London Guerilla Knitting: “My yarn is as bad ass as your spray can.”

Guerilla knitting. Street art that sings the same yarn-flavoured tune I do. Always had vague fluffy plans of releasing my knits into the city I am in all kinds of love with. Always admired those who have done it before me. Never really dreamed I would be standing nervously in the shadow of St Paul’s […]

Chitwan National Park: “If we see a tiger, we are quiet and meet him eye to eye.”

“If the rhino runs, we must run in a zig zag or climb a tree.”

We shuffled our feet nervously in the leaves on the jungle floor.

Sikha (1935m) to Tatopani (1200m) – Trek Day Four: “My name is Large Joyous Wisdom.”

Brushing your teeth with a quietly buzzing electric toothbrush while standing outside at a water tap with a view of Annapurna One, and being observed by several curious water buffalo in the field next door, is probably one of those moments where you feel like the luckiest person on earth.

Ghorepani (2870m) to Poon Hill (3210m) to Sikha (1935m) – Trek Day Three: “Are we nearly there yet?”

It is 4.30am. It is very, very dark. It is very, very, very cold. What in the hell am I doing climbing 340 metres of perilous rock stairs with only a headtorch for light?

Tikhedhunga (1540m) to Ghorepani (2870m) – Trek Day Two: “Golliwas in the mist”

I worry that I am slowing everyone down, and we’ll all get eaten by Nepali mountain forest wolves before we reach civilisation.

Naya Pul (1340m) to Tikhedhunga (1540m) – Trek Day One: “I can’t wait to put my beast legs on.”

We were off to the middle of the mountains with no guide. It was okay though. I had my woolly hat and my knitting. What more does a girl trekking to thousands of metres need?

Varanasi: “Welcome to Varanasi.”

People waded into the Ganges to bathe, bent to wash clothes, stood beside the water to place floating lights on its surface, fished about in the depths for errant cricket balls, and in some cases took a quick healing drink (I didn’t join them on that one).

Agra (Taj Mahal): “A teardrop on the face of eternity”

The Indian poet Rabindranath Tagore called the Taj Mahal “A teardrop on the face of eternity” according to my trusty Lonely Planet. Which leaves me feeling that nothing I say can really better that. Still I’ll give it a go…

Jaisalmer (Thar Desert): “In the morning we go to meet your camel.”

I was first introduced to my camel as Michael Jackson (the camel’s name, not mine), but I later found out that his real name was Rallu. A much more camel-sounding name if you ask me.

Pushkar: “The animals are arriving already!”

Off in the distance camels stretch into as far as the eye can see. Single humped, double humped, dark furred and light, rough haired, and two toed. Chewing with lower teeth jutting out from the split in their floppy camel lips. Adorned with cascades of all-coloured pompoms, plaits, and beaded trinkets, looking proud and silly all at once.