I’m mad, utterly mad


I stole this picture of my sisters instagram…mainly because I spilt a cup of coffee on my phone so it now refuses to upload photos I take. Whatever, that’s cool. I’ve spent the last few days in Hamilton looking after the little sis who’s had an operation (she’s fine, nothing major). It’s strange being, once again, back in the house I moved into a year ago. I can’t believe how much I’ve achieved in one year and how different things are now! I’ve been rather adamant about not being one of those people who come back from travelling and say ‘I’ve changed’. But I can’t help it. I’m different. I’m still every bit me but I’m the me I’ve ignored for a long time. I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned it on here, but before I came back and walked into what turned into a blind-siding flip of my life, there was this moment in France.

Tom had left to spend the afternoon at the pub and I’d opted to have a me day. I’d just finished watching the rugby and I went to do the dishes only to find the sink totally blocked. I’ve had a blocked sink while I’ve been flatting, a number of times, I should probably stop expecting food to fit down it… but every time I’d called someone to fix it. Not because I couldn’t fix it, but it was easier to just get someone to do it for me. But stuck in a house with no internet, no one around to bounce ideas off, nothing. I had nothing. I’ll admit it took me an hour to realise there was a part of the pipe under the sink I could unscrew to empty the blockage (into a bucket of course, I’m smart sometimes), but there was this strange sense of achievement as I watched the water empty out and my problem vanish. I did it all myself. I’d always been able to do it myself, I just never thought I could.

So I was standing in this little kitchen in a house in the middle of a quiet, well actually silent, street in the middle of a small North West town in France. I stood and I laughed and I laughed until I couldn’t stop. And I suddenly realised all the things I was worried about, all the things in life that stopped me chasing my dreams; none of it mattered. I was going to be just fine. I was fine on my own.

I don’t know why I had that moment, perhaps I subconsciously knew more about my unravelling life than I cared to admit, but from that moment I haven’t felt the fear I used to about my life.

There are a lot of things you learn travelling: how to get yourself un-lost with no help and no maps without the use of English, how to order food with a dietary requirement without using language…the list of stuff goes on. But there are these incredible moments like in Vietnam, I went out around 10pm in Hoi An, it’s a small beach town that’s insanely pretty, and I just wandered around. The street was lit with these large lanterns, people talked loudly, some rode around on bikes, floating candles shone in different colours across the canal. It was one of the moment beautiful things I’ve ever seen. Or when I was in Ho Chi Minh city and a group of girls took me around in the evening. There’s this big street just for people to hang out and walk up and down. Buildings tower over it with bright neon lights and offices lit up. People gather to sing and drink coffee and just be there. In a city full of rush and business they’re just there because they can be. And as I rode around on the back of their motorbikes in a monsoon shower I couldn’t help but realise just how incredible life is. For the first time in my life I stopped worrying about what the future might look like and I started loving my now. And I kept loving my now the whole way around the world.

I never want to lose that, the feeling of freedom and bliss that life is going to be just fine.

So the other night at 11pm I ran off to the beach just to talk and dance and run and do cartwheels (which I fail at). Because life is amazing and it’s so easy to get caught up in what we ‘should’ be or what it ‘should’ look like. I don’t want to lose the craziness or the spontaneous fun I had travelling just because I’m home. New Zealand is an incredible country and life should be lived in the same manner people travel in; just have fun. I’m young and even when I’m not, I’m still entitled to enjoy the little things in life, to embrace my crazy mad side. I’m mad, utterly mad.

And I love it.


Just wanted to say a quick thank you to all my followers on here, and others who have just stumbled across this blog. I am taking a short break from posting here while I travel around Asia, Africa, and part of Europe. I will be back at the end of October and no doubt publishing furiously on here once again.

In the mean time, if you’d like to continue following my life and blogs visit: honesttravellernotes.wordpress.com

Thank you all for the support!

Sach x

I’ma run away now

Being an adult is hard. There are times when my brain screams: WINE but my heart (and stomach) scream chocolate milk (the kind I can drink). Aside from the usual bills and unsuspecting things that need paying for when you really don’t want to pay for them, I’m learning there is more to this finance game. The first point of learning is credit cards.

I’ve had one for roughly three months now. It’s my saving grace and my monster under my bed. That little puppy clocked up nearly my limit after a series of ’emergency’ spends. They were legitimate…birthdays, my desperate need for a massage, the fact the food in my cupboard disappears as quickly as my butt gets bigger (and that’s a decent amount lately). It’s not easy you know keeping track of how many times I insert that card into machines…

Anyway. I’ve got the spending aspect of it reasonably under control and I’ve paid off most of the debt. But now comes the burning question: is the card I’ve got really the right one? I mean, I’m planning an overseas holiday. A big one. One that involves lots of flying. So perhaps an airpoints card would be the way to go? I’m thinking yes.

But then there are so many guidelines and hidden things that I just can’t get my head around. I’ve gone ahead and applied for one anyway, I mean, I might as well?

My next big thing with adulting and travelling is how to actually book a trip. I mean, most people would probably find this easy. But when you’re escaping for nearly four months of your life to a country you know little about, then flying, bussing, training, and possibly boating to several more in that time…it gets a little daunting. This is why we have travel agents. But then which one do you chose? Do you just rock up and lay it all out there like ‘plan my trip for me kind servant’ or do you ask for a quote in the most polite way possible and agree meekly to whatever they offer?

It’s scary.

Adulting is scary.

I’ve got grocery shopping, which includes death stares to small children in my way or who are misbehaving and top notch trolly dodging and grocery snatching, down pat. I’ve got paying my bills on time sorted, well by this I mean I can pay them all within two months depending on the penalty for late ones…rent, power always on time. I’ve even managed to master the art of call centres and saying no to telemarketers or those people who turn up at the door for money.

I can get to bed on time (most nights) and I change my sheets once a week and do the washing twice. My car is even full of petrol most weeks.

See, I’d say I’m mastering it.

Yet for some reason, I still feel rather unable to swim in a very deep ocean called ‘growing up’. What steps to take next in life? When do you move up in a job? When do you want more money? When do you take up new hobbies? When do you decide your work pants are too worn out and you need new ones? How on earth do you plan a trip? At what stage in life am I meant to be ‘moving forward’?

There are always these impossibly big questions.

Life never stops. Well, it does, but by then it’s a bit late.

People are getting married, having babies, are on their way to their dream career. Me, well, I’m still looking at online flights wondering if I should just board the next one and get the hell out before I really do grow up.

Just kidding. Kinda.