I don’t know what possesses me

I do occasionally wonder why someone who leads such a safe and risk-free life feels the need to go overboard on holiday. I am not a daring person. I always take a cardigan with me in case it turns chilly and look three times before I cross the road. I don’t lead protest marches or glue myself to the road. I have never broken a bone mainly because I’ve never done anything that might lead to a physical injury. Well, I have skied, but in truth spent far more time drinking glühwein and admiring the view from the top of the mountain than actually hurling myself down it.

And yet when I go away I find myself doing the most outlandish things, things that seem like such a good idea when they’re planned from the comfort of home, but maybe not so great when the time comes. For instance, when we were in Mumbai, I arranged to visit the Dharavi district, India’s largest slum. I had a number of reservations about what could be considered exploitation and poverty tourism, but it’s the Dharavi residents themselves who show you where they live and the money raised goes directly to their neighbourhood. They’re really proud of what they’ve achieved and it’s a highly productive and fascinating community. Photography is definitely not allowed.

Which is fine, but why did I go one step further and arrange to have lunch there? This was the last place we visited on our three-week trip and had both been in remarkably good health up to this point, which can be a challenge in India. When we arrived in Dharavi, we were separated from the other people waiting to visit and assigned our own private guide. We quickly realised it was because no-one else had chosen the lunch option. Perhaps wisely. In fact, it was delicious, although I was a bit concerned about eating the chapatis that I’d seen left out to cool on the street. It all turned out fine, and Italy remains the only place I’ve ever had food poisoning.

Now I’ve arranged a trip to Uganda because I would love to see gorillas in the wild; however, they can only be reached by trekking through the Bwindi Impenetrable Forest. The name alone would put you off and if I’m honest, the trek has never really seemed that appealing a prospect. I love to walk, but actively (or maybe inactively?) dislike hills. However, I’ve convinced myself that it’s only one day of my life and it’ll be worth the effort to see these wonderful creatures in their natural habitat. Henry Livingstone spent years wandering through the jungle, although that didn’t end well, did it?

I just can’t seem to help myself.  Yesterday I booked an overnight stay in a shack in Mississippi. At least it’s not Kentucky…