Author

Jayne Webb

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The biggest problem with going abroad to do voluntary work in a sunny climate, is that your family back home are convinced that you are staying in a 5 star hotel and lying on a palm fringed beach. I realised long ago that they much prefer an ‘action’ photo on the family WhatsApp group than anything that looks like I might be enjoying myself. Sweat and dog poop are good, sunsets and cocktails are not.. This week I had some real excitement to share. The rescue centre got a call to say that a litter of puppies and mother had been found in the jungle. 5 of us headed off in a truck to try to locate the dogs. After about an hour of searching, whilst being bitten to hell and trying to avoid the snakes, we found the cutest litter of 10 tiny puppies but no mother. One of…

Well here I am in Hua Hin in Southern Thailand and 6668 miles away from rainy Surrey. My journey here was long, 23 hours long… It would have been 2 hours shorter,  but 3 passengers in Dubai helpfully checked their bags in but got so caught up in the amazing array of bargains in Duty Free, that they failed to make it to the Departure gate. Hence three suitcases had to be located amongst the 400 onboard and offloaded. I was pleased the latecomers weren’t allowed on the plane as I had decided that I was going to assault them with the only weapon I had onboard; a handbag sized hairbrush, as they walked down the aisle. By the time I finally arrived here I was so tired that I was delusional, and had no idea of what day or time it was. I just knew it was hot, steaming…

When I started writing my travel blog 5 years ago I proudly called it ‘How Not to Have a Midlife Crisis’.  To be honest I thought it was a pretty good title.  However now, at the age of 59, I think describing myself as in ‘midlife ‘ is wishful thinking.   I  have therefore  re- named it ‘How Not To Have a Prolonged Midlife Crisis.’  My menopausal hot flushes may have subsided, thank God,  but my desire to head off and see the world has not. My backpack is stuffed with everything under the sun, from mosquito nets to toe nail clippers and tomorrow I am heading off, courtesy of Emirates to Thailand.  I am going to work in a dog shelter there which houses 1200 dogs before travelling to Cambodia to teach English to Buddhist monks – that should be interesting!  My final destination is a small island off…

There are times this week when I would have preferred major dental surgery to my intensive ski course in Verbier. Not least of all on the first morning of the course. 28 ‘Super Skiers,’ plus me, lined up at the top of a steep run and we had to ski down, one by one, to be assessed by the 6 instructors standing at the bottom. This was probably one of the most humiliating experiences of my life. 28 skiers descended with perfect parallel turns, then it was my go… I zig zagged and slid down the slope like Bambi on skis and decided to make up for my ineptitude with a perfect stop in front of the line of instructors. Sadly I misjudged the timing of the critical last turn and collided with 2 unamused members of staff. This was not a great start to my week and, unsurprisingly, I was put…

As a further consolation for having to curtail my ‘Big Central American’ adventure this year, I booked onto an intensive ski course in Switzerland. Considering the amount of times I have been skiing in the past, I should be a contender for the British Ski Team, but, sadly, I am still absolutely terrible. Whilst skiing in March, Husband got infuriated with me whimpering at the top of a blue run, so I decided to ‘Go for it’ as instructed. This resulted in me sustaining two broken ribs. I continued skiing (badly) for the rest of the week, but was unable to cough or laugh for a further six weeks. I see this ski course as my last attempt to improve, before I hang up my ski poles and just concentrate on drinking cappuccinos in Alpine cafes, whilst everyone else hurls themselves off mountains. My journey here yesterday was pretty challenging.…

So, I survived my intense Spanish course and intensive it was. I am now pretty confident at ordering an Uber and a Cappuccino in Spanish, but not much else. I did, however, make  some lovely friends. I tagged along with a group of ladies from Denmark, Switzerland, Sweden and Germany. They very kindly spoke in perfect English to me for the whole two weeks. Unfortunately, they all moaned at the end that their English had improved a lot more than their Spanish. Well, at least I provided a language service and helped post Brexit international relations. The one thing I really don’t understand is the Spanish obsession with tapas. To me, it is a very poor excuse for a meal. One evening  a crowd of us went to a tapas restaurant and were presented with plate after plate of miniature appetisers. I realised quickly that if you don’t like cheese…

Well, I must say Malaga has way exceeded my very low expectations of this city. I always thought it was a tatty place where Brits landed before heading off along the Costa del Sol to drink pints whilst wearing overly tight shorts with their bellies hanging out, and that was just the women… It is actually a beautiful ancient city of culture. It was the birthplace of Picasso and Flamenco dancing. The cathedral is a stunning vision of stained glass and carved masonry, with an interior so awe inspiring that I nearly converted to Catholicism for a few seconds. There is no wonder so many British people retire here. Even in November it is a glorious 25 degrees and the narrow streets are filled with al fresco dining and trendy cafes. I must not forget though that the reason I came here was to learn Spanish, which I do for…