My grandmother told me, Thailand taught me.

'Waste not, want not.' A phrase I've heard countless times from my grandmother. Something that I never fully understood until the day I ate my lunch out of a banana leaf.

Sweat beads trickled down my temples. My legs shook slightly under each step, shoulders tense from the weight of my pack. I was in the mountains of Thailand, halfway through the trek to the next hilltribe village. Scenic views weren't so eye-catching anymore; it was all beginning to look the same.

Suddenly my attention was caught. I could faintly hear the harmonious sound of water crashing resonating off of the trees around me. My stride widened as I followed the bend in the path ahead of me and the waterfall came into sight.

The stream of water plunging into the pool below appeared although it was simply falling from the sky. The jungle setting created a picture I'd only seen in photographs.

I sat on a nearby rock and pulled my lunch out of my pack. I unwrapped the banana leaf and ravenously started on my cold fried rice.

As I was eating, I realised that if I were at home I'd never have eaten cold rice, I would have put it in the microwave. I would never have relied on a leaf to insulate my lunch, I would have put it in a cooler bag with ice blocks to avoid food poisoning. But here I was.

My homestay Mum from the night before hadn't worried about food poisoning, she wanted to make sure that I had a delicious meal to eat the next day while I was trekking. She didn't have plastic containers to put my lunch in, so she used what was available; a banana leaf and a piece of string.

'Waste not, want not.' Well I was scraping that banana leaf clean. I was filled with an energy that I hadn't felt until this moment in the trek. I wasn't particularly fit, so the physical demand of trekking was tough, but at least now my mind was clear.

I walked a little slower in the next leg, so I could fully appreciate the Thai scenery this time. After all, I'd come all this way, I didn't want to waste it.