Ahh it’s a funny business this travelling the world malarkey. Being able to roll with the punches (well not literally of course, I’d get out my mace if that happened) is a necessity for seamless travel.
Mind you on saying that, I love nothing more than a bit of drama when looking for stories to write, because let’s face it, how interested are you in a tale of a lovely massage in Taiwan? Wouldn’t you prefer to hear this one about the belching, farting masseuse who carried on a full-noise conversation with her colleague in the next room while she pretty much squished the living daylights out of me?
I think you need to be curious to be a blogger – or a journalist (not that I am that lofty!) So when I found myself in Istanbul I thought I totally need to experience a Turkish bath, a hamam. I was travelling with my cousin Kate who opted for shopping instead of being stripped naked and washed to within an inch of her life with a bunch of other women. So along I went and checked my modesty at the door – never to be retrieved again! Read my OMG the Turkish Hamam post here >>
Or the time I was in the northern Thai city of Chiang Mai and dashed into the loo only to drop my camera down the icky squat recepticle? I’m sure my rinsing it under fresh water didn’t help the electrics either. Suffice to say it became an insurance job – although thankfully the memory card survived the flush. The day before that tho, I’d had lunch at Cabbages and Condoms Restaurant (?!!%$%^!) Now that was an experience. Especially when they served condom salad.
Beware chicken from roadside vendors too. I stick to pad Thai now thanks to the NZ Health Department sending me a certificate to inform me I had a notifiable disease: campylobacter, when I returned from Thailand’s floating markets. And it didn’t even make me skinny.
And here’s a tip: never wear your socks into an airplane toilet. Some people just cannot aim and you don’t want to be wearing their remnants for 12 hours to LA.
Check the Titanic Awards for the world’s worst.