Bangkok - The Beginning of the End

As the plane crawls to the runway, this is the first time in weeks that I've been able to stop for a moment and really reflect on the changes taking place in my life. Since my last days amongst friends and the emotional uncertainty clouding my goodbyes, I've sprung from the idle security of my Hungarian love nest and packed up my first home to potentially leave London forever. Although the unknown is unnerving and frequent panic attacks distract me from my purpose, I'm undoubtedly excited by the sudden feeling of movement and the relief that my life has seemingly rediscovered some direction. Our enormous Boeing 777 thunders down the runway and nudges me back to the present. You can really feel the weight of the plane and we travel so long down the path that I worry if we'll ever get up.

Twelve hours later I unfold my body and spend another miserable hour at Passport Control wondering how I always manage to pick the slowest queue? Still, my enthusiasm lingers and I step out of the airport to the unfamiliar chaos of Bangkok life. The first thing that strikes me is a flood of warmth, and a smell that sends me hurtling back to my childhood and the carefree holidays spent with my cousins in Singapore. Sweet nostalgia is so wonderfully comforting, and I happily lose myself in it until I'm tidied onto a bus bound for the city. The production assistant sent to greet me wastes no time in proudly declaring that he is in fact from Phuket and supports Newcastle United. He swiftly follows this introduction by asking me what religion I am, and gives nothing away when I tell him that I only go to church once a year to sing carols.

I make it to the hotel in time for my first Bangkok sunset, and after checking in and checkin' out my home for the next few months, I amble into what feels like a music festival only to find that it's actually the much publicised protests. Anyone could be forgiven for this rookie mistake, as the locals peacefully gather in the city centre on blankets with picnics and nationalistic merchandise. The mood is calm and positive as the political speeches are interspersed with performances from pop stars and school bands. The food is insanely good and after a satisfying trawl round the supermarket, I head home to commence battle with jet lag...

Although very fledgling, this experience feels so alien after three years spent filming in my beloved Africa. My emotions stir with the sudden realisation that this is where the closing of an enormous chapter begins. The coming weeks will trickle through an abundance of 'lasts', until there's nothing left but to bid farewell and move into the unknown.

Peaceful protest

Après Ski in Austria

What better way to start 2014, than a bold last minute decision to escape the city and indulge in one last hurrah before knuckling down to the New Year. This January, the post Christmas blues were well and truly blown away by a weekend in the mountains of Obertauern. With only ten days to go before filming begins, and a self imposed ban on dangerous sports, a ski resort may seem like an odd choice. However, with a little imagination and the company of good friends, this Salzburger town offers a remote and magical setting for some inspired R&R.

On arrival, the Austrian weather feels unusually mild. I raise an eyebrow at the ski paraphernalia bursting from the car and wonder if we've been a tad optimistic? The view delivers a lush vignette of middle earth rather than a fairy tale slice of Narnia, but I nestle down happy to be a passenger on the winding upward road to the unknown.

As we leave the city behind and drive further into the mountains, the light begins to fade and snow gradually appears as if bleeding up from the earth. Gingerbread houses are dwarfed in their surroundings and floppy fir trees are weighed down by their snowy burden. This icy design is transforming and after a brief dance with snow chains, we arrive at the chalet hungry for a hearty meal. The mountains feel so restorative and there's something very special about the energy of these giant peaks. A feeling of calm inhabits me and I find myself overwhelmed by the beauty of nature. Here, the night skies are as rich as velvet and the stars tease in a dazzling display. I breathe in the scene hoping that this feeling will last longer than the trip itself.

Obertauern offers everything you would expect from an Austrian getaway.  Amples of snow, robust wooden chalets, cosy restaurants serving weighty fare, excellent ski facilities and of course, the wild and wondrous Après Ski. Having dangerously tobogganed to my first one, I can confirm that non skiers are also welcome to this end of day party. It was here I was introduced to 'hammerschlagen', a seemingly simple game that involves hammering a nail into a piece of wood with the skinny end of a cross peen hammer. Having excelled in my first game, I then went on to lose miserably costing myself humiliation amongst strangers, and an expensive round of hazelnut schnapps.

On reflection, this type of getaway has something of the school trip about it. People are incredibly sociable and whether it's the snow or the activities on offer, it somehow manages to bring out the Peter Pan in even the most serious of visitors. I may not have skied, but a mixed bag of quiet contemplation and snowball ambushes recharged the batteries exactly as I'd hoped. As I recline on my deck chair with a mug of hot chocolate, I drink in the Winter sun and wonder at life's peculiarities. In less than two weeks, I'll be working fourteen hour days in the hot confusion of the Far East, and my lazy, hazy, piste-dreaming days will feel like a distant memory.

A Perfect Farewell

Norway - Hunting the Light

As we descend into Bergen we slice through thick layers of cloud. Rain falls like an icy monsoon and we’re herded onto the ship determined to wave goodbye to a disinterested coastline. Through the porthole, fog suffocates the horizon and mountains gasp for breath. Hundreds of waterfalls cascade into the fjords and I smile as they remind me of thread veins on a thigh. Distracted, I bravely stagger onto deck enticed by fresh air and the stark view. A chirpy announcement warns that a storm named Hilda is on its way, and I scuttle back in for shelter as debris jovially slides across my path. During the night we cross the Arctic Circle, and the ship sails calmly on to Tromso as we feast on fish patties and hot chocolate. Still no sign of the Northern Lights, we arrive disappointed only to be cheered by the yapping and howling of three hundred huskies. The mood is buoyant as our journey ends, and excited cheers punctuate the air as our Captain manages a dramatic three‐point turn in the narrowest of harbours. Whilst I long for dry land and a view that isn’t water, I disembark content to have tried something new.

The view at sea

Beautiful fjords

Budapest - An Artist's Perspective

Budapest is a city full of contradictions,where innovation is born from an elegant yet faded beauty. Time stands still here in the suspicious faces of a generation still marked by Communist rule. Bullet holes ridicule the facades of storybook architecture, and yet the majestic Danube still dominates this city and with its flow comes the current of change. Budapest is far from static, and anyone with a curious and pioneering spirit need only ask, “which way to the rabbit hole?” In the heart of the city is a sub culture nurturing the bravest artists and inspiring critical change. It’s a safe house for new thinkers to ask questions and challenge mediocrity. It’s International, it’s political, it’s experimental, it’s eccentric, and it’s dramatic and fun. What this city offers that is unique particularly to artists, is freedom and support side by side. A place to play without being judged, an ever-changing environment inspired by what has existed for years. With this in mind I believe Budapest is quietly becoming a cultural epicentre. A pit stop for ‘Creatives’ and their fans. Everyone loves an underdog and this town is definitely one to watch.

Chain Bridge

The Hungarian National Gallery

Castle District

Faded Beauty

Peru - Not Just Parrots and Pythons

I didn't know much about South America but my curiosity was awakened by stories of spiritual adventure. I'd always been open to the unconventional and serendipitously, the opportunity to travel to Peru under the guidance of local shaman presented itself.

After three planes, a bus and a boat we found ourselves in the heart of the Amazon where social networking is blissfully unreachable, and jungle chatter the only soundtrack. A plucky parrot named Pedro whose one word vocabulary kept us surprisingly amused, accosted us at the riverbank and reluctantly led the way to our room. 

Built on stilts, the homes are basic but charming and full of chickens and children. Our host was dressed in a grubby oversized polo shirt, but he possessed a richness that transcends any clumsy definition of wealth. Under his tutelage our days were spent studying bygone arts and peacefully fishing for piranha - an oxymoron if ever I heard one. Evenings were reserved for spiritual schooling and star gazing from idyllic boats attended by carnation pink dolphins. This uncomplicated life is joyous and as the time to leave grew closer, I became restless and impatient to face the world with my new found energy.

As the sun came up on a perfect Amazonian morning, we continued our journey into the mountains, pockets jammed with coca leaves. As we zigzagged through rainy farmland, I gazed out the window and was struck by an overwhelming feeling of gratitude. The highlands are so remote that much of the work here has to be done by hand, and to muster a meal it's all hands on deck. From the comfort of the bus I watched as Mother and Father dragged the plough, Grandma pushed deathly hard, while baby lay nestled alone in a recently toiled trough. I blushed as my fifteen-minute commute to Tesco suddenly felt like a gift from the Gods.

With these thoughts heavily lingering, it seemed only a matter of minutes before the snow-capped mountains surrounded us like angelic minders. Here the road dribbles to an end and a brave walk to the summit will earn you a view. The prize is scandalous in its beauty. The air is so clear it sharpens the senses. Colours appear more vivid, the birds seem to be singing only to you, and your most intimate thoughts abandon their disguise and creep into consciousness. This vista serves up drama and in spite of it all, you can't help but feel completely at peace.

I believe that travel inspires the imagination and keeping an open mind can sometimes reward us with unexpected gifts. Although our group was undoubtedly connected by a shared experience, this trip was very much a personal pilgrimage. Living amongst the Shaman and his family I witnessed an honest vignette of Peruvian tradition that left me humbled. I'd naively wished for monumental change but what I came home with was a series of important little lessons.

Sunrise on the Amazon River

Up into the mountains

Local Shaman 

Machu Picchu

One Child Policy - Based on a true life event

The girl clung to her Matchbox car, and with large eyes peered from behind me at the young couple cooing at their treasure; a tiny baby boy. "Would you like to meet your brother?" asked her mother barely more than a child herself. The girl continued to stare, her gaze quite impentetrable. Was it disinterest or was it sadness that I saw flash across her face? "Come," said her father tentatively. He beckoned to her but still she stared, motionless. Then, as if her eyes had finally had their fill, she turned away and walked quietly back into the orphanage.