banana chips from a lady, a free mango from another, a bag of pork scratchings and two fried bananas all for 70p. At 14:45 I walked over to the bus station, grateful that it was cloudy so I wasn’t completely dripping with sweat. I got a bus to Nong Khai in Thailand, which took 1 hour, but didn’t reboard it after going through the border. Instead I walked to the train station, through a strange market along the tracks, and had one last pad thai sat in a stall across the road. I did some yoga in a quiet corner of the train station, preparing my body for the arduous journey ahead. I was too tight to splash out on the $30 sleeper train to Bangkok (one with beds) and instead had gone for the $5 third class tickets on the standard train. I boarded my train at 18:30 and settled my bum down on the hard bench, my humble abode for the next 12 hours. A large Russian man squeezed down next to me, and a mother and daughter duo squeezed into the bench opposite us, all of our knees rammed together. There was no aircon or working fan on the train, so we had the window down to contend with the heat. Once the sunset the light in the train attracted all sorts of insects to fly in through the window, wacking into me and scuttling on the floor. I used my technique for sleeping in less than optimal conditions with some success, managing to drift in and out of sleep for the duration of the night, albeit very uncomfortably and sweatily. The train arrived into Don Mueang station, Bangkok a bit before 6am. There was some confusion over if this was the correct stop or not and the delay caused by this and by me being half asleep still meant when I tried to get off the train it had already started moving again. The guards prevented me from jumping out anyway, a wise move since once the train had been made to stop and I did jump out, my bag got wedged in the doorway and took some seconds to dislodge. From this station I spent the last of my Thai baht on a ticket to the main station in Bangkok - Bang Sue station. This train only took about 30 minutes and was like the tube in London. After walking the length of Bang Sue I found the ticket counter and bought my ticket for the next train, a 19 hour sleeper train to Padang Besar, Malaysia. I had 8 hours before this train. My walk around the station had made it clear I wouldn’t be staying there for the whole day; it was cavernous and empty, devoid of life and wifi. I went in search of a cafe with some wifi to relax and work in. This ended up being a lot more difficult than anticipated. I was in a weird part of Bangkok and despite there still being quite a few nice looking cafes, none of them had wifi. It was hard work walking around too, as I had all of my stuff with me and it was hot. I found one cafe that had wifi, only to discover you couldn’t pay with card so it was back on the road (I was all out of Thai cash and with a $5 withdrawal fee would not be taking more out). Eventually I found a Cafe Amazon (a chain in Thailand) and settled in there. It was nice to try out the chain I’d seen so often and found the coffee to taste a bit like Costa’s. When I got hungry I returned to the road in search of breakfast, again struggling to find somewhere that accepted card meaning I ended up in a Starbucks. Not my proudest travelling moment, but the truly delicious almond croissant made me forget my pride. For a safe bet for lunch I went to the food court in Lotus (a big supermarket), selecting an interesting looking curry from the buffet. When I went to pay by tapping my card on the scanner I was a bit annoyed to find out you actually had to pay with a special Lotus card. I went to get this only to find it could only be topped up with cash. I returned to the lady to apologise to her for already plating my meal, explaining I couldn’t pay. She gave me the plate anyway with a smile, so kind! I enjoyed this meal and made my way back to the station where I bought a coffee and boarded my train. This one was much nicer than the last. I settled into my comfy seat and did some writing, taking in the beautiful scenery before it got dark. I watched some netflix and ate my snacks (pumpkin topped with peanuts and sesame seeds) before asking the carriage officer to change my seat into a bed whilst I brushed my teeth and washed my face. I settled into bed, aware of how cold the air conditioning had made the carriage. I slept fairly well but was a tad cold. I woke up and pulled back the curtain to reveal a jaw-dropping view. I almost thought I was still asleep. Beautiful sun, banana trees and dramatic karsts. I blinked my eyes open and went to the toilet, then washed my face and got ready. The man put my bed away and I curled up on the seat and ate my banana chips, drank my water and looked out of the window, listening to a murder podcast. The train was delayed and I watched some netflix, thinking, but not worrying, if I’d make my next train. We arrived at last at 10:30am and I crossed into Malaysia, my 30th country of the trip, with no hassle. There’s an hour time difference so it magically became 11:30am. The station was small but confusing, eventually I got my ticket and waited at the platform. Before this a British woman made a big spectacle as she had forgotten her phone on the train and was wailing like a distressed cat. The train arrived at 12:35pm and it was again like the tube in London. On this short journey a Canadian Malaysian lady did not stop chatting to me about all sorts, including what’s wrong with the institution of the church and about spirituality. A British guy started doing acrobatics on the railings. I was tired and all of the bizarreness passed over me. I made it to my destination of Alor Setar at 13:20 and got a taxi to the bus station, asking to stop at an ATM on the way. None of the ATMs worked for me annoyingly, but there was one at the bus station so I wasn’t too worried. Somehow the 5 minute journey took us 40 because of insane traffic so I only had 5 minutes before my bus. And of course, the ATM didn’t work. I was a bit distressed as I couldn’t pay for the taxi and didn’t have time to go to another ATM before the bus left - it was the only one that day so I needed to get it. The taxi driver was so kind, he told me to get my bags and get the bus, not to worry about paying him. I exclaimed my gratefulness as I ran to the bus, then having to beg the bus driver to let me on without cash. The driver eventually gave in and I flopped into the seat, feeling relieved to have made it. We stopped at a gas station with an ATM and I was finally able to withdraw money. I happily paid the driver and was thankful that my no-cash troubles of the last few days were over. The bus took around 2 hours to arrive into Sik, getting there at 16:00. I was mildly concerned I would then be stranded. I was meant to have bought a sim card at the bus station but clearly didn’t have time to do this, meaning I had no way of contacting my workaway host who was picking me up in Sik. There was no need to worry, as soon as I stepped off the bus I heard a shout of “Meg!” and was duly collected by Captain, his wife and another volunteer. The welcome was wonderfully warm. They ushered me into the car and declared we were going for lunch as I needed to eat, which I suppose I did. I immediately felt looked after, and in a way I hadn’t felt for such a long time. We drove 40 minutes to reach the rice farm I’d be volunteering on. And so after over 48 hours of travel I’d finally reached my destination. It had only taken 4 trains and 2 buses!