On my way to Australia I travelled through South East Asia. On a tight timeframe and an even tighter budget, I’d planned an itinerary in advance. Would I experience the best of these countries during my fleeting visit? Or would I rush from temple to beach, not seeing much at all?
Millions of tiny twinkles punctured the final moments of twilight. Vibrant streams of metal machines pulsed through dark streets and over bright bridges, making the whole lit landscape appear fluid.
I like a plan. In fact, I thrive on putting a plan together. I plan trip itineraries, budgets and social events. Even my day job centres around a plan, priorities and impending future deadlines.
Now a UNESCO World Heritage Site, Sintra was once inhabited by the Moors who dominated most of the Iberian Peninsula from the 8th century onwards. The Moorish castle ruins atop Sintra’s hill peak are testament to their long and successful stay.
What I loved most about Canberra was being able to hike and bike almost every weekend. Within twenty minutes’ drive in any direction of the city lies an unadulterated, kangaroo-ridden countryside.
I was actually sunburnt. I’d expected to spend the weekend coping with such British staples as a sopping wet tent inner, blistered feet from drenched socks and that guilt we get from just wanting to give up and walk into the nearest hotel.
As a London commuter, I’m constantly trying to arrive somewhere as quickly as humanly possible. I scour tube maps to establish the most direct route, shout at taxis that miss my slightest gesture and curse buses, only three minutes apart that deign to shut their doors on me.