The Rose in the Lily Pond

The rooftop patio where all the action happened.  Such a beautiful setting with Volcano Misti in the background. “Oh, Kiwis, I love Kiwis. Which part of New Zealand are you from?” This is about the seventh time the 73 year old has asked us this. At first we thought he had amnesia but we have since discovered that he has cataracts and sees things in blurs. “Auckland,” we say. “Oh wow, there is another couple from Auckland staying here too, you Kiwis sure get around.” We don’t have the heart to tell him that the other couple is most likely us - when we were wearing different clothes. We meet Ricardo, otherwise known as Richard from California, at our hostel in Arequipa, Peru. Even though his eye sight is failing him, he seems to be doing ok for an old dude in his seventies, especially considering the amount he smokes and drinks. The other day a French guy offered him a joint, and he tried to swipe it clean out his hand, almost crushing it. “Oh, it’s one of those,” he say...

Larry the Lobster was the Karl Pilkington of crustaceans. He was quite happy being a soft toy and knocking about with the other toys at Tescos supermarket. He had no desire to see the world, or even leave the store, but that was all about to change. Two girls pinched and squeezed him, ohhhing and ahhhing. Larry gave them his most fierce scowl, but they were oblivious, and he got biffed into the trolley along with an assortment of English lollies and treats, as well as a thing called a kiwi fruit. Larry was purchased as a gift for two travelers from New Zealand. He had only heard of New Zealand because Legolas, a Lord of the Rings figurine from a neighboring shelf, wouldn’t shut up about how beautiful it was. Multiple times Larry had responded that Legolas was made in China, and he didn’t know anything about a country in Europe.     The New Zealanders were on their way to South America. He recalled Padding Bear’s stories about ‘deepest darkest Peru’ and was convinced tha...

If I was to write an Eat, Pray, Love knock off - I would set it all in India. It was my “eat” with the most delicious curries and naans. It was my “pray” with religion totally and utterly in your face, and while I wasn’t a participant, it is almost impossible to go to India without feeling something close to spirituality. And it was my “love”. In India I saw some of the most distressing scenes. A dog with its eye freshly gouged out snapping at flies who were trying to invade. A man riddled with leprosy begging on the street and when we gave him money, he dropped it onto the road and tried to scoop it up with his barely there limb, scrapping it along the asphalt. These scenes are not what will stay with me,  but what will, is the kindness that was seen daily. A common sight was waiters handing out drinks to kids on the streets or giving left over food to stray dogs or cows. Food was shared with everyone on the train, and often people gave what they could to the homeless. It was th...

As we jet-set away from Bangkok, it’s time to look back at some of the awesome and not so awesome - but memorable - moments of South East Asia. It was a destination that I have never been drawn to - not like Central or South America where I can let the sexy Spanish language wash over me and get embarrassingly whisked around the salsa dance floor, by some incredibly hot Latino man, looking like an uncoordinated giraffe. Nevertheless I am so grateful that I came. Singapore: The communal breakfast table at our hostel was a source of inspiration. I met a Malaysian woman who is trying to achieve world peace through teaching dance at universities. She grew up in South Africa and went through a programme aiming to integrate cultures after appathied ended. It helped her immensely and now she is sort of doing something similar throughout Asia and teaching tolerance and other worthwhile lessons like waste management. If that wasn’t enough, she is also a travel writer and rides motorbike...

Dung, our tour guide for the day, feels quite at home on the chaotic streets. In a word, Hanoi  is chaotic. Every time Nick and I step out of our hotel room our senses are working on overtime. The footpath is cluttered with street vendors with their customers sprawled out on miniature plastic furniture. Surrounding them are masses of parked scooters forcing us out to brave the road as we navigate the city populated by 6 million. Scooters by far out number any other mode of transport but throw into the mix the taxis, buses, bicycles and every other vehicle imaginable and walking down the street becomes a high stress activity with the possibility of death never straying to far from mind. Road rules are more like guidelines here and it seems like there is no such thing as a red light or a one way street. At an intersection there are white stripes painted across the road. In New Zealand we would call this a zebra crossing - where vehicles stop while pedestrians walk safely acro...

A lot of travel blogs will tell you to ‘let go of your fear and go out and travel the world,’ however for me travel seems the norm, and my security. The daily grind of traffic, work, eat, sleep scares the bejesus out of me and I find my sanction in travel. My biggest problem right now is finding a place to do my washing. Sometimes however I feel like traveling is purely selfish and indulgent and that fleeing couldn't be clearer than in the Philippines. We left the island of Palawan to stay in a four star hotel in Bangkok living in the lap of luxury where our toilet had the ability to give an enema. It seems in stark contrast to the sheer poverty we were experiencing in the Philippines. Best toilet ever. We took photos of the pristine white sand beaches, the turquoise coloured water, and the sunsets but what we didn’t take photos of was the starving dogs that roam the streets, the kids begging at the bus station with sores all over their faces, the dirt floored bamboo sha...

I experienced the worst type of culture shock in Singapore, our first destination in Asia. Body image shock. It was day three in our four day stop over and I was wearing a loose fitting, flowing dress.  We were traveling by the ever efficient MRT otherwise known as the subway or the metro in other countries and a woman offers me her seat. I see the “reserved” sign on it and a wave of confusion washes over me. Wearing said dress in Little India, Singapore. She gives me a warm hearted smile and gestures for me to sit down. Instead of  questioning why, I say thank you. At first I think it’s a gesture of hospitality - she took a guess that we were visiting this modern and massive city- and she was playing the kind host, but then I see the “reserved seat” sign. I’m not elderly, I’m not disabled, I don’t have a small child to cart around, oh god, she thinks I’m pregnant! The lady next to me goes bright red and starts giggling - she takes it upon herself to voice her stif...