Fear and loathing in Queenstown, New Zealand, December 2004

I am chronically scared of heights, it’s a phobia that has developed and become more acute the older I’ve got.  I try and not let it stop me doing anything, I’ve been to the top of the Eiffel Tower, walked rickety bridges over cavernous ravines and even managed a sky dive, however there is one thing I’ve never managed; bungee jumping.

Queenstown, New Zealand is the centre of the universe when it comes to extreme sports.  In fact New Zealanders claim that it was one of their own who invented the bungee jump, and I think probably in the modern sense of the sport they did.  You can barely cross a bridge in this country without someone trying to fling themselves over the edge.  Originally jungle tribes would tie tree vines around their ankles and hurl themselves from tree tops as an initiation into manhood, thankfully nowadays there’s far less risk involved, that’s not to say there isn’t the occasional mishap. 

I had been stood nearly all day opposite the bungee platform.  I had watched as each person strapped themselves up in a complicated looking harness and shuffled their way to the edge.  It was a kind of torture as every time they paused on the precipice, my heart would beat so hard it would catch my breath and the same thought would circulate; why?  I had always thought I was brave, would throw myself into anything, dare myself or take up a challenge but the aching in the pit of my stomach was beyond the normal fluttering of butterflies.  Was it fear of dying?  I decided it must be but at the same moment the reasoning seemed absurd, who dies bungee jumping?  Despite myself I flinched as I watched another daring challenger succumb to gravity. I should probably just bite the bullet walk over to the booth, buy a ticket and climb the ladder.  

How often in life are we scared, and how often do we defy that fear?  Approaching someone in a bar, saving the spider in the bath instead of washing it down the drain or even doing the things you want rather than the things you think you should can all be terrifying.  If yesterday I could throw myself out of a plane with only a meager length of fabric separating me and terminal velocity surely I could put my trust in a piece of elastic?  When would I get this opportunity again?  Life was too short not to take a chance. 

With my mind made up I strode towards the bungee.  I was shaking by the time I got the bottom of the ladder which did not make securing the multitude of cords and clips any easier.  I stood at the lip of the podium, my toes curling over the edge of the smooth wood, swaying in the cool breeze.  I looked out onto the horizon, snowcapped mountains stretching across my eye line, and took a deep breath.  Remember what’s the worst that could happen…

Rainbows and Waterfalls- Foz do Iguaçu, Brazil, September 2004 and July 2008

Devil's Throat

On my first trip to South America I arrived into Lima airport without having looked at a map, let alone a Lonely Planet.  I knew I wanted to see Machu Picchu and I also knew the Amazon rainforest was too far away.  Other than those two thoughts I hadn’t given any attention to what I was going to do, so when someone suggested in Rio that there were some waterfalls on the border with Argentina I was only too happy to book myself a ticket and tag along.  Bus travel in Brazil is on an epic scale, the United Kingdom would fit into Brazil a whopping 35 times and little to my knowledge the border was 24 hours away.  These waterfalls better be worth it I thought as I curled up in my seat…36 hours later on the way back to Rio my mind was focussed on one thing- I’m coming back and next time I’ll be prepared!

The sky was only just brightening as I walked into the national park, dark clouds lay ominously on the horizon and a light breeze caused me to shiver involuntarily.  The damp bark chippings on the path bounced underfoot soaking up the sound from our footsteps and the murmurs from conversation escaped into the surrounding forest.  As we walked a light hum could be heard, my first thought was machinery; a pump maybe.  The purr increased to a deep growl, thunder, I searched overhead for the clouds that would surely be swirling towards us promising a storm.  To my surprise the clouds were dissipating and rays of pale sunshine breaking through.  Soon the trees thinned and eventually gave way to bubbling expanses of angry grey water.  Traversing rickety iron gangplanks I continued towards the noise unsure what I would find, now completely isolated from terra firma.  Haze rose in a column in the distance, a high pitched chirping of a thousand swallows now accompanied the roaring current; the cause of this immense commotion was abruptly revealed.  

The walkway ended and I found myself staring into a watery abyss.  A great chasm opened its jaws below my feet and gallons of water cascaded over the edge erupting in furious foam on the jagged rocks littering the mouth of the river beneath.  The spray from the torrent soaked through my clothing while each droplet ignited with the now golden beams to cast dancing prisms of colour onto my skin.  The birds swooped millimetres above our heads before diving downwards to cling to the slippery, damp walls of the gorge.  Supposedly waterfalls are scientifically proven to make you happy.  As the ions within the water are crushed against each other the negative charges are stripped away releasing their positive counterparts into the atmosphere.  How could this scene fail to invigorate?  

From the Devil’s Throat I descended into the yawning canyon and spent the day meandering along shady banks lined with leafy foliage, the waterfalls stretched for miles, spectacular from every angle.  I had no time to enjoy the views from the Argentinian side but was more than satisfied with my lot, after all there’s always next time.   

[Insert Applicable] India, February 2005 and June 2009

People people everywhere, Bombay Station

Irritating.  People often exclaim in utter disbelief when I explain that I was 18 and alone the first time I went to India.  Now at the ripe old age of 25 even I have started to believe that it was something of a feat.  Although not necessarily a dangerous country there are things that would test the most experienced traveller and requires all those who visit to be constantly vigilant of their surroundings.  I found it exhausting to constantly negotiate and renegotiate prices, ask directions from 10 different people and get 10 different answers , being poked and prodded at all times of the day or night and lastly being constantly followed by a hoard of men staring with love sick eyes hoping I’d accept their proposals.  Yet none of these things really got under my skin as much as having my photograph taken.  ‘What?’ you are probably thinking, out of everything that could happen the simple camera was the single most threatening device?  Let’s put it this way I know what pushed Brittany Spears over the edge.  I don’t mind the odd request or being surrounded by an entire family, shown off like some rare specimen.  In the end, even on the ‘traveller trail’ Westerners can be few and far between, but it was incessantness of it.  It felt like every minute of every day was spent staring down the wrong end of camera lens. The second time I visited it was even worse, the technology had developed to such a point that not only could everyone have a lifelong memento of my viewing but they could tell their friends about it, to this day I can’t stand camera phones.

Ornate Temple, Pondicherry

Enlightening.  I suppose everyone who spends any time in India has a spiritual experience, but no I really did.  I didn’t meet a guru or learn to meditate on a remote peak in the Kashmiri mountains but I did learn a lot about faith.  I don’t think many people could say with complete confidence they live a religious life, it almost isn’t very fashionable, so when you do come across someone completely committed to living by a set of rules set out by an authority that can’t be fully proven you sit up and take note.  I was lucky I didn’t just meet one, I met two.  Some of the cliché still stands; I was on a beach in Goa, staying in a shack by the sea, everyday we’d get up before sunrise and walk the cool darkness of the beach to watch the fishermen haul in nets thronged with quivering silver fish, but there the comparison ends.  The days were spent avidly reading every scrap of literature the two of them had with them about Christianity and in the evenings debating the things I had learnt.   Neither was extreme in their views nor aggravated by my constant questioning, in fact both were perennially calm because you don’t need to justify faith it’s just there.

Sunset out of Kochi

Idyllic.  Nothing happens quickly in India.  Despite 1 billion people bustling through their daily lives no one is rushed.  No matter how late you are an old friend in the street cannot be passed without sharing a glass of chai and nattering about the state of the government or pesky relations.  Nothing epitomises this outlook on life more than train travel.  Indians will spend days on trains journeying vast distances to work or to see relatives.  2^nd Class sleepers is where I spent most of time and they were basic but perfectly equipped.  6 people crammed  into a carriage; in the day, 3 abreast you are sat staring out of the window at the changing landscape and at night, lying in your fold out bunk you can stare at the stars.  One of my destinations was the Kerala backwaters where you can slip silently through a maze of waterways on traditional kettuvallams (houseboats).  Palms trees line the shores and houses on stilts cling to the banks.  The water is like glass, mirroring the boats above but also a portal into the turquoise depths below.

Market in Mysore

Indescribable.  Busy, noisy dirty, colourful, beautiful.  India simply defies explanation.  From one day to the next you are confronted with contradictions; old and new, traditional and modern.  The stillness and calm of ancient temples to an overcrowded buzzing marketplace.  The contrast is especially noticeable in the bigger cities where sparkling office blocks sit adjacent to thousand year old architecture or young people eating burgers and French fries in a packed out MacDonald’s go outside to pickup up dripping orange Jalebi’s.  This melting pot of paradoxes makes India bewitching, ensuring an unforgettable experience whatever might happen.