I love data! So I accumulated my travel data into a few lovely graphs and statistics for your viewing pleasure. Enjoy!

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