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Borneo: The Utopic Jungle Island of Malaysia & Indonesia

Borneo: The Utopic Jungle Island of Malaysia & Indonesia

As I sit here atop this longboat watching the Malaysian-Indonesian men unwrap random parcels of cargo to drop off at small barely-villages along the way to our destination… I can’t help but think, man I am lucky. This is a sight only few people in the world will ever get to see, really though. Traveling up the Pejang river through the heart of the Bornean Jungle to get from A to B; because here, of course, there are no roads, no maps and no signs. kokl.lphoi9i9u8uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuukl.. – ok, so this was genuinely my reaction to being bitten by a spider-sized red-ant, and cracking my laptop screen. Fucker got me. And my screen. Even now, just minutes into writing we seem to have pulled up to what appears to be a remote village. Here they have dropped off different kinds of fruit, clothing and some poorly kept chickens in boxes with holes for the heads to poke out. As you can see from the shot below, they are very excited to see the boat, and I think, me and my blonde compatriot… Hello Asia, I’ve missed you Being back in South East Asia is a welcomed break from my year long trip through Australia. Don’t get me wrong, Australia was a fantastic experience with a lot to be learned. Yet, I just can’t help but feel the experience is all too similar to being home with added scenery and wildlife. Burgers, chips, lots of westerners getting drunk and beach resorts dominated – while the beautiful side went almost unnoticed by the majority of visitors; lakes, waterfalls, canyons, gauges, mountains,...
Saying Goodbye: Losing The People You Love, Time and Time Again

Saying Goodbye: Losing The People You Love, Time and Time Again

It’s hard saying goodbye. Or even cya later as a friend recently corrected me on. Whether you’re talking to an expiring relative or taking an extended leave from friends – it’s never easy to say goodbye to those you love and care for. For me, this has never been truer than it has this past year. So let me bring you up to speed with one of the downsides of traveling – the all important, goodbye. I remember road tripping through the USA with my buddy Dave in 2012. It was my first substantial period away from anyone really, nearly two months with just each other. We realised after just a week or so that it was sadder than we expected leaving our new friends. In every city we went to we’d make friends, some closer than others – and every 1st, 2nd or 3rd day we’d have to say goodbye to them; as we never stayed in one place more than a few days. Until October 2014 when I parted with England, that road trip was the worst goodbyes I had experienced. Which brings us to October, when finally, it was time to say goodbye to the people I love the most. The ones who have helped grow and nurture me to the person I have become. The ones who have supported me, taught me and kept me afloat when my head was going under. That’s not easy, let me tell you. From my brother, to my best friends at Luke’s wedding – which was especially difficult for me. Watching someone you care about share the happiest day...
Ey Bruda, Yarin’ Jamaica Now

Ey Bruda, Yarin’ Jamaica Now

After the overwhelming response I got to my car crash story a while back, I’ve been meaning to write about another intense situation I found myself in; and only now have gotten around to writing it. This happened about three weeks after the crash too, it was just another in a series of rather unfortunate events. This was an incredible journey. I’d finished up in Vegas and decided I’d head to Jamaica for a week before returning home, I mean… its $200 to get to Jamaica how can I pass that up? For us Brits it’s closer to $1,300 for your average ticket to Jamaica so I wasn’t going to waste the opportunity. Anyway, a drunken mess I arrived at the airport at 6am straight from my last night out in Vegas; nearly missing my flight due to falling asleep at the gates I wake up to the sound of the final call – “Mr Chaarrraaa…laaaammm…booo? Do we have a Mr Michael?” Looking around, I was amazed at two things: the first being that I was the only person in sight and the second that the lady couldn’t come and ask if I was Michael? I was the only one there! Anyway, I wake up and board my flight sleeping all the way through to Jamaica – ace, recovered. Arriving in Montego Bay Upon arrival I was feeling really good about exploring a new place, experiencing a new culture, and let’s be honest… sharing a joint with some locals. There’s nothing I love more than trying to fit in with the local culture, you have to be willing to...
Ronald Keswick of 27 Waikiri Parade, Kalbarri, Australia

Ronald Keswick of 27 Waikiri Parade, Kalbarri, Australia

On 18th April I began road trippin’ through Western Australia with a Canadian, two Finnish and three German travellers, now friends – Will, JP, Pepi, Benjamin, Andreas and Anna respectively. As I write this it’s only been a few days since we began. It’s already been a blast. It’s not easy to find a group of people you get along with well enough to be around 24/7 for weeks or potentially months even, let alone seven of them. The assumed route is as such… Perth > Exmouth > Broome > Darwin Naturally, we’re hitting smaller towns which most people have never heard of in between. Most of them an untouched paradise only spoiled by the sickening amount of bush flies constantly swarming around your face. You know how at service stations across the world they advertise petrol, bulk deals for water or whatever else it may be you need. Well most places just sell fly nets to where around your face. I’m confident I’ve swallowed at least three. Here are some pictures to enjoy… Introducing… Ronald Keswick Anyway, this is about Ronald Keswick. A small, British-Dutch Indian born old man living in Australia for the past 65 years. Considering he’s been here that long and first lived in India, and then England for many years I can only assume ole’ Ron has been around circa 80 years. At this point, this is about all the information I have on Ron and his history. Yet, I felt the need to write this post because of his actions. Actions that have a knock-on affect through humanity. So we’d bought some sausages...
The Happiness of Pursuit: Accepting Your Journey For What It Is

The Happiness of Pursuit: Accepting Your Journey For What It Is

“The more we focus on our own personal happiness, the more it eludes us. In fact, it’s only when we’re otherwise engaged, you know; focused, absorbed, inspired, communicating, discovering, learning, dancing for heavens’ sake – that we experience happiness as a by-product, a side effect. Oh no, we should concern ourselves not so much with the pursuit of happiness, but with the happiness of pursuit.” – Hector and The Search For Happiness I’m not chasing happiness. That doesn’t make sense. Happiness supposedly comes from within. Whilst I agree, I also think circumstance and context do factor in. For example, I’m someone who likes the coast and sun. So in cold hidden away cities I may not be as happy with my pursuit. That said, this doesn’t make me unhappy, at all, not everything is going to take you to the peak of ecstasy. For that you go to nightclubs and talk to that dodgy looking guy with big pupils and enough sweat to fill a pool… I joke, I joke. Trying to get your head around being unhappy, sad or depressed is not easy! I’ve struggled with balancing my emotions for a very long time, on and off – maybe I’m just normal? Even now as I sit on this plane thinking… why the hell did I just rush through Hong Kong to get to Australia, I’m not pursuing Australia, I’m traveling. I tunnel-visioned myself all the way there, rather than slowing down, opening my eyes and taking time to appreciate the opportunity. I rushed through it as if getting to Australia quicker would somehow make me happier. Sometimes...
Helping, My Way: An Au Pair in La Ciotat, France

Helping, My Way: An Au Pair in La Ciotat, France

I was at a crazy house-party in Orlando, Florida earlier this year. I’d met the host, Kevan Holland, the previous year and decided to pay him a visit – this guy below about to slide down the stairs, haha! To my surprise it was a totally different crowd and there were only one or two of the people I’d met the year before. So, again, it was a case of chatting away and making some new friends. Awesome, I love that. Here they are… One young lady in particular asked me about the wrist-bands I wear, and what I was doing in the USA, let alone how I’d somehow arrived at her friends’ party. I loved how enthusiastic she was about what I was doing. She proceeded to tell me about what she’d been planning. Marseille, France was the destination, an au pair the occupation, yet no plans on dates or when she might finally take the leap. The conversation went on and she explained how she was nervous, unsure about making friends, and whether they’d receive her well as an American coming to Europe. All more than reasonable concerns; you never know how the French will respond, hehe. Though drunk and probably somewhat slurred, we talked it over for a while and she seemed rather confident about going. So I made a deal with her. I told her… “You move to France, and I’ll come and visit you.” The idea here being that she’d at least have one friend, though new, come and visit if she’s feeling lonely or unsettled. It’s never easy to drastically change your life...

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