1^st June 2021

It’s been over six years since we left the UK.

SIX YEARS.

Six years since we packed our very important possessions; such as 100% deet, a Lonely Planet travel guide to India and mosquito nets that we didn’t know how to put up, into our tiny backpacks and boarded the plane to India. Six years since two small Manc girls threw themselves into the unknown, never for one minute thinking that six years later they still wouldn’t be home.

Are myself and Lyvette still travelling? Six years later, maybe not. We are both ‘settled’ into our current lives. Our current lives are different to our previous lives. We both love our new homes, are happy here, one in Australia the other in New Zealand. Six years later and our new homes are on the other side of the world, separated from the UK by millions of sharks and other travellers with 10kg backpacks and fungal toenails. Six years later and our lives have changed. I don’t mind change, but I do mind that every day that passes the details of our travels become more blurred. The memories become more distant and less sharp, people’s names forgotten, currencies no longer known. I now have to sit and rack my brain for the names of towns and cities where the most prominent adventures took place, work out the timeline of the last six years and scrabble around for the funny stories. And this bothers me.

I don’t want to forget the last six years, because how can I? They have been some of the best years of my life and yet, as is life, things fade and we move on. I can no longer feel the intense hate I felt towards my backpack as it chaffed my shoulders in 40 degree heat. Now, I look back and it was light as a feather. I’ve forgotten what it feels like to have fungal toenails (they’ve finally recovered from Asia). I can’t recall what it was like wearing pants with a holey crotch for months on end or eating curry everyday for breakfast, these were just things we did. I’ve forgotten the intense ache in my lower back after picking eggplants (aubergines) for eight hours a day or the way my whole body itched for five months straight when it developed an allergic reaction to them.

I mean, obviously I remember these things, but I don’t remember remember.

I don’t remember as clearly as I once did.

And then I realise, I am human and this is life. Memories, no matter how good or bad fade. The reason we started this blog is so we can look back and truly remember these moments and how they shaped our travels. And for every blog we reread we laugh out loud as another memory comes flooding back and I realise that I am so happy Lyvette decide we (we being me) were going to write all of our adventures down. Every blog brings back vivid memories and the feelings that come with them.

Six years later. And when I think of the things that we have done in the past six years I know we did it right. We embarked on an adventure and didn’t look back, just went with it and trusted we’d end up some place ok.

Now I’m sitting and rereading and remembering the tiny details that no one else cares about. And I’m smiling. Because I care.

In the past six years we’ve seen animals we didn’t know existed outside of cartoon animations (who knew the Tasmanian Devil was a real thing?!), we’ve partied in tuk tuks, fell off trucks and buses, learned that kangaroos can and will punch you. We’ve been fish slapped in the face, had the worst haircuts known to mankind, narrowly avoided the death penalty in Singapore, slept in potential crack dens and been gifted dead body parts. In the past six years we’ve been given naughty notes at airports, questioned by the police, nearly lost an eye due to a packet of chewing gum and had Tiger Balm on more than one questionable body part. We’ve waded through flooded roads full of cow shit, been models in India and Bollywood and had a gekkho poo on our face. We’ve seen baked beans fall from the sky, too many men masturbating in bushes and gotten third degree burns from fake sun cream in the tea plantations. We’ve hurdled dinosaurs, narrowly escaped riots in Malaysia and motorbiked in tiny baby shoes with a mattress strapped to our backs. We’ve thrown ourselves out of planes, had every fly in Australia on our faces and lay on every floor in Asia. We’ve worn the most disgusting outfits imaginable, woken up entire cities screaming in our sleep and broken into hostels. In the past six years we’ve experienced wonders of the world, been sold goats and hiked volcanoes, rainforests and glaciers. We’ve fallen down toilets and ended up in hospital, been chased by weird men and ninja rolled off trains. We’ve visited schools in the slums, danced in the street with men on horses and we (Lyvette) has slept with a knife under her pillow.

In the past six years we’ve belly laughed more than we ever thought possible, feared for our lives on more than one occasion and experienced the best and the worst of this wonderful world we live in. In the past six years we’ve questioned things we thought we knew and challenged beliefs we once took for granted.

In the past six years we’ve experienced heart break and heart ache and faced some of the most challenging times of our lives, times not written about in any blog or portrayed on any social media platform. We’ve experienced hurt a million miles from home and cried tears to no one but each other. We’ve loved, we’ve lost and we’ve learned. Learned more than any school book ever taught us. Learned more between the pages of our passports than in any class room we entered.

In the past six years we have well and truly lived.

Six years later. And when I think of the things that we have done in the past six years I know we did it right. We embarked on an adventure and didn’t look back, just went with it and trusted we’d end up some place ok.

And we did. We both ended up some place ok.

Six years later and I’m proud of those Two Small Mancunians for embarking on their adventure all those years ago. Those girls did good…the only thing they did wrong were those hideous Indian haircuts (they were a laugh though, weren’t they?!)

And the reason they did it right is because there are no regrets. Not one. In all seriousness, not even the haircuts.

Because six years later, they’re still there, doing cool shit, messing things up, laughing, crying, making new memories (and forgetting to blog about them), still finding their way. Still living their dream, just out of a wardrobe not a backpack. And with all of their toenails intact.

So, six years later I’d just like to say thank you to those clueless Two Small Mancunians who boarded that plane to India and ventured into the uknown.

And six years later I’d like to say: You did alright girls. Stick at it…you’re doing alright.