#HeyBackpacker....

#heybackpacker is a trending hashtag on twitter at the mo, circulating the travel tweeps like an STD outbreak in a Peruvian Hostel.

It begs the question, what is a backpacker? Funnily enough, I named this blog that exact question a few moons ago. It was a phrase that my mind boggled over for quite some time. Until I came to the conclusion that I didnt really care what constituted a backpacker, per se, tou-che.

A backpacker has obvious traits. Similarities in character and particular traveling values that set backpackers apart from other "types" of travellers. They proudly refuse to be placed into the 'tourist' bucket.

Yet they struggle with the stereotypes often associated with a backpacker, the pot smoking, song writing, unwashed, tree hugging, unshaven long-haired friends of jesus.

Where in reality, the picture of a painted backpacker is a far cry from these stereotypical labels.

The rise of the Flashpacker has turned heads within the travel industry.

They are now a marketable bunch of travellers that hoteliers and boutique hostels are scrambling like eggs to get their business.

Flashpackers share the same independent spirit of a backpacker, which is to travel the road less traveled in a more independent manner.

They are usually a bit more cashed up and are generally there to get the maximum out of the minimum time frames they have on their travels.

They are a new breed of backpacker, growing by their thousands. But they are not the only offshoot of backpacker, other DNA strands have taken to the road, stamping their unique style upon the paths they walk.

The eco warrior backpacker has emerged from the bushes. Fiesty and righteous and deservedly so, they practice what they preach and are one of the few types of travellers that actually walk the walk after talking the talk.

These are the backpackers who offset their carbon footprint. The type of traveler that turns off the lights as they walk out of an unused dormitory. Its the little things, but as we all know, its the little things that matter....

They are in my opinion a new breed of positivity in the backpacker scene. This type of traveler engages with the wider social and cultural developments that occur around them. They are not one for thinking that someone else, some other day, will pick up the pieces or clean up the mess. They are positive engaging people with positive engaging attitudes towards travel.

Its a refreshing buzz to see this level of consciousness out on the backpacking scene. Travellers who actually give a fuck about the sustainability of the environment that they are lucky enough to experience.

Community driven and globally inspired, these aren't your tree hugging hippie travellers. Rid your perceptions of these misconceptions, Ecopackers possess a huge amount of respect for the social, environmental and cultural aspects of travel. And in turn, they ought to be respected for their effort and contribution to making travel the beautiful thing it is.

so #heybackpacker, check it before you wreck it. Take a leaf from an Ecopackers book.

Leaving on a jet plane...

ive just endured a big boy journey. a 38 hour UK to NZ long haul with a couple of stop overs. the joys of buying cheap seats and flying on xmas day aye?! i never really had another option. but its cool. i like it. i often boast that if i had a good book and my laptop and an endless supply of airline food and beverage, i could fly to nz and back again. people look at me strangely. but thats alright. im alright with being a little strange.

throughout the trip i pondered a few things that annoy me on long haul flights.

the first being airport announcements.

they are often an incoherent dribble in an undetermined language, rattled out over tinny speakers that ruffle my fuzzy airplane head.

ive had the unfortunate pleasure of falling asleep in some muggy equatorial airport and drifting in and out of consciousness like i was fluttering through a dream where my name was being broadcasted across a sea of people in a crowded space.

it wasnt a dream. i missed my flight due to the incoherent smack the attendant was dribbling. the speakers were shit. my name was severely distorted and i was left stranded with $2.50 in my pocket and no ticket out of a hole that i desperately needed to crawl out of. airport announcements, i know your trying to be helpful, but fuck, slow down, speak clearly and upgrade your bloody speakers so that they are audible.

the second thing that grates me are muffled farts escaping down the aisle.

the pockets of mouldy mustard flavoured waft casually linger around the aisles, bouncing off the compressed air compartments with no where to disperse.

come on. i know, in fact we all know, how good it feels to let one slip, in fact, the smell of ones own farty aroma is a pleasurable indulgence,a guilty pleasure, but christ, to gas out a windowless box with innocent fare paying strangers less than 5 cm either side of you.

come onnnn!!! cop on. dont drop it likes it hot. airplane food is rank at the best of time. after its passed through your bowels its even more vial.

say no to flatulence at 30000 feet. its far from flattering and it flounders...

that brings me to airline toilets.

no matter where you go, its usually a bombshell. the tiny cubicles inside the cabins, theres no room to swing a cat and certainly no room to drop a bomb.

theres no escape from an asian airline meal thats just been flushed down the loo at 30,000 feet. they should have neutral odor spray or something.

have you ever had to sit opposite the door of a toilet on a long haul flight? torture. you need a WW11 gas mask with industrial earplugs to stay sane.

and finally, babies on board.

yup. up there with the worst. upon boarding a plane and making my way to my allocated seat, my eyes are cast upon the seats around me, wheres the kids? the inevitable screaming little munchkins that are going to pierce my eardrums for the entirety of the journey. wails and high pitched screeches.

im acutely aware for little babies its a result of eardrums being tested so i concur its tough. but its not just the crying or the babies, its the kids kicking the seat behind me. its the constant bullshit chatter and niggly little arguments they get into with their siblings. its the waking up at 3am to watch the cartoons and talk about them until breakfast is served.

but i made it without loosing my cool. its all part of the parcel. long haul flights on a budget airline. you get what you pay for. fun and games....minus the console on air asia....

This made me laugh...

This made me smile

Will be back on the writing bandwagon pronto....stay tuned....

Been busier than this panda bear.....

Visual treats on a sunny Sunday morning...

Ive been mad busy lately smashing out assignments, assessments and even a couple of dirty 3 hour exams. Got plenty more on the horizon with the next couple of weeks sending me back deep into the books. Good times tho, learning is a beautiful thing. I like watering plants as much as I like feeding my brain.

Needless to say Ive been writing loads, but my blog has been neglected. So on this sunday morning with a pile of work ahead of me, I want to leave you with a few visuals. Sometimes more powerful than words themselves.

The man who rarely spoke, speaks louder than words...

Bit more upbeat, hitchhiking trip around the world...

Walking down portobello road yesterday with my sister, I noticed this, you gota love the bluntness of Banksy. He hits it where it resonates....

And lastly, people are awesome.

The Anticipation of Travel.

Its an itch that scratches red raw. An urge that jolts me from my sleep. A reoccurring nightmare that I want to relive, over and over again.

Life in this city is great. Its vibrant and bustling with almost too much to do and see. If feels like there is a whole world on your doorstep. In reality there is. This is a crazy world, within the world. Its an assault on the senses upon walking out your door in downtown W1 London. But what my senses really crave is a true sensory experience. A real escape to a self-prescribed utopian land that dreams are made of. Whoever said 'We travel not to escape life, but for life not to escape us' couldnt of been more right.

Life escapes the majority of us. We wake up daily and get on with the days proceedings and then we rest our head down again later that night, wrapping it all up and storing it in the memory bank, appropriately labelled 'yesterday'. This process rolls like a tumbleweed across some peoples lives and thunders down the tracks like a snowball in others. We all play this game of life with a different twist. We all escape daily. Its just that the boundaries are different for all of us.

For that Im eternally grateful. My self imposed boundaries on life have been cast wide. I fostered an early desire to travel when I first possessed the means to be able to do so. It wasnt imposed on me, it was a choice. A desire. A relief to a personal itch.

I have travelled extensively. It surpasses anything I have ever done in my life due to the experiences Ive had, the people Ive met and the places Ive seen. I have attempted thus far in my short time on this earth to not let life escape me.

The days pass quicker each year however. I look behind me and see my youth slipping away in the dust that Ive kicked up. Settling over the roads that Ive walked upon, etching the memory of my footprints into history. My history as a human being on this earth.

Im a lucky man. My footprints have been left in some pretty amazing places. But the traveler within me knows that my feet would love to walk again. Theres only so much walking around London one can do.

But its not all melodramatic. Christ, youd think Id been padlocked to a wall for the past year. Ive walked the shores of Spain, France, Ireland and New Zealand and I feel like I havent even put my shoes on. I spose its that undying want for what you cannot have in a way. Cos if i had my way, Id eat peaches every day...

I have worn the dust of many foreign streets, but to brush it off would surely be a crime.
I have the memories of many foreign adventures, but to forget them, would surely be a sin.
So, breath in the dust, and keep the memories in.

- Rowland Waring-Flood

Walk on...

Carpe Diem

Flashpacking at a music festival...

Boasting & roasting the accolades for the 'Best UK festival for 2010', understandably there were high expectations for Bestival 2011 and suffice to say, they were all met.

Apart from maybe the blue sunny skies, but hey, where are we again....yup, the Poo-K.

Last year, 55000 people set the Guinness World Record for the most people dressed at any one event.

This year, there were easily over 50,000 people and Saturday was reserved for the best dressed with all the beasts coming out of the bushes in their Sunday best.

There were countless highlights, but musically I would have to bow down to the legendary set played by DJ Shadow in the big tent, kudos to Chromeo for some old school quality.

Magnetic Man pumped out a fizzer and a comical Village People set were but some of the highlights.

Gutted I missed Primal Scream but thems the breaks at a festy loaded with numerous stages, tents and many many musical gods.

Our crew were all classically dressed in all sorts of outfits, until the heavens opened and the jackets came out sending us running for our.....wait for it.... "Boutique Camping zone"...

Yeah yeah I know, cringe cringe, whats that about. But this was a plan well-planned and as for the execution, well, it was kinda messy, but executed nonetheless....

The Octopad, was a saving sanctuary only 5min from the main stage, with its own block of clean toilets, warm showers and food stalls.

All of these amenities were seriously milked over the course of 4 nights, with 2 of those nights experiencing really shitty weather.

The Octopad (on the right) came with 4 beds and mattresses, wooden floors with carpet and electricity. Ha. Loose.

This was definitely Glamping at its best. 'Glamourous Camping.' An extension of Flashpacking ideals, this is camping with all the bells and whistles.

Now I realise I am getting older and with it comes concessions. I passed my 31st birthday whilst out 'Glamping' at Bestival. Whether the two are interconnected is something I will ponder over the days that will unfold before me.

I suppose I will just have to wait to see if my next travel adventure involves touches of Flashpacking. Only then will I succumb to the fact that things are seriously changing in my life hahaaaaaaa....

But until then, its good to try new things. Mix it up. Take an Octopad over a wet pup-tent.

Take a poo on a clean seat.

Choose life.

Choose a job.

Choose a career.

Choose a family.

Choose a fucking big television.

Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players, and electrical tin can openers.

Choose good health, low cholesterol and dental insurance.

Choose fixed-interest mortgage repayments.

Choose a starter home.

Choose your friends.

Choose leisure wear and matching luggage.

Choose a three piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics.

Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning.

Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth.

Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pissing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked-up brats you have spawned to replace yourself.

Choose your future.

Choose life . . .