Same same, but different

Sally Wootton

Description

Mum, can I go to Greenland?' I was just seventeen years old when I first got the travelling bug. I was at school, in the first year of my A-levels and had no real idea what I wanted to do with my life. I'd never been further than the South of France on holiday with my parents and that was quite exotic considering the years of caravanning on the Isle of Wight and Cornwall. Then one day as I sat looking out onto the rest of the school and listening to another boring assembly, something caught my attention. The British Schools Exploring Society was running expeditions to remote locations of the world and inviting young people aged sixteen to twenty-three to join. It would be for seven weeks in the summer holidays, you raised the money yourself through sponsorship and hard work and got to travel and see the world. I felt that little spark of excitement in the pit of my stomach, started imagining all the fantastic opportunities, already started planning how I could raise the cash and for the first time in my life I knew exactly what I wanted to do. I wanted to travel. This book isn't intended as a travel guide, or novel, but is a way of sharing my amazing travel experiences in Greenland, Australia, Southeast Asia, New Zealand and Colombia with others - those who have travelled and those who have yet to. But also to inspire those who've ever heard themselves say, 'I'd love to travel', but never thought they'd be able to, to realise that it is possible, if you really want it enough. There is a beautiful world out there...what are you waiting for?Book reviews online @ www.publishedbestsellers.com

Sujets

• Nueva Zelanda
• New Zealand
• Travel writing
• Southeast Asia
• Greenland
• Colombia
• Australia
• Nouvelle-Zélande

Informations

• Publié par: Pneuma Springs Publishing
• Date de parution: 15 mars 2011
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781782281580
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

Same same, but different


Sally Wootton



PNEUMA SPRINGS PUBLISHING UK
Copyright
First Published in 2011 by: Pneuma Springs Publishing
Same same, but different Copyright © 2011 Sally Wootton
Kindle eISBN: 9781907728921 ePub eISBN: 9781782281580 PDF eBook eISBN: 9781782280767 Paperback ISBN: 9781907728099
Editor: Bethan Seymour Cover design: Billie Sharp www.innov8gd.com
World’s most dangerous places 2006 – 2010, by Robert Young Pelton. ComeBackAlive.com. Used by permission.
Rotary International www.rotary.org Group Study Exchange
Pneuma Springs Publishing E: [e-mail] W: www.pneumasprings.co.uk
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Published in the United Kingdom. All rights reserved under International Copyright Law. Contents and/or cover may not be reproduced in whole or in part without the express written consent of the publisher.
Dedication

For dad, my inspiration for adventure
For mum, for always being proud of me



…and
For little Woo, who literally turned my dream into a reality
Acknowledgements
I am one of those people who actually read the acknowledgements section of a book just to see what personal touches the author has included and generally to be nosey. I now have my own personal thanks to make, because let’s face it, it is quite exciting to actually get your words into print – even if the only people who buy your book are your mum and curious friends.
It quite literally started with my sister Tracy (Billie, little Woo), who after a few glasses of wine on a visit to stay with me, almost commanded that I write about my travels and who was the first person I trusted to tell that I was even writing a book. Tracy you are also my amazing designer and the professional with a personal interest. You designed a fantastic cover; painstakingly devoted your skills to turn my words into something people would be able to read and literally made my dream come true. I am more grateful for all your time and work than I can ever say—thank you.
Thanks to my first editor Beth, for being so brilliant and recognising all the mistakes, even when I was convinced they weren’t there. Thank you to Pneuma Springs, for giving me the chance to realise my dream to publish my book. My best friend in the whole world, Sam – who rolled her eyes every time I mentioned I was even contemplating another trip, never read my emails from abroad and desperately, just hoped I’d someday settle down. But you have always supported me in everything I’ve done and I don’t want to ever be without you (oh and I’ll be testing you this time, so get reading). My friends James, Swede, Nick & Vicky, and Kirsty who were there when my travels started, Jo H (my friend most ridiculously excited about this book), Sam W (my most recent and now, regular travel buddy), Tash, Michele, Si, Rachel, Rowly, Paul and Talane and everyone who fuelled my excitement and encouraged me in the hope that anyone would be even vaguely interested in reading what I had to offer.
For Nanny Cole and Nanny Wootton, who I wish were both still here to read it and who’s long sleeved vests kept me warm in Greenland. My many travel companions, Simon, Emma, Andy, Bobby, Steve, Anne and Kate and all the wonderful people I have met along the way, who’ve made my travels so colourful and for all those people, who after reading my emails said, ‘You should write a book’.
Lastly, thank you to my mum and dad. Dad, if not for the times you encouraged me to push myself to do the things I was scared of and to try new things when I had the opportunity, I might never have developed the travelling bug. Mum, no matter what I wanted to do, you were always proud of me even when you couldn’t understand why I wanted to do something. So this book is for you, my beloved parents. Thank you for being the best parents anyone could ever wish for. For believing in me in everything I’ve done, for supporting me when you didn’t necessarily approve and for always being there at the arrivals gate, making coming home special too.
Same same, but different
And so it began
‘Mum, can I go to Greenland?’ I was just seventeen years old when I first got the travelling bug. I was at school, in the first year of my A-levels and had no real idea what I wanted to do with my life. I’d toyed with the idea of being a teacher when I was ten and liked to boss my sister around from the front of our pretend classroom and there was a time I thought I’d fancy being an architect, until I realised it required seven years of dedicated study. I’d never been further than the South of France on holiday with my parents and that was quite exotic considering the years of caravanning on the Isle of Wight and Cornwall.
Then one day as I sat, a newly appointed sixth former looking out onto the rest of the school and listening to another boring assembly, something caught my attention. The British Schools Exploring Society was running expeditions to remote locations of the world and inviting young people aged sixteen to twenty-three to join. It would be for seven weeks in the summer holidays, you raised the money yourself through sponsorship and hard work and got to travel and see the world.
I felt that little spark of excitement in the pit of my stomach, started imagining all the fantastic opportunities, already started planning how I could raise the cash and for the first time in my life I knew exactly what I wanted to do. I wanted to travel.
Since exploring Greenland back then, I’ve been lucky enough to travel all over the world and had some amazing experiences, met some wonderful people and survived more bad luck than should happen to one person. But, although I never forget how fortunate I am, I have made all of this happen myself. I have saved, planned, taken every available opportunity that came my way and had the courage to realise my dreams and in the process I have learned more about myself some good and some not so good – and my abilities.
This book isn’t intended as a travel guide, or as a novel, but as a way of sharing my amazing experiences with others – those who have travelled and those who have yet to. But also to hopefully inspire those who’ve ever heard themselves say, ‘I’d love to travel’, but never thought they’d be able to, to realise that it is possible, if you really want it enough.
Greenland 1992
After months of saving, fundraising, collecting sponsorship and even selling my mum’s rock cakes at school for extra cash, I embarked on what I still consider as seven of the most incredible weeks of my life.
I can remember saying goodbye to my parents; it was the first real goodbye of my life so far. The only other times I’d been away had been Brownie camp which didn’t actually count – as my mum came as a helper – and the time she put me on a bus to Portsmouth to visit my pen friend and made the driver promise not to stop.
As I waved them off and went to join the rest of the group, I remember feeling incredibly independent, nervous, excited and hugely proud of myself. If I’m totally honest, I secretly still feel that way every time I go through departures at the beginning of any of my travels, even now and I’m thirty-six.
The group consisted of sixty young people to be divided into five groups of twelve, plus fifteen mountain and field leaders. We departed England and flew via Copenhagen to Narsarsuaq airport in South Greenland and had our first taste of what lay ahead.
Beneath us, as we came in to land while icicles formed on the plane windows, lay the most spectacular view of the ice cap. Miles and miles of untouched snow and ice, broken only by the occasional mountain peak, stretched as far as the eye could see. I looked out of the window of my first ever plane journey and felt totally overwhelmed at the prospect of what I was about to experience. It was a landscape I’d only ever seen on television or in books and I could hardly believe I was about to spend the next seven weeks of my life here.
Having never experienced any airport other than Heathrow, which we’d left fifteen hours previously, I realised that Heathrow it wasn’t. The airport resembled something similar to a not particularly extravagant community hall and I don’t think they’d ever seen so many people come from one flight. We excitedly collected our rucksacks and assembled for the one-mile trek to the overnight accommodation, an open-sided boat shed.
It was a wooden structure which had uprights, two ends, a floor and a roof, but what it lacked in home comforts, it more than made up for in location, as the scenery was breathtaking. Our shed stood on the banks of the fjord, surrounded by an imposing mountain range, with snow-capped peaks on the other side of the turquoise water. The colours weren’t to be fully realised until the morning, but even in the glow of the moonlight, it was possible to appreciate the sheer scale of our surroundings and marvel at the glow from the snow in the darkness.
As we laid out our rucksacks and claimed a space on the wooden floor, I remember being too excited to sleep and listening to the quiet chatter of everyone else too full of anticipation to rest. I had already met my group and loved the fact that there were so many new and interesting people to get to know, from all over Britain, with so many different accents. In fact, that first night as everyone else drifted off to sleep, I had my first introduction to Viz magazine by torch light and a crash course in Geordie with the Newcastle contingent.
Eventually, overlooking the tranquil water of the fjord and with the only sound from a distant waterfall, we all drifted slowly off to sleep. We were woken in the early hours of dawn by a tremendous crash in the fjord. The noise – like a crack of thunder belonged to a large iceberg capsizing in the fjord literally only tens of metres from where we slept. It was amazing to see, yet strangely somehow like a warning