I was actually fine with travel for most of my life. As a kid I went on boat trips where on the way out, everyone was cheering and whooping. On the way back, everyone was puking over the side. My Mum and my sister were among them, but me and my Dad had stomachs of steel and were ok. On car journeys we would drive to the bottom of the road and my sister would be sick. I was “the normal one” (according to me anyway, don’t ask my family đ ).
All that changed after the Nazca bus trip – a horrifying 15-hour vomit-inducing bus journey full of hair-pin bends through the Andes in Peru. I have literally never been the same since. Luckily it hasn’t stopped me from doing anything but the subsequent trips, including flying over the Nazca Lines, going Whale Watching in New Zealand, and Sailing to Ang Thong in Thailand, have been particularly difficult. Continue reading