Elisabeth Easther retraces her mother's steps in Islands of the Gulf.
HIT
Somewhere along the path of my chequered career, travel writer was added to my CV and, though there is actually quite a bit of work involved, being sent all over the world to explore is the greatest privilege. Considering the adventures I've been on — riding the rails from
Darwin to Adelaide aboard The Ghan, cruising Tahiti's remote Marquesas Islands on the freighter ship Aranui, or savouring the delights of The Eagles Nest in Russell or the opulent Pulitzer Hotel in Amsterdam — travelling with a purpose, usually as a guest, is every bit as amazing as you'd imagine. Even after all these years, when I find myself in the Galapagos Islands or up a remote tributary of the Amazon River or engaging with Aotearoa's infinite charms, I still feel enormously grateful.
And if ever I become blase or jaded, I'll hand over the reins and let someone else have a go.
MISS
Travelling to Vietnam recently, checking in at 6am on New Year's Eve, the woman at the counter asked whether I had my son's current passport.
