To be more accurate, I have just completed working my way around an emotional tapestry filled with candour, self-deprecating humour and indulgent ecstacy as she candidly shares her anguish and joy on her very personal world journey.

As someone who endeavours to weave emotion and observation together when I write in a style that is honest and personal, I appreciated the ability Elizabeth has to share the ups and downs we all face with flagrant and visual detail.

I certainly am a firm believer that the terms indescribable and beyond words perhaps should not be in our vocabulary. A fairly big statement, considering they are and used by us all.

However, I would challenge that when in situations where we cannot express accurately how we are feeling, there is an opportunity to take a step back and honestly explore our emotions, physical sensations, history and realisation of how poignant the situation has been to our life, and perhaps those of others. And this is what Elizabeth does so honestly.

Eat Pray Love is all about the search for self. It’s an enjoyable read which, depending on one’s own circumstance, allows for an introspective review of one’s own journey.

I found a speech presented by Elizabeth on TED (Technology, Entertainment, Design). Like the book, the speech is personal, humurous and poignant. It’s not about travel, but it’s well worth the almost half hour viewing time as Elizabeth shares her view that instead of the rare person “being” a genius, all of us “have” a genius. Be warned: you will be encouraged to take a step back and think about your potential brilliance. It is in there!

Eat, Pray, Love is certainly a book you can read more than once. So head down to your local library, or if you want to add it to your own personal catalogue, Amazon is waiting to take your order.

Eat, pray, love.

Through Elizabeth’s inspiration, next time I venture on a world journey I should do it with a book title in mind. Perhaps love, laugh, karaoke?

What would your book title be?

Feel free to let us know via the comment box below.

As Elizabeth writes:

It is better to live your own destiny imperfectly than to live an imitation of somebody elses life with perfection.

In anticipation of filling in the pages….imperfectly. And if you have ever heard me at karaoke, you’ll know that is spot on.

worldjourneys.com.au wants to hear from you.

If you have a great story you want to share, or perhaps have your own blog, please let us know. All contributions remain the property of the author, and full credits will be listed.

Our goal is to inspire others to create their own world journey and embark on an exploration of not only this incredible planet, but themselves.

Please send all stories or web details to sharemystory(at)worldjourneys.com.au or complete the submission form by clicking here.

We look forward to hearing from you.

Travelling alone provides one with plenty of opportunity to reflect on those people who have touched our life. In the past three days I have traversed the Cambodian countryside on buses, motodups, tuk tuks and taxis for a total of 19 hours. This morning, everyone else seems to be nursing their Saturday hangover, so I sit alone enjoying my fruit salad and rice muesli. No one to chat to, but plenty of time for reflection. This journey is a little different from those before – I have a purpose for being here. And although I sit here by myself, I have not come alone, but am sharing this journey with two people who mean so very much to me.

Frank and Mary Peek are my grandparents. I still recall the weekends of my youth spent baking date rolls, choko pies and fresh custard. I´d wander through the pumpkin and passionfruit vines in search of a tasty piece of sugarcane to chew on. Children of the depression, nothing was thrown out at Frank and Mary´s house. Adorning the vj walls of their Queenslander were bird feathers, calendars reflecting a history of coronations, sporting heroes and photographs from 90+ years of life.

Frank and Mary were married for 63 years, and although they could not be together in the final year of their lives, I made sure they were together for eternity, joining in a local tradition of placing their names on a padlock and throwing away the key atop one of China´s holy mountains, Hua Shan.

At the time of writing this, I have tears. Frank and Mary passed away within six months of each other, and I miss them. But above all, I feel a privilege to have them share this journey with me, for without them, this trip and my vision would not be happening.

When people leave our lives, we can always wish we had talked more, shared more, asked more, loved more. I do. But I can also ensure that the memories I have of them stay with me and I never forget what they gave me, nor the value they placed on their family and the little that they had.

When I helped clean up their house, I found a sealed envelope. On the front in my grandmother´s scrawl was written ¨to those left behind¨. I had not been in the country when Mary passed away, and with the deepest sadness did not attend her funeral. I felt that for some reason I was chosen to find the letter, hidden in the dark recesses of a wardrobe for over 20 years.

My hands trembled as I opened the letter. I could imagine Mary sitting at her old manual typewriter, keying in the names of all her children and grandchildren. On the attached page was a short message espousing the love she had for her family and her wish for their happiness.

Frank and Mary – I love you. I am forever grateful for what you gave me. In return, I shall provide an opportunity to individuals, communities and organisations that are giving to others. I hope you are enjoying this journey as much as I am enjoying having you a part of it.

My journey is dedicated to your memory and my vision honours all that you gave me.

I hope for all who read this, that you take some time out to thank those in your life who have provided you with opportunity, knowledge, purpose and pleasure. If you´ve ever been stuck in Cambodia during rainy season, you will know how important a bridge can be. They allow us to move through our lives easily, with support and provide us with the opportunity to go as far as we want to go. Rebuild broken bridges. Strengthen existing ones. And importantly, build new ones.

Thank you Frank and Mary. You have allowed me the opportunity to embrace my passions, but more importantly, to help me find a sense of purpose in my travels and my life.

Frank, you can finally be proud. Mary, you need not worry – I am happy.

xx

After a long day with meetings from 9am until 6pm, I took myself down to the Mekong and ordered a large beer Lao with some morning glory, shrimp and sticky rice, and still came out with change from $4. I thought I deserved it. The rat, pig’s ear and wasp pupa, compliments of my northern Lao experience, although tasty, won’t be joined by any other local delicacies between now and my departure.

As I watched the sunset and a team of rowers trying to scull themselves against the Mekong’s heavy current, I could hear Michael Buble blaring in the background. As I contemplated my five week journey, I certainly felt it was “like I’m living someone else’s life” but the only difference was, I didn’t want to go home.

Marcel Proust said: “The real voyage of discovery consists not only in seeing new landscapes, but in having new eyes”. I don’t want to go home. The more I learn, the more I want to keep learning. And the more I have my new eyes open.

As I dig into my bag for water, I sift through the samples of children’s books being delivered to rural villages, graphic pictures of UXO (unexploded ordinance) victims who have lost limbs, silkworms still spinning and a camera filled with over 600 photographs of places, faces and change. I recollect a movie I saw today: the depth of a mother’s grief as she recalled the death of her child through a bomb explosion. I will never forget the eyes filled with tears, the bowed head, the silence. The anger inside of how a ’secret war’ could still be causing so much devastation, was quite overwhelming. Estimates predict that it would take another 400 years to clear the country of all the UXO hidden underneath the landscape. And yet the exhibition I saw focussed on the approach of education and allowing us “into the lives of the people that it serves” in order to reach out and create change.

The realisation that I have new eyes really hits me, along with that of not only the journey I have travelled, but the adventures ahead and the desire to ensure I fulfill the commitment to myself and others to make this project a success.

Apart from the fact I have spent five weeks researching, writing and experiencing the world of change through the eyes of those who are creating the change and those whose lives who have been changed, I have also hung out in brothels, slums, communes, villages, walked the streets at night and learned about some incredible projects. Why would I spend 11 hours in a car travelling 250km dropping off silkworm eggs (and that’s just one way) when I could have just sat at home and learned about these projects by email?

Because unless I travelled the path, I could never truly understand. I spent five days with a Nobel Peace Prize nominee, who, despite calls of “crazy woman” from friends and family, has persisted with a lifetime of commitment to providing opportunity to those who have none. This is something that you just cannot learn via email. You have to follow the path and see, hear and experience the work being done.

For one who has spent years experiencing the privileges of travel, it certainly has had a different purpose this time around. I would encourage anyone contemplating a journey to travel with new eyes, or at least, be willing to have one’s eyes open to learn and see a little more than just the major sights and culinary delights of any new destination.

My American friends, Jen and Trev, introduced me to the tunes of Sister Hazel, and I now find myself humming to the tune of my favourite song “you should see the world inside my head”.  As I so often do, tonight, I watched the sunset, “like it’s a big surprise”. And not because I have an extremely vivid imagination, but because I have different eyes.

This will be my last post on this blog for a while. I have a lot to do. Websites to finish. Stories to write. Products to code. Accounts to be finished. Photos to be selected. Wrapping to be decided upon. BAS to be done. Braces to be fitted. A job to find so I can eat. And a return to Melbourne to contend with.

The vision of give.com.au has been strengthened through the humbling, moving and powerful stories I have witnessed. There is still a lot to be done. There are still more stories to be heard. There are still more countries to visit, partnerships to be strengthened and projects to support.

Thank you for your support. Thank you to my friends who continue to encourage me. Thank you to Rob McIntosh, my knight, for his creative support and genius. And importantly, thank you to Frank and Mary.

I look forward to the next twist of the rollercoaster as it spirals upwards full throttle and with the element of unknown as to which way it will twist next. Let’s hope you will continue the ride with me.

So as Sister Hazel sings, I encourage you to get up early tomorrow and “watch the sunrise, like it’s a big surprise”. Think about your passions, what you love to do, and something you are always talking about but never get around to doing. I guarantee you will get a little more than you bargained for. Perhaps it’s the first step onto your very own rollercoaster. Trust me, it’s worth it. You’ll never be afraid of them again. The rollercoasters, or the mountains!

There will be hard work. There will be tears. There will be pain. There will be journeys down one path to only hit a dead end and have to turn around and come back. There will be opportunities to dig deep and push onself to new limits.

And besides. Rollercoasters and mountains both have great views from the top! I’ll see you up there.

x

Tomorrow commences August 2008. In eight days, I will commence the second part of a personal journey that will take me from the inner, to five countries in south-east Asia. In eight days, the realisation of a dream takes me away from my computer where I have been glued for the past few weeks, and into the future. A future filled with passion, compassion, excitement, the realisation of dreams and self.

On my birthday this year, I gave myself the greatest gift. Registration of an Australian company that is dedicated to unsung visionaries who create change around the globe. Someone once said to me that a mind once stretched by a new idea will never regain its original dimension. Over the past six months, mine has been stretched to new extremes, and I will be forever changed.

Two years ago, I had a dream. I woke up and checked the availability of www.give.com.au. Astounded that it was there, I paid my fee and for two years, have tortured myself as to what I was going to do with it. I have spent a life giving to others, to the point of exhaustion, and yet at this point in time, feel I can conquer anything.

Why? Because there is power in vision. There is power in dreams. And there is power in self. Combine these three, and one can create anything. www.give.com.au will be launched later in the year and is a site dedicated to individuals, communities and organisations around the globe who give opportunity to others.

For me, this new path is one that has been a long time coming. A windy path with lots of detours, mountains and challenges to cross. But one that now fills with me fulfillment and the knowledge that finally, I can be happy.

I am about to embark on an incredible six week journey to Bangladesh, Cambodia, Vietnam, Lao and Thailand. During this time I am meeting with the founders and artisans of 14 organisations that are creating change. It is not just a journey of the world and the people in it. But it is a personal journey filled with all that I am passionate about – people, change, compassion, commitment and life.

Six months ago, I did not want to be here. I was in pain – physically, emotionally and spiritually. But I didn’t want to listen to the doctor and dug deep. It truly is incredible what we have inside us that we really don’t give ourselves the opportunity to find.

I have spoken with many. I know the power of the secret. Always have. I just didn’t know what I wanted. It’s never been about ego. Never about money. Nor what others can give me. It’s always been about what drives me and makes me feel alive. Finally, I have found it.

I would like to invite you to join me on my journey over the forthcoming weeks as I share with you the experiences I am soon to have, the people I will soon have the privilege to meet, and the satisfaction I will have in following a dream.

I don’t want to just share the end result as it’s not what it’s all about. I want to share the experiences of A to Z. For I believe that unless you stop every now and again and really soak up what is happening and what you are feeling in your life, you are not grabbing each rich opportunity that will only cross your path but once.

So join me on this world journey. I’ll be taking you to genocide hospitals, rural villages, fashion boutiques, amputee centres and street children hostels. I’ll be interviewing nuns, nobel peace prize nominees and ordinary people who have chosen an extraordinary life of giving and creating change.

I hope that by sharing these stories, it will encourage you to look at yourself and your community, and perhaps do one small thing that puts a smile on another’s face. You don’t have to see it. But somewhere out there, someone in the world is smiling because you will have made the choice to give. And that face may just be yours.

x

I’ve been in Melbourne for almost 17 months. It hasn’t brought me exactly what I’d hoped for, but then again, I probably didn’t know what I was hoping for. A new beginning perhaps? An opportunity to try and settle back after an incredible life experience? A new challenge? I’m at a bit of a crossroads – I can hear my mum telling me to stop being a dreamer, settle down and to make something of myself. But then again, if I’d done that every time she had told me, I would not have done anything I’ve done – I’ve been hearing it since I was five.

I’ve been going to the Vietnam Vets Centre for the last month, and can honestly say, it’s one of the best things I have ever done in my life. I never share my past with people because I fight hard to not let it come into my life, so you will be surprised to hear this. Being a Vet’s daughter isn’t easy. The depression, the anger, the negativity, the broken relationships – I’ve fought 36 years to not be like my family and I’m finally learning that I don’t have to try so hard. It’s not easy for me talking about it, but it has shaped me, and I have found the last four weeks extremely difficult, hence my need to get away. To take out all the emotion. And just have some fun.

I woke up Friday. The weather was magic. My soul was in need of some nourishment. And the forecast was for a perfect weekend. So I planned to take one of the top ten things to do in Oz off my list and head to the Great Ocean Road. So at 7am on Saturday I headed off for some snacks and hit the road – the thought of two days visa shopping blazing in the dust as I flew down the Princes Highway towards my target – a weekend of randomness.

Most people who will read this, have travelled with me, and know what I’m like doing something I love. This journey was a little different. I was by myself. Had a lot on my mind. Had been crying too much the week before. And really was just looking for an excuse to get out of town. What I found however, was an incredible opportunity to just do whatever I wanted and totally immerse myself in the two days of exploring, both this incredible part of the country and myself.

I probably did over 700km in the two days, and that is just in the car. I walked to Erskine Falls, spent two hours sinking my feet into the sand along Apollo Bay, soaked in the history of the Otway Lighthouse, meditated with the sounds of the bubbling stream and birds amidst the solitude of Maits Rest, walked down Gibson’s Steps and along to the mmmm… third apostle if you count the one that has crashed into the sea, got lost in the tundra of the Bay of Islands, soaked up the sun under a willow tree while enjoying some local cheese and wine at Timboon, walked to Trinity Falls, quivered my way up 47metres above the ground at the Otway Fly, watched the sunset over the 12 apostles, was amazed at the sheer size and number of crater lakes I could see from Camperdown, and to top it all off, thought there was only one way to really do it all justice, so I jumped into a helicopter and flew over this amazing part of the world.

Uh huh…. my calves are killing me. My eyes are wilting. Everyone knows I always ask the locals what not to miss. But really…. did my neck really need that 20km unsealed Lavers Hill – Cobden Road – 40 minutes on a one lane dirt track through tropical rainforest, with not one other vehicle passing – I must go back and thank John and Di – wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

I was taking my own advice on the weekend. It wasn’t a race, but I was grabbing every opportunity. I bypassed every town – who needed cafes, tourist shops and mmm people when there was magic out there waiting. And needless to say, I figured out why it’s tagged great – large in size, powerful, wonderful and most certainly remarkable. It certainly should be on the list of things to do, and I’m really glad that I went by myself. Because as much as it would have been amazing to share it all with someone, I didn’t have to worry about being selfish, because for a rare time in my life, I just did anything I wanted, and more.

No one was incredibly brilliant when the names were being handed out… although I was liking the Sow and Piglet story told by my very nice… ok hot… helicopter pilot. Yes, it’s a road along an ocean, and pretty remarkable, ok, great scenery. But I found another definition for why it has the ‘great’ appendage.

Spending two days alone certainly does give one time to reflect and look forward. As an adult, we are rarely given opportunities to grow. And over the last two days Carl Jung finally made sense: our vision will become clear only when you look into your heart. Who looks outside, dreams. Who looks inside, awakens.

I think my mum has always been right. I have been a dreamer. But the great thing about spending time watching the power of the waves as they reshape kms of limestone cliffs, walking amidst the tree tops and flying above such a remarkable landscape – it gave me time to look inside. To not just dream. To know who I am. To really identify what starts the fire. To think about what I want to achieve, and not just about how I can help someone else. And most importantly, what is going to give me the simple fun life I really want. Not the world I get caught up in. But the one I want to be in.

I think I might be curling out of my slumber…. and there’s a golden glow like the one about 8.50 this morning as the first real light hit the apostles… and me, as I’d fallen asleep on the sand.

The dictionary is wrong. Life is a verb. Not a noun. I proved that on the weekend. Now I’m looking inside… and there’s plenty of movement. But this feels different. It feels great! Five weeks coming up in Asia – chilling, fun, simplicity and above all doing something I am passionate about. A place that always makes me feel alive. How could it not?

Vanna doesnt speak much English, but excitedly whips out his Khmer-English dictionary when he finds out I am single. So we chat via translations for most of our journey. From Phnom Penh to Sisophon near the Thai border, Vanna travels the seven hour journey every second week to his job at the local police station. His mum and dad own the Casanova tailor shop in Phnom Penh, so I may pick up a few things on my return now we are about to get married – I think the tailor shop was named after him.

I am always talking to people – it really is the only way to learn about the culture, what the locals enjoy doing in their spare time (Im booked in for a karaoke session on my return), their hopes for the future, their family and what they really think about the $100 million + Khmer Rouge tribunal. Vanna was more than happy to share with me.

He also didnt hesitate at any of the toilet / snack stops to fill me up with food. For every stop, there were a couple more local snacks to try: my taste buds worked their way through bananas coated in sticky rice, boiled peanuts, guava and chilli salt, stuffed eggs, pomello, sour soup, steamed vegetable buns. I think I ate more in seven hours than I had in the previous week. But I enjoyed the taste sensations and the rarity of a local shouting me.

On our arrival at Sisophon, Vanna insisted on taking me to the taxi station on the back of his moto. Two wheels, two bodies, four bags, two bunches of bananas and a 1m ruler later, we headed to the taxi station to bargain my seat on the 30 minute trip to Chupvary. As most locals had already come into town and headed back home, I was the only one around who wanted a taxi, and I wasnt keen on paying the cost for the entire taxi. After liaising with Houen in Chupvary, she organised a taxi to come and pick me up – it just meant I had to wait until the taxi had only one seat left, otherwise I would have to cough up the $10 for the fare.

Vanna didnt want to leave me. He was worried that the taxi wouldnt find me. That I wouldnt be looked after. That I wouldnt be fed. He wanted to be my bodyguard and refused to head home when I said Id be fine. So, we waited. And waited. zzzzzz. And waited. Finally, my taxi arrived. As we said our goodbyes, I got the feeling Vanna would not have minded if the taxi never turned up.

To ensure you have the pleasure of a true John West sardine experience, you will find the taxi drivers in rural areas squeeze in as many people as possible into their taxi. So as Vanna dissappeared into the dust (literally due to heavy roadworks on the highway), I was on one butt cheek with two others in the front passenger seat. In the rear, were five adults, three children and two babies. At least I respect the driver for not being selfish and taking a seat all to himself. After a little bit of shoving, one more managed to squeeze in with his legs around the gear stick and an army major offered his lap to the driver. So all up, 16 of us headed off on our bumpy ride over countless potholes to the village of Chup. All in the size of nothing bigger than a Toyota Corolla.

On a few occasions, we veered off the main road into villages, tucked behind vast rice fields and sugar palm plantations. The major also needed to get back to the base, so we headed into the military zone to drop him off at his door. One of the babies needed a feed, the toilet was desperately required, some bananas needed to be purchased, three phonecalls had to be made and parcels had to be picked up and delivered. Just over an hour after departing Sisophon, I was the sole sardine, surroundered by a slick, oily residue of tissues, banana peels, plastic and nappies.

My trip to Chupvary is one of many off the beaten tracks I have taken over the years. The only difference is, this time I have a small reminder of the journey. Vanna wanted to provide me with a permanent reminder of our seven hour bus ride, and tucked inside my bag is a photograph of him outside a miniature replica of Phnom Penh´s Grand Palace. Together with a nice shiner from the gear stick jammed into my leg, the photo lays testimony to a journey well worth making. Food, entertainment, people, hilarity, kindness: I don´t mind having that kind of residue sticking around for a while to come.

The landscape on this trip is not so much the palaces, the temples, the wats or the countryside. Instead, it is an emotional landscape that has taken me on my own journey of reflection, appreciation, sadness, pride and joy. I have come to appreciate how, no matter how bad things can get in one´s life, that as human beings, we are strong. We can survive. And there will be opportunities presented to us that we can grab with both hands and create change in our lives.

Anyone who knows me, knows that I embrace life, and understands that I certainly don´t intend on living an idle life. There is too much to learn. Too much to experience. Life is a whole, it is a privilege and it provides us with a unique opportunity to find purpose.

I certainly haven´t always been like this. Infact, quite the opposite. However, I have travelled through a transition period and feel I am finally coming out the other side. I have been thinking about how I have changed, and I believe it is simply that I have taken responsibility for my life. The biggest opponent I have faced in the past has certainly been myself, but I now feel that I am no longer taking the corner option, but going into the ring with the fists ready to fight and to embrace whatever punches are thrown.

To others, I probably have an irrational level of optimism. I lack ordinary resentments and regrets – they waste too much time. There is no point in thinking that change cannot occur, for even in worst case scenarios – there is hope. Even here, in the depths of no hope, there is potential, there are gloves. I have seen it in the slums, the brothels, the communes.

Take Salin. At 19, she is the head of her family supporting her grandmother and four brothers – 19, 14, 12 and 5. Both of her parents have died with Aids, leaving Salin with the responsibilities of income earner, cook, educator, gardener and head of her family. I first met Salin when visiting Chupvary, a remote village in north-west Cambodia. She has been embraced by the Hope Project and provided with an opportunity to learn sewing skills and be a part of a project providing uniforms to a number of schools in Phnom Penh. After a full day sewing, Salin heads home to prepare the dinner, work in the garden and care for her brothers and grandmother. Prior to being involved with the Hope Project, there was little hope and no opportunity for Salin. But now there are smiles. This is not about pity. This is about positive change and the provision of opportunity.

Salin´s story is not unique. Everyone here has a story – the Khmer Rouge ensured that the majority of families have a legacy of loss and hardship. But as I walk around this new landscape, I can see the gloves coming out. I can see the hard work, the desire to win and the heads held high when the victory is theirs.

For the organisations providing the gloves, their´s is a continual battle to educate, both foreigners and locals, about choices as much as it is about providing opportunity. A mother will earn more sending out her child to beg or sell books to the tourists than if she learned a new skill and sold the end product. Try and convince a mother to send her child to school and learn how to make handbags herself when double can be made with the child on the streets, all night. But what will happen when the child grows up? No more pity from the foreigners. No more income. And the cycle will begin again.

No mum. This trip hasn´t been enjoyable. But it has been a remarkable journey and I can´t wait to hear about the next bout as I experience a night on the streets speaking with the children and hearing about what they want and how we can help, like Salin, in providing them some gloves so that they can go into their future with their own fists, ready to fight.

As I contemplate going back to a place I love, or perhaps a place I’m purely drawn to for personal reasons (pic from where my Dad was during the war and we visited on last year’s visit… we will remember them), I’m feeling a little excited. But it’s a different excitement from what I normally feel when I head back ‘home’.

I’m going to do some writing. Everyone knows I write, but it is a rare occasion that I have written while on a trip because I focus too much on what everyone else wants to do and not so much on myself. But this time it’s going to be a little different.

I’ve spent so much time in this part of the world, and the path I tread will be one I have done many times. So I’m going to take a little bit of a different focus this time, and calling it the ‘awaken the senses’ tour.

I’m going to focus each day on a different sense, and really absorb what is happening around me. I think most of us are so lucky that we sometimes get a little distracted and miss so much of what goes on around us – me included.

So I’m going to reawaken my senses – sight, sound, taste, touch and smell are going to take on a whole new meaning in crazy Asia. Some of those senses are already being irritated and I can quite honestly do without – durian, fish sauce and that musty urine stench after fresh rain (I know should have stopped there).

So you’ll be hearing about what I see, what I taste, what I hear, what I smell, what I touch - I’ll awaken your senses through culinary flavours, images of the bikes of burden that circle Ben Thanh, the hands of the Sunrise children as they receive the 30kg of gifts I have for them and the sounds of the Delta as it wakens from its slumber in the wee hours of the morning.

Enjoy being awakened. Asia has a way of making one feel alive. I’m just going to try and experience it in a whole new way. What better way than one sense at a time.

Enjoy the journey.