Travel Writing Library

On one bright and shining morning I woke up as usual to get ready for my assignments related to tourists guiding but on that day onwards and for three consecutive days, I had to entertain the largest number of guests...

10 hours, one dugout canoe, one motorbike taxi, three shared taxis. I have arrived - at my starting point.

9:00 AM: “Am I a backpacker or a Flashpacker?” – I asked myself while enjoying a fine Bavarian breakfast in a 3 Star hotel in Munich. I knew I must hurry, so I had to leave the delicious breakfast in the middle...

RL Stevenson wrote “to travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive,” but here in Tibet I am not sure if all the pre- trip planning gives me hope of travel, let alone an expectation of arrival.

The story begins February 24th 2013 in Fajara, The Gambia. I, university film graduate, was in the country for 3 months self-shooting some documentaries for a few medical institutions.

We were told that it would be a short briefing before our departure for the beautiful Fraser, the world’s largest sand island off the east coast of Australia.

I‘ve been in Haiti for a week and just spent the week-end in the mountains near the town of Hinche. We are heading back to Port-au-Prince today and the journey is full of surprises.

Ethan, who was camping in Morris Meadow with a few of his friends, came to where I was collecting firewood and said this guy Ron was looking for his friend Hosea, a 6 ' 3”, African American backpacker in his early 60s.

I was too old, and I knew it. We all knew it. Now 8 years old, I was too old to be wetting the bed. I could not (and still cannot) understand why the accident happened when it did, as 23 agonizing days spent...

I had been travelling for months; months of infrequently laundered clothes, muddied boots, lousy diet, bug-ridden solitary beds, communication misunderstandings in unfamiliar languages.