Skip to main content

Check Box


Those who know me, know I love to travel.

Those who really know me…know I love planning the trip!
Ah yes, the sweet, sweet, comfort of a check list. God, how I love something to tick. Give me a check box and a red pen and I’m in heaven!
Planning a trip is exciting at best. You are going away, leaving behind routine, familiarity and the daily grind. What will you find when you get there? How will each day unfold, who will you meet, what stories will you tell on your return? Will you have frost bite, a suntan, sore feet or a blown-out credit card? The unknown is exciting, sometimes a little dauting, but always fluid and unpredictable.

But for me, one of the best bits is the planning…the preparation. I’m not talking about organising every moment of the trip, far from it. I love stepping out each day afresh, embarking on Christopher Columbus style exploration! What I’m referring to is the little things, that in my Virgo mind, make the lead up to the big event so enjoyable.
There are so many things to list!

Transport and schedules. What time, what day? Flights, trains, buses, Tuk Tuks, Autorickshaws, transfers and courtesy pick-ups, all require careful deliberation and research. Well, you’ve got to get there... right?
Tickets, documents, passport, visa. Can you imagine? All those forms, those little boxes and drop downs on the online Applications…
Accommodation: So many options! So many Apps to assist you in this task. Booking.com, Trivago, Hotels.com to name but a few, however have you contacted your accommodation direct, price match maybe? What about your brother’s, partner’s, uncle’s, friend of their cousins, sister’s, mate who works at Flight Centre…can they find you a deal? How far is the accommodation from the airport, lake, ocean, snow, shops? Does it include breakfast, parking, turn down service? Pay when you arrive or deposit upfront?
If you are like me then no trip can be organised without consulting your favourite weather App! This can be done months in advance using historical information, then closer to the date. Truly. Especially if travelling light, you simply cannot take your entire wardrobe.



For my upcoming trip to India I am travelling with 7Kgs carry on. For two weeks. That’s it, that’s all, no more! So naturally I need to carefully plan, list and re-list exactly what I will be taking. Will it rain? I’ve checked the weather…probably not. Will it be very hot or cold at night? Possibly. What shoes will be best? Which luggage will I use? How much does it weigh? Is it comfortable, multipurpose, weatherproof? Is it safe, lockable, pick pocket proof? What about a day bag…?

Call me crazy, however the above is pure bliss. Hours spent researching topics such as “the best lightweight travel jacket” and “will it rain in Timbuktu in February?” all soothe the savage best within me.
When I get to my destination, I am free. Free of worrying if someone is pinching my passport from my backpack in a crowded train station, not concerned with the rain, dust, snow, sand – I have the right shoes, I’m not burdened with wheeled suitcases on a desert safari, or freezing in a cotton T-shirt when Melbourne weather throws a chilling winters day at me in mid-summer!


I’ve done my research, made a list, checked it twice…let the adventure begin!


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Broken free

I made an angel. Created her out of clay. Painstakingly I sculpted and moulded her. I loved her. I loved her heavy wings, they way they sheltered her and protected her heart. I loved that tiny heart, the way she looked down on to it "I will always look after you" she whispered, "you are safe".  Until the day she broke.   My son rang me on my way home. His voice was shaky, apprehensive. "Something terrible has happened" he mumbled. Moving straight into mother mode, I panicked. "What is it?? Are you ok??" "I broke her...I didn't mean to... she fell...I tried to catch her...I wasn't quick enough"  Oh My god... who?, where? What the?????? "Your angel mum... she smashed!!" The poor boy. He knew I loved her, created her, protected her. But the sense of relief was instant. Just a sculpture, not a life, a girl or an animal. Just a sculpture. It wasn't long however that the realisation of what had just...

Spiral Bound

I have a collection of journals. Writing Journals. I do not collect journals; however, journals seem to collect me. It’s true I do write and yes, in journals, however on closer inspection, I own a great many empty journals. Too many. The empty journals are not lying in wait, I did not purchase them knowing that in due course, I would fill their pages with beautiful prose, witty satirical observations, or heartfelt outpourings of emotion. In fact, I did not purchase them at all. The empty journals were gifts. Gifts for a writer. Carefully selected, each one. Some leather, silk and fabric bound. Some hand made with flower pressed paper pages. Recycled, reclaimed, re-purposed. From distant shores, India, England, Thailand. Leaves of possibility, tactile and tempting. I have journals with pages illustrated with moons and mermaids, clouds and clowns, pages tied with ribbons and some with jute. All empty, too beautiful to touch, to fill. When I open their pages…words fail me...

Dream-song - A Tribute to Shavarnia

Once upon a time there was a girl. A girl with aspirations and dreams. Dreams of colour, of movement, of dance. Of spirit and angels and love. As the girl grew she was taught a great many things. How to walk, how to hold herself, what to think, what to wear, how to act. The girl with the dreams kept dreaming but her dreams were now in the background and her REAL life was all around her. Every now and then the girl would focus on her forgotten dream and in return the dream would sing to her. The dream-song was so beautiful. It sang of a life of purpose and peace. The girl tried to follow the music of her dream-song however she often lost her way and the song would fade into the background again. After many years of this following and fading, the girl fell to her knees and wept. She wept for the dream lost. She wept for the futility of her REAL life. Her face awash with broken hearted tears, the girl gave up. Gave up trying to find balance between her dreams and her responsibi...