I was as far away from home as I would ever be, four weeks and 2,000 miles from my house, even though I was standing in front of it. It was just me and the dog and a car full of boards, suits, winter clothing and cameras. I had no accommodation booked and no guidebooks, just some feint knowledge of a wave up there a friend had told me about years ago. Over time the idea of surfing this place had continued to niggle, and now it was time to tick it off the list for good.
I’m not one of those people that constantly needs to be on the move but since my early 20’s I have notched up quite a few trips and the thing that always stands out to me are the cultural differences between countries, not in the obvious way that you see in in-flight magazines, but on a more mundane level. Over time I’ve begun to wonder what tourists coming to our shores from places like India, Saudi Arabia, Mexico or wherever would think of finding themselves queuing in a Londis in the middle of a sprawling new-build Barratt Homes estate somewhere like Peterborough. It would be so ‘normal’ for you and I that we probably wouldn’t even register the occasion but to some people it would be a very alien environment. And so I have this belief that some of the hardest places in the world to penetrate both culturally and geographically can also be some of the most boring.
