Six months ago went on my ‘trip of a lifetime’ the plan was to have a holiday above all others and get out of my system this constant nagging that I should be out seeing the world. I spent ages pouring over travel guides and the internet and settled in South East Asia starting in Bangkok and ending with 9 days sailing off the coast of Myanmar.
I thought that would do the trick, and I could go home, get back to work and start being sensible. Unfortunately sitting on the deck of a catamaran surrounded by idyllic, unspoilt islands and a beautiful clear ocean that I realised that I couldn’t go back to that life, I wasn’t happy, I wasn’t even content. During my short trip I had met some amazing people, and experienced the highs and lows of being alone on the other side of the world from my family and friends, and I loved it. I learnt that I travelling on your own means freedom to go where you want, try things you want to try and do whatever you want to do (even if that’s doing nothing).
I had a good job, which paid well enough for me to afford the things I wanted and needed. I could afford to go on the odd break away and had saved up enough money to put the deposit down on a house… and potentially spend the next 20-30 years paying off a mortgage. The thought was terrifying, I had not even got close to being who I wanted to be ‘when I grow up’, or doing all the things that I had wanted or seen the things I wanted to see ‘before I’m 30’ (It’s too late for that now..).
So I applied for a year off work, gave up my flat, sold a great pile of belongings and here I am, out wandering in the world.