Heather Hapeta lives in Aotearoa-New Zealand: real travel, real adventures, real stories, real photos. Recent destinations Vietnam, Cambodia, Taiwan and Hong Kong – now NZ destinations due to COVID travel restrictions
Waterproof and dust proof bags are often essential
How to run away from home & reinvent yourself by travelling: a personal recipe
Start as a child with a love of reading. For me, this involved hiding under the blankets reading of far-away places that created a desire for travel: I was Anne Frank in her Amsterdam attic; and, I was Heidi on the mountains of Switzerland: I was the hero between the covers of every book!
Add listening to far away, static-crackling voices in languages I didn’t understand on my brother’s crystal radio, and dream of exploring those lives! An idea, the yeast of a dream, began bubbling below the surface of my conciseness. The first, most basic ingredients for my developing recipe were lined up on the kitchen bench of my mind.
Cover and leave that bowl of imagination to infiltrate through life’s ups and downs, keep reading, keep dreaming until life and circumstances add more ingredients. These extra components are where your individuality, situation, and conditions, add to the recipe and finally, the end result! (NOTE: Unlike many recipes, this one is totally tailored to your individual circumstances.)
My extra ingredients included: the deaths of my 20-year old son and my 35yr old husband, recovery from alcoholism, and, after too many birthdays, I still didn’t know what I wanted to be when I grew up!
Perhaps I could play catch-up with the traditional Kiwi penchant for travel. That germ of an idea, like all living things, divides and multiplies as it sits on the sometimes-messy kitchen bench of my mind.
Now, add more ingredients so you too can reinvent yourself – mine were:
Travel solo
Travel for a year
Make no plans or bookings, just travel
On returning, after a year, I added:
Two years of work & saving
A short writing course
Have an article about canoeing down the Zambesi published
Sell more travel stories; add those dollars to my travel fund
Buy another international airline ticket
Travel for another year in different countries
Publish a book about your travels
The print version was published in 2007 – avail as an e-book on Amazon
This recipe is never finished yet you can cook it, eat it, and share it daily. The flavours and textures change frequently – depending on if you have used the high heat of Thailand or the coolness of a northern hemisphere winter, and, of course, your choice of spices.
So, if you too want to run away from home or reinvent yourself, pick your ingredients from the lists above, add your own, use your imagination, mix well, and as ‘they’ whoever they are, say, “the world’s your oyster.”
Even I thought it seemed a little silly, when I replied ,’Because I like the name.’ Zimbabwe sounded exotic and I just wanted to go.
Now I’ve arrived in Africa and I’m ready for my big adventure: a canoe safari down the Zambesi River.
Standing on the banks of the calm looking river, I am beginning to get scared. Watching us is the biggest, meanest looking crocodile I have ever seen. Lying in the sun, he seems to be inspecting us. I watch him and he watches me as I listen to our guide’s safety instructions.
“Keep looking for hippos, usually you will just see their little ears sticking out of the water, and every few minutes I want to you give a little knock on the canoe so they can hear us coming. If you don’t and we frighten them they are likely to charge our canoes as they try to get into deeper water to hide.” he said.
I’m really getting scared now – last night I’d read that hippos kill more people in Africa than any other animal – but it’s too late to change my mind.
Our canoes are laden with tents, food and water: enough for four days. We paddle away from the security of the Mana Pools National Park – our destination, a wee village just before the Mozambique border.
the author sets off on her adventure
We paddle down-stream and, once the crocodile is out of sight, the safari is as wonderful as I had imagined. The sun is warm and all around me I can see the sacred white ibis balancing on the back of cape buffalo, iridescent dragonflies hover about, I can hear noisy baboons, and the sky has many fish eagles, Goliath herons and beautiful white-fronted bee-eaters. Magic. Just like a storybook.
“Hippo!” The guide and I paddle as fast as we can. It is coming directly towards us. We just miss colliding with each other!
“Close your mouth. Danger’s over,” I tell myself. I have a swig of water to get some moisture back into my dry mouth.
“Whew that was close!’ Adrenaline is surging through my body. I try to breathe evenly and calm my heart. “That was a lessor spotted hippo” laughs Chobe our guide.
True, we had spotted it at the last possible moment and I’m not sure who was the most scared: hippo, guide or me! In seconds Chobe had changed from a laid back, softly spoken Zimbabwean, to a fast paddling man who was sure both he and I were about to be killed by a hippo. The front of the canoe almost rose in the air as we both paddled deeply and strongly.
Perhaps it is true the hippo was just scared but I’d like to know why a vegetarian has such big teeth and powerful jaws if it only eats grass.”
Read more in ‘Naked in Budapest: travels with a passionate nomad’ by Heather Hapeta. Available as an ebook on Amazon etc.
Over the past few days I’ve listened to Elvis singing, sat through rhythm and blues on Beale Street and now the musical theme continues in New Orléans.
Arriving in the dark at the usual grotty bus-depot, I agree to an offer of a taxi. The driver, carrying my pack, walks out the doors to his cab where an argument immediately starts. A tough-looking, rotund man is trying to grab my pack from driver number one; it seems my driver has jumped the queue. This second driver is insisting I go with him, his taxi is in the front of the queue and the young man looks at me and shrugs his shoulders: it seems I get to go with the bully. Reluctantly I get in the cab – it’s dirty, smelly and the upholstery is ripped – I feel a little unsafe.
We speed though dark streets and, after a few turns, when I’ve totally lost my sense of direction, I begin to worry: seriously worry. Finally, one more turn and we’re in a well-lit street where he pulls up at the hostel.
‘Don’t go walking around here at night lady – it can be dangerous’ he tells me.
In the morning, the hostel is buzzing. I’ve slept through a murder.
Not long after I’d arrived, a young man – a local – was shot three times and died on the hostel doorstep. A drug-deal gone wrong is the common consensus but drug deal or not, I’ll try to look like a local: my camera and bag left behind, my money tucked into a pocket.
Sometimes things, and taxi drivers, are not as I, fearfully, imagine. If you want to travel alone this is a great how-to book.
Print version was published in 2007 – also as an ebook on Amazon (kindle, kobo, android, etc)
Start as a child with a love of reading. For me this involved hiding under the blankets reading of far-away places that created a desire for travel: I was Anne Frank in her Amsterdam attic; and, I was Heidi on the mountains of Switzerland: I was the hero between the covers of every book!
Add listening to far away, static-crackling voices in languages I didn’t understand on my brother’s crystal radio, and dream of exploring those lives! An idea, the yeast of a dream, began bubbling below the surface of my conciseness. The first, most basic ingredients for my developing recipe are then lined up on the kitchen bench of my mind.
Cover and leave that bowl of imagination to infiltrate through life’s ups and downs, keep reading, keep dreaming until life and circumstances add more ingredients. These extra components are where your individuality, situation, and conditions, add to the recipe and finally, the result! (NOTE: Unlike many recipes, this one is totally tailored to your circumstances.)
My extra ingredients included: the deaths of my 20-year old son and my 35-yr old husband, recovery from alcoholism, and, after what seemed like too many birthdays, I still didn’t know what I wanted to be when I grew up.
Perhaps I could play catch-up with the traditional Kiwi penchant for travel. That germ of an idea, like all living things, divides and multiplies as it sits on the sometimes-messy kitchen bench of my mind.
Just some of my travel pics!
the author in Haridwar
Heather – the kiwiwtravelwriter
first bite
The kiwi travel writer enjoys Fiji cruising
Happy Thai new year
The kiwitravelwriter, arrives on Talang-Taland Island, Sarwawak, Malaysian Borneo. photo by Gustino from Sarawak Tourism Board, who hotested me)
Yes, that’s me up there!
My face needed this treatment!
Christchurch, NZ
Now, add more ingredients so you too can reinvent yourself – mine were:
Travel solo
Travel for a year
Make no plans or bookings, just travel
On returning, after a year, I added:
Two years work & saving
A short writing course
Have an article about canoeing down the Zambesi published
Sell more travel stories; add those dollars to my travel fund
This recipe is never finished yet you can cook it, eat it, and share it daily. The flavours and textures change frequently – depending if you have used the high heat of Thailand or the coolness of a northern hemisphere winter, and, of course, your choice of spices.
So, if you want to run away from home or reinvent yourself, pick your ingredients from the lists above, add your own, use your imagination, mix well, and as ‘they’ whoever they are, say, “the world’s your oyster.”
How do you travel? With a partner? Friends? On a tour? Alone? Solo?
I’m a passionate nomad, a solo traveler: I love to travel alone for many reasons. High on the list is the freedom to decide when, where, and how I will travel – that I can satisfy my wanderlust pretty – selfish huh!
Being alone also means I suffer 100% of the pain BUT get 100% of the pleasure too 🙂
Trucks & rough roads sometimes means breakdowns – I was on the back of this truck when the axle broke in the Cambodian jungle!
Of course there are downsides to being alone; it often costs more for accommodation and you will always have to make all your travel decisions, always read the map alone, and always be totally responsible for your own actions! This can be tiring, however, I also can always stop to eat where and when and what I want. The augments – or heated discussions I have overheard on this simple topic are amazing in their length, ferocity and frequency!
Being alone means sometimes I have been afraid but that’s rare. One fear I still have is my strange combination of fear and excitement when I move from one place to another, more noticeable when I go from village to city, or when I cross a country border.
I vividly recall the pervading feeling of unease I had when going directly from a months peaceful stay on an Malaysian island (a marine reserve with no roads or power) to a busy city in Thailand. Within hours of my arrival I had bought myself a No Fear T-shirt to bolster my courage; “Don’t Just Break Limits, Shatter Them” it told me. With that yellow shirt and its message on my back I felt more ready to cope with the changes from snorkeling in warm water and few people around to the crush of many people, a new language and the seediness that usually goes with prostitution.
Being alone also means there are no safety nets as I walk the tightrope of solo-travel. However being alone does not mean being lonely.
On my recent travels, in Borneo for 8 weeks, I occasionally felt sad I was not with a group when I saw locals sharing their meals – sharing lots of bowls of food while I had just one or two plates on my solo table. So not that I wanted to be with others but I did want to taste all those yummy Malaysian dishes!
When alone I am approached by locals more than when I’m spending time with another traveler. It seems that I am less threatening alone, I am not talking to someone and so am not being interrupted by the local person – who often are really keen to practice their English or just talk to someone with a different background. So I believe I can meet more people on my own, have direct contact with those who live in the country, so I needn’t be lonely
As I travel without reservations or plans I also often need to approach locals for information in a way that is not required by tourists who have had their bookings all arranged before they leave home, or have a traveling partner to talk plans with. It is also a great ploy to get to talk to women who are often in the background, sometimes almost invisible in many places.
Even when I ask a couple for information it is to the woman who I address my query. Although often it is the man who replies ( often the woman have limited English) but I have made myself more acceptable and non threatening, less inappropriate, in their cultural eyes anyway.
These little interactions with locals also gives me a different perspective on the country than when I sit and talk with another traveler over a Turkish coffee, a Malaysian long tea or a Thai curry. Conversations with other travellers are useful, fun and interesting too, but better kept for evenings at the hostel, tent or hotel I’m staying in.
If, when travelling alone, you feel lonely one can always join someone for a an hour or a few days. Once I joined a group of ten in a truck to travel in Botswana and Namibia, not because I was lonely but for convenience. Although I got to fabulous places and saw great sights, I didn’t get to have interactions with the very people I came to meet. A big group is too intimidating for most people to approach, and the truck tour convinced me lone wandering is my preferred style.
Finally the other really great travel companion for me is my journal and a good book. they add some silent consistency to life when all else is changing. Constantly.
So what other advantages are there, for me, in living a nomadic lifestyle on foreign roads?
There is no compromise in the experiences I have, I can stay as long or as short as I wish, so the ability to be flexible is a wonderful asset.
I have had to develop skills and strengths that I did not know I wanted, needed or were lacking, and my experiences – both the pain and the pleasure are intense, undiluted by my old thumb-sucking security-blanket of others.
So why am I a solo traveler? Maybe because I feel more of a soul-traveler that way . . . or maybe it’s because I am totally selfish and self-centred and want to clasp the intensity all to myself. And it’s that very intensity that makes me a passionate-lone-nomad.
How do you travel? What are the advantages of your preferred way whether it’s solo, with someone, or a group?
Kiwi Travel Writer talks food, travel, and tips 
