After much umming and ahh-ing, procrastinating, and excuse-making, I’ve given in, and decided to write a blog/ random musings/ stream of thought/ anxious internal monologue about my travels.

Another travel blogger – just what the world needs! Primarily a self-indulgent project, so I don’t forget all the stuff I’ve done (my memory is terrible), with a select few of the millions of photographs I take, it’s going to focus on the things I’m up to currently, as well as looking back at some of the previous adventures I’ve been on.

So, a little bit about me…

I’m Bryony, 26, from Essex (although I’m there as infrequently as possible), and recently left my lovely job in marketing to travel the world.


I love the usual stuff… food, fitness, music, photography, my dog, Barney etc. etc. etc. and am a bit of a social media obsessive (yes, you will find me instagramming my #breakfast, and taking selfies anywhere and everywhere – sorry).

I’ve always enjoyed travelling – I’ve found it difficult to stay in the same place pretty much my entire life. We moved around a lot when I was growing up, and needing to go somewhere new, moving on, the ‘itchy feet’, has kind of stuck with me.

As a family, we went on camping trips around Europe, did the whole Disneyland Paris thing, and spent summers in Devon. It was awesome. But it was at the age of 15, when we went on holiday to Egypt – a Nile cruise between Luxor and Aswan – that I had my first proper experience of being somewhere completely different. I remember waking up on our river boat, opening the curtains to the Nile, to desert and temples. I remember the markets; hectic, oppressive, scary – everyone trying to usher us into their shop to buy ‘the strongest alabaster’ statues, locking the doors once you were in, men offering to buy me and my mum for various quantities of camels, learning how to say ‘thank you’ in Arabic and thinking I was now some sort of Egyptian goddess. I remember nearly fainting from heat exhaustion outside the Mortuary Temple of Hatshepsut, watching a whirling dervish, coming back to various incredible towel sculptures (crocodiles, swans, a sitting man – traumatised for life), riding a camel called Michael Jackson through a tiny village, visiting Abu Simbel and the Valley of the Kings, and knowing it was something really, really special, but also, just really, really wanting a cold drink and a sit down in an air-conditioned room.

I think, if I were to be romantic about it, that trip would have been the start of my desire to travel. It probably was.

These days, I travel alone, pretty much always. I like the freedom travelling solo gives, although, I’ve learnt pretty swiftly that it does bring with it a whole load of other stresses, as this blog will, I’m sure, cover.

Well, considering I was reluctant to start blogging, I’ve wittered on long enough. I’m going to go and smother myself in insect repellent, stick some after-sun on my ears, and plan my next post (it’ll be shorter, I promise).




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