You’re taking the kids?

This was a common question when we announced to family and friends that we were going around the world for a year. “We can’t go without them.” was our usual reply. “What about school?”, they said. The more enlightened said simply, “What an education!”

We only told people once we’d made the decision ourselves. There was no turning back. Just the simple matter of planning remained.

Using the Internet, we organised the backbone of a sixteen-country tour over nine months, the first eight being in Europe, under canvas, on campsites of varying quality. We packed a lot into that time, covering over 8000 kilometres.

The real adventure began when we flew to Beijing. Expecting culture-shock, we found a surprisingly modern yet historic place, spoilt only by thick smog. The people were friendly and loved the kids, as did the Japanese in Tokyo where we stayed in a Ryokan - a traditional-style home where you sleep on futons and wear slippers and gowns. We were made very welcome.

After a hectic stopover in Hong Kong, we rested with friends in Bangkok for a while, before moving to Kanchanaburi, site of the infamous Bridge over the River Kwai. Phuket in monsoon season proved a mistake for us though, as there wasn’t enough to occupy the kids, so we cancelled our Vietnam stage and headed for Australia, where a more familiar culture would lift our spirits.

Oz was a breeze. The people are so laid-back, friendly and helpful. And the country is beautiful. Our kids had the best time here, with endless stunning beaches and their first snorkelling experience on the Great Barrier Reef. We settled in and felt like we lived there. We were miffed when the taxi driver, who took us to catch our flight to New Zealand, asked if we’d enjoyed our ‘holiday’.

For the first time in months, we had to wear warm clothes in Christchurch, and it was approaching summer. We hired a motorhome to tour the South Island - the only way to see it in three weeks. ‘Stunning’ is the best way to describe a place the locals understandably call ‘Godzone’.

The first accommodation we’d booked, twelve months before, was for Christmas and New Year in the Bay of Islands in New Zealand’s North Island. The house-owner had put up a tree and some lights in the window, and family and friends sent us cards and parcels to open, making it a real home-from-home. We spent Christmas Day on a Dolphin cruise in the bay.

Sadly we were now in the ‘home-straight’ of our trip. Money was tight and we only had a few more weeks to go. We chilled for a week in Fiji and wished we had more money to spend in Honolulu, before touring California for three weeks in a Winnebago. Las Vegas provided a fitting end to what had been a fantasy trip for us all, but we prepared ourselves for the UK climate, by visiting friends in frozen Chicago .

The weirdest experience of all was the last. After landing in new countries for what seemed like forever, our last flight took us back to Manchester, and home.

We were happy to see everyone, but the experience has changed us. We are left with a lifetime of memories packed into nine short months.

We feel ‘displaced’ somehow, like we don’t belong anywhere. Perhaps we don’t. Can a traveller ever feel truly settled in one place?

But I’d highly recommend the experience. And to those who think it’s impossible for them, I would say that the hardest thing to do is make the decision. The rest is an incredible journey.