Back in the Bunks

Bogota to Cartagena

“Have you just got here?”

Five words that not only served as an ice breaker, but welcomed me back into the backpacking community.

They were from Gabriel, a tall German guy who had been travelling around South America since June after completing an engineering project.

I was sat on the top bunk of my dorm bed, contemplating how to interact with fellow travellers at the El Viajero hostel in Cartegena. I’d arrived a few hours before the conversation, but not heard many English-speakers staying at the place, so took myself for a quick walk around the block to get my bearings and found a nice pizza restaurant with some refreshing air conditioning for tea. It was upon my return that Gabriel took it upon himself to say hello, the moment he walked through the door and saw me sitting there.

What followed was the well-worn traveller conversation – where are you from, how long have you travelling, where have you been, where are you heading next, where’s your favourite place so far?

Back with the backpackers in a dorm

Back with the backpackers in a dorm

It’s a conversation you have hundreds of times on a big trip. It can become tiresome, but a necessary way of quickly getting to know someone. Before you know it, you’re friends and putting the world to rights.

I told Gab I was only on a two week trip, and that I’d done a big year-long round the world journey five years previous. We talked briefly about our lives back home, and how he was returning in just a couple of days.

“I’m going to the bar if you want to join me for a beer?” Gab said, reaching for the door.

Out with Gabriel just a few hours after arriving

Out with Gabriel just a few hours after arriving

I’d been welcomed back into the fold once again. Its part of why the backpacking community is so appealing. Within just a few minutes, you’re sharing a beer and travel tales with someone from another country who, a few minutes before, had been a complete stranger. It rarely happens back home in a normal setting, and suddenly I was being introduced to others at the hostel. I was quickly becoming a part of the crowd again.

El Viajero hostel

El Viajero hostel

It had come as a bit of a culture shock however. I had left the relative luxury of my four star hotel in Bogota, complete with complementary toiletries, fluffy dressing gowns and adjustable room temperature just a few hours earlier.

Home for a few days

Home for a few days

I had now checked into a 12-bed mixed sex dorm, and walked in to find the only bed remaining was a top bunk – the least favourite bed of choice. The room was a tip,

Shower...without a warm tap!

Shower…without a warm tap!

with half unpacked backpacks, shoes and bottles of water dotted around the floor.

One bed was occupied by someone sleeping, so I had to tiptoe around. The muggy, humid tropical weather didn’t help with the smell either. A combination of smelly feet and stale humans. It’s a smell you get used to when backpacking, but one that’s incredibly noticeable when you step back into that world after a four year absence. But then its just over £10 for a night, so I can’t complain!

img_0910I’d flown to Cartagena after deciding I didn’t have enough time to make a stop via Medellin, booking a domestic flight with Latam Airlines and arrived back at Bogota airport with plenty of time to spare. So the timing of a phonecall, just as I was about to board the flight, couldn’t have been any better.

“It’s about your fridge freezer – I left you a voicemail you didn’t get back to me. I can pick it up now”

It’s clear the man on the other end of the phone only has a basic grasp of English, but he seems angry that I’ve not returned his call. I tried apologising for being out of the country, but it fell on deaf ears. I’m in a line shuffling forward with bags, about to board a plane 6,000 miles away from home, and now having to quickly think on my feet to try and shift my old fridge freezer that’s been advertised on Gumtree for weeks without any interest.

img_0906Thankfully, with a quick bit of Whatsapping over the slow airport wifi, my housemate Joe was at home and able to help out the slightly impatient buyer. I boarded the flight and smiled at how modern technology really does mean you are never really far away from ‘real life’. Despite the distance and time difference, I’d managed to sell a fridge freezer on the other side of the world.

We touched down in Cartagena, and the heat hit me as soon as I stepped out of the aircraft door. Gone was the cool, fresh breeze of Bogota. The tropical heat and humidity made it feel like you could drink the air, there was that much moisture in it. But Cartagena is classed as a must see – a beautiful colonial city with a vibrant old town set within historic fortified walls. The taxi ride to the hostel gave me my first glimpse of the Caribbean Sea on this trip, and with the sun setting, children were helping the locals bring in fishing nets and boats.

Beautiful Cartagena

Colourful Cartagena

When the sun goes down, Cartagena comes alive. And it’s thanks to Gabriel I found myself wandering through the beautiful old buildings towards a rooftop bar and club called Eivissa. It offered a fantastic view of the city, its harbour and famous clock tower and square. img_0945It also offered many cold Coronas, pretty girls twirling balls of fire around their heads, and male dancers who knew how to pull far better moves than me on a dance floor. It was a great night, and our group stuck together throughout, laughing, joking and chatting about our individual adventures. Gab realised halfway through the evening he’d left his wallet in a supermarket. I bought him a beer and a hotdog. He was reluctant to take me up on the offer at first- all backpackers have an element of pride at stake when it comes to money, img_0947as so many are on a shoestring, or simply have very little left. But I insisted; I know I was in similar situations in the past and fellow travellers helped me out. What goes around comes around in this world. You look after each other, nomatter how long you’ve known each other.

On the way home, there was another reminder of why the backpacking community always sticks together. It was coming up to 3am, and our group was walking back to the hostel. We passed by two Colombian police officers who were talking to two men. Moments later, they drove past us on their motorbikes and stopped us all. Without any pleasantries, they cut to the chase. They wanted to see our identification.

Its law in Colombia to carry ID with you. Thankfully I had my driving licence in my wallet, and we were all lined up by the officers. It was very clear they were not in any mood for jokes or chat. The loaded pistol on the officer’s waist made me think again about taking any photographs to record the moment.

“You have coca?” came a question to all of us.

We were being stopped for a cocaine search. I’d been warned this might happen, but didn’t count on it on my first night out in the country. The drug is readily available on the streets, and while I’d never touch it, many backpackers try it. Some police officers are known to capitalise on this, by taking cash in return for not arresting those caught. Bribes, in other words.

More worryingly, some rogue police officers have been known to plant it on tourists in exactly these types of search. The advice I had read was to keep an eye on absolutely everything they do.

I was next up to be searched, my arms out and patted down by the officer. I’m told to empty all my pockets and show what I have. After revealing a bundle of change from three countries, a packet of chewing gum, my iPhone headphones and a load of fluff, he then asks for my wallet. I hand it over, and keep a close eye as he empties every compartment and inspects it, even having a good sniff inside. I knew there was nothing to be found, but you hear of horror stories of people being jailed who insist drugs were planted on them. The Coronas I’d enjoyed at the bar had quickly worn off as I made sure there was no slight of hand at play from the bad cop, bad cop routine being played out in the street.

Without exception, we all waited for each other to be searched. Nobody drifted off back to their dorms, or kept a distance. We were from countries including Britain, German, Brazil and America, and we’d only known each other for a few hours, but we were looking after each other and making sure we got back to the hostel safely, without falling foul of any corrupt policing.

It was clear the officers were frustrated as their search efforts drew a blank, but they let us go with a nod and a flick of an index finger to motion us off down the road.

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The rest of my time in Cartagena was less eventful – infact, a very pleasant few days of wandering around the pretty streets filled with colourful houses. Despite the police intervention on the first night, the city has a very relaxed, holiday feel about it. img_4489It was a contrast to the slightly edgy, gritty feel of Bogota. This is a city filled with Caribbean colour and the sound of salsa beats drifting through the hot humid air from bars and restaurants. Bright pink Bougainvillea flowers contrast with their rich green leaves, hanging from balconies of pink, green and orange homes, many of which have stood for hundreds of years.

img_4453It’s a place where you can walk for hours on end just taking in the explosion on the senses. The heat is stifling, but thankfully there are plenty of cafes and restaurants with parasols or air conditioning to shelter from the heat, catch your breath and enjoy a cooling drink or two.

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This is a city with some history too – it was founded in 1533 and was the main Spanish port on the Caribbean coast. As a result, valuables and treasure acquired by the Spanish was stored here before being shipped across to Europe. This made it a target for pirates – and English pirates at that! The most famous siege here was in 1586 when Sir Francis Drake agreed not to level the town in return for a 10-million Peso ransom which he quickly sailed back to England with.

img_4386It’s because of those attacks that the magnificent fortified walls were built, taking some 200 years to build by the Spanish, yet completed just 25 years before they were expelled after Simon Bolivar’s troops liberated the country. Today, locals meet for a romantic rendezvous on the walls, while visitors walk around them for an elevated view of the historic city within.

In between taking in the Caribbean culture, I was also having to sort out the next stage of the journey. I booked myself onto the San Blas Adventures trip which leaves Cartagena in a couple of days, a combination of a speed boat journey and island hopping for four days, ending with a jeep ride to Panama City.

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The journey goes through some of the most remote places in south and central America, and we’ll go for four days without access to the outside world and cash machines. So I needed to change lots of cash into US dollars, the currency used in Panama, to pay the local transport and accommodation on the way.

Nine minute millionaire!

Nine minute millionaire!

With no exchanges letting me use a credit card and passport to make withdrawals, it came down to making numerous withdrawals in Colombian Pesos from cash machines. But with a 300,000 Peso (about £78) withdrawal limit in Colombia, a move to try to restrict money laundering, it required quite a few withdrawals to pay for the trip and the spending money. For a few minutes, I became a millionaire, before it was exchanged into a few hundred dollars.

Annoyingly, I also fell foul of the dreaded manflu – and we all know how serious that can be – probably picked up on a plane somewhere. Combined with the sweaty hot temperatures it was quite unpleasant at times. But the people in Cartagena are also so very friendly. A cheerful, happy place, it was hard to do anything but smile.

Street dancers holding up traffic in Cartagena

Street dancers holding up traffic in Cartagena

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After a few days soaking up the Cartagena vibe, tiptoeing in the dark around the hostel dorm, visiting late night bars and adjusting back to life as a backpacker, I felt I had definitely ticked the city off my list. It was time to focus on the next part of the journey, the perfect mix of practical ‘A to B’ travel along with adventure and fun with new people. As I laid in my top bunk bed contemplating the next step, my phone rang, with a vaguely familiar phone number. I answered it, as quietly as I could to avoid waking those sleeping around me.

“Its about that fridge. Its broken. Doesn’t go cold enough. I want money back,”

Wonderful. Get me to the beach.

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Hello Again!

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Well, it’s been a while – more than four years infact. So long, I’m struggling to remember how to even get this online. But a fish still has to get out of Grimsby from time to time – and after a bit of a turbulent year, there was no time like the present to set off into the big wide world on my own once more.

I’m currently on the East Coast main line, speeding along on one of Richard Branson’s bright red trains with its nose pointing towards London. Alongside me, a red and black backpack that almost mirrors the brightly coloured livery of the carriage it has been perched upright in.

img_0669It only seems like yesterday that I was making this exact same journey with it down towards Heathrow Airport. Except this time, it’s a little more worn and adorned with flags of Mongolia, Cambodia and Australia, to name but a few, that I hastily stitched on with an array of coloured threads in hostels around the world during the best year of my life. Reassuring proof that a trip I still find myself daydreaming about actually happened.

I find it hard to believe sometimes that I actually stuck it out for so long, living out of a bag, sleeping in 20-bed dorms with little privacy and heavy snorers, and barely having enough money for ‘luxuries’ like a coffee on the high street, a bus, or enjoy a meal out, all trying to save the travelling funds and make the experience go further.

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Backpack hasn’t been used since I returned home in 2012 – still got the luggage labels on!

It took a while for the bank balance to level out after a year of unpaid leave, but it didn’t take long to adjust back to life and start taking the home comforts for granted once again. Your own bathroom, a bubbly bath, clean clothes and your own pillow. Seeing your family, catching up with friends, realising how beautiful your home country is. Driving your car, listening to the radio, watching the shows from home you’ve missed for a year.

Then there’s the career. The long hair, which some people loved and others hated after vowing not to cut it for the duration of my trip, had to go! There’s not much calling for a surfer look on the BBC News outlets in Lincolnshire, so after a transition phase where I couldn’t bear to part with it, I went back to my usual short back and sides, albeit with a more grown up sweep to the side!

Once I’d tidied myself up, removed the traveller bracelets I’d picked up along the way, had a shave and prepared myself, it was a very strange feeling, after spending a year in shorts, t-shirts and Chang beer vests, to be getting all suited up for a day back in the office. Its one of my clearest memories of my return – sitting in my brothers old car I’d rented from him (didn’t have any money left to buy one of my own!) in my suit, just looking out of the windscreen for ten minutes and reflecting on what I was about to do. I was about to go back to work, return to normal life – the real world – and resume the rest of my life from where I’d left off eleven months previously.

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A few months after returning home, I was back in Australia and filming on helicopters

There had been a concern that I’d ‘stuff up’ my career with such a big trip, just when things were seemingly going in the right direction. I’m glad to say those fears were unfounded. If anything, its gone from strength to strength – and within months of returning, I was back in Australia working with a fantastic team of people filming the Helicopter Heroes programme. I landed (no pun) a dream job, flying around with the Yorkshire Air Ambulance in the UK, and New South Wales paramedics in Oz, as a camera director, a programme I p1000454was fortunate to be involved with on and off for 18 months. In addition, I’ve done quite well reporting nationally for the main BBC News, spending three months at Broadcasting House in London last year, reporting on everything from terrorist attacks to flying cats for a national and global audience. I’ve still got a hand in down there too, so pop up on the main news here and there away from the regular job being a newshound for

Serious face in the day job

Serious face in the day job

Look North and pounding the streets across East Yorkshire and Lincolnshire. Its the best of all worlds really – close to my family, reporting on my local patch, and enjoying a few snippets of London life here and there before being able to safely run away to the relative peace and quiet in Hull!

Oh, and there was one more thing that came about from that year-long trip.

I fell in love.

Yeah, that was probably my favourite bit about returning home. Having initially taken a career break after finding myself single, and with enough ‘everything happens for a reason’ words of comfort to last a lifetime, I really did think I’d hit the jackpot when I met a girl in Thailand on my trip who ticked all my boxes, and then some.

I wrote briefly about how I met Jen in a post here (link) and went on a random first date with her in Railay (link), after she shouted that ‘I’d been here ages’ in Koh Phangan, the Full Moon island in Thailand. Well we stayed in touch for the rest of my trip, and met up when I returned home, followed with a third date in Cyprus for a week together for a friend’s wedding…as you do!

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Jen and I in London, where we lived together for a few months in 2015

What followed was a bit of a whirlwind. Jen was in London, I was in Hull, but every weekend we’d travel the length of the country to be together. It was wonderful. I really did think the ‘everything happens for a reason’ cliché that everyone tells you at times of heartbreak had been proven right. It required leaving the country for a year, but I’d met someone who I believed I could happily spend the rest of my life with, on a journey to the other side of the world. I’d secretly hoped that after my final post ‘the end of a chapter’ the next thing I ever wrote on this blog was a bit of a ‘here’s what happened next’ fairytale ending of how I married the girl of my dreams that I met as part of the adventure.

Well, not quite, sadly.

Jen was amazing, and brought so much to my life, but we broke up in February. I wont go into too much detail – its not fair to do so – but in order to put this trip into context, lets just say its been a pretty rough year for me personally.

I’ve actually been itching to get away on some far flung trips over the past few years – and with Jen being a travel lover and blogger, I believed we were a perfect match who would go off and see the world together. It was one of my hopes when we began dating. But sadly, for one reason or another that I still struggle to understand, it didn’t quite work out that way. Jen would be seeing the world on free blog trips, I was at home with itchy feet. The fun and excitement of planning travel together disappeared as she focused on her independent trips – and it took its toll on our relationship.

That being said, recently we’ve been back in touch and are in the process of trying to smooth over some of the upset. We both know we mean a lot to each other, and have a special place in each others hearts. She’s doing really well for herself and has a lot to look forward to, and I’m really pleased for her. Who knows what the future holds, but we’re hopeful we can become friends again at the very least.

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With dad at the Coldplay concert in Glasgow, a fathers day treat

In recent months, my dad hasn’t been well either, so my family has been pulling together to support him and each other. Life can certainly be put into perspective very quickly sometimes, and a cold hard shock like we had in November last year makes you realise exactly what is important. Dad’s been amazing all the way through, a real fighter, and our family is closer and stronger as a result. The treatment has gone well, and we’re making lots of happy times and memories together, keeping positivity flowing and dad smiling. In many ways, its made us all appreciate each other so much more.

So while everything is settling a little on that front, and with demands to use some of my annual leave from work, you’ll have more of an idea now why I am setting off for another solo adventure.

It wasn’t quite how I’d planned it – I had always wanted to visit South America, my final continent in the world to set foot on, as a big trip with a special person in my life. But life is too short, as they say, so here I am, making my way to Colombia and Panama, via a brief stop in Miami, Florida…very little planned, just me, a guidebook and the bag on my back.

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Bags packed again!

Five years ago, I’d have never had the confidence to set off in this way. Indeed, I paid for an organised tour around South East Asia due to my fear of being unable to meet people or find my way around on my own. But one thing that year taught me, was that its fine to follow your nose. The internet, admittedly, makes things a million times easier. And even in the four years since I returned home, advances in technology and websites mean that travelling abroad just gets easier and easier. I have dug my trusty netbook out of retirement to type this, but I’m also equipped with an iPad and an iPhone for this journey, items which have evolved so much in the last few years with GPS and specialist apps that means its almost impossible to be lost these days.

I’ve had a few gasps from friends and colleagues, when just two days before departure, I’d still not booked flights. There have been a few eyebrows raised when I’ve explained I have just my first nights accommodation booked out of the whole two weeks.img_0648 I’ve not fully decided on an itinerary – I just know I’ve got to be in Panama City on September 24 for a flight home, or there will be a very unhappy editor in the office on the Monday morning.

Between now and then, I shall go wherever the wind takes me, and the flexibility and feeling of freedom that brings is immeasurable. If I hear of something interesting somewhere, I’ll go. But this is also a bit of a break, and I’m getting older these days, so I have pencilled in a few days to kick back on a beach or by a pool somewhere. Without the pressure of budgeting for a year, it will also be a little more ‘flashpacker’ than backpacker! I’ll still keep to the backpacker roots by staying in a hostel here and there, but when I’m longing for a private ensuite, I’ll be checking into the nearest hotel!

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Quick repair job!

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Finger blisters…painful!

Saying that, I have been strangely nervous – and I’ve had a typically chaotic day trying to get everything ready for the trip. Essentials such as toiletries, sun cream and a guide book all needed buying, errands needed running, a few things at home needed tidying, and the backpack needed repairing. Its main straps gradually came apart during that long trip previously, so armed with the strongest thread and sharpest needle I could find, I set about trying to re-attach them. I didn’t quite bank on how tough its internal weatherproofing was inside the fabric, and promptly acquired a huge blister on the end of my finger from trying to force the needle through, but I got there in the end and its as good as new again. Well, if you ignore my dodgy sewing.

I think it was getting my clothes and belongings ready for packing that brought back so many memories of 2011. It’s probably why I feel so nervous, as it feels just like how it did back then, the daunting feeling of heading into the unknown for a year. Its still the unknown I’m heading into, but for a much shorter time. My housemate Sarah did well at calming my nerves, and kindly took me to Hull station to see me off.

“You can always just come home again at any point,” she said with a smile. It’s the reassurance you need, the escape route you always know is open. But I won’t be taking it, hopefully!

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Five years between these waving pics…er, yeah, I’ve not aged at all :-/

So here I am. On my way again. I don’t know how many posts I’ll write over the next couple of weeks, maybe just a couple for old times sake – I’ll be honest, it was never really on my agenda to write anything. But what has been really nice is how many people in the past few days have asked me whether I would write something again as they enjoyed reading my posts so much last time around – and I don’t think everyone was saying it just to be polite either, so thankyou!

Who knows what people I will meet along the way, the stories they’ll tell, the places I’ll visit or the history I’ll discover. That’s part of the fun. There will probably be a few mishaps too – my infamous tea shop experience has been brought up by more than a few people recently when news of another trip was heard. But armed with my camera and a keyboard, I’ll try to bring it to all to life once more.

Almost five years on, the fish is back out of Grimsby. Back on the road and ready to make more memories, seeing a part of the world I’ve always wanted to experience. It might not be the way I’d hoped to visit, and I might not have someone to share it with in person by my side, but I’m fortunate to have the opportunity to do something that I love once more.

After all, everything happens for a reason…