"Blessed are the curious, for they shall have adventures"

Photos: China

gemma_laing — Mon, 9 Oct 2017 12:22:00 GMT

A journey on the Great Wall of China

gemma_laing — Mon, 9 Oct 2017 12:14:00 GMT

The truth is, life is short, none of us know what might happen tomorrow, and tomorrow is never promised. I guess analysis of reality is left to the individual. Interpretation is personal. Everyone’s goals, ambitions and desires differ. Life would be dull if we all dreamt the same dreams. What makes it colourful are people’s unique views and passions- no matter how big or small.

How does your bucket list look?

Rewind 3 years, maybe even less..my journey had definitely started, I’d already grown into my passions but I don’t think I had the courage, interest or even the fitness levels to hike the Great Wall of China. It’s fair to say that until recently I didn’t even have a desire to visit China. My understanding and opinions on the country were naïve, narrow minded and mainly based on under researched articles and scaremongering reviews on a country I was led to believe had many strange ethical and political issues. What I did always have though, was a curiosity around the Great Wall and a desire to learn more about it and witness its magic wth my own eyes. My new found desire to challenge myself fit perfectly hand in hand.

I guess for some people hiking the Great Wall isn’t a challenge, but we all make our own challenges. To me, hiking the Great Wall quickly translated to conquering my mountain. Proof to myself that I can achieve my dreams, relying on my legs to carry me on a journey I am truly privileged to make, I am blessed with good health and a strong mind.. For me this is exactly what my bucket list is all about.

What made it such a great wall? Whilst curiously asking myself this question, China quickly escalated up my bucket list and this trip became one of my most organised and planned adventures yet.

They say you can see the Great Wall of China from space. I was told this isn't true at all, one of the worlds greatest space-based myths. That would make sense I guess. But then I saw it with my own eyes and naively wondered, how much of the earth does something need to occupy to be seen from up there? And then I remembered what a small proportion we are of this ginormous universe, if even China herself didn't produce something grand enough. Her stories came close though. A wall built by an army of emperors, soldiers and common people to protect her beautiful heart and rumoured to be seen from another galaxy. Impressive.

Arriving for the first day of hiking on the Great Wall, I was super excited. By now I was well versed and settled into Chinese culture. A few Chinese words to get me by (very few!), chop stick skills reperfected, a new found immunity to the intermittent smog, I guess I was as ready now as I’d ever be.

Until you actually see the Great Wall, I think you underestimate it. I’m of course generalising, I can admit that I most definitely did. Unless you see it and explore it with your own eyes, ears, nose and feet it’s easy to assume the wall is pretty, restored and in mint condition. The snippets of wall you see in fancy travel magazines and on TV programmes is a mere tiny weeny snippet of the truth.Today the wall roughly stands at 21,000kms long and even still they find parts they didn’t know existed. The first day of hiking was scheduled on the famous Mutianyu section of the wall, located just north of Beijing. So, from memory (I’m not claiming exact facts!), the Mutianyu section of the Great Wall is one of the better known pubic sections. It is extremely well preserved and offers walkers the opportunity to hike up to 20 watch towers over the dazzling and splendidly restored wall involving a relatively easy walk and safe climbs. There is even a cable car and toboggan option for those less mobile and a large range of stalls and restaurants in order to provide a really comfortable, but not so authentic experience, and honestly, a pretty nice way to break in our walking boots.

On completion of the 20 (ish) restored towers, I can’t recommend enough that if you are capable of challenging yourself onwards to watch tower 27, the true peak of this section of the wall then you will be seriously rewarded.Beautiful, peaceful, meandering wall, filled with overgrown wild flowers, surrounded by butterflies and enveloped in crumbling rocks. The walk isn’t easy, often steep and dangerous, a few passers by in the opposite direction appeared pained but encouraged us to keep going. At this point, maybe hour 5 or 6 of hiking and at least an hour in to the difficult hike, I was not only in absolute awe of the sheer vastness and almost gothic like beauty of the wall, but I was also sweating, huffing and puffing and wondering what on earth I’d actually let myself in for.That day the weather was perfect. The end of Summer, heading into Autumn meant cool mornings, crisp, warm middays in the sun and low humidity. My eyes fiercely indulged in the exhilarating views from the top of the watch towers, the wall meandering off effortlessly over the hills, as far as the eye could see. This day was so clear, we could see the towering buildings of Beijing hovering on the horizon, a rarity I believe in Beijing’s infamous humid and smoggy atmosphere. Tower 27 will see you at the genuine peak of this section of the wall. I could guess that Mutianyu is the easiest part of the wall to visit which also offers the opportunity to 'get off the tourist track', just hop over that wall when you think you've got to the end and keep going! However, do be careful. Obviously this part of the wall is not signed as open to the public for a reason, its dangerous!

Day 1 of hiking and the stunning views across the Chinese countryside, and the massive sense of achievement took my breath away. This was the very beginning of my appreciation of the raw beauty this wall stood for, both literally and metaphorically.

The following day our hiking took us to Jiankou. Jiankou is a quaint village with a handful of houses and a spectacular view. Nestled under the Chinese country side with the wall lining the rolling hills across the lazy horizon. I was excited to walk on the wall at sunrise and a ridiculously early wake up call paid off. Autumn mornings in the Chinese countryside were dark and damp and trekking up steep inclines seemed like I'd never reach the top. Soon the sun started to poke out over the peaks, glinting and reflecting over the watch towers. This part of the wall wasn't open to the public and we sat in silence in awe of the emerging morning over the hazy stone wall. This time of the day just emphasized the walls pure and mysterious beauty. You could not only see it but almost feel it too. If I thought the wall couldn't surprise me anymore, I was wrong. If you're visiting then hiking at sunrise and in the early morning, atmospheric haze is an absolute must and Jiankou can offer you the absolute perfect, mystical spot.

The Sleeping Dragon and Crouching Tiger sections of the wall are both beautifully bewitching , unrestored spots of the wall, providing seasoned hikers with challenging climbs up crumbling ascents and stunning, diverse views combining rolling hills, train tracks, villages, rivers and of course a completely undisrupted enjoyment of one of the worlds most famous man made constructions. Don’t underestimate the Great Wall’s gritty and dramatic beauty.

China is like no other Asian country I've been to. It has this interesting sense of eclectic freedom you can feel in the locals friendly laughs and intrigue in tourism, yet it is mixed with a strange communist undertone so evident still in the lack of social media.

I wonder if its a form of patriotism, the severe lack of English and accounting for any type of western culture, however..I'm informed in good faith that it is more to do with the Economy and protecting the country from outside advertising. Seems strange, but who knows? and who am I to judge? I am merely a visitor, learning about their culture with a naïve lack of understanding.

My main purpose for visiting China was to hike the Great Wall, but China really does have so much to offer. Drink tea, plenty of it! Oolong tea to be precise! Eat dumplings… Millions of them. Browse the old traditional Hutongs. Don’t miss getting your history fix at the Forbidden City and Tiananmen Square, the picture perfect Summer Palace or stunningly famous Temple of Heaven. Eat homemade noodles and surprisingly spicy hotpots, visit a traditional medicine man and try fire cupping and brush shoulders with the artsy crowd at district 798.

I suppose its easy to ramble on when you feel passionate about something. I guess until you walk it yourself, a wall is a wall?

There’s an old Chinese Proverb that goes “only those that have travelled the road know where the holes are deep"- go seek what makes you feel alive. No matter how big or small <3

Ma'asallama Magic Kingdom, thanks for the memories

gemma_laing — Sun, 18 Jun 2017 02:29:00 GMT

A place you can call home for now, for today, for yesterday, maybe even for tomorrow. A place that totally consumes your soul, at least for this week. A fear that intermittently exists, a curiosity that would kill the cat, a feeling of the strangest loss yet utter belonging. The strength you find within you and the cliché introspection is not a myth. Existence is within a bubble- the outside world unable to penetrate. A life you accept as normal because your mind is open enough to absorb and accept another new lifestyle. Maybe I did have culture shock?

Of course, things still surprise me, sometimes I can’t believe my eyes. Saudi Arabia might seem like a strange choice. A country rich with oil yet poor in equality and human rights. A society which rarely unveils itself to the Western world. Where tourist visas are non-existent. But as I gradually settle into a life of Islamic values and repressed culture it becomes easier for me to call this place my ‘for now home’.

It’s hard to describe Saudi Arabia. A vast country full of dusty deserts, empty quarters and old traditional Bedouin Camps. You’ll find a mosque every 200 feet and everything will come to a hault 5 times a day marked by shops closing up and the distinctive sound of call to prayer. There’s a surprising amount of heritage and history seen in the likes of Mada’in Saleh and its impressive carved tombs. Beautiful greenery, landscapes filled with date farms and the winding mountain roads of Taif and colourful flowers in Yanbu. Massive American style shopping Malls without cinemas or bars in line with strict entertainment laws here and of course strict alcohol laws. All balanced out with Riyadh’s record breaking architecture and cosmopolitan vibe and Obhur’s European style beach resorts where diving boats head out to the world class coral reefs of the Red Sea. I think it’s fair to say that Saudi can offer as much heritage, history and beauty as any other country, and it is all still untouched by masses of tourism due to the strict visa regulations. You just need to know where to find it.

The people here are just as diverse. In Riyadh, a sea of conservative black abayas and often veiled faces follow expectedly behind the husbands in crisp white thobes, a reminder of the expectations of women here and the male power and domination within society. In Jeddah, a hustle of rainbow coloured abayas and flowing hair walking beside men in Levi jeans and designer t-shirts chatting in harsh American English accents. The Saudi youth hang around the streets until 4am, drinking Pepsi and admiring each other’s pimped-out sports cars. The younger generation are becoming educated, they study abroad and bring new values back with them from the Western world slowly influencing life here. Whilst the older generation paint their hands and feet in henna and drink cardamom filled Arabic coffee whilst sat cross legged in the traditional souqs at Al Balad.

Living in Saudi Arabia is a bit like a front row ticket to watch the entire evolution of a community. Repressed no longer, times are changing. The country has survived centuries of living under a veil of strict codes, poor human rights laws, lack of female equality and capital punishment. Throughout the past 4 years I have noticed many exhilarating changes. In 2015 women were given the right to vote, a huge movement in such a country. Abayas have gone from black to multicoloured, a lot of the young women in Jeddah even wear theirs open. Just last year power was removed from the Muttawa (religious police) and now there is virtually no presence from them in the Kingdom. Hipster style coffee shops are popping up along Jeddah’s Corniche where the traditional segregation of the sexes is overlooked and mixed groups of men and women sit together laughing, reading and even playing music- a sign of changing times since the country has opened up to the likes of Facebook, Instagram and even Tinder dating. Don’t get me wrong, we still need to abide to cultural expectations, we need to be careful and respectful but gone are the days of being hit with a cane for having your hair on show, at least for the most part. This is a country that is confusing and often contradictory, it doesn’t really know its own identity.

Maybe in hindsight I am romancing my experiences, it doesn’t come without some level of emotional disorientation and frustration, but with time I became accepting of cultural restrictions placed on us. I adapted to a point where things such as not driving, and wearing the abaya no longer irritated me, in fact…I love my abaya!

Why did I move to Saudi Arabia? Like most expats here I seem to think I arrived here by accident. A momentary feeling of the need for adventure and a lucrative offer to explore a part of the world where there are no tourist visas (every adventurers dream, surely?). An opportunity to live in the sunshine and spend my days exploring a whole new culture, new religion and the chance to challenge myself and travel around the rest of the Middle East.

4 years in the Magic Kingdom has taught me more than I thought possible. My once open mind is now fluid and flexible and my understanding and tolerance has diversified even further. I’ve figured out that despite differences in backgrounds and beliefs, we are connected by our world and more similar than I ever imagined. I didn’t just learn this from the Arabic culture in which I’ve been living, but also from working and socialising is such a diverse and eclectic expat community. At risk of my head being chopped off, my expat life will not be discussed here.

Most importantly I’ve learned that great things happen when you step outside your comfort zone and immerse yourself in something entirely unknown. You will emerge from these experiences a real resident of the world with a feeling that home is everywhere.

For now, I’ve learned all I can from this chapter, on to the next.

Ma’asallama Magic Kingdom,

Thanks for the memories <3

Beirut's beautiful heart

gemma_laing — Sun, 19 Mar 2017 00:08:00 GMT

Sitting eating Manaeesh, on the terrace of a bullet hole littered building in Geitawi, Beirut, it’s hard to imagine the war of only two decades ago and the even more recent unease in the city. Today this terrace is blooming with flowers, facing shabby, damaged apartment blocks and colourful cathedrals. It’s easy to overlook the scars of civil war that remain here. Despite decades of multifaceted fighting resulting in hundreds of thousands of fatalities and millions of Lebanese seeking refuge elsewhere, I am told there is still some remaining underlying religious tensions… but where in the world isn’t there?

Today Beirut feels like a haven of the Middle East, a city where East meets West, where people live in harmony and solidarity despite differences in beliefs. The culture is one of tolerance and acceptance and as a result Beirut’s neighbourhoods have friendly, almost bohemian vibes. A mixture of old, retired couples living a quiet life and young, hipster types chasing their dreams. Where people speak an eclectic mix of Arabic, English, French and Armenian and the streets are lined with never-ending coffee shops, bars and restaurants catering both traditional Arabic style and a more Mediterranean and Western feel.

Naturally I started my trip with the usual concerns of a solo traveller, concerns that only briefly cross my mind may I add. Will I feel safe? Will I be hassled? Will I get conned?!! Will I feel intimidated? So on and so forth… After basically no research I decided I would stay in one of Beirut’s only remaining backpacking Hostels in the neighbourhood of Geitawi. Unfortunately, the numbers of visitors to Beirut remain unstable, the conflicts in Syria and the threat of terrorist attacks over recent years have of course played a major role in this. But spending time in Beirut’s neighbourhoods of Gemmyze and Geitawi it’s hard to imagine such a threat exists. I once read that prior to the collapse of tourism in Lebanon that Beirut was fondly labelled the ‘Paris of the Middle East’, its easy for me to see why. The buildings here still hold scars from the civil war. Many bearing hundreds of bullet holes, others just being shells of colonial buildings where fires forced out families and shopkeepers fled seeking a safer life. The walls are stamped with graffiti, ‘urban art’ I heard it called. My favourite thing here is the many steps that have been painted a multitude of colours and patterns, a form of expression from the uprising of the creative culture that is so dominant here. The area serves a small town, bohemian vibe now which is growing in popularity with the cities fashionistas and artists and really offers a glimpse into what the old city had to offer. Scattered with beautiful Ottoman buildings and remnants of the French era, Gemmayze and Geitawi’s backstreets are truly breath-taking. After 5 pm the relaxed Armenia Street comes alive and buzzes with people enjoying after work drinks in the perfect March sunshine. Holes in the wall serve as small shops where party seekers buy drinks to enjoy on the streets. The neighbourhood of Geitawi is calm and eclectic, a place where people wish you a good day without an ulterior motive. Where even weekdays involve long coffee mornings for elderly people chatting in French and exchanging groceries and the younger crowd draw and smoke cigarettes side by side.

Beirut is a small city; public transport is lacking and the roads can get hectic. A 30 minute stroll from Geitawi will see you in Downtown Beirut. It’s not hard to know you’ve arrived. The greatest give away would be the city’s main attraction, the Mohammad Al-Amin Mosque with its vivid, shiny blue dome it is truly a beautiful sight. Right next to the mosque stands St Georges Cathedral. A reminder not only of a city with a vast coexistence of cultures and religions but also that of lingering competition and rivalry in a country that was conflicted by sectarian war for so long.

From what I’ve learned, Downtown Beirut is one of the oldest cities in the world. Excavations across the city have revealed remains from Roman, Arab, Crusader and Ottoman periods. Ruins are still evident across the city and provide an almost surreal juxtaposition between modern and ancient. During the Lebanese, civil war the site of Beirut souks sustained severe damage from gunfire and pretty much the whole site was demolished. Today an upmarket shopping district stands in its place designed to characterise that of the old traditional souks. It is a place where Beirut’s elite shop designer and sit supping coffee on the heavily military guarded streets. Beiruitis have mixed opinions on the area, some feeling it has little soul or purpose and others revelling in Beirut’s new found flashy personality.

I think I always overestimated the size of Beirut. It is a very small city. Good job because the public transport system is distinctly lacking. Buses within the city are mainly non-existent and taxis are expensive. Eventually my feet found me in Hamra. Hamra has a very different vibe and reminds me how individual the neighbourhoods of Beirut are. All little towns of their own. Pre-war Hamra was regarded as the trendiest neighbourhood in Beirut, today it’s hard for me to see why with high street chains and fast food restaurants lining the streets, I could be anywhere in the world. Hamra flourished during the war, it was the sight of Beirut’s first coffee shop, a tradition that lives on today. Post war it lost its sparkle to more upcoming and trendier districts like Gemmyze. The best thing to do in Hamra is get off the beaten high street and explore its winding back alleys filled with pubs and clubs and its up tempo commercial atmosphere. Hamra is a young minded, chaotic neighbourhood with a fun student vibe thanks to the presence of Lebanon’s number 1 university in the area.

Just a 30 minute drive out of Beirut is Byblos. Byblos deserves a visit for its beautiful ancient cobbled streets and fishing village atmosphere. They say it is the oldest consistently inhabited city in the world. Once one of the most upscale tourist hubs in the Middle East, Byblos harbour was visited by the likes of Frank Sinatra through the 1970s. Unfortunately, a lot of damage was caused by an oil spill during the 2006 trouble in the area. Today none of the damage is evident and the area is filled with trendy seafood restaurants and open air cafes overlooking fishing boats and private yachts anchored at the stunning ancient port. Sandy beaches and a mountainous backdrop make the area a hotspot for summer tourists but during my time here in Spring there was a mere handful of people walking around enjoying the impressive crusader castle ruins and enjoying shishas and coffee in the lazy atmosphere Byblos is so loved for. A must see if you’re around Beirut.

Finally, the last place I must mention is Lebanon’s only real natural landmark. If you walk far enough down the corniche you will stumble across the magnificent Pigeon Rocks. A symbolic landmark of Beirut recently recognised and photographed by Paul Saad and featured by Microsoft, it has been brought into the public eye. Take a walk down this part of the corniche for gorgeous scenery amongst crashing waves, people watching, dog watching, fisherman watching and glass fronted coffee shops overlooking the picture-perfect Pigeon Rocks.

4 years of living and travelling in the Middle East and little did I know what a different spin on things just 5 days in Beirut would give me. A truly magnificent city tarnished by misinterpreted opinions and outside fear. I urge you to travel to Beirut and discover the beauty and creativity that I did. A city I could truly see myself living in…But then what do I know, this is merely perception <3

Photos: Maldives

gemma_laing — Sun, 15 Jan 2017 06:30:00 GMT

Dreaming of the Maldives

gemma_laing — Sun, 15 Jan 2017 06:25:00 GMT

What do you imagine when you think of the Maldives?

Honeymooners ranched on luxurious holiday homes on stilts? Celebrities boarding their sea planes on route to their private islands? Millionaires laying out on deserted white sands, champagne cocktails in hand? Romance…clear waters…stunning sunsets…. Luxury…Picture perfect, brochure ready, a holiday maker’s paradise?

Living in the Middle East I will (probably) never be so close to the Maldives again, or at least never close enough to take advantage of the crazy cheap, budget friendly flights from the region. Should being a solo traveller stop me from experiencing what is clearly marketed very well as a romantic, bucket list destination? Luckily tourism is changing…and dreams of travelling to the Maldives (even as a solo or budget traveller) are now within reach.

It seems to be widely understood that the Maldives are ‘sinking’, in a few years they will no longer exist due to rising sea levels. In reality, this is not far off. They are ranked in some of the most endangered nations due to climate change. I better get there quick.

7 days on a traditional Dhoni boat with 7 complete strangers really seems like an easy decision. I was not interested in the Maldives for the fancy resorts and the lazing around, but rather for its beautiful islands, thousands of beaches, wonderful sea life and my general curiosity around other cultures. The opportunity to sail from the north to the south around the atolls, to see how people lived on the very few inhabited islands, to spend my days in the clear, warm waters and my evening revelling in the sunsets and stars. Decision easily made.

In brief and at a rough estimate, I was told the Maldives are made up of about 1190 islands, 400 of which serve holiday resorts, 239 inhabit local people and many so called ‘picnic islands’ (uninhabited islands you would visit for a few hours) and sandbanks…and I was about to spend a week sailing around a fair few of them!

So, there are good times and bad times to go to the Maldives weather wise. I knew this and still experienced the back end of the monsoon over the first few days aboard our Dhoni. Despite doing my research beforehand, I later learned from our guide that he ‘wouldn’t recommend December’ as a month to take the trip, despite December seeing a surge in tourism over the Christmas period. Don’t get me wrong, the monsoon didn’t ruin my first 2 days. It only enhanced my experience (luckily, I don’t suffer with sea sickness). The views from the deck with the grey, grumbling clouds and impending rain hanging over the white atolls and turquoise waters made for some stunning scenes. The rain would come quick and fast whilst we were dosing on the top deck…and sun would pop back out within 10 minutes.

During those first 2 days sailing south down Felidhe Atoll, despite the rain we managed several snorkels. I saw my first mantaray (which was a lot bigger than I expected!) and several turtles. The seas were rough, and the water was cold, and we ate breakfast in the rain…I didn’t care and neither did the dolphins who joined us on the mornings. After that we saw no more grey clouds, and certainly no kore rain.

The following mornings we woke up to sunshine and the Maldives began to look how I expected, how I’d seen it in brochures and on TV adverts. The sun reflected off the bright white sands and the sea no longer looked dark and choppy, but clear and calm and fish swam just below the surface. Every morning little dolphins would jump around at the front of the boat, showing off for us. The crew caught a huge Mahi-mahi which was bbq’d and eaten for dinner at a dug-out table made of sand on an uninhabited island. After, we swam with phosphorus plankton, the little shimmers and sparkles lightening up with the movement of our bodies.

We were cruising south and stopped for a visit at Rakedhoo, a small local island with a tiny population. The Maldives is an Islamic country that lives by Islamic law, as such I guess it’s worth mentioning if you want the freedom to drink alcohol and wear a bikini in the Maldives, then you need the privacy of a pricey resort, or to consider the option of boat trips, although I did go a whole week with no Wi-Fi. Good for the soul. The communities on the inhabited islands are small, with few shops, mosques, schools or medical facilities. Inhabitants work for small family run businesses or move to Male where there are more opportunities, both in education and then for employment and apparently rarely go back to their islands after leaving. Some are now opening small, affordable guesthouses as family run businesses on the slightly bigger islands. The Maldives are starting see a move away from the luxury price tag tourism of previous years.

We managed to catch a traditional drum and dancing show one evening and on our way back to the boat saw about 25 stingrays all swimming close to the shore. I learned that stingrays are really friendly, curious creatures. If you put your hand in the water they will swim very close and you can stroke under their wings, needless to say this occupied most of my evening that night.

I wish I could remember all the names of all the fish, but for me, the names don’t matter. We snorkelled at least twice a day every day with a guide who was familiar with the corals. The sights were extraordinary, schools of fish big and small and turtles swimming around us…even reef sharks. I’ve been fortunate to do a lot of snorkelling, and a bit of diving….but the snorkelling in the Maldives was truly some of the most beautiful I’ve seen, and the beaches…some of the best I’ve ever laid upon..and I’ve laid upon a fair few! Tourism in the Maldives is changing, and along with the rest of the world is becoming so much more accessible to those who want to go out and get it.

Maldives…you blow my mind <3

Cherry Blossom Daze - Springtime in Japan

gemma_laing — Sat, 2 Jul 2016 21:28:00 GMT

I had spent many days pondering what it might be like. Crazy, funky, cool?

Weird...that's probably the best word I can use to describe Japan.

An eclectic contrast between modern concepts and traditional customs. People say you have to take adventures to figure out where you truly belong. Japan made me feel like an alien on a unknown planet, yet somehow I felt I could belong and live happily amongst the orderly hustle and bustle that encompasses everyday life here.

Tokyo, a city full of neon lights, streets buzzing with businessmen, fashionistas and students all impeccably dressed and walking obediently, as if regimented. Silent traffic obey the correct signals and pedestrians get fined for jaywalking, you could be forgiven for forgetting that some 117 million people occupy this country. The trains are futuristic and impeccably clean, soaring between stations where locals stand in silence in perfect lines. Everyone bows courteously...just to say hello, and talking on your mobile phone in public definitely appears frowned upon. Tokyo, I imagine, is maybe the only city in the world where English written signs make no sense at all and appear to be there solely for artistic purposes.

Underneath it's clean and sparkly exterior, Tokyo hides a somewhat exciting and trashy core. An evening of drinking Sake, the local potent and musky drink of choice would open our eyes to an off the wall city where late night drunken karaoke is the normal way to let your hair down. Japanese karaoke bars are like no other. They offer private, pay by the hour rooms, every song under the sun and a waiter on the end of the phone delivering all the Sake you can drink in a plush, cosy environment. Needless to say, these nights are messy....but you're always in good company.

So called 'love hotels' seemed to pop up out of nowhere as soon as the moon came out. Surprising in a city that was seemingly kept under an obedient lock and key. Heavily occupied on a weekend, love hotels involve a vending machine to obtain your key and a themed boudoir with a bill that charges by the hour, not by the night. Interesting concept to say the least.

Don't be fooled by Japan's sickly sweet exterior of cat cafes (I personally can't think of a better way to spend my day) and hello kitty themed everything's, Tokyo is a dark horse.

Mount Fuji, Japan's tallest mountain mainly hid its beauty behind grey drizzle and low clouds back in the Mid April weather. But even behind the curtain of dreary weather we caught sights of it laying beautifully on Japan's bumpy horizon. Our main reason for visiting Japan at this time of year was certainly not for it's weather, but rather for it's world famous cherry blossom. Spring time in Japan is defined by cherry blossom. Life becomes a cherry blossom tinted lens where petals fall like snowflakes and the air smells sweet. Signs pop up in local parks instructing how to play safe in the petals, and dogs in coats and scarves roll around the pink piles on the ground. We maybe missed the cherry blossom at its peak, it's hard to judge when it will be in its prime, and falls quickly. But I was pretty happy to have caught even the back end of the much celebrated Sakura (cherry blossom) season.

Whether it's the history and allure of Hiroshima, the cherry blossom and impassive goats walking the streets of Miyajima island. The mouth watering Soba noodles, Sushi and Sake in Tokyo. The thousands of peaceful, zen gardens and traditional temples, or the cutesy, crazy hipster bars of Shimokazawa. The strange customs of taking public baths or the mind blowing assortments of green teas and sweet iced coffees (Japan's roadside vending machines are bewildering!)

Whatever floats your boat, Japan definitely has an eclectic recipe that instantly provokes and seduces the imagination. A country everyone should visit...at least once <3

Falling for Vietnam

gemma_laing — Mon, 22 Feb 2016 03:32:00 GMT

This wasn't my first visit to Vietnam. I always knew that I would return to this curious land. This time my first breath was taken from Ho Chi Minh City, the countries fast paced, dusty, concrete jungle. From the dizzying capital escaping to delightful Dalat, this is where Vietnam would begin to unfold itself to me.

Dalat presented a welcome break from the fast paced tourist attractions and mandatory museums in the hectic and heavily polluted capital and offered an opportunity for relaxation and exploration amongst a cooler, fresher climate, colonial architecture, lush greenery, colourful flowers and murky lakes. We feasted on Vietnamese noodles and morning glory in our homestay on a hill up from the main road where the yoimg family made us feel utterly welcome. We hung out with local tour guides who took us to temples and out into the countryside on their motorbikes. We ate silkworms and crickets and sampled the famous weasel coffee, thoroughly immersing ourselves in their beautiful culture.This chance encounter, presented to us by the universe would lead to us spending ten days travelling through Vietnam on the back of grumbling motorbikes on route to Hoi An from Dalat along the Ho Chi Minh trail. This experience was to open up a whole new realm of my love for Vietnam.

They say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, it's hard for me to pinpoint what it is that started me falling for Vietnam. The friendly locals with their intent harmony and genuine smiles, positivity in a country that has dealt with so much negativity, happiness and contentment in areas of such poverty, laughing children despite overcrowded orphanages, outlandish cuisines of eel and frog washed down with bia hoi over the cheering and chattering of seemingly carefree locals, lush landscapes filled with delicious passion fruit farms, surprising pineapples growing from the ground, secluded waterfalls and fairy pools for cooling off under heat of the sun, richety bridges hanging unsteadily over racing rivers, winding, dusty roads and pit stops of sweet coffee lazing in hammocks- the list is endless. Every day we learnt more about the Vietnamese war... A war that is still raw and very much alive to many locals. We paid our respects at the memorials and listened to stories about the country and its history and people during the French colony and civil war. We sat cross legged on a blanket drinking rice wine and eating fish hot pot with a local family... Our different cultures and huge language barrier didn't impact the atmosphere and laughter, and that evening sat around the kitchen floor, I marvelled at the this wonderful family and their customs and daily life. Somehow, in that moment, it did not seem so far removed from my own world.

Hoi An was a place of reflection. A place to let my soul revel in Vietnam's beauty. To stop and be still. To drink local beer and eat local food and be clothed by local tailors. To cross paths with new friends and meet new destinys. To share new beginnings. An ancient city buzzing with tourism, thriving on the trade of tailor made clothes and souvenirs, hundreds of cafes geared towards backpackers. Yet somehow, Hoi An remains so translucent and alluring, pleasing to the eye and captivating of the soul.

Ha Long Bay translates pretty much to "descending dragon bay". An apt name for a place that resembles, in my eyes at least... A fairytale land. What appears to be thousands of limestone rocks bobbing up and out of the calm, green sea. Ha Long Bay is a sight to behold. We were lucky enough to have some clear(ish) weather. Relaxing on the boat deck whilst marvelling at the hazy, eerie atmosphere. I heard mixed reviews about Ha Long Bay so went with low expectations. Take away the usual boring tourist traps, such as shops and average looking, lit up caves and the craze for party boats on the bay- if you can get a moment of peace, when there's no other boats around, it is plain and easy to get caught up in Halong Bay's raw and extraordinary beauty.

Just a few of the many reasons I've fallen hook, line and sinker for Vietnam. Anh yeu em Vietnam <3

Photos: Nepal (January/February 2015)

gemma_laing — Mon, 7 Dec 2015 23:53:00 GMT

Namaste Nepal- “I honour the place in you of which is love”.

gemma_laing — Mon, 7 Dec 2015 23:49:00 GMT

I have to admit, I was never keen to go to Nepal. On reflection, I guess it was a bit of ignorance. Perhaps ignorance is my biggest secret. I knew nothing about the country, the culture or the people, and for some reason I had no great desire to find out.

As soon as I set eyes on Kathmandu I was in complete awe of its natural, quirky beauty. This place was no standard, big city. It wasn’t terribly busy, wasn’t terribly noisy and wasn’t terribly dusty or rowdy as I had expected. The narrow streets intertwined, filled with busy markets and crumbling temples and the air was infused with the thick fragrance of jasmine. People smiled gently and whispered Namaste as we passed them in the streets. The city was vibrant and colourful, an eclectic mix of modern café culture and beautiful ancient temples and crumbly buildings. On the horizon something special caught my eye, my first glimpse of the Himalayan mountain range was simply breath taking, a fairy-tale like beauty sparkling beyond the city.

Every morning started with the hope of crisp, clear skies and many started on rickety buses. Icy, cold and damp and the roads winding and bumpy. The long journey to Pokhara was certainly not boring. Driving around snowy topped mountain roads and along milky river banks I quickly came to realise that Kathmandu was just the gateway to this fascinating and stunning country.

Every morning debating whether it was clear enough to make the journey, the stunning Annapurna mountains glistened at the end of the road. The day we made the journey to the lookout point was perfect, running against the clouds before they dropped too low, we made it. The snow topped mountains twinkled against the blue skies whilst the Nepalese locals took their morning offerings to the temples and got on with their daily chores. The sparking mountains, the mirror like lake, colourful temples and delicious Nepalese delicacies made this place so simple and beautiful.

A visit to Nepal wouldn’t have been complete without a spiritual visit to Lumbini, Birthplace of Buddha. I’m not a Buddhist myself, infact, I am not what you would call a religious person. I am however, free minded and insanely curious. The do say that an open mind is a learning mind. Buddhism is something that intrigues and interests me, something I’ve always been keen to learn about. The birthplace of the Buddha was not glamorous, a fine way to describe it would be run down and in a pretty filthy town. However, understandably Lumbini is a very important place for Buddhists to visit. I took the opportunity here to briefly talk with and be blessed by a Monk (when in Rome and all that..) Personally I thrive on these opportunities to learn and explore new cultures. For me it is important to have an open mind, face my fears, destroy any ignorance and obtain a victory over myself.

Most of our days in Nepal were spent walking and absorbing the stunning landscapes, mountain views, watching sunsets over the lake and boats in Pokhara, mooching around ancient towns and temples and climbing hills to pretty Pagodas, paragliding over the Annapurna mountain range, flying over Everest and eating Mo-Mos.

Nepal completely exceeded all of my expectations. My knowledge about the culture, Hinduism and Buddhism soared and my memories full of the welcoming people and beautiful scenes I had witnessed over my last 3 weeks in such and inspiring and surprising country.

Namaste: “ I honour the place in you in which the entire universe dwells, I honour the place in you which is of love, of truth, of light and of peace. When you are in that place and we are sharing these things, we are united, we are the same, we are one”.

Photos: India (Jan 2015)

gemma_laing — Thu, 3 Dec 2015 00:03:00 GMT

3052kms across India in a Rickshaw

3052kms across India in a Rickshaw.

gemma_laing — Wed, 2 Dec 2015 23:36:00 GMT

The plan started a few years ago. Myself and my equally as crazy friend decided to drive a rickety old rickshaw about 3500kms through India. We would start our journey in Fort Cochin, Kochi and finish in Jaisalmer, Rahjastan. The prospect, at least at first, was a very exciting one. Friends and family thought we were maybe slightly mad, but we however, thought this was a fantastic idea.

That was, until the day of test driving the rickshaw in Fort Cochin. As we quickly found out, driving a rickshaw was not all that easy. A cross between a scooter and a motorbike, both of which neither of us had any experience with. That night sat in our sweaty homestay we freaked out. I was covered in bruises from the elbow down from the ancient starter lever, we both had trouble even starting the thing. I also had a very close call, almost veering out of control and into a bunch of innocent bystanders. To be fair, we were both absolutely rubbish at driving the thing and was crawling around at about 10kms/hr in first gear for hours on end.

That night whilst contemplating a route, avoiding busy cities and dangerous traffic and considering how we would know we were driving North, we very nearly pulled out and returned all of the sponsorship money we had raised for our charities. We finally realized we were mad and that maybe we couldn’t do it after all.

Fortunately, the following day brought with it positive energy and we were in much brighter spirits and ready to take on the challenge of driving our rickshaw (who we quickly named Monty and grew to love) through incredible India. Instead of making a definite route, we decided that we would take things a day at a time.

In theory day 1 should have been plain sailing. We left Fort Cochin at 1pm on New Year’s Day and against all the odds and some very nervous driving, we managed our first 100kms. The fact we had 3 breakdowns, including 2 spark plug problems and a fuel leak would have been slightly distressing if it wasn’t for the help of curious and generous locals, random rickshaw drivers and on-duty policemen who’s kindness and generosity was somewhat astonishing. Clearly two young girls driving a rickshaw is not a sight that the local people are used to in this part of the world. Language barriers aside, our experience with the locals on day 1 filled us with hope and positivity that maybe this wouldn’t be quite as difficult as we first anticipated.

Fueled by adrenaline from the previous day, day 2 we were up and ready to drive by sunrise. Quite honestly, this was our worst day for driving. Not yet confident rickshaw drivers, and me still unable to get it going, we managed to drive 230kms into Kannur. Our first insight in to Indian culture involved curious local people wanting to talk to us, inviting us for tea, waving excitedly and asking for photographs. We were more than happy to attempt to talk to them and join in their laughter and excited waving. However, our laughing came to an abrupt end when we reached Kannur and experienced the danger of the Indian roads for the first time. A minor bump with another rickshaw and deafening beeps from cars and buses, intense petrol fumes and constantly stalling the rickshaw in the middle of the road left us terrified. We eventually made it to a beautiful beachfront guest house just in time for sunset. The best thing about getting off the tourist track in our rickshaw were times like this, untouched landscapes, amazing local food and hospitality and chatting with local families.

Over the next few days we covered about 500kms, we were getting better at driving and, therefore, had the opportunity to revel in the beautiful landscapes and Indian countryside, rescuing a tiny puppy off a busy highway, driving up winding mountain roads and watching water buffalo bathing in rice paddies, this really was the best way to see such a beautifully diverse country. We fit in a much needed day of relaxing on Goa’s beaches, witnessing the glorious sunsets and ruins of Old Goa.

At the beginning of our journey, we made a decision not to drive in the dark. On Day 8, we learnt why we really shouldn’t drive in the dark. Indian roads are dangerous at the best of times with pot holes, dirt tracks, no lights, erratic drivers and unlit pedestrians and cyclists. We planned that day to get to the secluded fishing village of Murud. At best, we were getting 60km/hr out of our rickshaw, so about an hour before sunset we were sure we could drive the 40kms we had left to get to Murud. We were wrong. This drive was pitch black, only made worse with our useless head light and filthy windscreen, the road was a complete rubble track and we had only our intuition to tell us if we were heading in the right direction. We gave up on GPS around day 2 when it had us driving around in circles around some downtown hospital in Kerala, eye opening to say the least. When we eventually reached Murud we were pretty surprised that both ourselves and our rickshaw were mainly intact, despite a rather wonky wheel.

We woke up the next morning in a truly beautiful beautiful village full of ancient temples, deserted beaches, colourful fishing boats and quirky houses. Taking a walk at dawn it seemed that the whole village was awake doing laundry in the streets, women setting up fruit stalls, children in their pristine school uniforms, men straightening out their fishing nets and families bringing the water from the wells perfectly balanced in sliver jugs on their heads. All to the sound of chimes from the Hindu temples and the scent of the morning offerings of burning incense. This was real India, untouched truly breathtaking. It was worth every moment of the harrowing journing to get there.

Over the next few days we managed to drive about another 600kms. Day 9 I won’t talk about, but just know it was a specifically dodgy night spent in an especially horrible place, almost definitely the most unsafe we had felt the whole time in India. But you have to take the bad with the good, and this was all part of the extreme adventure we had embarked upon. By now, the driving was beautiful. The landscape was changing from jungles and rivers, to farmland, lush green fields, peacocks and massive haystacks. We were becoming so confident that we would now drive until the hour before sunset and then look for somewhere to stay. Some days we would drive less than others to stop and look at forts, temples, animals and whatever else fascinated us. Some days we would have long lunches, tasting local delicacies that changed as we drove through the states. My personal favourite being the Thalis, and my least favourite some weird soured curd thing for lunch. I guess this is what you get when the only word in common you both have is ‘vegetarian’.

Day 10, we arrived before dusk into a very small town called Kapandvanj. Whilst looking for the only guesthouse in the town, a young girl with perfect English came to talk to us. She invited us for tea with her family to which we obliged. We spent the evening with this wonderful Gujarati family, eating homemade Gujarati foods, drinking copious amounts of tea, letting the girls design henna on our hands and arms and sharing stories and photographs, learning about eachothers lives and different cultures. We were invited to the Hindu temple with the family and visited their friends in the village where we spoke to the children about England and Scotland and gave them little keyrings and badges. This was an experience which taught me a lot about a totally different way of homelife and the culture of the wonderful people in this country I had spent the last 2 weeks in.

By this point in our journey, we were making brilliant progress. Rajhastan was on the horizon and despite a few problems including losing a funnel down the petrol tank, driving off with the fuel cap on the roof, a strange clunking sound, being bribed by a policeman for driving on the highway, a flat tyre, a close call with speeding car and many bruises and blisters we really were having an amazing time. As we drove further north, the tiny colourful villages, excited children, sunflower fields and Indian vineyards were replaced with rocky mountains, sandy deserts, cactus, deer and black camels.

In our last few days we passed through the beautiful town of Udaipur, the first place since Goa that we saw other tourists. On our last day we drove to Jodhpur where we planned to see the fort as sunrise. To be honest Jodhpur was so busy, we had a fair few near misses in our rickshaw driving up and down market streets completely lost so we were keen to get out of their as soon as possible the next morning. When 7 men had to push the rickshaw out of a car park the next morning we were less than impressed.

Our final day driving up to Jaisalmer was one of relief, reflection and total amazement that we had actually done it. These two girls who on day 1 could not even start the rickshaw, never mind drive it, who nearly ran into a bunch of pedestrians, who had no idea on a route, who had zero mechanical skills, and were terrified of going out on the open road, against all the odds…made it to the finish line in one piece. A little dirty, tired, deaf from engine noise, coughs from petrol fumes, and in a state of shock..but in one piece and with massive hearts and heaps of stories!

If someone asks ne would I do it again? My response is definitely that the journey was one of the best experiences of my life. These words cannot do it justice. But, I wouldn’t push my luck by doing it again, I think we were pretty lucky completing this this crazy, eye opening, magical, spiritual and terrifying journey without any major disasters and with a total love for India and its rich culture and wonderful people. By far one of the best ways to avoid major tourist spost and see the real incredible India and it's beautiful culture and fascinating people.