The art of believing in yourself (extract from article written for Tiny Buddah website)

From an early age I was always top of the class at school and it was assumed that I would go and have a high flying business career. I didn't ever stop to think in what field, I just had a vague vision of my future self sitting in an office. I even won the 'most likely to make a million pounds' award at school! But it hasn't worked out that way. Perhaps because I’m so stubborn and don't like to do what's expected of me - I like to surprise people.

When I see people younger than me doing seemingly brilliant jobs my first reaction is ‘wow, look how successful they are, why can’t that be me?’ But then I remind myself that they would probably be jealous of my life in other ways, for things that I don’t even think are note-worthy. For example, travelling alone was not a problem for me, but some people I’ve spoken to are amazed that I could do so and see it as brave. Whether you have travelled, got a degree, climbed a mountain, or bought a house, had children, learnt mandarin etc… we have all done things that seem amazing to others. Whatever you have done, you can be proud of your achievements.

After a few years of adult life and working in jobs that weren’t going anywhere, I’ve discovered that what really makes me happy is helping other people. I'm not being sanctimonious, it's just the truth. Some people want a Mercedes, or a mansion, but I know that those things wouldn't make me happy. I am now planning on training as a primary school teacher so I can make a difference in my own small way, and allow me time to continue volunteering. We all have to figure out what's going to make us happy and find a way to do it. It’s that simple!

A snapshot of Stone Town, Zanzibar

Steeped in history, Pemba is the name of the larger of the 2 islands
that make up what most people think of as ‘Zanzibar.’ I arrived in the
capital, Stone Town, more than a little disorientated after a long
sleepless flight and surreal ferry journey (seated next to a young boy
with a LIVE chicken in a plastic bag)! The heat was stifling. The sun
coupled with the bright colours of the women’s clothing dazzled me as
I took my first steps on African soil. Ever since I had gazed across
the strait of Gibraltar while on holiday as a child, I had dreamt of
coming to this ancient and enticing land.

I had pre-booked a room at the Flamingo Hotel (flamingoguesthouse.com/
$10 per person per night for very basic en suite, £8 for shared
bathroom facilities) which is a popular haunt for budget travellers.
Basic, clean…ish and with breakfast on the roof included in the price,
it was just the ticket. After dumping my bag in my room and changing
into cool white and modest clothing (this is primarily Muslim town), I
headed out into the heat of the afternoon. Despite my tiredness I was
keen to explore this Unesco World Heritage Site.

Diving straight into market, I found myself well and truly in at the
deep end of everything I had imagined Africa to be. The smell in the
air was a fantastic blend of spices and exotic fruit. Stalls selling
everything from shawls to sardines surrounded me. My pale skin singled
me out as an easy target for shopkeepers, artists and tour operators,
not to mention some less savoury characters. I would soon become
accustomed to the constant calls of ‘mzungu, mzungu’ but for now it
was disarming to be stared at for being exotic.

Stone Town is a photographer’s heaven. Around every corner there is a
scene begging to be captured. The architecture is unique, mixing
traditional African with Arabic influences. This was a major hub of
the slave trade, where several million African people were held before
being transported to Asia and the Middle East. At St. Monica’s Church,
which was built on the site of the old slave market, you are able to
do a tour of the church, monument and the eerie slave chambers.

For the delicious food I headed to Forodhani Gardens where each
evening countless stalls piled high with exotic seafood, local kebabs,
traditional chai and more can be found for just a few dollars. If
you’re feeling flush, Africa House is the perfect place to go for a
sundowner (www.theafricahouse-zanzibar.com/). I was lucky enough to be there in July for the Zanzibar International Film Festival(http://www.ziff.or.tz/) which showcases local, national and
international film makers in the fantastically atmospheric Old Fort.
Easily accessible by taxi or dalla-dalla (local mini bus) are
countless beautiful beaches, and Jozani Forest where you can see the
approachable red colobus monkeys endemic to Zanzibar.

The world works in mysterious ways…

I struggled to wake myself from my dream this morning. It was unusually vivid, featuring a friend from Tanzania who had, in the dream, moved to England. I was surprised at how realistic the dream was. I have never dreamed of him before, and as I distractedly get ready for work, couldn’t shake the feeling that it had to mean something. I checked my diary and was both astounded and yet somehow not surprised to see that one year ago to the day, I had said goodbye to my friend, and to Tanzania. After not having been in touch for months, I was happy if not shocked when I got into work to see that I had received an e-mail from the man himself (on an unrelated topic). It served to remind me that the world does indeed work in mysterious ways – or else maybe it’s just my mind that is weird!

In other news, I am elated to be able to apologise for the pessimistic last post and to report that my Retired Greyhound Trust donation wedding gift went down a storm. Everything is once again right in the world; my friend and his bride are happy to have received a thoughtful gift, my conscience is appeased and the greyhounds are, I’m sure, grateful to be kept in chew toys and fake rabbits for the coming months.

Poetic justice

This weekend I am going to a friend’s wedding. As seems to have become the custom these days, he and his fiancé have registered a wedding list at a high end department store. I find the idea of telling people what to buy you quite vulgar, and defeats the object of buying a gift to congratulate the new couple. The definition of a gift is ‘something given voluntarily without payment in return, to show favour toward someone (or to) honor an occasion.’ Although I do appreciate that it can be helpful to some people to have an idea of what to buy, but it leaves me cold and wondering if I’m only invited to the wedding as a potential gift giver rather than a friend. Many couples who have already set up home together give you the option to donate to a charity. But in this case, not only did they not offer this, I even received a text message from the soon-to-be-groom to remind me to get him a good present from the list! On this list there is a kettle priced at £70, £120 for a sandwich toaster, and so on! So as my gift to the happy couple, I am going to donate to a charity in their honour. Not sure how that will go down, but I will feel a lot happier giving my money to a worthy cause… and one that I hope will at least raise a smile from them – proud owners of 2 gorgeous greyhounds - the retired greyhound trust!

And so it begins

As the calendar accelerates its countdown towards to end of the year, the days are getting shorter and my will to live is reducing accordingly. In July the sun was setting at about 7.15pm as I arrived home after a long commute – now we are nearly into October the light has almost completely disappeared by this time. In the morning when I get up at 6.30, it is depressingly dark. So I am preparing myself for six months of misery. Although not quite to the SAD-sufferer’s extent, I am do find winter in the UK a depressing affair. I’m sure I’m not alone. The only thing that makes it bearable is the thought of the rare crisp, cold day with bright blue sky. That and coming into the warm after a long walk in the cold. And the fact that Christmas is nearly here. And endless cups of tea to keep me warm. And skiing holidays. And being able to wear warm, cosy clothes – scarves, hats, gloves, boots… hang on a minute, maybe I like winter after all! It’s just these wet miserable days without end that I object to. In which case I should either a) invest in an umbrella and stop moaning, b) emigrate, or c) get a job with a shorter commute. I’m working on it!

Any suggestions of how to make wet, windy miserable days more bearable are very welcome

What goes around comes aroud

My morning was horrible. I awoke at 6.30 in the dark and when I left my front door to walk the ten steps to the car, discovered it was drizzling. Driving to the station in my car, the roads were wet and I had a near miss when the bus in front of me stopped and I had to slam on my brakes, causing me to slide all over the road and only narrowly avoid a collision. I was shaken, but made it to the station and settled in for my usual hour and a half journey – but as the train ground to a standstill halfway to London I knew my stresses weren’t over. It turned out that someone had pulled the emergency cord after having a panic attack. Sympathetic as I tried to be, I along with the 500 other commuters on the train was late for work. So not a great to start to the day I think you’ll agree. But my day brightened considerably when I checked my e-mail and was greeted with brilliant news from my Tanzanian family; Isaya, the little Maasai boy I all but adopted last year is going to start school in January! He is such a bright child, but his family couldn’t afford to send him. I had written to the family months ago offering to help with fees. It works out at £95 for a whole year at school – including uniform and board. That’s the cost of a single meal in a nice restaurant in London, a good pair of shoes or a night at a hotel! How disparate opportunities are between Africa and the UK. So although it is by no means saving the World, I am very pleased to be able to provide this basic human right of education to someone who has made a huge difference in my life. And of course I am buying myself some karma. It’s what keeps the earth moving.

Friends in high(land) places

One of the huge benefits of travel is making new friends who live in exotic places. Thanks to my round the world trip I now have friends in Tanzania, Australia, New Zealand, Los Angeles, Boston, Vermont, Italy and Canada who I can call upon to take me in at a moment’s notice. You can usually tell if someone is only being polite by offering you a place to stay, but I am a great believer in taking people up on offers. If they don’t mean it they shouldn’t say it! And of course they can always say no. Or pretend to be out when I arrive… In New Zealand I was particularly lucky (or cheeky depending on how you look at it) to stay with 5 sets of people whom I had met only briefly or not at all! Last weekend I took my lovely Scottish friend Ross up on his offer and went to stay with him in Edinburgh. We had a wonderful few days reminiscing about our time in Tanzania and exploring the city. I saw Edinburgh through the eyes of a local; meeting Ross’s friends, colleagues and housemate, eating at some good local places and seeing great comedy/music gigs. I’m sure I would have enjoyed Edinburgh anyway, but having a friend there made it especially enjoyable.

This weekend I am off to Wales – a mini-tour taking in Swansea and Cardiff (and even a little stop off in Bristol) to see various friends met in Africa. I feel very lucky to have so many great friends – and even luckier that they don’t mind me availing myself of their hospitality and tour-guiding skills…