The Real Value of Travel

Like most, I adore travelling, especially anything that engages me with the outdoors and allows me to get beneath the skin of a culture. It gives me a taste of how others live, whether it’s in my backyard or roaming the other side of the world. The real value of travel is that it broadens my horizons.

In fact, it forms an invaluable part of the ‘School of Life’ curriculum.

The thing is, travelling doesn’t have to be ritzy, nor filled with buying souvenirs. Frankly, I spend more time out and about exploring, savouring and connecting than lounging around in plush digs or buying material things.

It’s about having experiences with soul and substance.

Given I was a free-ranging child, my family holidays were often spent in nature. They encompassed looking for pipis with my Poppa in the shallow waters at Pambula Beach, skimming pebbles across the Jamieson River in Victoria’s High Country and building sandcastles at Dromana Beach.

They bring many fond memories of simpler, enjoyable times.

Then from the time I was seven, I had my first big trip overseas with my parents. It opened up a whole new world, so to speak.

Some of my travels have been awe-inspiring and memorable for exhilarating reasons; others just plain unexpected.

San Sebastian, Spain. Image by Kristin Lee.

With that in mind, here are some of the offbeat but always memorable encounters I’ve had while travelling.

Aloha, Hawaii

Arriving at the hotel my family was staying at in Hawaii, across the street humongous bright lights, a large camera crane and barricades were propped on the sidewalk. Sirens were flashing and blaring; cars skidding and careering. It was the late ’70s and they were filming a night scene car chase for the original Hawaii Five-O television series.

As we watched the scene unfold, suddenly a car crashed through the barrier and sped off, with both real and not real police cars in pursuit. Apparently, a real-life bandit had decided to make an escape via the street they were filming in.

There’s something to be said about art imitating life.

Upside Down Grand Canyon

A highlight of any trip to America is getting down into the heart of its natural attributes, especially the astounding, although somewhat touristy, Grand Canyon. My parents booked a scenic flight in a light plane to hover somewhere between white cotton-ball like clouds and the South Rim. About halfway through the flight, the adventurous pilot decided to nosedive, then ascend, followed by flipping the plane over.

We got a bird’s eye view, albeit upside down, of the ochre-coloured canyon.

Suddenly the young girl sitting next to me reached for her sick bag, but ended up hurling onto the roof. You can imagine what happened when the plane resumed normal position.

A Mob of a Time in Macau

When I was about nine, my family went on a trip to Hong Kong and China, with a stop in a small village in Macau. Given I was a pale skinned Aussie with a smattering of freckles and big blue eyes, it’s fair to say I stood out. So much so that all the children in the village ran out and literally mobbed me. They touched my hair and face in turn. Despite feeling a bit overwhelmed, they were gentle.

Following that, an older lady approached me and asked if I was interested in buying a pretty charm bracelet. It was the perfect fit for my little wrists. When I asked how much, I heard her say $18. Bargain, I thought. I gave what was left of my travel money to her. But she held her hand open, expecting more. Eventually we worked out that I’d misheard her. She was asking for $80.

Lucky charm for some.

Hand-dyed wool. Image by Kristin Lee.

Giddy Up on Penang Island

Wherever possible, I like to get off the beaten track, whether it be a day hike, cycling or on horseback. When I was staying on Penang Island in Malaysia, I went for a horse ride on the beach. No sooner had I swung my leg over the saddle, the handler slapped my charge’s rump so that we were galloping at full speed. As I whizzed past all the locals sitting in their tiny thatched huts with beers in hand, they threw their hats up in the air, whooping and cheering. Being on island time, apparently it was the fastest thing they’d ever seen.

Next I was pulling up my steed so we didn’t get entangled with a parasailer landing on the beach.

Skinny-Dipping in the Daintree

Given the crocodile factor in Far North Queensland, especially in the Daintree Rainforest region, any waterway that has crocodile warning signs is a pretty clear reason to not jump in. But I’m not sure if it was my overly relaxed nature or the tropical holiday vibe that got the better of me when I skinny-dipped — with permission from the owner of a secluded property — in a large creek that runs down into the Great Barrier Reef.

I was stoked at the chance to take a dip in the clear, silken and reputedly therapeutic waters, but was a little cautious about the possible croc factor — not that there were any warning signs in the immediate vicinity. That said, my understanding was that the freshies don’t differentiate between salt and fresh water. But I was assured this section of the creek was croc-free.

The highlight of this liberation: having turtles gracefully swim around me.

Daintree Rainforest, Queensland. Image by Kristin Lee.

Role Model in Oaxaca

Oaxaca, both the capital and state in Mexico, is renowned for its authentically rich cultural vibe. There’s everything from the colourfully dressed and short statured Mayan women to cochineal dye, black pottery, seven mole sauces, cacti and the potent mezcal, a distilled agave beverage that can have up to 55 per cent alcohol.

My memories include a man jogging starkers down the old cobblestone streets of the city, then having to hastily leave the market due to the stench of rotting meat. (It was also being swatted to keep the flies at bay.) Meanwhile, pickup trucks filled with gun-toting men frequently drove past us on the outer rural roads.

By far, my most memorable encounter was having a wild-eyed woman approach me when I was visiting a neighbouring village. She started bowing down at my feet. Then she ran off and returned with a high-end fashion magazine, pointing at the cover, then me. Again, she started bowing. Then she hissed and spat at anyone else who came near me.

I wasn’t sure if it was a case of mistaken identity or if she was about to perform some kind of unethical witchcraft.

It seems compliments come in many forms.

Saint Domingo, Oaxaca. Image by Kristin Lee.

Boxed in, in Beijing

Within minutes of walking through the doors of the Beijing International Airport to board my courtesy bus, I had a woman street beggar (half my size) latch on to my left leg and almost drag me off the bus. The bus driver yelled at her, but she insisted (with hand gestures) that I get my luggage from underneath. She wanted to load it back on and then be paid a sizeable tip. Welcome to Beijing, manhandling style.

Then the golf resort I stayed at (I was there for work, not golf) was like an Asian film set in the middle of nowhere. Gardeners watered the lawns with giant handheld hoses thicker than firehoses. The guestrooms were ginormous, yet all the staff slept together in rooms the size of broom cupboards. The imbalance was stark.

Although that’s what they’re accustomed to, there’s a lot to be said about house sharing, let alone the tiny house movement.

Outer Beijing, China. Image by Kristin Lee.

Hanging Around in France

J’ádore regional France. But dangling in a cable car, which had come to a standstill about halfway above the French spa town of Luchon as cows with their distinctive sounding bells ambled underneath, provided a unique perspective. Overlooking the wide-ranging valley floor and vertiginous mountains with snow-capped peaks in summer was awe-inspiring, but swaying in the breeze became a little unsettling for a fellow traveller.

While they hyperventilated, I closed my eyes and breathed.

Twenty minutes later, I was sitting on the chalet’s sun-drenched balcony, drinking in the dramatic mountains and a pool.

Above Luchon, midi-Pyrenees, France. Image by Kristin Lee.

Views to Swear About in Ronda

Located in southern Spain, Ronda is a captivating whitewashed town that clings to a lofty cliff. Walking from the Paseo de Orson Welles, near neoclassical bullring Plaza de Toros, when you first gaze across the wide-ranging valley, all sorts of profanities are likely to unfold, whether you intend to or not. Naturally, WTF is most common.

Legend has it that there used to be a swear jar. These days, the jaw-dropping views are nothing short of priceless.