Well hello there...

Welcome to my blog. Brb... I'm making memories (read as: Wine. I'm going to get some wine...)

Go There...

I was just looking at my aunt’s holiday pictures from China, they are heartbreakingly beautiful. Heartbreaking, because this is what looking at photos of places makes me feel.  Heartbroken that it is yet another place that I am yet to see. There are stinky yet delicious foods out there that I am yet to taste. Beauty that still needs to humble me, and shut me up in mid sentence.

I’ve had the opportunity in my lifetime to travel more than the average bear.

I’ve lived in London.

Breathed in the air in Scotland that I swear smelt like freshly baked bread.

Camped in Ireland.

Gotten drunk on cheap vodka in Majorca.

Chased down and hugged Chip & Dale at EuroDisney in Paris.

Stood in the rain with my tongue out catching the drops at the Taj Mahal.

Danced until I couldn’t anymore at the Full Moon Party in Thailand.

 Had my life changed by watching little naked children swimming in the Mekong river in Laos.

Cried at the Killing fields in Cambodia and seen the sunrise at Angkor Wat.

Been 1 metre away from a Komodo dragon in Indonesia.

Been destroyed by bed bugs in Malaysia.

Celebrated Chinese New year in Singapore (they really do have Pink Dolphins)

Lazed on a Beach in Zanzibar

Thrown a coin into Trevalli Fountain in Italy and wished for an ice-cream, because I knew I didn’t have to wish for love ever again. My man stood beside me.

I have seen and done a lot, but for me it will never be enough. Everyone says they love to travel. But MY heart breaks to sit still.

If I go blind one day. I want it to be because of all of the beauty I have seen, that my eyes shut down because they can’t handle anymore. I want my back to be crooked, not because I have sat at a desk, but because I have carried my backpack all over the world. I want to touch, to feel, to taste and then spit things out because they’re new, and different.

I ALWAYS want that feeling in the pit of my stomach when you’re standing surrounded by difference.  That “how the hell am I standing here” feeling.

Junk in my Trunk-olitis

The Chronicles of Zeus - Part Two