“I’m sorry sir, but this road closed. If you want to pass you’ll have to try main road and plead your case” the Thai man explained, seeking refuge from the afternoon sun overhead, as he gestured to the cement slabs scattered across the highway. He was one of 6 people sat beneath a red roadside tent at one of the many checkpoints and blockades recently installed throughout our new island home: Phuket. Their purpose is to control the mobility of people and imminent spread of the novel coronavirus on this destination island recently made unreachable by land, air or sea. We never imagined this would be the tale we would tell about our once-in-a-lifetime honeymoon trip.

Adventure awaits. Pokhara, Nepal one the eve our trek in Annapurna conservancy.

Halong Bay. The Himalayas. The Taj Mahal. Coron & El Nido. A small representation of the many destinations scribbled on our “adventure list” which once sat atop the bookshelf in our South London flat, and grew faster than we could cross places off. As the years went by, destinations were beginning to pile up, so after weeks of deliberation my husband Scott and I decided to embark on a “quit our jobs and put our stuff in storage” trip following our wedding in October last year. We called it the “Mega Moon.” The bare wall that ran the expanse of our flat became the “command centre” (yes, there was such a title blue-tacked at the top) for both our week-long wedding celebration and 5 month expedition touring 9 countries. Somehow, in the midst of planning a destination wedding for 70 guests and near half-year travel itinerary, we were still clocking serious hours at our jobs; myself, the executive sous chef of a Mayfair members club and Scott the manager of travel and concierge for a private jet brokerage. Did I mention I was also training for the London Triathlon?!

The rough outline of our “mega moon” honeymoon adventure beginning January 2020

Evenings and weekends were spent taking over the living room with notebooks, laptops, and magazines planning the trip of all trips (much to the dismay of our flatmate, Joe). Scott’s experience in the travel industry has given him an intimate knowledge of international destinations and how best to explore them. Marry that with my passion for all things food, drink, and culture, and you have an arsenal of maps, spreadsheets and travel guides ready to employ as we step off each of our 28 flights and 9 train journeys in parts unknown. We have both pursued our own early-twenties backpacking adventures where we travelled off the cuff, drank buckets, risked death, and set the bar for what life’s worst hangovers feel like. But this time the organised newlyweds had everything planned well in advance to ensure we maximised each day of our newly homeless and jobless existence. Accommodation and travel were researched and reserved for each of our 155 days abroad and booking references, flight numbers and contact details were diligently recorded into a calendar that would become our lifeline.

Hand-rolled cigarettes and buckets: Khao San Bangkok in November 2011

Reverse backflip off a Junk boat in Halong Bay. February 2012

October the 10th we were married on a Thursday afternoon in the garden of my favourite place on earth; Le Petit Hopital in l’Isle sur la Sorgue, France. It was a week of sunshine, gentle breezes, relaxation, way too much wine, laughs, and love. I doubt there was a moment where there wasn’t a wooden board of cheeses and cured meats being consumed with olives and crusty baguette. Meanwhile in London most of our belongings had already been moved to a storage unit on the outskirts of town in preparation for the severance of ties we would make from our lives in the city. We’d since given notice at our jobs and vacated our 2 bedroom garden flat to rent a room with a friend. The reality of our decision to pack up and go traveling at the age of 33 was beginning to set in, inviting fear and excitement to take turns daily fighting for their place in our stomachs. Christmas was unusual as the decorations we’ve accumulated in our 10 years together were sitting quietly in a dark self-storage unit miles away. And as all funds were being allocated to our upcoming adventure the space beneath our imaginary tree sat empty on Christmas morning.

Our dream wedding in Provence, France. October 10th 2020

We boarded the plane January 13th with only our rucksacks and a sense of disbelief for what we were doing with our lives. Landing in Delhi further exacerbated these emotions as we soaked in the chaos kept at arm's length by the thin metal frame our Uber. We’d been traveling for less than a day and I was already well outside my comfort zone. Our days in India were spent acclimatising to the constant inhalation of exhaust fumes, unreliability of unsolicited direction, intricacies of train travel, and tolerance of our digestive systems. All things considered, India was much more approachable than I’d drawn it in my mind’s eye, and we greatly enjoyed our time exploring Rajastan, Punjab, Goa and Kerala.

Goodbye London! Home of our last reliable shower for months.

A vegetable merchant in Amer, Jaipur, India.

By the time we reached Nepal, the stigma of Coronavirus was beginning to circulate. I too, felt slight discomfort in the packed shuttle-bus after we’d de-planed, watching aircraft from China taxi to the terminal. We noticed the mask-clad locals during our walks around the crowded streets of Kathmandu, unsure if this was to protect from the virus sweeping through neighbouring China, or from the fumes emitted from the tailpipes of the circulating vehicles. Mask mania was in full swing, seeing deliveries of surgical masks and gloves by the case being offloaded into shops and pharmacies. I was reminded of how the stores back home wheel the rack of umbrellas to the pavement when rain looms overhead. We took a brief pause from the bustle of crowded cities and spent over a week exploring the more remote city of Pohkara and the Annapurna range of the Himilayas. Looking back now, we were blissfuly unaware that we would be amoung the last to experience their majesty for some time.

Hiking in the Himalayas during our 4 day adventure to Poon Hill.

9am on a day in late February we sat in the airport lounge with very large and somewhat chilled “strong” beer, celebrating the successful first leg of our expedition that had recently come to an end. Within minutes we were wheels up for Sri Lanka where we would spend the next 3 weeks touring in style. We laughed, sitting poolside at the Cinnamon Lodge, Habarana, at the stark contrast between our current surroundings in tropical luxury, and accommodations in the Himalayas where we slept nights before in sub-zero temperatures in our hats, gloves and thermals. We planned our time in Sri Lanka to offer a more luxurious experience, equipped with a driver who toured us around, Ayurvedic spa treatments, intermittent luxury accommodation, and our first bottle of wine since departure. Jacobs Creek Chardonnay has never tasted so good. It was a much needed relief from the discomforts and frugality of the “authentic” backpacker mentality we had embraced until then.

Our new luxury escape: Cinnamon Lodge, Habarana, Sri Lanka.

Sipping coconuts on Goyambokka beach, Tangalle, Sri Lanka.

March 11th we awoke in the honeymoon suite at the Villas by Paradise Road in Bentota (perks of being married to a luxury travel virtuoso). I was another year older, and had never felt more at ease with myself and my thoughts in our ultimate freedom. I took a moment to relax, wrapt in my contentment for having never felt a day of the week since we’d left over 2 months ago. I would sometimes ask what month it was. We were hopelessly lost in an ever-changing daily routine who’s common denominator was doing whatever we pleased, together, wherever we happened to wake up in the world. It was a sense of playful freedom I haven’t felt since Scott and I first met in Paris and enjoyed the summers of 2010/11 with wild abandon for the good life. My ethereal bubble burst later that day when the world officially became host to a pandemic.

The world was turned on its head rapidly as countries began to embrace the foot hold the virus was beginning to take on home soil. Poolside loungers which were occupied by sun-drenched holidaymakers days before had now turned into mobile offices where couples began frantically picking up the pieces of their holidays in a climate where travel restrictions were revisited hourly. Our ability to take off and land in the locales listed in our itinerary dissolved one after the other, but surely not before we invested precious moments and money attempting to rework our carefully orchestrated accommodation and flight itineraries. We clawed desperately at what few options remained for us to keep the adventure alive, sitting for hours on the floor at far away airports, pleading with airline staff for last-minute itinerary modifications and re-routing our connections through unforeseen countries. We arrived 4 hours early for our flight from Colombo to Manila, painfully aware of how long it could take to sort our request to honour only the Colombo to Kuala Lumpur leg of the journey. This was only possible with proof of a flight leaving Malaysia, so there, at the Malaysian Airlines check-in counter, we logged onto the weakest of airport wifi signals, and perused our options, encouraged by the audible toe-tapping from those in line behind us. We found cheap flights to Phuket, and booked them on the 3rd attempt as repeated credit card authorisations timed-out. We luckily avoided the onward journey to Manila which was due to lockdown hours after our scheduled arrival, and headlines weeks later spoke of orders given by the president to shoot violators of lockdown protocol “dead on site”.

Masked on the metro in Kuala Lumpur while we figure life out

Our daily “life meetings” sat together looking at the world map for inspiration brought little resolve, and following our unexpected weekend exploring Kuala Lumpur, where mercifully granted entry into the Kingdom of Thailand the day before they imposed a Malaysian travel ban, which would have screwed us yet again. But these were the new laws of the jungle for any who dared to travel during the spread of the virus; your plans were only ever good for today, as tomorrow’s headlines could turn your strategy upside-down.

We instantly remarked how news of the novel coronavirus had seemingly failed to make it to Phuket. Unmasked & suntanned tourists flocked to the streets in their beer-branded tanks, as restaurants managed queues and the nightlife remained electric. We felt fortunate again, and proud we’d skirted further travel disruptions and lockdowns despite coming to terms with the loss of our heavily anticipated 3 weeks in the Philippines. We anticipated calling this new island paradise home for the next 3 weeks before resuming our travels in Bangkok where we would reunite with the line on our “mega moon” Google map zip zagging through Lao, Vietnam, Cambodia, and Malaysia.

Kata Beach, Phuket, Thailand on March 18th. Not a mask in sight.

Freedom beach, Phuket, Thailand. Coincidentally, our last day of “freedom” exploring beaches, as they were all closed as mandated by the government the following day.

As each day passed, the beach crowds would diminish, restaurant seatings would thin, and traffic would soon fade away altogether. Restrictions were imposed one after another turning an island known for fun and relaxation into one governed by checkpoints & curfews; later isolated by all forms of travel without notice. Shelves were emptied and stores closed their doors. Those who chose to weather the storm locally fought frenzied for discounted goods. Shopkeepers ripped their signage from their high street facades only to be replaced with “for rent” signs.

Life here had come to a standstill as we remained glued to the media daily for further instruction, and for the eventual grasp we will one day have on this rogue disease that has temporarily handicapped the planet. I couldn’t shake the lumps in my stomach that shifted with every new headline. We were far from home, and the parcel of land allowed to us to be free and explore became increasingly small, until only our apocalyptic beachfront district of Kata remained. The UK embassy was frantically organising repatriation flights and encouraging us to return immediately, yet the figures of daily deaths numbering in the hundreds deterred us from investing thousands on over 40 hours of travel across 3 countries. Not to mention the risk of exposure along the way. I struggled to find comfort in our new Thai surroundings as uncertainties loomed regarding visas & overstay fines, the quality of their new field hospitals should we require them, and our travel insurance which would cease to cover us should we choose to remain abroad. For the first time in my life I didn’t know where I felt safe.

Kata beach, Phuket, Thailand March 30th. All beaches closed on the island.

We have come to terms with the fact we may be in Phuket for longer than expected, and our emotions spike daily with the publication of each news article announcing more detailed lockdowns, flight cancellations and immigration & visa blunders. Stakes with red flags line the beaches where sunbathers once fought for real estate, and I often find myself wondering how it all happened so quickly. Scrolling through our camera roll with now limitless free time, we look at smiling photos of our travels through India and Sri Lanka, and it feels both like yesterday, and a time long ago. I often play with the frayed threads of the faded bracelets tied round my wrist in times that were more happy, free, and exciting, clinging fiercely to the notion we are here as adventurers, not prisoners of circumstance. So we wait for this cloud to pass, and try and make the most of our time together in these weird and unfamiliar circumstances. And although our photos aren’t of what we expected they’d be, and it’s not at all how we predicted each of our 155 days unfolding, we will have unbelievable tales of adventure to tell about sharing our honeymoon with one of the worlds greatest pandemics.