The yellow brick road

I’ve got a couple of shabby Lonely Planet travel diaries to my name which I bought many, many years ago when going places was a remote possibility. Since then, I’ve used them haphazardly at best; I’ve never been much good at keeping a journal, travel or otherwise.

I was all fired up in December, when I started a personal blog. But the last entry is dated 27 December, which is little short of abysmal. Whatever cloud I had been under at the time seems to have disappeared.

I do have an acceptable excuse though: I was busy writing a prose piece about Viet Nam – funnily enough, a place I have yet to visit – which I actually managed to get to the University of East Anglia on time (with help from Simon). I’ll find out the judges’ determination about the David T K Wong Fellowship in around 2 months. I’m not particularly hopeful of being awarded it, but even being short-listed would be enormously gratifying.

I’ve just come back from India and during the three weeks I was there, all I managed to send out was an email and write a few scraps about KL on a piece of paper. I’d like to write a lot more than that. Travel fades so quickly from memory that I wanted to capture it in this blog while I could still feel it on my skin. (Quite literally – I’ve still got a couple of mosquito bites to scratch)

Most of my travels have been to places that I will very likely visit again…even Canberra is a place I’ll probably end up in again at some point. If I ever feel nostalgic, I might try and reach into the depths of my memory and piece together my chequered travel experiences…to see how I feel when I visit those places again in the coming years.


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