This is a travel blog. Yes, I know, so unoriginal. Seems like anyone that goes anywhere these days indulges in the travel blog. They whip out their laptops, snap a photo of their passport and DSLR camera arranged strategically and start inundating unsuspecting family and friends with self involved Eat, Pray, Love style musings.
I can’t guarantee I won’t do any of the above on this blog. I know I’ve committed the passport/plane ticket/camera photo crime in the past. I’ve also made friends and family sit through seemingly endless photo slideshows of blurry monkeys and wonky horizon landscapes.
Just trying to name your blog exposes the gritty world of abandoned blogs. I had so many ideas, all of which (including this one) had already been taken. Mostly by travel blogs. With poor readers left hanging out for their next fix of Mary & Tina’s South American Adventures circa 2011 after their last post on week four of their three month trip. It’s slightly depressing. Or rather, I found it slightly depressing. Hopefully Mary & Tina were having such a great time they forgot about blogging.
I can’t know the motivations of all the other travel bloggers out there. There are some very successful ones. Ones that make travel blogging their business. I’m the faux try hard variety in comparison. In truth, this blog is all about me, it’s for me. I don’t care if no one reads it.
I’ve realised lately that I have a crappy memory. Very few moments of the travels I have done in the past are automatically available for my brain to retrieve and relive. I need a cue, something that brings the moment back. It’s like my memory is all these tangled balls of string, all jumbled up together and I can’t find the end to tug on to follow my way to the other end.
I know that I am lucky, I’m heading on what might be a once in a lifetime adventure. A four and a half months (the half is important) holiday. Some people don’t even get to do this once. So I’m already winning! I’m hoping I manage to keep this blog going for the duration. In doing so, I hope it can become a series of brightly coloured, sparkly string ends. So that later, when I’m home again, they are right there to tug on.