What is the point?

17 Nov

When we were speeding our way around the globe, I wrote as often as I could manage, usually in glowing terms, about the places we were visiting.  The reality was often quite different to my fulsome descriptions.  If you want to reach the beautiful waterfall in the heart of a stunning national park, or the magical beach where dolphins play around your legs while you paddle, then you have to put some work in.  The best places seem to be hundreds of kilometres from the nearest shop, or along a slippery jungle track with giant spiders webs to scare off the fainthearted.  Add a limited budget into the mix, meaning tents, pick up trucks and wooden huts with nice big gaps for mosquitos, and you’ll see that while we had some incredible experiences, it wasn’t always easy.

Not that I’d have wanted it to be.  I will never regret staying with a family in a Borneo village with access only by boat.  Or driving for a whole day through the desert, to camp for a single night on the beach in an Australian national park.  And I’d far rather squeeze five to a small room in a tower block in Waikiki than not visit Waikiki at all.

Now that we’re home, the mossie bites have stopped itching, and we’ve got a bed each and an embarrassment of bathrooms and bookshelves, it’s much easier to laugh about the hard bits. To realise their importance in the grand scheme of things.  And we’re left with a plethora of happy memories, jostling for space in our heads.  I think that maybe that’s the point.


3 Responses to “What is the point?”

  1. Chris Mosler 17/11/2011 at 2:08 pm #

    I think maybe it is. A smile spread across my face as I read this with my chin resting in my hand.

  2. Diya 17/11/2011 at 3:33 pm #

    Your family has been an inspiration to ours as we start our journey. I’ll look forward to reading about you settling back home, so please keep posting.

  3. Trish 27/11/2011 at 8:05 pm #

    I know just what you mean. The holidays where things have been scary or stressful at the time are the ones which are more permanently etched in my memory. They are fabulous for providing us, as a family, with all those ‘Do you remember the time when…’ anecdotes.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: