'I see my path, but I don't know where it leads. Not knowing where I'm going
is what inspires me to travel it.'
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On November 23rd 2017, Amy and I travelled to Colombo, Sri Lanka via Delhi, India. We had quit our jobs, our flat and had no idea how long we would be abroad. We had just booked the initial flight, the next flight to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia three weeks later, and a further flight from Singapore to Yangon, Myanmar a month after that. We had only booked the first two nights’ accommodation in Mount Lavinia, a suburb beach area south of the Sri Lankan capital.
We would go on to have a truly unforgettable trip, from lush tropics to black sand beaches and misty mountain tops, from bustling, chaotic cities to calm, serene lakes, from bright green rice paddies to the darkest of jagged rocks, from empty bike trails to crowded mega-cities, from walls of humidity to massive red suns to relentless rain to angry thunder storms, from slow bamboo rafts across rivers to zip-lines over oceans, from hikes up waterfalls to explorations of pitch-black caves, from seeing eye-to-eye with elephants to hiking under circling eagles, from mosquito bites to ear infections, from sunrises to sunsets to sunset to sunsets to sunsets… |
Our route - designed by Amy using Travellers Point
ASIA - BLOG & PHOTOS
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EUROPE - BLOG & PHOTOS
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Reflections on Travelling
How tiny we are, how infinitesimal the world is. We spent but a few days, sometimes only one, in single locations. And we saw so much, and it was just a fraction of the planet. It did not even scratch the surface. We did not even see every single part of one town or city. I've lived in London for the majority of my life, and there are certainly parts I have never even heard of, let alone visited. Yet even a medium-sized town in Taiwan or a village in Laos, there is always more to see. We were just visitors, just temporary flecks of rain. It is mind-blowing to me and it forever will be. Because the more I see in the world, the more I will realise there is so much more to see. And even the places I've 'seen' will not be the same as when I visited them. If I went back to anywhere, I would not recognise a lot of the surroundings. As the earth revolves and societies gradually change, you can only hope to capture that moment when you are right there, in the middle of somewhere foreign to you, living, breathing it in. That moment will never be the same again. It is worth remembering that.
When you leave a place, how life goes on and has been going on without the merest trace of your existence. It makes you feel small in this massive world, but also connected in a sense that your own life has operated in a way that has not taken into account of the comings and goings of any given place. You are at once an alien in this new life, but the same as anyone. It is crazy to think that there are still the same food stalls lining the backalleys of Ho Chi Minh City, the same hat-sellers sitting on the pavement of hectic Yangon, the same salarymen spilling out of the bars in Shibuya. Or maybe they aren't. How would I ever know unless I went back? It is a great argument to return, I wish I could see the life journey of each local person I interacted with. Where are they now? Life goes on, with or without you. It is a realisation that never stops recurring. I feel like everytime I leave a place, I should burn a candle to remember that moment.
The things you imagine a place to be - that picture in your mind - is always different in reality. The real place contains elements of your imagination, but it is always so so much more. There are always nook and crannies that your brain did not even begin to fathom. The face of each passing stranger, sometimes fresh and innocent, sometimes wise and weathered. The fade on old buildings, the grand walls, roofs and arches always peak higher than you could imagine, the inner intricacies of each structure more detailed than anything your mind conjured. A good writer can describe a place to you as if you are there. But if you go there, it will only be your feeling and your description which will resonate with your experience at that exact time and space. And there you will have a new creation, a new imagination. And all the flashes from your former mind of that place will merge with the concrete reality you are experiencing. And when you remember the moment, it will be a mix of all these things. And when, if, you are ever lucky enough to return to that place, it will once again dazzle your expectations, and blow the picture in your mind out of the water. That is the joy of imagination, travelling and revisiting. It is a cycle of learning and understanding which can be repeated to the heart's content.
When you leave a place, how life goes on and has been going on without the merest trace of your existence. It makes you feel small in this massive world, but also connected in a sense that your own life has operated in a way that has not taken into account of the comings and goings of any given place. You are at once an alien in this new life, but the same as anyone. It is crazy to think that there are still the same food stalls lining the backalleys of Ho Chi Minh City, the same hat-sellers sitting on the pavement of hectic Yangon, the same salarymen spilling out of the bars in Shibuya. Or maybe they aren't. How would I ever know unless I went back? It is a great argument to return, I wish I could see the life journey of each local person I interacted with. Where are they now? Life goes on, with or without you. It is a realisation that never stops recurring. I feel like everytime I leave a place, I should burn a candle to remember that moment.
The things you imagine a place to be - that picture in your mind - is always different in reality. The real place contains elements of your imagination, but it is always so so much more. There are always nook and crannies that your brain did not even begin to fathom. The face of each passing stranger, sometimes fresh and innocent, sometimes wise and weathered. The fade on old buildings, the grand walls, roofs and arches always peak higher than you could imagine, the inner intricacies of each structure more detailed than anything your mind conjured. A good writer can describe a place to you as if you are there. But if you go there, it will only be your feeling and your description which will resonate with your experience at that exact time and space. And there you will have a new creation, a new imagination. And all the flashes from your former mind of that place will merge with the concrete reality you are experiencing. And when you remember the moment, it will be a mix of all these things. And when, if, you are ever lucky enough to return to that place, it will once again dazzle your expectations, and blow the picture in your mind out of the water. That is the joy of imagination, travelling and revisiting. It is a cycle of learning and understanding which can be repeated to the heart's content.
