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Traveling has always been a big part in my life, and I have never lived in one place for more than four years at a time. I was born on Christmas day 1967 in Copenhagen, and being a diplomat’s daughter, my childhood was shuffled between Denmark, Ireland, Japan and Germany. We moved to Germany when I was 8 where I attended a German school in Bonn. Though I picked up the language fairly quickly, and made some good friends, I was never allowed to forget that I was an outsider. It’s not easy to be an outsider when you’re young. My older sister, Emer, who was twelve at the time, went to a boarding school in Ireland. She would come home during the holidays, telling me all about the fun she was having back in Ireland. So when I turned twelve, I pleaded to be allowed go to boarding school. After four years in Germany, it was great to be back in Ireland where I felt equal to my peers once again. I completed my second level education at home, before attending art school in 1986.
After college, I spent an enjoyable and carefree summer in London with a group of friends. As the summer drew to a close, I was not ready to go home. I decided to take myself off to a Kibbutz in Israel. Why I chose Israel, I don’t know, but I did -a decision I would later regret. It wasn’t long before I realised that Kibbutz life was not for me, and after a few weeks, headed south to the resort of Eilat on the Red Sea. I fell in with a crowd and started seeing a guy who, as I was to discover, had quite a shady past. Back home, I doubt I would ever have gone out with him, but here, I felt somewhat removed from the ‘real’ world, and did things that were uncharacteristic of me. We moved into a converted ice cream van for a bit, before heading to Greece and then eventually home.
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Our two weeks of luxury were almost at an end. ”Where will we go next?” Garry asked. I wasn’t quite ready to venture into the “real India” just yet, still enjoying the relaxed pace of life where we were. ”Let’s stay in Goa for another little while,” I suggested. Having to find other accommodation was not easy. Being the high season, nearly everywhere was full. Finally, we came across a place right on the beach. ”Let’s check it out. It’s only 50p a night,” Garry said. We weren’t expecting luxury, and certainly did not get it. But it was very cheap. At this stage, we still weren’t sure what to expect from accommodation. In fact, as we traveled around, we were to learn that a lot of hotels are very cheap and of good standard. But we weren’t too fussy at this stage. It was only for a few days. Once we had checked in, I decided to go to the beach on my own and relax. No sooner had I settled down than I heard a group of women, standing right beside me, talking amongst themselves. ”Excuse me, Madam” I looked up. ” Please, would it be possible to get a photograph of us with you?” They had already lined someone up to take the shot. ”Sure, why not.” I noticed another group of people approaching me. I obliged once more. Then, they started appearing from all angles. Eventually, after about the fifth photo had been taken, I had to call a halt. I had come down here to relax! Just about to settle back down and read my book, I spotted a bull, just a few feet away, eyeing me menacingly. He slowly started making his way towards me. I decided to retreat back into the little beach hut, where Garry was sitting. “Getting too much, was it?” he laughed.
Finally ready for our venture into “real India,” we packed up the bike - not an easy task tying three rucksacks to a bike - and started heading south along the coast. The changes were apparent quite soon after we crossed the state border into Karnataka. Bad enough as the roads were in Goa, they deteriorated rapidly as we moved into this less developed region. Our speed dropped down considerably to allow for the hidden danger of potholes. Groups of women sat at the roadside with tiny little chisels, chipping rocks. Given the heat of the blistering sun, this must have been torturous work for them. They would, no doubt, do this from sunrise to sunset. Karnataka doesn’t see many tourists, and our pale faces caused a stir. Stopping in small villages for a rest and a drink, we found ourselves the centre of attention, attracting people from all around. People would stop going about their daily business just to stand and get a look. Nothing threatening, just a deep curiosity.
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