For ever and for ever when I move

I met Hannah Sutton at a hostel on the Isle of Skye, Scotland, in early March. I was charmed by her sweet personality and her depth of traveling experiences, and managed to snag her for a quick interview the morning before she flew out of London. At twenty-one, this Australian chica has been on the road since October, 2011, starting in Indonesia, and has no prospects of stopping anytime soon: read on to hear her perspectives on hitchhiking, solo travel, and general travel anecdotes.

A: “Where have you been so far on your travels?”

H: “The rough path is this: Indonesia- India- Nepal- Thailand- Cambodia- Thailand- Myanmar- Malaysia- Japan- South Korea-Hong Kong- China- Mongolia- China- Krygyzstan- Kazakhstan- Russia- Georgia- Turkey- Bulgaria- Serbia- Hungary- Austria- Czech Republic-Germany- Netherlands- Germany- England- Wales- France- Switzerland- Italy- Austria- Czech Republic- Poland- Germany- Netherlands- England- Scotland- England- South Africa. After Hong Kong and before South Africa, everything was traveling overland.”

A: “That’s quite a list! Tell me a little about Myanmar/Burma.”

H: “It was my first taste in solo travel; I met so many people. It was a difficult country to travel at times, but really rewarding. The people are the best part. They’re so genuine and nice. I left my wallet on the table on day–the thing about Myanmar is that they don’t have any ATMS, so all the money you want you have to carry it all with you. The currency exchange rate is just insane and inflation is huge–so I had a huge stack of money in my wallet, probably enough to feed a family for a few good months. I left it on the table in the cafe and I walked out and the man ran after me and gave it back to me with all the money still in it. It was so gorgeous. The people there are so nice.

Another time I was just walking around a lake and this lady, she stopped me and was like, oh, I invite you to dinner at my place. And I was traveling with these three other travelers at the time and the next day we went over to her place and she cooked this huge feast for us and we sat down and started eating it, it was enough food to feed a family for a week.

So they’re very humble and very well educated as well. They have a very good understanding of English, as they used to be a colony, and they’re just really really wonderful people.

But, on my first day in Burma, I was riding the local train around Yangon, which is the main city, and the train suddenly stopped. I walked out to see what had happened, and a guy had jumped in front of the train and committed suicide. It was three days into me traveling solo and I was like WHAT. It was so scary. All the kids were going up and poking the body, and after awhile they just rolled the body off the tracks and kept the train going. It was really amazing to see how they see death all the time, and so it’s not a big thing for them, whereas we’re sort of sheltered from it. It’s a good way to see the difference between our cultures.”

A: “Definitely. In Korea, they have a lot of similarities in that way. The way they talk about death is… commonplace. A lot of my students would say, well, I chose not to commit suicide. There were two paths, one is to commit suicide and one is to not. Whereas in the states, you don’t say anything about it.”

H: “And even if someone has committed suicide, you don’t say that, as well. You try to cover it up as something else. It was the same in India as well, very out there, seeing dead bodies, like the burning ghats in Varanasi.”

A: “And it’s normal, a natural part of life. So, from Burma, where did you go?”

H: “Well, I was talking to my family more, and I hadn’t seen them in a few months time. My parents happened to be in Japan, and I had nothing to do and I had a lot of money saved up so they told me to come over and visit them. So I crashed their romantic get-away, and was third-wheeling and getting free accommodation and free food and stuff, which is really nice. So that was really cool to see them. After everything I’d done, going through India and Nepal and the breakup with my boyfriend, it was really nice to have family around.” Continue reading

“She is like the morn in May
Mild, divine and clever
Like a shiny sommerday
She is mine forever.”

Six days in Iceland is not nearly enough. Two days in Reykjavík, artsy, charming, full of tasteful Viking men in full beards and flannel, many of them pushing baby trams. Vintage thrift stores full of furs and Icelandic sweaters, all fully beyond my price range. Nibbling on bread and yogurt (incredible dairy products! just incredible). Poetry painted on the sidewalks, art painted on the walls. Café by day and bar by night. 

We rented a car, a nicely aged Toyota: the rental was quite cheap, the petrol quite expensive. Three enchanting days driving on the ring road, Route 1 along the southern coast, through misty rainclouds, flooded streets, spots of sunlight on the horizon. Waterfalls spilling over the cliffs, rocky crags shrouding the glaciers behind. Rainbows shadowing clouds on the horizon. Stop alongside the road to take pictures with the Icelandic horses; admire their charming size and friendly dispositions. Face total isolation on the black misty beaches of Vík as dusk settles in, the whole landscape seeming somewhere between heaven and hell; if souls were meant to wander after the body has perished, surely this is where they must come.

In the glacier lagoon float icebergs the color of a melted blue raspberry icee; the wind is bitter and relentless. Warm mud masks in buckets on the edge of the Blue Lagoon, bury the feet in mud on the bottom of the pool, relax. Black lava landscapes, pebbles and sand, flattened volcano tops on the drive north to the coast. An unexpected invitation to a party, always say yes. Small chunks of shark meat that reek of piss, salted seaweed, mussels, sea anemones, scallops fresh out of the shell; salad, potatoes, meat carved off the carcass of a lamb, dancing and poetry and music.

Leave with reluctance and promise to return.

An Icelandic poem must be clever, written with humor and poignant intention:

“Sleep Lóu bird, long and slender
The lights nearby are dying.
There will be quiet on the sea
In the lakes and the woods are silence.”