Cellist Ashley Brown, right, on holiday with his cello "Libby".
Cellist Ashley Brown, right, on holiday with his cello "Libby".
Holidays can teach us many things — about a destination, about other people and about ourselves.
Pack late and fast If I've got a week to pack, it'll take that long. If there's only half an hour, I'll get it done.
Make a list So I can pack everything in the lasthalf hour, and not forget anything.
Forget packing light I travel with Libby, my cello, so the getting-from-A-to-B part means lots of lugging (ah, that's why it's called luggage!). It's no problem. Turnstiles can be a bit tricky but there's usually a guard working the gate who can open up. Putting Libby through airport scanners is usually fine, except Auckland International departures, where inexplicably the guards take Libby to a different machine almost out of sight, holding her upside down and being rougher than she deserves. (Hell's teeth! She paid for a seat, so please treat her like a passenger.)
She was once damaged in the hold despite wearing a carbon fibre travel case, so now she gets a seat — full fare. She sits in the window seat and she's a very well-behaved travel buddy: she doesn't get drunk, or fart, or climb out over me just as I'm getting to sleep.
It's a great way to try new flavours (I'm talking about you, szechuan peppers, stinky tofu and deep fried locusts . . . ), to discover new corners of the place you're visiting ("Let's try this dodgy lane — something smells great"), and meet salt-of-the-earth local folk who will always laugh when you use charades to work out what part of what animal this comes from (yes, it was pig intestine . . . near the very end of the intestine).
Cellist Ashley Brown eating street food in Cambodia.
