My misadventures in Australia 2012

I don’t know exactly what possessed me to travel half way across the world on a whim without doing adequate research beforehand as this was out of character for me.  I suppose I went there to mend my fragile heart, and while I did get the inevitable cathartic experience, as solo travelling forces that upon you, I also had freak weather shadowing what I know could have potentially been an unforgettable trip, despite my emotional state.  Not wanting to fall into the pity trap, I tried my hardest to make the most of my experience while out there.

My first stop was Sydney, where I stayed on Macquarie Street at the Quay Grand Suites, a stone’s throw from the Opera House and the Royal Botanic Gardens.  This was my home for a few days, where I was able to freely explore the city’s cultural offerings.  I spent an afternoon wandering around the infamous Rocks area, a quaint part of town full of cute little boutique shops and wonderful bars with appealing interiors (my guilty pleasure, I must admit).  One evening I caught a ferry to Manly, a surf beach lined with trees that looked unusually like conifers as opposed to palm trees, and innumerable bars.  In my search for an adrenaline hit, I joined a group tour and spent an afternoon on Sydney Bridge – I actually climbed the bridge, safety harnesses in place and dressed in an embarrassing light grey boiler suit!

The Great Barrier Reef is made up of nearly 3, 000 individual reefs, around half have names, while the others are known simply by a five-digit number.  I chose to stay on Hamilton Island in Queensland as it had easy access to the breathtakingly beautiful Whitsunday Islands.  Unfortunately, I returned home without seeing the Barrier Reef due to the adverse weather conditions.  So there was no snorkeling trip to Chalkies beach, no water sports trips, or an afternoon lazing around Whitehaven Beach soaking up some rays.  The furthest I got was Catseye Beach, which turned out to be full of jellyfish!  As the rain persisted, outdoor water activities were ruled out, so I mostly spent my days listening to music on my ipod, walking barefoot in the rain for miles and miles, (flip flops caused a few nasty slips on the wet tarmac, so I quickly learnt that wearing no shoes was a far more practical option), sipping cappuccinos by the Marina, and participating in the spinning classes at the resort’s gym.  Other than that, I also went to the shooting range one morning and got to ‘play’ with a .22 calibre rifle and pistol.  It felt good, especially when I hit the target ten feet away!  When I ran out of ways to entertain myself in the rain, I decided it was time to return home as the weather showed no signs of clearing up.  So I left a week early, but I have plans to go back, and next time I want to share my experiences within a longer time frame and travel more extensively, be it with a friend, or a partner.  It’s too beautiful not to share the experience, and so damn chilled out there – it’s the perfect contrast to London life.  I have already chosen the hotels – a self contained apartment in Darling Harbour, which was my original choice, and one night at the exclusive luxury retreat of Qualia on Hamilton Island, or perhaps a few depending on how full my pockets are on my next visit!

© Copyright Vanessa Sicre

Embracing a new start in Belize 2012

When I thought about my expectations of Belize, the country conjured up images of turquoise waters, miles of sandy beaches, beautiful diving and snorkeling sites, jungles and Mayan ruins.  I almost stepped foot in the country while I was living in Mexico aged 19, and had loosely planned to go there via Guatemala, but ran out of time.  Following a stressful 2011 after the death of my father, I decided the perfect way to kick start January 2012 would be to fly out to Belize for a week, to chase some rays and recharge my batteries whilst being among nature.  So off I flew, and three flights later I landed in the sleepy fishing village of Placencia, in Belize.  My home for that week was Turtle Inn, the brainchild creation of Francis Ford Coppola, which consisted of nineteen beautifully crafted cabanas of bleached thatch and native wood, decorated with furnishings inspired by Balinese culture.  The hotel was suited more to honeymooners than for a thirty plus year old single woman, I later found out – but no matter, it was only for a week and hardly an issue as I actually met some lovely attached people out there.

I arrived truly exhausted and in desperate need of a wash, as one does after long haul flights, so imagine my amusement when I discovered I not only had an indoor bathroom, but an outdoor shower too, and baptized the latter one immediately, then headed out to town and planned some activities for the week that would see my stresses slip away, and stretch beyond the confines of the hotel swimming pool and the beach.  I cycled in on an old fashioned bicycle with no hand brakes, only a peddle which I had to turn anticlockwise to brake, an interesting technique to say the least, as I had never encountered these two wheelers before.

The first activity I booked was a boat trip along Monkey River, where I spotted black howler monkeys en route, crocodiles by the water’s edge, turtles, and a solitary yellow / green iguana perched up high on the branch of a tree, basking in the thirty degrees heat!  The next stop was Cockscomb Basin Wildlife Sanctuary, and not one animal in sight with the exception of various kingfisher birds along the river; I was disappointed not to spot any jaguars that so many people had mentioned lived within the confines of the sanctuary, so moving on from the animals, the highlight of that trip was the river tubing.  The aforementioned activity involved not quite a tube, but something akin to a car tyre minus the ridges, into which I sunk my slender body, with feet and head sticking out on either side of the so called tube.  And into the river I went, chilling in the sun with the gentle current of the water carrying me effortlessly upstream.  A word of warning though, to reach the site I had to trek through miles of sludgy mud!  I followed in the footsteps of our guide and ended up removing my Converse shoes and going barefoot in the mud as the grip was better, and thankfully I was only wearing shorts, so the mud that rode all the way up my legs was easily removable.  Preceding the tubing, I swam under a beautiful waterfall, felt the water spray me, and then come crashing down on my body, cooling me from the intense heat of the sun, and really feeling the full force of the water – pure bliss.

The penultimate day of my trip I signed up for a visit to Laughing Bird Caye, a world heritage site renowned for its snorkeling and diving.  Having previously been accustomed to seeing live lobsters in miniscule fish tanks at Spanish restaurants, I was pleasantly surprised to come across a few in the wild waters of the Caribbean sea in Belize.  But the biggest shocker of the day was having an eagle ray swim by within a less than a metre of me, fortunately, without stopping to explore me!  I, on the other hand, just floated on the water playing dead, completely paralysed, but less out of fear and more in awe of the creature I had before my eyes.

Physical activities such as swimming, cycling and trekking were counter-balanced by holistic therapies; on one occasion I opted for a Thai massage out of curiosity, and had my body stretched and contorted in many positions I never even thought possible.  By the end of the week, I felt like my batteries had been recharged, and even though I had blown all of my savings in the space of a week, it was without a doubt the best investment I had made in months, as I was able to piece my body and soul back together in such an incredibly short space of time.  Plus money can always be recouped at a later date in future!

© Copyright Vanessa Sicre

Sailing the seas in Mozambique 2011

I have been fortunate enough to have visited Africa several times in the past fourteen years, with both my immediate and my extended family, on safari around Zimbabwe, Namibia and Botswana, and every trip has left me hungry for more visits.  This time I opted for a water based travel adventure, which took me to Mozambique.  I flew direct to Nairobi where I paid $10 to have my passport stamped for my visa, then connected onto Pemba via Maputo, where visas were an entirely different affair.  I was photographed, and fingerprint samples were taken, before being told to hand over $70 to the officials and waited about ten minutes for a print-out of my visa with a miniature portrait of myself attached.  After that I was ready for phase three of the journey, a four hour drive that led us straight to a beach in the middle of nowhere – including a challenging walk along the beach with a wheelie suitcase and local children following us (I went with a party of five, a family from South Africa) – and straight onto a dhow, which is their version of a sailing boat.  The dhow took us to Mogundula Island, and we sailed the sea as the sun was setting on one end of the horizon, and the moon rose on the other side.  It was a beautiful sight to behold.

My first night on Mogundula Island was a restless affair in a tent that almost toppled over with the force of the rain and wind at 4am.  Fortunately, by 6am, the weather had cleared and we were all able to go snorkeling in the aqualine waters, returning for an evening meal of locally sourced, grilled kingfish and crayfish served by the campfire.  This was only supposed to be a two night stay, but the strong gale force winds and persistent nightly showers meant the sea was too rough to leave the island, so we got stuck on the island an extra night.  I could not help feeling like time had come to a standstill on the island, with the bad weather chasing us into our sleep, and also throughout the day at intervals. 

Ibo Island on the Quirimbas Archipelago was the next, much anticipated stop  – with a population of only four thousand people and made up of twenty three islands.  It had been a major trading centre in previous centuries, when Africa’s east coast had been controlled by Arabs, and then later became a Portuguese colony.  Admittedly, not quite what I had envisioned as it was incredibly rundown and in need of repair, but the lodge itself was housed in a magnificent and beautiful historic mansion that had been renovated with teak furniture and boasted huge rooms and high ceilings.  Staying in Ibo Lodge was like stepping back in time, with electricity being supplied by their own generator and available only for about eight hours a day, no television (fantastic for getting those creative juices flowing), and water filtered and supplied by nature’s rain.

After a night of restful sleep on Ibo Island, we set off at 9am on a dhow for a snorkeling trip that exposed us to a wonderful underwater world full of beautiful red starfish, clownfish, lion fish with what looked like wings on either side of their bodies, puffa fish (always an amusing sight), giant sea urchins, and also sea cucumber, which around the islands are apparently a valuable commodity – mighty ugly beast of a creature too!  Kayaking was next on the agenda in the late afternoon.  The views were breathtaking, I was so upset I didn’t have my camera on me.  We saw some beautiful black and white birds swimming close to the surface of water, in the direction of the setting sun.  It would’ve been such an amazing picture to capture on camera.  Even the flying fish put on a show for us.

The morning I was due to go back home, I wasn’t even sure I’d leave the island due to adverse weather conditions, but I got lucky and only the afternoon flights were cancelled.  I got to ride up-front next to the pilot on a 5-seater plane to Pemba airport, mesmerized by the view.  As we were flying in the air, I remembered how as a child I used to look out of the plane window and believe I could really touch the clouds and stand on them, that they’d be all fluffy and I’d float on them – all very magical.  Obviously this was long before I discovered that clouds are formed by condensation when the water vapour in the air is cooled, and had I tried to walk on clouds in reality, I would have simply fallen right through them and to a nasty death!

I arrived early at Pemba airport, and turned out to be the only white girl there, but for once I wasn’t hassled by any of the locals, much to my relief.  I sat down and waited for my connecting flight, replaying the moments that made my trip, and recalling that the purpose of it had been to go in search of solo time, to just breathe and escape a confusing relationship I had got myself caught up in.  I fulfilled my purpose, I gained more clarity while away, and ended the relationship, feeling much happier as a result.

© Copyright Vanessa Sicre

African Conservation Experience 2010

Imagine this: back to basics at its finest - I spent the first two weeks of my month in Africa in a tented bush camp with an outdoor bathroom composed of mud walls and no roof or door to speak of, and no hot water without building daily fires.  Temperatures dropped so dramatically at night that I often went to bed wearing two hoodies, thermals, tracksuit bottoms, socks, and even a woolly hat on one occasion!  There was no electricity, meaning that my evening meals were often shared with enormous moths and dung beetles.  It felt a bit like I was living in a commune, where everyone chipped in with the household duties and at mealtimes, and where creative improvisation was the norm, due to lack of basic resources that we take for granted in the UK.

The Hanchi Conservation Project involved 6am starts and me relearning everything concerning equine husbandry, tack and yard maintenance.  This primarily consisted of two hours of horse riding a day, and a hell of a lot of shit shovelling!  So my days were mostly filled with collecting horse manure from the stables and paddocks and making repeat trips to the shit heap, and then tipping the wheelbarrow, with much care needed to not tip it down the sides.  Not quite what I had in mind, though I did develop some biceps good enough to rival She-Ra any day!

Apart from the ubiquitous manure picking, I was fortunate enough to experience the advantage of having a roofless bathroom, and to catch sight of a beautiful sky full of stars every night.  I tracked cheetah and leopard, did some bushwacking with the aid of a machete (and almost whacked my own boot in the process, on one occasion!), and saw wild antelope.  I also went on an amazing helicopter ride, which was akin to a mini safari in the air.  I could not stop smiling to myself, it was such a thrill.  That aside, I also spent a great deal of time daydreaming in between, about buying a French bulldog and relocating to the coast to be by the sea.

My second placement at the animal rehabilitation project took a whopping eleven hours to reach by car, and involved an overnight stay at a hostel in Johannesberg to break up the long drive.  This part of my trip felt like more of an adventure as I had the opportunity to work with serval cats and a wild caracal, even taking them out for walks on leads every day; less enjoyable was getting dead chicks out of the freezer every day for their meals, especially being a vegetarian.

Responsibilities at the rehabilitation centre involved a few nights sleeping out with a warthog appropriately named Pumba, who turned out to be quite an escape artist and needed constant monitoring to curb his destructive tendencies.  My surreal nights with Pumba were spent with him wrapped in a sleeping bag next to me.  I also worked with a crow who needed to be let out of his cage every day for exercise - he made a habit of pecking at all my clothes and generally being annoying for exactly twenty minutes, and then would turn into sweetness personified after said minutes, allowing me to stroke his head and neck, and even falling asleep on my lap on a few occasions.

In Africa, natural resources are milked to their fullest, so no fruit flies in jars for the chameleon’s meals, oh no, I actually had to hunt for flies myself, and place the little reptile (the size of my index finger) in front of a fly on the wall, and wait for him to stick his tongue out and zap the flies one by one until his hunger was satiated.  Working so closely with this creature, I observed that George the chameleon had funny eyes that rotated round to the back of his head without him rotating his body.  I tried to imagine what it would be like if humans could do that.  Some food for thought.

Some funny moments (in hindsight) at the Centre involved the vervet monkey escaping out of his cage and being chased by Pumba, which I can only presume must have almost given the poor thing a heart attack, even with his good tree climbing skills.  Other escapees included one of the serval cats, who decided to stay stuck up a tree until dark.  I also had a giant tortoise pee all the way down my leg and even leave a trail a few metres long on the ground behind him, and me, for that matter.  You see, I meant it when I said this tortoise was big.  Riley the bushbaby, at only 1kg in weight and a mass of grey fur was quite possibly the ugliest animal I have ever seen, but that also made him the cutest.  He looked like a cross between a chinchilla and a gremlin, with monkey hands and feet and moved like a sloth, which was not very much due to his back injury.  Another comical moment was having six son conures (birds) all flock at me at once, with a few quite literally stuck on my head/hair.  I had to jump up and down to tear them away.

A question I have frequently been asked since I got back, is if I would do it all again.  And the answer to that is that while it was an unforgettable and really quite unique experience, I don’t think doing it again would be the same.  And so my search begins once again for my next adventure.  Wherever next will life take me?!  I quite like the idea of working with orangutans in the Malaysian Borneo.

© Copyright Vanessa Sicre

Icelandic adventure 2009

Iceland Undiscovered conjured up images of the infamous Blue lagoon, the Northern Lights, and snow tipped mountains in Winter, but what I actually saw and experienced when I spent five days in the country was a lot more than I bargained for.  With the added bonus of discovering a very cool, relatively unknown Icelandic band called FM Belfast who sing a hilarious song titled ‘Underwear’ - a definite “must listen to”!  We also sampled their local coffee at a cluster of very sophisticated retro style coffee shops in Reykjavik, that turned into trendy bars by night.  

Lisa and I had a lot to pack in those five days, especially given that in Iceland the sun only emerges at around midday in Winter, and the sky is dark by 4pm.  Our first mini adventure involved renting quad bikes.  I got so carried away with speeding that my bike almost tipped over, but the thrill of the speed was priceless, minus the heart attack that was almost incurred when I felt I was going to top the side of the mountain.  On day two, we went pony trekking; Lisa managed to fall off her pony, even though it was possibly the dopiest one of the group and aptly named Marley, which was part of the problem.  He was walking so slowly and distractedly that he managed to trip up, which sent Lisa to the ground, rather gracefully I might add. 

Beauty spots were witnessed just beyond the city, where we visited the Gullfoss waterfall and saw the mesmerising Geysir, where the water would bubble at surface level, then every few minutes it would erupt to form a massive volcano of water hundreds of metres high.  This was followed by an evening in the Blue Lagoon where the water temperature was thirty eight degrees.  There were not many visitors when we went and it was a somewhat surreal experience - even though the lagoon was lit from up above, you would swim out and as the light faded, it felt like you were swimming into infinity.

I always had this preconception that Huskies originated from Iceland, but they are in fact imported from Greenland; our dogs were lovely and affectionate, and apparently nothing like the ones found in Greenland!  Due to the sub zero temperatures, Lisa and I were given what can only be described as thermal boiler suits and gloves for the dog sledding.  Lisa was unfortunate enough to get the extra large size which was far too big for her small frame, and the wind almost blew her away in what effectively turned into an inflatable Michelin man suit.  In fact, we almost both got blown away, and practically ate all the black volcanic sand in the process. 

The local bus trips from the city back to the hotel were something of a five star affair, not because we were staying in some luxurious abode and had the privilege of a private mini bus, but try to imagine this - a red London bus dropping you off not at the bus stop, but actually right on your doorstep!  That would never happen back home, but it actually did in Iceland.  Admittedly we were the only two people on the bus, but still, bus drivers in London would never be that nice.  It was definitely a moment to remember.  There were many…

© Copyright Vanessa Sicre

A taste of magical Morocco 2008

Morocco, land of abundant corn - that was the solitary image I had of the country after reading my grandmother’s book detailing her experiences of living in North Africa in the 1950s.  Though I hasten to add that throughout my time there and after clocking up many miles on the road, I never did spot any corn husks.  Instead the country greeted my mother, brother and I with its market charms at Jamaa el Fna, in Marrakesh, where tourists flocked to see the snake charmers, fortune-tellers, musicians and tooth pullers with variously sized human teeth lined up on tables.  Further inside the medina were souks selling ‘babouches’ (pointy slippers), kaftans, rugs and leather goods in between the apothecary stalls, leaving a trail of pungent aromas behind them.

I cannot write about Marrakesh without mentioning the Riad Mehdi, our base for the few days we were in the city.  The hotel was dimly lit with candles and narrow, winding corridors throughout, which gave it the air of an upper class bordello, and provided an intimate setting that felt slightly surreal.  Add to that the lack of natural ventilation, and the fact that the spa, located in the central courtyard was communal and you could see all the clients having massages from your hotel room, and it made for a trippy experience that gave it all the more charm.  

Just outside the walled medina of Marrakesh lies the beautiful Jardin Majorelle, originally opened to the public in 1947 by the painter Jacques Majorelle, and later acquired and restored by the couturier Yves Saint Laurent.  It boasted an abundance of plants spanning five continents, and included orange groves, cacti, bamboo, palms, water lilies, lotus and papyrus, to name just a few.  In search of more culture, we stepped further outside of the city and spent the day taking in the Roman ruins of Volubilis, perched up high between the valleys and mountains.  The ruins included the house of Orpheus, which contained a very sophisticated network of plumbing and heating systems, the vomitoriums (bulimia abounded in Roman times!), some beautifully well preserved mosaics, and a Roman olive factory.  The Forum was the centre of life in Volubilis, with the arches of the Basilica and the columned Capitol still standing. 

After a day of intensive sightseeing and culture, I decided to go for the Hamman, which though incredibly weird was also quite relaxing.  It involved me lying on my back in a heated room, in the nude, with a lady pouring buckets of hot water over my body (the best bit), followed by exfoliation, massage and more buckets, with water going up my nostrils on more than a few occasions.

A few days were spent in the Riad Fes Hotel, located in the heart of Fes, which dated from the 1930s and was the former residence of the noble Fassi family.  From here we explored the ceramic tile factory, where we witnessed men carving art forms on plates and making mosaics.  We also visited the tannery, where all the leather was dyed, and walked through holding a bunch of mint leaves we were given to ward off the pungent smells.

Our next port of call involved a long day of driving as we passed Erfoud, near the Algerian border, Merzonga, and through the Atlas mountains until we reached the Ksar Jallal, located in a village right on the edge of the Fezna oasis with views across the desert to the mountains.  There were only six rooms in the hotel, so it felt more like a private residence, and was high on tackiness rankings, but it nonetheless had its charms, and the real beauty was its location.  Less pleasant, but somewhat surreal to see, was a sandstorm we encountered on the drive to the hotel!  We also experienced extremes of temperature from 7 degrees in the morning, right up to 27 degrees in the desert later on in the day.  Unfortunately, I was left to capture the beautifully shaped mountains in my memory as my camera just didn’t do them justice.  There are places I find can be like that – no photograph you take can truly capture the beauty of nature, even with the aid of Photoshop (which I don’t particularly like anyway)!

Overall it was a truly magical experience, especially being in the desert, rising at sunrise and walking along the sand dunes with camels by our sides.  And  here is a bit of useless information to end this with, as I am full of these – apparently Moroccan camels have two humps instead of the more common one hump.  In more eloquent terms, a camel with one hump is called a Dromedary Camel,  and one with two humps is a Bactrian Camel, which is native to the Gobi Desert in Mongolia, whereas the former is more common in the Middle East.

© Copyright Vanessa Sicre

Doing the locomotion in Sri Lanka 2007

A year on, the travel bug resurfaced and took me to my next travel destination, which I chose to be Sri Lanka, where I joined a tour group for two weeks.  I got off on a bad start, as almost as per usual, I set off the x-ray machine with my studded belt at the airport, then in my half-asleep state managed to get off the plane at the Maldives (Sri Lanka was the second stop, but I'd missed the announcement on the plane as I had been asleep).  I ended up asking a few people which country I was in as the sign bearing the name of the airport was really rather meaningless to me in their native language.  Good thing I had my intuition to go by and got back on the plane, or I would not have made it to Sri Lanka!

I must admit I felt like a non-stop locomotive on the trip, except on the last few days where we chilled on the beach, but am so glad we packed in all the beautiful sights.  Having said that, all those 6am starts left me feeling like I needed to hibernate for a week in bed when I got back home!  But I mastered the art of getting ready in a record breaking fifteen minutes, so all was not lost.

I was shocked to see so many military soldiers dotted about in one country (Tamils), I had never seen such was a bizarre sight, and it was so unexpected, but fortunately, their presence felt safe and unthreatening while we toured Sri Lanka.  Equally bizarre and worth a mention was the high security at the temples.  I got searched 4 times (here comes the bizarre shock factor), and had my breasts groped, and I mean REALLY groped by a big, butch looking female guard.  Others in the tour group had similar experiences, so we came to the conclusion that she was an undersexed and overly horny lesbian, and laughed about it later.

I saw so many beautiful sights in the two weeks I was there, that it would be impossible to write about it all, so I have mentioned some of my highlights instead: Anuradhapura, an absolute must-see, with its beautiful reclining Buddha, surrounded by cheeky monkeys everywhere.  The Dambulla Caves were home to five rock temples containing innumerable statues of the Buddha and other deities, as well as some murals that really blew me away.  Aukana, another highlight, was the site of a twelve metre high reclining Buddha.  In Sigiriya I climbed the Victorian metal spiral staircases that lead to the Sigiriya Damsels, with frescoes in beautiful earthy colours showing around twenty bare-breasted nymphs floating on a sea of clouds, all very sensual art.  I was also quite fascinated by the wood carving factory, simply because you saw how natural colour dyes were created through chemical reactions, which was an eye opener.  The elephant safari, just to experience an open topped safari, was also worth the experience, with wind blowing in my face and hair as I rode standing!

Did you know that white pepper is made by pouring boiling water over black peppercorns?  That was news to me.  I learnt it on an ayurvedic tour of a spice garden.  Pepper trees are actually green, and the black pepper we get comes from them being dry roasted in the sun. I never really thought about the origins of their colour until I went there.

Adam's Peak, apparently one of Sri Lanka's most revered pilgrimage sites, involves climbing up 9600 steps to the summit, which amounts to five hours of walking.  I couldn't drink in all that time as there were no pit stops.  I compulsively chewed gum instead, as an alternative illusory thirst quencher, like a cow munches grass all day long.  By the time I reached the top, I felt like I'd dislocated my jaw from all that chewing.  It was the longest and hardest trek I've ever done, and I'm supposedly pretty fit; those steps felt never ending, but despite severely sunburnt shoulders and an incredibly numb pair of legs, I'm glad I reached the top of the summit, and it made me really appreciate our final destination, the beach.

Unawatuna, our final stop, and site of a beautiful beach.  I've never been very tolerant of the heat and get bored sunbathing, but I love the ocean.  It was so, so peaceful and a brilliant way to end the trip.  I chilled in the sea a lot, and joined in the activities such as volleyball, badminton and football on the beach, with the younger crowd on the beach.  I also visited a turtle conservation farm for the first time in my life, and had the opportunity to hold a turtle smaller than the palm of my hand, and only a few days old, which was a memorable moment.  Overall, I had some lovely experiences on the group tour in Sri Lanka, and I'm glad I went, but I think I prefer independent travel best - I've just got to find my ideal travel partner with the same flexible work hours as me now!

That's all folks...more on my next travels.

© Copyright Vanessa Sicre

Jungles and beaches in Malaysia 2006

As a newly independent woman in 2006, I decided I was way overdue to travel somewhere far away, and picked Malaysia on a group tour.  I enjoyed it so much, that had I not had any ties in London, I would've carried on travelling into the Malaysian Borneo, Laos, Vietnam, Cambodia, maybe even Thailand again.  The smiles, the laughter, the sun, the beautiful surroundings, the adventure itself, I missed them all when came back home, but I guess that's just how it is sometimes – too good to last!  So in the meantime, I buried myself in my new studies and took to dreaming of travelling.

I joined a tour group in Penang as I figured it would be easier, given my two week time limit, so that I could pack in as many places as possible.  The tour leader was great, she was a Scottish lady with a fantastic sense of humour, a youthful spirit and a big heart.  I was fortunate enough to be accompanied by three guys on the tour, who shared an equally good sense of humour and laid back attitude, and who also, very sweetly, wanted to look out for me all the time, even though I was perfectly capable of doing that for myself.  

Looking back, I think what made the trip so memorable were the moments I had that made me smile - little things like seeing an adorable black monkey, a gibbon, on one of the treks, which I had never seen before.  It was all black with white circles around its eyes and mouth, and painted a picture of perfect innocence. Then in Banding / Temengor Lake we went on a night trek and slept in hammocks in the jungle - bat and elephant shit in abundance, but no elephants in sight until the next day on a night drive, and crossing the road no less, not in the depths of the jungle.  At one point we all switched our flashlights off, and it was magical, there were fireflies everywhere, and fluorescent leaves by my feet (the fungus on the leaves makes them glow in the dark), stars in the sky, and the noises of the jungle, of animals I mostly couldn't identify, but the sounds produced no fear, only peace.  After the trekking, we went to the Perehentian Islands for a few days, and snorkelled in the clear blue waters off the east coast, spotting giant turtles and multicoloured fish.  I also, amusingly enough, came across a monitor lizard on my way to the hotel room one afternoon, from the beach.  I must say that stopped me in my tracks as I had never come across one before, and had not expected such a sight.  With a body bigger than a crocodile, and a wider face, it walked at the pace of a snail, and had a tendency to whack predators / people with it's heavy tail, so I made sure I stayed well away.

We took a 5 hour bus ride to Kuala Lipis after the beach stay, then went into the jungle again, visited the limestone caves, stumbled on more bats and shit, and slippery terrain; I was glad it was over by the end of a 12 hour day but I did enjoy the adrenaline rush that it created.  After that, we stopped for tea and cookies at a local villager's hut, hitched a ride on the back of a truck to the Jelai River, then got a boat across it, and this made me laugh so much, I wish I had taken a photo: there was a man on his boat, rowing on his own, wearing a motorbike helmet. What he was thinking, or what drugs he was on, I do not know.

Kuala Lumpur, unless you like cities stocked to the brim with designer fakes and DVDs - for which they have an interesting marketing ploy - they show you their file of DVDs, you say no thanks, they offer you porn instead - neither of which I really do - was nothing to shout about.  Except for the Batu Caves, which were a bus ride out of the city.  You had to climb two hundred steps, and inside its walls were some beautiful Hindu sculptures and hungry monkeys (not so beautiful, but cute nonetheless).

By the end of the trip I had mastered the art of squat toilets, which I hadn't experienced since India, and believe me, being a girl, it is one hell of an art.  Men always have it so easy.  I also mastered the art of seeing with one semi good left eye due to laser surgery gone not according to plan last year, and me having managed to break the two lenses I wear on my right eye only, in the space of 2 days, on the 2nd day of my trip.  In addition, I am now also very adept at trekking in the jungle with a handbag, and renamed it the handbag for all seasons and purposes. Before I went away, I was so looking forward to chilling out on the beach for a few days, and forgetting about pending exams, that I didn't think about the practicalities of packing my day rucksack for the jungle, along with a torch for night time walks, insect repellent, sunscreen, etc.  Anyway, in the end it worked out pretty well - you'd be amazed how much you can squash into a handbag for two days in the jungle - just pack extra light.

Mice, spiders, geckos, and other similar insects, I can deal with, but leeches and jelly fish, having never been bitten by either, produced a small amount of fear in me out in Malaysia.  Until I got leeched twice in the jungle, and it really wasn't that bad, so gone is my fear of leeches now.  On my next trip I will probably have a jelly fish stick itself to my body, and come back scarred, unless that is, I find someone to piss on me, which is apparently the remedy for getting rid of the poison, and to minimise scars.  It would have to be someone extraordinarily special, I can't think who right now, though in that situation, I probably wouldn't care. 


© Copyright Vanessa Sicre

Feeling charitable in Costa Rica 2005

I arrived in Costa Rica automatically, and somewhat stupidly assuming it would be Summer as I was told the temperatures would average 26 degrees in August.  They did, but it was the rainy season, with almost daily tropical downpours.  The orphanage I had been posted to was tiny - there were only eleven children there, which was much less than I was used to when I had worked in Mexico, but more than enough after a few days there as they were pretty wayward.  There were two sets of twins there, aged one month and eight months, both so adorable.  The older two, Carolina and Geovana were the smiliest babies I have ever set eyes on, and had my life been considerably more stable, physically and financially, I probably would've considered adopting them.  They were so, so lovely, so easy going, and truly a joy to be around.  I couldn't believe they had been placed in an orphanage with a disposition like theirs.  My favourites were Simon and Dycklin, who were aged three and four, and had Down's Syndrome. Neither of them had learnt how to talk yet, but they were pretty good at letting you know how they felt about things, through their facial expressions, grunts and screaming, and various temper tantrums - they were real characters. Most of the other children were a bit harder to communicate with as they were often aggressive, violent and hard to deal with, though eventually, even they softened up, and learnt to trust me.  It was such an amazing feeling seeing some of them smile, sit on my lap and hold my hand.  It was really heart-warming. 

The first few days working  at the orphanage were tough as the children had very little structure or routine to their day, which was probably part of the reason why they were so difficult to handle.  They also had very little outside stimuli, and there is only so much entertaining two volunteers can do without any toys or games, so we were really challenged and pushed to think outside of the box.  I didn't think I would be able to handle a month of that and I lacked the professional knowledge or experience to know how to deal with these wayward children...so I complemented the orphanage work with a few days working as a school assistant.  The teacher I worked with was lovely, and made me feel at ease there. The children would kiss me good morning when I arrived and good bye every afternoon they saw me in school, and wrote me the sweetest notes when I left, with pictures and even flowers picked from the playground.  I was so touched by their affectionate notes saying how they said they were going to miss me and loved me! Even the teacher wrote me a beautiful little note.

As for my living situation, I lived in a house with all the volunteers (doing voluntary work in a variety of fields) in San Carlos, about 30 of us in total, with an average of 3 girls sharing a room, and a communal bathroom.  It actually reminded me of being at summer camp again!  Everyone was friendly (mostly American), considerate and thoughtful, so I felt more relaxed than I would have done otherwise, and more a part of a group or community...Living there was like being back in Greece, where I had been on a spiritual retreat some years previously (minus the spirituality, but with the community atmosphere) - there was no TV in the house and no music – just childrens' books lying around the place, and plenty of time to be creative and live simply as the "city" did not have much on offer.

On my last day at the orphanage I remember going back to my roots and cooking the children a Spanish omelette, which was a big change from their monotonous diet of mostly rice and beans; maybe an unbalanced diet was a contributing factor to their hyperactivity.  When the time came to leave the children and return back to the UK, I felt sad - the twins were crying because they just wanted to be held and cuddled, and Karina, who my friend and I christened the "devil's child" as she was actually quite evil, held my hand and didn't want me to leave, while Jose Fabio, another dark horse, or pony in the case of little people, gave me a good bye kiss.  Jenna, my work buddy, also wrote me a beautiful farewell letter. Often for me, it's the simple gestures that touch me, and yes, I did leave with tears streaming down my face, but at least the children didn't see them.

Okay, I know not everyone may not be appreciating all this sentimentality, so here's a low-down on the travelling that I squeezed in when I was off work. Eighteen of us descended on Manuel Antonio the first weekend we had off, a renowned world heritage site.  The first night, I must say, was a bit weird - there were four of us sharing a room and two double beds, so I had to share half a bed with a virtual stranger, but by the second night I'd gotten used to it.  It was beautiful  there, we saw birds of paradise everywhere, iguanas, cicadas, butterflies, bats, wild monkeys on the beach, and even a sloth in a tree.  And this sloth was so fat you could tell he didn't get around much.  I don't know how they get their food; they must have extra long tongues for catching flies, so they don't have to move.  Or maybe they're vegetarian.  In which case, what happens when they deplete a branch of leaves??  These creatures are the laziest living things on earth, so I do wonder.

Before I went to Monteverde I was told it would be a bumpy ride, and to be prepared.  I was pleasantly surprised until the last hour of the trip, which was a drive along a very bumpy, winding, pot holed road in the mountains.  It brought back memories of coach trips in Thailand, only the particular journey it brought to my mind was nine hours long instead of four, over similar terrain.  We went zip lining, which involves hanging off cables (nineteen in total, with one over five hundred metres long) in the rainforest.  That was very comical as I got stuck on the cable because I was going too slowly, and a guide had to come and take me through.  It meant I got to go really fast without stopping, so it was a blessing in disguise, as I like speed.  I also did the obligatory canopy tour, but that felt insignificant after the exhilaration of the zip lining.  Horse riding followed, and I was surprised how well looked after and well behaved the animals were; got to canter and gallop through the forest, and stopped off at an animal refuge on the way.  I had friendly monkeys who shared their living quarters with domesticated sheep jumping on my shoulder and trying to eat my hair!  When it all got too much and I felt like I was on my way to a losing my scalp, all I had to do was start walking, and they immediately jumped off – clever monkeys!

The last travel stop was Tortuguero, which was like an African safari, except it was on water.  We saw more monkeys, herons, giant turtles, caimans, toucans, falcons, kingfishers and giant lizards.  Our hotel also had cute little red frogs running about the place, which I later found out were poisonous, so I am glad I didn’t accidentally step on any.

On a final note, I will end on this - Pura Vida!  These are the most commonly used words in the Ticos' (the Costa Ricans) vocabulary.  It literally translates as Pure Life!, but in Costa Rica it can mean many things, such as that's cool, it's cool, you're cool, hi, good bye, and even, just to personalize it - until next time, from another country far away – Pura Vida!

© Copyright Vanessa Sicre

I planted my intellect in Rome, Italy 2005

Back on the journey of self-discovery; the travel bug refused to die...I chose to spend a Summer in Italy with the maybe blindly optimistic idea that I would return home fluent in Italian, and able to pursue a successful career in medical interpreting, with five languages under my belt (the others being Spanish, English, Portuguese, and French).

As my bad luck would have it, I remember telling my Mum before I left, that I hoped I wouldn't be sharing the flat with a Japanese, and what a surprise to arrive and find out my flatmate was a 44 year old Japanese woman who spoke no Italian or English - needless to say, communication was a real problem, and I felt pretty much on my own most of the time.  In addition, the flat was particularly sparse - no phone, no TV, no washing machine, not much light...so the first thing I did was complain to the language school I was enrolled at.  My immediate options were pretty unappealing, but I did eventually move, after two weeks.  I ended up living with an Italian single mother and her nerdy, somewhat freaky looking twenty something year old son.  Not quite what I was expecting, but better than the other place, and the lady I was sharing with was really warm, without being too overbearing.

It's amazing how, when I am thrown into a country where I hardly speak the language, know a single soul, or the city itself, my shyness disappears and I become assertiveness personified.  The first day I arrived I didn't know that not getting your metro ticket stamped would incur, per person, a EUR 50 fine.  I kicked up such a fuss in my broken Italian (interspersed with Spanish and Portuguese) that we got away with paying 50 between the two of us (I was with the Japanese woman).  The Italians were so helpful when I asked for directions - one woman didn't know the directions to where I needed to go, so she went into a shop to ask for me, then another man saw I was having difficulty getting the pay phone to work, and came over to help me.  I even had other people walk with me to my destination, even though they were going the other way.  And the most flattering thing that happened to me there: I went to a museum and was asked if I was under 18, and another time an elderly man asked me if I was Italian!  Now that I think about it, it is the ONLY flattering things that happened to me in Italy, hahaha.

My classes were in the afternoon, with classes limited to about 6 people, which was nice; the teachers were really enthusiastic and laid-back – it was a far cry from university classes and school.  The one thing I was not too keen about was that you changed teachers every 2 weeks.  I made some progress with the language, which was great, but was still thinking in Spanish and Portuguese throughout, which contrary to popular belief, knowledge of other Latin languages did not help, but rather served as a hindrance.  That said, I did have to sit an exam during the course, and moved up a level – so not all doom and gloom!

The school ran a cultural program, and I signed up for most things, wanting to make the most of the city.  During my time in Rome I visited the Colosseum, the Pantheon, Piazza Spagna, Villa Borghese, Tivoli (outside Rome - a park with 2000 fountains), Palazzo Corsini, the Museo d'Arte Moderno, the chaotic Porta Portese market, the Lago di Bracciano, Appia Antica...and more - some with the school, others on my own. I really felt like I made the most of my stay in Italy.  I fell into a routine with relative ease, and once a week, sometimes more, usually on weekends, when my days were less structured, I would lose myself in the cinema (movies in Italian of course, though not necessarily Italian movies).  I truly loved the vibe in the city, its beauty, the people, the language, the culture; I felt so comfortable there despite missing my friends and family back home.  Some countries are like that, they feel like home, I can’t really explain it, but if you’ve ever felt it, you’ll know exactly what I mean.

© Copyright Vanessa Sicre

Discovering pagodas in Myanmar 2004

Myanmar (formerly known as Burma) and its beauty, magic and mystery are difficult to capture in words - it has to be experienced.  India, which I visited before Myanmar, was mostly about vibrant colours and enticing smells; Myanmar was all pagodas, Buddhist statues, floating tomato fields and markets; but even though Myanmar borders on India, the people could not be more different. The Burmese are lovely - in their simplicity and honesty, and they are truly welcoming people, whilst the children I met were all quite enchanting, all waving and wanting to hold my hand.

In many ways, Myanmar is reminiscent of India, with men wearing traditional longhis made out of cotton, and like Asia, shoes must be removed before entering any of the temples; on the subject of temples, I must mention the nuns and the beautiful faded fuchsia / fluorescent pink coloured robes that they wore, with their shaved heads, a symbol of renounced femininity.  Similarly to the Moroccans, the Burmese are not big fans of nightclubs and prefer to hang out at teahouses by night, often outdoors, located on the side of the road, with candles on miniature tables and matching chairs.  This is also what the Indians do - but they drink spicy chai instead!

In Yangon we saw the Chauk Htat Giji Pagoda, an enormous reclining Buddha, followed by the Shwedegan Pagoda, which was one step up and humungous!  The central stupa was surrounded by loads of intricately decorated buildings of Buddha, dragons and various other creatures.  I have never seen so many buddhas in all of my life.

On a trip along Lake Inle we saw men fishing and women rowing, with their vessels full of sacks of tomatoes; the women adopted an interesting rowing technique, immortalised in local postcards, whereby they would row their boat standing up, with one leg wrapped around the oar, in order to keep their hands free to clear the tangled weeds on the lake.  There were houses on stilts made of bamboo with no running electricity, and in the village of Sagar we saw corn husks out to dry, along with saffron, as well as banana and papaya trees, and watched peanut oil being extracted from the nuts as an oxen walked around in circles, activating the device it was attached to, which pounded the nuts. We watched the sun setting behind Mount Popa, and observed a beautiful sky full of stars not long after, where it was so crystal clear that you could see the galaxies in the distance.

In Bagan, we visited a sandalwood forest, which was also the home of the golden deer.  They sported huge antlers on their head, that seemed out of proportion with the rest of their bodies, and had a beautiful red coat.  An early night followed, as my brother and I had a 5am start the next morning in time for the balloon ride over Bagan half an hour later.  The take-off was pretty smooth, but the landing was trickier.  We all had to assume landing positions, knees bent, back facing backwards, hands on the grips, and the landing was rocky, though it did get my adrenaline pumping quite nicely, and I also enjoyed watching the balloons being inflated before take-off.

The temples of Myanmar were truly spectacular, with well preserved frescoes and murals inside, in wonderful shades of green, red, yellow and turquoise, but unfortunately photography was prohibited in them.  Towards the end of our trip I had seen so many temples/pagodas/buddhas that I started to look at them all in the same light, and they just merged into one - beautiful, but definitely overkill!

© Copyright Vanessa Sicre

Finding and losing my feet in India 2004

After a stressful year culminating in university exams, and unsure which direction I wanted my life to go after my degree, I left London for two months and headed to India with my friend Max, in search of some mental and spiritual clarity.  Our first stop in India is an ashram in Rishikesh for two weeks, doing yoga and meditation on a vegan diet, and getting up at 6.45am every day.  The most valuable lesson I learnt there was that I could never be a vegan, and that meditating and practicing yoga twice daily was really not what was going to enrich my life and make me feel whole again.  But needless to say, the experience was an interesting one, and I had no regrets.

After a harrowing train journey which totalled thirty hours, including a five hour delay, we finally arrived in Varanasi, leaving ashram life behind us - supposedly one of the holiest places in India.  The train journey was an experience in itself - I have never seen so many people and dogs sleeping on train platforms.  Or sacred cows for that matter.  There were more train stops than I care to remember, staying up to an hour stationed in one place.  I cannot put into words how overjoyed we were to get to Varanasi - we thought we would never get there.  Every time we asked people how long we had left on the train, they gave us a different time, each one later than the last, making us feel pretty despondent!

Varanasi is the kind of place you come just to spend a few days in, taking the compulsory boat trip on the Ganges, watching the cremation of dead bodies in the holy waters, and chilling out after sampling the bhang lassies (a local milkshake laced with strong marijuana - a definite must after our very intense two weeks in an ashram and the long train journey).  The experience of the night ride along the Ganges was magical.  However, Varanasi was not the kind of place you’d want to make a habit of venturing out at night, with it’s dark, winding streets and alleyways.  In fact, when we got lost one evening, the manager of our hotel found us wandering aimlessly and gave us a lecture for being out at 1am.  In an instant I felt like a child again, and it reminded me of the strict rules that had to be maintained in the ashram – the rebel in me did not revel in this!

Quite how we managed to stay in Puri (Orissa) for 6 days will always remain something of a mystery to me, as it was just a ghost town which had a really eerie feel about it, and it rained all but one day we were there.  The place was full of huge, semi-derelict houses which the English had built in colonial times.  We stayed in a hotel with a huge roof terrace, which was a massive bonus for us (open space is always nice when you are a nomad), but it hardly compensated for the mosquito net which was too small to cover the bed, the damp floor, the peeling paint, the ants, the rats' droppings, and a door which did not lock - only in India would that kind of thing happen!  To top that, there was a primitive tribe living below us, who liked to bellow out music all night.  They all used to openly shit on the beach, which I never understood, as even the poorest of people in other cultures will usually have a communal hole in the ground.  That aside, the place was full of middle aged drug addicts who would come there to use and abuse at their leisure, with no restrictions. 

From Puri we travelled further south, and after a twenty hour train journey, we hit Goa, in Kerala.  It was a lot less developed as I had imagined it would be, with a limited music scene that rarely stretched beyond trance, and was played both night and day, which when you're trying to nurse a hangover the morning after is not the best medicine.

We managed to book our train to Delhi on the same day as our flight.  I do not know how we cocked it up so badly, but we did not realise this until a few hours before our train.  We were misdirected by an Indian guy, and ended up on a train to Bombay instead of Delhi.  After spending a couple of hours waiting on the platform with our rucksacks, we finally boarded the 7am train to Delhi.  Once on board, we had the police threatening to throw us off the train for not having a ticket; luckily the language barrier and us losing our tempers (the Indian men are not used to independent foreign women putting up a fight - they find it incredibly intimidating and hard to handle) meant we were eventually only issued a penalty ticket. 

When we got to the airport in Delhi, we were told we had to fly to Amman, and only there would we know if we could get a flight home.  We spent a night in Amman and got on a flight the next day.  No questions were asked as to why we had missed our flight, and no penalty was charged.  I would love to say that this made it all ok, but to be honest, after those hair-raising two days travelling, we just wanted to get home ASAP, minus the hotel.  Why they never questioned anything is a mystery, and really summarises the essence of India and all of my experiences and misadventures there - you have to experience it all for yourself, it is like no other country I have ever visited, and I doubt any other could match it in terms of its mystique.

© Copyright Vanessa Sicre