The Travel Bug - it's just a state of mind

Tasmania is by far one of the most beautiful places in the world. I say that with confidence, having visited many of the places more widely considered to fall into that category. Yet there's so much of Tasmania's beauty I've barely experienced - if at all. Wineglass Bay? I was young and can't really remember it. Cradle Mountain? Fleeting visits for work. Bay of Fires? Haven't been there. In short, I took it all for granted. Assumed I could, and would, visit it all at anytime.

Plonk me in a new city or country and suddenly nothing can wait. Every day is there to be made the most of. It's the usual approach to travel and one of the reasons we love it. We call it The Travel Bug. But I'm beginning to think The Travel Bug is just a state of mind. For me, traveling is becoming less about where I go and more about how I feel and how I behave. When I'm traveling I go out of my way to explore new places, try new things, meet new people and push the limits of my comfort zone.

Turns out, I can do all that from home.

[caption id="attachment_2824" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="I took this photo while kayaking at Halong Bay in Vietnam."][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_2823" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="This was taken on Derwentwater (at Keswick) while I was in between the breakfast and dinner shift."][/caption]

I'm working full-time in Keswick - in fact my rostered week is more than 40 hours, not the usual 38. Although my contract was temporary at first, I now have work until my working visa expires in July, so another nine months. It's enough time to contemplate decorating my bedroom. It's worth getting a UK driving licence. In short, I should get comfortable. But I'm not going to.

Getting comfortable is the reason I've been to Sydney, but not walked over the Sydney Harbour Bridge. It's the reason I've been to Brisbane and the Gold Coast countless times, but never to the Great Barrier Reef. And the reason I admired the ski fields from my Vancouver apartment every day in winter, but didn't learn to snowboard until the last two weeks of the season.

When I arrived in Keswick, I was a wide-eyed tourist. During the six hours free I had on my split shifts, I would grab a map, pack a lunch and head out into the fells. Then my contract was extended and there went the sense of urgency. I started skipping a day here and there. Even sunny ones (*gasp*). I started to get comfortable.

[caption id="attachment_2821" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Out hiking in Jasper while on a one-month trip across Canada."][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_2822" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Out for a hike in The Lake District on a day off"][/caption]

So I'm back to acting like a tourist and treating the Lake District like any other stop on my travels. I visit the popular tourist destinations. I go on walks just to take photos. I plan weekend sightseeing trips. My traveling may have come to a end for now, but the Travel Bug is very much alive.

Hello my name is Megan and I'm a bibliophile

BIB • LI • O • PHILE (noun): A person who collects or has a great love of books.

The above is a relatively new term for me, but it has become apparent that a predisposition to sunburn and  a quick wit are not the only things I have inherited from my father.

My friend David, who along with his wife Amy have become my family in Scotland, recently took me to visit some of the sights in Carlisle, one of the major towns on the northern border of England. We visited the cathedral and walked around the grounds of the castle before he took me to a second-hand book shop. Talk about saving the best till last. To sum up how I feel in second-hand book stores, I'll use the image below from bookfessions.tumblr.com:



This mainly applies to second-hand book stores - new stores just don't have the same appeal, largely because you know what you'll find. And if you can't find it, they'll order it. But old book stores, well, you could find anything. I didn't realise I felt this strongly about such stores until David took me to Bookcase. My expression at the thought of exploring its 30 rooms of books left David fearing I was going to have a heart attack. It was just too much to take in.

Second-hand books stores are magical places. I still remember the crammed store in New Zealand where I found two gorgeous copies of Winnie the Pooh books for $15 and the Most Beautiful Bookshop in the World in Venice. Scotland has been particularly fun - Edinburgh has so many. After about six weeks in the country my book collection is at 16. I think. I lose track, especially with the Agatha Christie's because they are little and I forget to count the copies I'm carrying in my handbag for emergencies.

My reaction to Bookcase left David and Amy wondering why they hadn't told me about Wigtown - a town filled with second-hand bookshops a short drive away. They weren't the only ones wondering why they hadn't told me this.



My parents are avid readers. The impressive collection we had at the farm was packed into boxes when we moved to Hobart. Those books remain in boxes under the house yet the bookcase is full again. Lets blame Dad for that. My own collection revolves around three authors: Agatha Christie, Jeffrey Archer and John Grisham - the latter caused a phone call home from my Grade 5 teacher who was concerned when I took a copy of The Client to school. Beyond those three you'll find anything from Harry Potter to a faded copy of Edmund Hillary's High Adventure, the story of his ascent of Everest that I found buried on a table of old books at a market. I've moved on from the little white bookcase filled with Babysitters Club and Sweet Valley High I had as a teenager.

[caption id="attachment_2642" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Wigtown"][/caption]

On Saturday, a day before I was due to go to Edinburgh to meet one of my best friends, Amy and David were also contemplating a trip to the city to see the Fringe Festival. I had a shower and came back downstairs to be told I had to pack a bag and would be taken Edinburgh the following afternoon. I was then driven to Wigtown, although it took about half an hour to work that out. Since I don't know the area well, I had to wait for a sign of some sort to know what direction we were heading.



There are now about 10 second-hand bookshops in Wigtown, and most of those are in the main street. We started at The Bookshop, Scotland's largest second-hand store. Despite the claim to fame, it isn't actually that big, compared to others I've explored. But it was glorious all the same. It's always a good sign when you need ladders to reach the books at the top. Wary of not amassing too great of a collection while I'm overseas, my purchases are restricted to Agatha Christie (I'm on a mission to get all 66 novels and 15 short story collections) and the earliest editions of the Winnie the Pooh books I can find and afford. Of course there are exceptions, but I'm only human.

We fitted in one more store before closing time and then checked into our B&B, the gorgeous Hillcrest House, and drove out to the Isle of Whithorn for dinner. In the morning it was back into the bookshops, the last of which was At the Sign of the Dragon. This was on the outskirts of town in the garage of a house. The owner specialises in fantasy, sci fi and, lucky for me, crime! His Agatha Christie selection rivalled mine and I picked up some I don't think I have already.

[caption id="attachment_2641" align="aligncenter" width="584" caption="Isle of Whithorn"][/caption]

We left just after midday to make it to Edinburgh in time. But there's a book festival late next month so I don't think that will be my last visit to Wigtown.

Why I love le Tour

[caption id="attachment_2530" align="aligncenter" width="584" caption="Cadel poses with Aussie fans at the 2011 event"][/caption]

If you've read my most recent posts, are privy to my Facebook status or tune into my Twitter account, you'll know I'm a bit of a Tour de France fan.  I'm no cycling junkie and not even the biggest Tour tragic in my family, but I eagerly follow along for those three weeks in July through the time trials, the mountains and that final ride into Paris. (I even changed my blog title to yellow in honour of the yellow jersey...yep, sad)

Sports fans will attest le Tour is one of the greatest sporting events. Although most sports fans will cheer on - and then analyse the result of - a trolley race down the supermarket aisle a so we can't take their word for it. But what about those people who pay little attention to sport, let alone cycling, for the remaining 49 weeks in the year, but come le Tour time are well-versed in phrases such as peloton, breakaway and GC-contender? What is it about le Tour de France that wins so many hearts and late-night viewers (for those in the Southern Hemisphere)?

A Gentleman's Game

Example: Stage 14 2012. Last Sunday British rider Bradley Wiggins is the overall leader in the yellow jersey. His main rival and pre-event favourite Cadel Evans is about three minutes behind in the standings. Everybody is riding along happily with Evans gets a flat tyre because some idiot (I'm being restrained) has thrown carpet tacks on the road. A little way along he gets another one, putting him well behind his main competitors. Wiggins, riding ahead in a group of riders, slows down and effectively halts the race. They coast along until Evans catches back up. By the time they crossed the finish line, Evans and Wiggins were riding side-by-side (a bit cute really). Now why would Wiggins wait? Why not take the opportunity to increase his lead? "I thought it was the honourable thing to do," he said post-race. "Nobody wants to benefit from someone else's misfortune." Keep in mind that at the time he slowed, Wiggins didn't know about the tacks.

This behaviour isn't unique to Wiggins. In 2003 Jan Ullrich waited for eventual winner Lance Armstrong when Armstrong's handlebar got caught in strap of a spectator's bag on a mountain climb. In what other sport would this happen? This really is a Gentleman's Game, perhaps except for when they line the edge of the road for a pee break.



The broadcast

The Tour de France is one of the most-watched sporting events. My TDF broadcast experience comes thanks to SBS in Australia and ITV in Scotland. It's largely the same broadcast team. I feel safe in saying that no broadcast team, in any sport, does the job like this crew. The scenery is stunning, thanks to the roving army of helicopters following the race and the commentators, lead by Phil Liggett, make the event accessible to anyone. They explain terms, tactics, history, local knowledge...the lot. If you're watching in Australia you get a bonus in Gabriel Gate's food snippets. This broadcast, with its aerial shots of medieval castles, chateaus and great mountains, is more likely to inspire a trip to the French countryside than bellowing from a couch-bound, beer drinking sports fanatic.

Le Tour Live

Just as you don't need to be a sports or cycling fan to enjoy the broadcast, neither is a requirement to enjoy it in action. In fact, the only prerequisite might be patience. Having stood road-side for a few stages now, I'm don't think half the people around me are mad sports fans. Same as half the crowd at the Melbourne Cup wouldn't know which way to face on a horse. Town stages have a carnival atmosphere, with music, roaming dress-up characters and freebies. Along the course, it's a friendly community of dedicated fans in motor homes and drive-by tourists who thought they might as well see what the fuss is about. Over a few hours everybody makes nice with their neighbours, enjoys the publicity caravan and relaxes in the countryside. Eventually the bikes come and a few minutes later people go home.



I could go on. There are so many reasons to love le Tour: Lance Armstrong's inspiring post-cancer wins, Cadel's victory as the first Australian winner, seeing Tasmanian riders compete in the ultimate cycling race, George Hincapie riding on with a broken collarbone to finish...

In a few days it will be over for another year and I can go back to paying no attention to professional cycling. But before that I'm going to scream like a maniac cheer as the riders travel down the Champs Elysees in Paris....

My adventure - one year on

One year ago I was sitting in the Sydney Airport, having just left Tasmania. As I waited for my sister I wrote this post. Twelve months later it seems appropriate to reflect on what's happened since then.

[caption id="attachment_2356" align="aligncenter" width="187" caption="My first day in Paris last year...I was actually wearing those shorts today. I'm impressed they still fit!"][/caption]

Travel

Of the last 12 months, I've spent almost four of them travelling. Just as I was last year, I'm on the road. Although then I was at the beginning of a trip last and now I'm a week away from the end. It's time to go to Scotland and rejoin reality.

My pack still weighs about the same. It's about 19kg. Although three boxes are waiting for me in Scotland so my possessions (what isn't stored in the spare room at Mum and Dad's) have grown a little.

The travelling I've done in the past year has only opened my eyes to how much more there is to see. Travel pushes my boundaries of adventure and self-reliance and it's a challenge I can't get enough of.

[caption id="attachment_2365" align="aligncenter" width="584" caption="My one year adventure anniversary, on the river in Prague."][/caption]

Work

I've had a 12-month hiatus from media for a lot of reasons. But that's been filled with a great nine months working in Vancouver at The Secret Garden Tea Company and Avenue Grill. Actually, that reminds me, a new Teacup Tales must be due...

Working in hospitality was good fun. You definitely see another side to people and I saw a different side to myself, but I'm missing media. I'm missing it enough to settle down and commit to the industry for a good while at the expense of some more passport stamps. Time for a come back? I think so...

[caption id="attachment_2359" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="With "Garden Girls" Robyn and Whitney. We may or may not have coordinated our glasses that day."][/caption]

Life, love and friends

I can't log into Facebook without congratulating a friend on their engagement/wedding/pregnacy/new arrival/child's birthday. It seems everyone has reached that stage of their life. I'm so so happy for them, but as for me? Not yet. And not any time soon.

As one of my favourite customers in Vancouver liked to remind me "your life can change in the blink of an eye". That's so very true and I know so much is out of my hands. But for now I'm happy with things as they are.

If the last 12 months has taught me anything, it's how important people are. Friends, family...everybody. In the short time I was in Vancouver (nine months isn't that long compared to my 26 years in Tasmania) I made some friends I'll have for life. I also forged stronger bonds with friends back home. When you see people every day at work or home, it's easy to take that relationship for granted. Move to the otherside of the world and see what lasts and what doesn't.

The year ahead...

In a lot of ways the uncertainity I felt 365 days ago is back. I have no idea what's next for me. In the immediate future it's job hunting and settling somewhere in the UK. The specifics of that are anyone's guess. As is what will happen beyond that. Life's fun isn't it?

An AWESOME night in Halifax

If I gave you $1000 to pursue ANY idea, what would you do?

The possibilities are as endless as they are awesome.

While in Halifax, I was introduced to The Awesome Foundation. And by geez does it live up to its name. Barney Stinson would be proud. Here's how it works in a nutshell:

• Each chapter has a board of Awesome Trustees. The trustees put in money each month to make $1000.


• People submit their awesome ideas of how they would spend $1000.


• The trustees consider the ideas and pick a winner.


• The winner gets $1000 to make their idea happen.

I was in town for the May Grant Event of the Halifax chapter. A total of 25 people submitted ideas this month. Finalists were then chosen to present their ideas to the trustees and anyone and everyone, including me, a random Australian CouchSurfer in town for just three nights. These four ideas were pitched on Thursday night:



Permanent Ping Pong: Veronica wants to build a concrete ping pong table in Victoria Park so people can play ping pong when ever and with who ever they like. The money would be used build the table.

Tulipmania: Sam lives on Tulip St in Dartmouth, across the river from Halifax. This spring, he has a gorgeous bed of tulips blooming in that little useless patch of lawn between the road and the footpath. His idea is that next spring, EVERY house on the five-block long Tulip St will have a bed of tulips out the front. He also put out the challenge to residents of Rose St and Dahlia St to join in. The $1000 would be spent on bulbs.

Wish You Well: The Canadian penny is on the way out but Renee would like to farewell it in style by hold a huge wishing well day. The event would attempt to create a world record for the most wishes made. Money would also go to Make-A-Wish. The $1000 would be used to organise the event, buy pennies, and the remainder going to the charity.



Digital Scavenger Hunt: Regina and her sisters want to hold a great big scavenger hunt in the city. Teams would have to go take photos of things, or of them doing things etc. The money would go to organising and prize money.

Veronica, Sam, Renee and Regina & Co pitched their ideas. There was excitement, posterboards, storytelling and tulips. The trustees asked questions, the crowd asked questions; it was good fun. There are chapters around the world. I was pleased to note it's kicking around in Sydney and Melbourne. You can never have too much awesomeness in the world.

So who won? Well next spring, if you're in Dartmouth, drive down Tulip St and visit the fruits (well flowers) of Sam's idea. Awesome.

CouchSurfing and party crashing in Quebec

I'm a big advocate of CouchSurfing and this little recount of my weekend in Quebec explains why. The generousity and hospitality I received from not just my host, but complete strangers, was incredible. And lots of fun.

In Quebec I'm staying with Juan and his lovely pointing griffon Kelvin. Seriously - best behaved dog ever. On Saturday afternoon I met Juan at his place to head to his friend's birthday. I asked what I should take and he warns me we might not be coming back that night. I ask if we need to get any food or anything to drink and the reply is nope, it's all waiting for us. We pick up some people on the way - one has to ride in the back with Kelvin - and drive about 40-minutes out of the city.

We arrive at this house in god-knows-where. Honestly, I have no idea where we were. But it was a big house, with a huge block backing onto woods. And the party is in full swing. There's food out, kids are running around and randomly Britney Spears is playing on the CD player. I'm not the only ring-in: Juan has some friends up from Montreal and another workmate has brought his girlfriend, who doesn't know anyone either. But regardless we are welcomed with open arms and fed lobster. Lots and lots of lobster. I met so many great people, understood more conversation than usual because a lot was in English, and had a fabulous time.

As the night winds up around a fire we are shown into the basement where our hosts help us set up camping mattresses and sleeping bags. I'm ashamed to say I can't even remember the names of the people we were staying with. Just too many new faces. But when one asks who the CouchSurfer is I put up my hand and he returns with the cushions off the couch for me to sleep on. Very sweet.

In the morning we wake up to breakfast: bread and spreads and cereal and juice all waiting for us. We eat out on the deck in the sun before heading off around mid-morning.

Of the ones who stayed, about half had never met our hosts before. And for me, well I was just some random who had no connection to anyone. But regardless, we were treated like family and it was wonderful.

Back in Quebec City, we head out for Columbian for lunch (there are three Columbians in our group) and then walk through the Old City before relaxing in a park until it gets a bit chilly for us.

To have Juan, my host, agree to have me stay and then include me in this (it was his birthday too last week so the party was a bit of a joint celebration) was really sweet. And then to have these strangers welcome me, feed me and take me in for the night was incredibly generous.

It just goes to show there are some really wonderful people out there and this weekend I felt really lucky to meet some of them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

One more year down...

So it's a year since Will and Kate. I doubt you care. I certainly don't. But such events have a way, regardless of your interest level, of making you think "A year? Really? Gee that went quick". This anniversary was no different. When I found out the second most annoying milestone of the year was upon us (Titanic's 100th took the cake: now in 3D...gee thanks), I found my brain flashing back to the last 12 months and wondering what happened to them.

Turning 26 was the start of something special. I quit my job, rented out my house, travelled through Europe, moved to Canada, met some amazing people, saw some amazing sights and did some amazing things. At my 26th birthday, while I sat on my living room floor eating a Moroccan feast with friends, running a half marathon was not on the cards. Yet nine months later I was crossing the finish line of the First Half Half-Marathon in Vancouver.

[caption id="attachment_1372" align="aligncenter" width="600" caption="Coldplay up close. A great start to 27!"][/caption]

 

So what will 27 bring? One of my favourite bloggers, Seattle's Travels, on approaching her 24th birthday, listed her Bucket List for the upcoming year: 25 before 25. In a similar fashion I've compiled a list of goals for the next 12 months. I won't bore you with 27 goals (plus I doubt I could come up with that many) so I've kept it to nine.

9: Get Cadel Evans' autograph. I'm going to Le Tour de France a second time and I'm not leaving empty handed.

8: See an Olympic Event. I don't care if it's gymnastics, horse riding, hockey or weight lifting. London 2012 will be awesome!

7: Take a photography course. I am doing OK teaching myself, but there's so much to learn.

6: Go to Bruges. This one is on the cards but not set in stone yet.

5: Get back into media. It's been fun having a few months off from "real" work but I miss the industry now.

4: Drive on the right side of the road. For some reason it terrifies me.

3: Get a travel article published. I was a bit lazy on this front after my last trip so this time I'll put more effort in.

2: Visit Lords for a cricket match. If the Aussie's are playing, that would be smashing...and I'm not just talking about what we'd do to the Poms.

1: Make sure I keep in touch with the wonderful people I've met around the world.

Your life can change in the blink of an eye, so anything could happen. 27...bring it on!

kindness makes the world go round

Since I arrived in Vancouver, I've had some pretty awesome things happen. Some of them have been minor, such as a customer giving me a beautiful plant that became my makeshift Christmas tree and brightened my holiday season. Others have been incredibly kind, such as my friend who offered his apartment for me to house sit while he's in Montreal for a few months. Those around me have remarked how "lucky" I am. But I'm not one to believe in luck. However I am beginning to see some value in Karma and that if you do good things, good things will happen to you. I'm not naive enough to think the universe is playing along with my theory, but it's working out for me.

How often do you see someone walking down the street struggling with their bags? Do you offer to help? Do you give change to beggers? Do you hold the door for the person behind you? Your answer may well be yes. But is it always yes? A few months ago, feeling very humbled by the generousity from which I've benefited, I decided I wanted my answer to be yes as often as it can be. 

My little acts of kindness have been tiny. Helping a woman carry her suitcase down the stairs at the train station. Pulling the cord to stop the bus at the next stop so the woman I saw sprinting down the street would be able to get on. Leaving my spare ticket for the Ash Grunwald gig at the door and telling the seller to give it to the next person who walked in. Pushing the button at the traffic lights so the cars waiting at the side streets can get onto the main road. Giving my bus pass to a co-worker to use for the rest of the month while I'm away. I'm not changing the world, but hopefully I'm making someones day a little bit better.

Today I came across a guy who kicks my actions out of the water. Ryan, from Chicago, has a website called 366 Days of Random Acts of Kindness. Each day he posts a new act of kindness that he will do that day. They have included giving out compliments, buying someone breakfast, letting EVERYONE go in front of him for a day, leading a discussion at a halfway house and giving out free hugs. Some help lots of people, some just one (Ryan cleaned the entire house for his wife). Often it's not about helping people - just making them smile counts.

Ryan is doing a random act of kindness every day. It's something I'd love to be able to say I do. But I don't. I don't think many of us do. Imagine what sort of world it would be if we all did.

Challenge to my rather small readership circle: Do something kind for someone today. And tomorrow.

can 26 be the new 6?

Before anyone says anything, I know 26 isn't old. I don't even feel the need to qualify that by saying it isn't that old. In the grand scheme of this adventure called life, I'm just a young'n. But that hasn't stopped what I can only assume is a belated quarter-life crisis coming on. When I was young(er), 26 seemed so very mature. Surely by now I would be running a newspaper, head of a giant global company or, at the very least, have become the Pink Power Ranger. But I'm not. I'm about to move to the other side of the world.

Me in a hat that's simply too big. Always ahead of myself.

I understand this is a huge opportunity and everyday I'm told how lucky I am and how jealous everyone else is. Even as I'm writing this I'm wondering what I have to complain about. But that still doesn't stop the nagging feeling that I'm really not sure what I want to do. I am about to be unemployed for an indefinite period of time. That's not an ideal situation for someone who has had most of their life planned out since she was 12. Actually it was probably before that but admitting that seems a little sad.

At 26 I feel like I should have done a lot more by now. I don't know what I mean by more, but the wrinkles and grey hairs make me realise the days of being completely irresponsible are gone. However, future 36-year-old me would probably have a fit knowing I wasted a good few minutes of being 26, whinging about it. I may not know what I want to do yet, so I shall for the time being just do fun things. Hopefully they work out to be the same.

Me, Kim and Dad off to fish at the Flats. My only worry then seemed to be my hair...and by the looks of it I didn't worry too much.

appreciation

After three days of rain the sun has finally found my temporary address: Port Macquarie in New South Wales. Hardly any wind, no need for a jacket and sunshine that has me wishing I'd put on suncream. When I'm travelling (not that I really am now) I find the biggest realisation of how far away from home I am comes when I do things I would normally do at home. Standing on the Great Wall in China was just as much an experience as going grocery shopping in Shanghai. One of my favourite memories of Vietnam is sitting in a cafe reading the Herald Sun (it was a few days old mind you). It probably seems silly to travel so far to do something so seemingly boring, but I love treating a new city as my home for however long I'm there.

It's that thinking that had me squeezing my running gear into my carry-on luggage and today I made use of it. Port Macquarie is a beautiful town, well at least half of it is. The half that hasn't been taken over by developers out to make their millions. I loved this town when I was younger, but have seen it become more and more like the Gold Coast: high-rise buildings with the views going to the highest bidder. However, there is one thing that can't change. Whether it was convenience or some smart forward planning, the road separates the beaches from the buildings. That means access to the beaches is all mine.
I ran through the streets on my way to Town Beach. Despite this being a relatively flat town and certainly a retirement haven, the footpaths are very intermittent in the residential area. At least the roads are wide enough for me to sneak in the gutter without trouble.

My plan once hitting the beach was to follow the road round along the Coast, however I couldn't resist a visit to the breakwall. In summer this is one of my favourite places to come. It's well lit and acts as a barrier between a caravan park and the Hastings river. I wasn't the only one relishing the weather. I doubled back and then jumped on the track that weaves along the other beaches: Oxley, Flynn and Shelley's.

Port is a beautiful town and every summer swells with tourists. As I ran along I began thinking how nice it would be to live here, but really there's not much difference between here and home. Granted, the weather is a good deal better, but then I get sunburnt if I stand too close to a candle so that's not a selling point. We have gorgeous beaches in Tasmania and we don't have thousands of people rocking up every summer. After counting down the years until I could leave the Coast when I was a teenager, who'd have thought that with three weeks to go, I might actually miss it?