1^st June. Three years since we left sunny old Manchester, armed with brand spanking new backpacks and a vague plan to make it to South East Asia alive.

Three years since our belongings consisted of the entire United Kingdom’s supply of malaria tablets, the heaviest Lonely Planet Guide (to India) available and some water purification tablets that we used all of zero times. Three years since we boarded the plane for India not knowing that it would steal our hearts and stain our clothes.

And three years since I owned a full set of toenails and we’ve had truly clean feet.

And now, suddenly, it’s three years later.

Three years later, three years older and three years wiser. Maybe.
Three years more well travelled, three years more experienced and three years learning to live with only 10kg of belongings.

1^st June. Three years ago we left sunny old Manchester and ventured into the unknown. We’ve had ups and downs, tantrums and tears. We’ve had belly laughs and heart ache, injuries and accidents, paradise and hovels. We’ve had parasites and (extensive) fungal toenails, we’ve rolled off trains and froze to death on planes. We’ve cracked ribs jumping off bridges and ripped Achilles tendons falling down toilets. We’ve experienced extreme BO and worked at jobs that made us want to poke our eyes out with rusty spoons. We’ve seen parts of each other that we didn’t know existed and we’ve seen each other at our best and utmost worst. We’ve seen levitating men and been cheated on by make believe boyfriends. We’ve been sold goats and given body parts. We’ve been diagnosed with chapati hearts, earned $1000’s, spent $1000’s, and bartered over 20p. We’ve been excited by luxuries such as coat hangers and worn the most disgusting clothes imaginable (and enjoyed it). We’ve been questioned by the police, taken knives on camel safari and received naughty notes from the Philippines airport security. We’ve been sick on snakes, hurdled dinosaurs and been driven in a Batmobile. We’ve turned up for interviews with holes in our crotch, woken entire hostels up screaming in our sleep and developed the ultimate fear of crocodiles.

1^st June. Three years later and things have changed. Because three years ago we hadn’t been on our (semi) world-wide adventure. We hadn’t yet met all of the amazing people we have now. Three years ago we hadn’t ever heard of the Cook Islands or been bitten on the woo by mosquitos. We hadn’t waded through cow shit or slept with cockroaches. We hadn’t fallen down toilets (because lets face it, who has?!) or been diagnosed with chapati hearts. We hadn’t seen levitating men or been given body parts. In fact, three years ago we hadn’t done half of what we have now. We’d never been to paradise, never bungy jumped or snowboarded. We’d never seen parts of the world that only existed on postcards. We’d never seen cows bigger than houses. I had certainly never had this many fungal nail infections and Lyvette had definitely never hit a woman with a scooter. Three years ago I had never travelled for three years with my best friend.

1^st June. Three years ago we left sunny old Manchester, armed with our brand spanking new backpacks, and a vague plan to make it to South East Asia alive.

And now, suddenly, it’s three years later.

Three years is a long time, but it is also very short. In three years a lot can change but also stay the same. In three years lots of memories have been created and then forgotten. People have been met and gone again, the most unlikely lives intertwined. Places visited, photographs taken and moments experienced. We try to remember all of details, all of the places and all of the people, but it’s just not possible.

In three years we can’t even describe everything that we have been through, witnessed and experienced. Things that will stay with us forever and things that we will kick ourselves for forgetting. Little moments that still give us the giggles and big moments that we will carry with us for the rest of our lives.

1^st June. And today I’m sat here smiling. Remembering that day, three years ago, when the novice backpackers jetted off with their toenails and Achilles intact. Smiling because, three years later, I’m glad that those Two Small Mancunians made that decision to leave sunny old Manchester. Glad that they decided to board that plane to India. Smiling because three years later I am grateful for the experiences they have given me, the moments that they have created. Grateful to those Two Mancunians for ensuring that the past three years of living have been well and truly etched onto my heart. Three years that have shaped me and made me a more rounded person (in every sense).

1^st June. Three years later. Three years older. And three years wiser. Maybe.
Three years more well travelled. Three years of experiences lodged in a place that will stay with us forever, no matter what.

But more importantly; three years of no regrets*

*Except the toilet, we definitely regret falling down the toilet…