Eleven years of solo travel. 35+ countries, 20+ Indian states, three weeks per place, overland wherever a border allows it. No hidden gems lists here. Ask me something instead.

The biggest creator rates you see quoted usually come from people selling a course on how to earn them. The rate is the advertisement. The course is the business.

Satpura is the only tiger reserve in India where you’re allowed to walk. On foot, with a naturalist, in a forest with tigers in it. Almost nobody covers it, because you can’t film a chase sequence from the ground.

India solves a problem with whatever is in arm’s reach. Germany establishes that a correct tool exists and locates it. I’ve watched a man fix a bus with a rubber slipper. I’ve watched a German hostel refuse to hang a picture without the right bracket. Both worked.

“I’ll be there at 3” in Switzerland means 3. “I’ll be there at 3” in India means the conversation about arriving has begun.

Travelling alone as a woman in India: “but why alone?”, asked with real worry by strangers who then appoint themselves responsible for your safety. In Norway: indifference. You’re a person going somewhere. Eleven years and I still want the option.

A free room is not a deal. It’s how I get to the property at all. What makes it a collaboration is a fee on top of the room. Took eleven years to say that to a brand. First time I did, they said yes.

In Britain the queue is a moral position. In India it’s a loose suggestion that some people are consulting and others clearly aren’t. Eleven years in both and I still can’t tell you which moves faster.

Solo travel means every photograph of you was taken by a stranger under uncertain conditions. Eleven years of evidence.

On the bus from Mui Ne I sat next to Jessica from Amsterdam, who spent twenty minutes furious at how slowly our driver drove. I asked her about Amsterdam instead and we both cheered up. Half of travelling well is changing the subject. Who turned a bad journey around for you?

Rode an hour out of Dalat to see Elephant Falls and found the path to the foot of it shut because of the rain. So I picked my way over the wet rocks to a viewpoint instead, slowly, like someone who has already broken something once. Where have you scrambled you shouldn’t have?

I keep three places. An eleven-year-old travel site that still ranks, a Substack for the longer pieces, and this, for what fits neither. All three are mine, and no algorithm change takes them away. If you write, where does your work actually live?

Walked Kyoto’s Philosopher’s Path after the cherry blossom had finished, when everyone says there’s no point. A canal, bare trees, almost nobody on it. Best hour I had in the city. Where did you turn up in the wrong season and not mind?

Six weeks behind a hostel desk in Bir taught me the guest types. The one who’s been here four months. The one who asks about the Wi-Fi before the room. The one who arrives at 2am and apologises for a week. Which are you?

A resort in the Western Ghats posted that they were looking for creators. I replied, and they paid me to write a full review. Not a reel, a written review on a site that’s eleven years old and will still be sending them readers next year. Resorts: I’m open to more.

Arrived in Dalat at half five on a wet afternoon, straight off the humid coast, digging a wrap out of my bag for the first time in weeks. The hostel fed me dinner on arrival for nothing. I met four people and was asleep by nine. Best welcome you’ve had at a check-in?

Barot, in the Kangra valley, has India’s first hydroelectric dam, built in 1932, and an inclined railway track laid in 1925. You can’t photograph the dam. You can drink kangdi chai beside it, which I did instead. Which place surprised you with its history?

Three nights in tea houses on the Poon Hill trail in February. Sudame, then Ghorepani, then a guest house at Tadapani perched on top of a hill. The blankets did almost nothing against the cold and I’d do it again tomorrow. Coldest night you’ve paid for?

Pirkko is Finnish, Savio is Goan, and over lunch they told me they’d never planned to run a homestay at all. It grew on them. That’s the difference between a place built to rent and a place someone lives in and lets you stay. Best accidental place you’ve stayed?

At Kyichu Dzong in Bhutan, two trainee teachers learning to teach Dzongkha spotted the Dzongkha tattoo on my arm and wanted photos with it. I got it because I loved the script. Theirs was the first proper verdict I’d had. Strangest conversation your tattoo has started?

Drove up to Chele La, one of the highest passes near Paro, and found the view completely swallowed by fog. Not one other tourist up there. A few locals burning firewood to keep warm, prayer flags going sideways. Best view you never got to see?