When travelling really isn't an option

There have been a number of times in my life when there have been obstacles to me travelling. The majority of these have been financial and I have managed to overcome them with determination and frugality. Over the last few months there has been a greater obstacle that has been much harder to overcome, however - my health.

Today I was supposed to be flying to Berlin to enjoy the Christmas markets with a dear friend of mine. I have wanted to visit Germany for a long time and going at this time of year is on my bucket list. Instead I am at home having cancelled my flights and written it off as a bad job.

I have been ill to varying degrees since the beginning of September and although now on the road to recovery I had to make the difficult decision not to go. This is not the first trip I've had to cancel through my illness, with the first being a fully booked trip to Rome for an assignment.

Despite the huge disappointment and waiting until the last moment to get a colleague to step into my spot I knew in my heart of hearts that I wasn't well enough to travel. It is very important to recognise this in yourself, as being unwell while abroad can be a tricky business.

While I love travelling, nothing compares to being at home and having all your creature comforts around you when you're ill. There is no point in experiencing fascinating destinations from inside a hotel room or setting your recovery back just because you didn't want to miss out.

It has been a disappointing end to my travelling year, but I look forward to 2015 in full health and trips that I can really make the most of. So tonight I will not fall asleep full of gluhwein and the heady merriment of this time of year, but in my own bed, but I know that in the long-run it is for the best.

Meeting Michael Palin - a travel writer's lifetime ambition fulfilled

When I originally wrote the bucket list I have included on this blog, there was one experience that had to be included - meeting Michael Palin. While for many people, this man is irrevocably linked to comedy and the genius of Monty Python, he has always been a travelling inspiration to me.

Not only does Palin get sent to fascinating destinations and is paid to do so (something I have always aspired to), but he does it with such warmth to the people he meets. I personally believe that his style of travel is something that cannot be faked, but is nurtured and this comes across in his footage and books.

When the New Europe book was released my sister and brother-in-law queued to get it signed for me. Unfortunately there were so many other Michael Palin fans also waiting to meet the man that they had to settle for a pre-signed copy. It still contains a post-it note inside reading: "To Emma, Bet I've been to more countries than you!" which they had hoped he would write inside.

So imagine my delight when a friend informed me that the man himself was about to embark on a tour of the country entitled Travelling to Work. Already sold out in York, I managed to procure tickets for me and two of my best friends at the Manchester Opera House on September 29th. I was excited about the show, but nothing could prepare me for actually meeting Palin in the flesh.

The Travelling to Work show was split into two halves, the the first concentrating on some of Palin's incredible journeys and the second offering up a crowd-pleasing insight into his comedy. He even included time at the end to dip into a steel bucket and answer questions submitted by the audience. For me, I was enthralled by the tales covering everything from Around the World in 80 Days to New Europe and beyond, with the stunning photography to accompany it.

Like any self-respecting world traveller I took delight in smiling to myself when places I had visited were mentioned and looked across to my friend who accompanied me on five weeks around Eastern Europe in 2007. We shared a knowing look as Palin described the Merry Cemetery in Sapanta, northern Romania, which is populated with garish wooden gravestones depicting scenes from the lives of the deceased.

During the interval I set off in search of the book and came across a stand selling volumes of the hefty tome. I was dismayed to see that they were already pre-signed, thinking that any opportunity to meet Palin this time was lost. The representatives told me he had spent two days signing books prior to the tour and that he insisted that all sales of the book were completed through an independent bookshop. I proffered my business card and begged them to pass it on to my hero.

The second half lived up to expectations and a very sprightly Michael Palin had the audience in stitches with tales of Monty Python inspiration and even some sketches that didn't make it into the final versions. An idea depicting the conversation when trying to book the Last Supper was particularly hilarious.

Our laughing muscles having gone through a thorough workout, we came out of the venue and my long-suffering friends agreed to join me in hovering outside the stage door. A small number of people had gathered and we didn't have to wait long before a representative appeared and asked us to form a queue. It was only when the slight 71-year-old came out that I started to believe I would actually meet him.

Understanding what a big deal this was for me and being truly altruistic, my friends stepped back as we reached the front of the queue, allowing me to have a proper chat with Palin. I told him that he was the inspiration behind me becoming a travel writer and he asked where I had visited this year. As we chatted about Malaysia, he wrote "To Em, Happy Travels" in my book, as my friends snapped photos of us. They then stepped in for a picture of all of us. My incredulity lasted all the way home.

Photos in this post by Rebecca Lyons and Siobhan Holt

The joys of shooting with a proper camera

Cuba 2005 (Photo by Emma Duckworth)

A friend of mine sent me a link recently to an article entitled 100 years of the Leica camera. What immediately struck me was how many of the most iconic images of the 20th century were shot using this compact device. From the photo of a young Vietnamese girl fleeing naked from a napalm attack to the world-famous kiss between a sailor and a nurse at the end of World War Two - all were taken on a Leica.

I have to admit to being a bit of a camera nut - I tend to use a digital on many occasions these days for ease, but my heart truly belongs to my manual Olympus OM1-N. And the truth of the matter is it has accompanied me on many trips and taken some fantastic photos.

On a number of occasions my travel companions would complain of the time it takes to set up, but it is worth it for the results. And nothing compares to the sheer joy of hearing that satisfying clunk that tells you that you have taken a photo - none of these insipid noises that are added to digital cameras in the 21st century - a proper solid, definite clunk.

My SLR belongs to something of a camera dynasty, as my dad travelled from Manchester to Nigeria overland in the 1970s with an Olympus OM1. It never let him down - from hitchhiking across the Sahara in a date lorry to living off a huge bag of cheese in France. So the logical step was to furnish his two daughters will similar models on their 17th birthdays, which he did.

I have continued that trend and bought an OM1 for my boyfriend before he set off for South America on his epic four and a half month journey. We now have two large bags full of undeveloped films - around 50 in total - and every so often one or the other of us will dip a hand in each and take two films to be developed.

This is something of a pot luck, as my bag of films includes pictures taken in destinations as diverse as Turkey, Ushuaia and Spain. We then sit and look at the two sets of photos together. There was once a funny incidence in which we assumed a film of Iguazu Falls belonged to my other half, until halfway through the pictures a photo of me appeared - I had done my own South American voyage a few years earlier!

Display at the Camera Museum in Penang

So imagine my delight when exploring the streets of Penang on a recent trip to Malaysia, as I stumbled across a camera museum. What is more, one of the display cases held a very similar model to mine inside it. I know I shoot with a digital a lot these days, but I never intend to give up using my manual SLR all together, as I believe consigning it to a museum would be a crying shame.

The Penang Camera Museum is a great place to visit, with lots of different models on display and a fantastic collection of vintage flashbulbs. It is not just appealing to the camera aficionado, however, with some brilliant interactive exhibits and models explaining how various photographic techniques have been developed over the years. Stepping inside a giant pinhole camera was particularly fun and if a member of your party goes outside, you can see how they appear to be upside down.

Quote on the wall of the museum

The well-fed pescatarian cooks stuffed courgette flowers

It has always been something of an ambition of mine to cook stuffed courgette flowers, but the opportunity has never really arisen, until recently. On a family holiday to Tuscany that saw three generations of Dodds all staying in a stunning farmhouse in the hills, I spotted the all-important ingredient - courgette flowers.

My mum was buying vegetables at one of the stands during the weekly market in Ponte a Moriano and there in a pile were the freshest and most tempting-looking courgette flowers I have ever seen. If I was ever going to cook this delicacy, now was the perfect time.

I rejoined the rest of the family at a small cafe on the edge of the square clutching my bag full of courgette flowers and not doing a good job of hiding my excitement. But despite the yellow blooms being the vital part of the dish, you also need to have something to stuff inside them, so off I skipped to the local cheese shop.

My Spanish-influenced attempts at Italian helped me establish that the shop did not sell ricotta, but had something similar and I bought the lot. The kind man behind the counter was patient with me, but when I clearly didn't understand something he was trying to explain to me, he called for a younger assistant from the back. He told me in excellent English that I needed to rub the cheese with olive oil to bring out the flavour.

Back at the villa I did add some olive oil and since the cheese was firmer than ricotta, I chopped it up as small as I could, while adding herbs and garlic. Our accommodation had minimal items in the larder, so we had to buy even the simplest of additions for meals. With this in mind, I made a beer batter, as alcohol was something we were not in short supply of!

It is safe to say that stuffing courgette flowers is a fairly fiddly process. First you need to cut off the stalks and remove the stamens from the centre. This should be done carefully so as not to tear the petals, giving the potential for the filling to ooze out. Twisting the tops once they have been filled helps to keep everything in place, then it is just a case of dipping them in the batter and frying them. Eating them hot is a must.

One member of our party is not particularly keen on cheese, so I made an artichoke and tomato alternative for her. We all ended up trying this variation, which was pretty good, although the cheesy stuffed courgette flowers were definitely the favourites.

Discovering my grandfather's 1940s travel album

We are lucky enough to live in a time when many exciting opportunities are open to us, with travel being chief among these. It is very easy to take such experiences for granted and forget just how amazing it is to be able to travel to the other side of the world in a matter of hours as opposed to months and jet off for a weekend in another country for a relatively small amount of money.

All of this was put into perspective for me recently when I came across a photo album of my grandfather's from the 1940s. I cannot describe the extreme excitement I felt as I turned the pages and saw titles such as 'Palestine', 'Cairo' and 'The Island of Masirah'.

My grandpa was a wartime pilot at 19-years-old and such travels as a young man were the result of a terrible conflict, which many would not return from. What struck me about the small black and white images lovingly fixed onto the pages was that they showed a group of friends enjoying the time they had to explore these exotic locations.

This could be due to the huge relief of having time off between dangerous missions and not knowing whether they would survive. It must also have been coupled with the thrill of being in such far flung places, the chances of which to visit never having been opened up to ordinary men from Chingford before. But first and foremost, these were young men in their early 20s having an opportunity to let their hair down and enjoy themselves.

There are photos of famous sites and the men in uniform, but also pictures of them posing with an elephant, meeting the Sultan of Muscat and one of them wrapped in towels entitled 'A bathing party'. This sudden glimpse into the life of my grandfather as a young man travelling the world was fascinating.

But the album opened up as many questions as it answered, as the names of places and notes in pencil only told part of the story. The only dates to be found were on a picture of a 1945 victory dinner menu and a round-up of the Miss Masirah 1945 competition. A photo of my grandmother is shown as being voted highly commended!

People did not take thousands of photos in those days like we do today and it is impossible to know over what time frame these events took place. My suspicion is that it is several years and this travel album depicts the high points in what was a very difficult time.

While it is obvious where the pages entitled 'The Fourteen Stations of the Cross' and 'Cairo' were taken, as the book progresses, the clues are harder to decipher. I knew that my grandfather was involved in an aircraft crash in Burma and presumed that the photos taken of temples were in the country.

My research has not come up with a definite location for the place he has called the Putiaram Temple, but the photos taken at the same time are most definitely India. They are of Howrah and Jagganath Temple in Puri. This suggests that my initial suspicions that the pictures are from Burma stems from an over-reliance on context as opposed to the facts.

The Island of Masirah was obviously a Royal Air Force base and looking into it, I have found it was in operation as a staging post from the 1930s up until 1977. Many men have spent time on the island 15 miles off the coast of Oman in the Arabian Sea and it appears to have been a place of great comradeship, which it is safe to say, can be seen in grandpa's photos.

Another location that seems to hold happy memories for Flight Officer Peter Dodd and his friends is The Gezira Club, which I have since discovered is the oldest of its kind in Africa. Situated on the island Zamalek in Cairo, it was built in 1882 and is still an exclusive club to be a member of to this day.

As well as the main body of the album, slotted into the back are a number of things, including a guide to the sites of Jerusalem - a precursor to the ubiquitous Lonely Planet books of today. This simple folded sheet of paper shows there was an appetite for tourists to explore the Holy Land even then.

After the war, my grandpa continued to travel and always kept his flight log up-to-date. Later entries show the types of aircraft he and my grandmother flew on as they journeyed to holiday destinations all over the world. Always recorded was the pilot's name, alongside the date, time and flight details.

The well-fed pescatarian in Malaysia

I generally describe myself as a vegetarian, as this is the easiest way to talk about people that don't eat meat, but then occasionally someone will call me on the fact that I eat fish. Being an avid traveller is made so much easier by consuming fish, although it didn't help me miles away from the sea in Russia, when pickled vegetables were my only sustenance. So in summation, I am a pescatarian and a pretty well-fed one most of the time.

On a recent trip to Malaysia I was able to eat very well with my combination of vegetables and seafood, as rice, noodles and myriad non-meaty flavours supplemented these key ingredients. Anyone who has travelled in the country will know that it is a foodie heaven and it is difficult to go hungry.

Penang

The island of Penang has become associated with wonderful street food of late and I was keen to sample the vendors' offerings. It would be remiss, however to neglect the great restaurants scattered around Georgetown too, as they serve up some delicious dishes that ticked all the boxes for this hungry pescatarian.

Among those to try are:

• Sri Ananda

There are a few branches of this establishment serving up south Indian specialities on the island. The one in Little India in Georgetown is very conveniently located. I had prawn masala, aloo ghobi, pelak paneer, garlic naan and rice.

• Woodlands

Just across the road from Sri Ananda is another delicious stop-off - Woodlands. My meal here consisted of chenna batura - a spicy chickpea stew with raw onions, sliced red chillis and half a teeny tiny lime on top. Accompanied by freshly squeezed orange juice.

• Teksen

Not far from Armenian Street is this humble-looking establishment with beaten metal tables and stools. Do not be put off by its apparent simplicity, as the complex flavours of the dishes more than make up for the décor. I would recommend ordering the tamarind king prawns, which were among the stickiest and tastiest things I've ever eaten. Even those who eschew a Brussel sprout at Christmas could not fail to love the fried sprouts with shrimps - delicious. Nutmeg juice washed the whole lot down.

• Tropical Spice Garden

On my last day in Penang I took a tour of the Tropical Spice Garden, which is in the Teluk Bahang suburb of Georgetown. The very informative guided tour from a lady called Bea was the perfect way to work up an appetite for lunch and the restaurant certainly didn't disappoint. Sat outside with beautiful views from under colourful umbrellas I tucked into a very flavoursome pad thai. The garden has its own cookery school, where visitors can learn to make such delights. Unfortunately my time was up by that point, but maybe next time...

Lunch at the Tropical Spice Garden

Street food

There are lots of areas in and around Georgetown that can boast a wide array of street food on offer. One of which is a huge hall at the bottom of Gat Lebuh Armenian, which is jam-packed with hawker stalls. Wandering around, looking at what is available it is clear that you can take your taste buds on a culinary journey around the world without ever having to leave this place.

Everything from Thai and Taiwanese food to Nyonya cuisine and brisket was being served. I settled on Thai seafood rice and watched as the lady carefully chopped and threw ingredients into the wok. She also reached up to a variety of boxes on the shelf above her and added in a wide selection of spices and additions to subtly flavour the delicious dish.

Kuala Lumpur

As you would expect from a capital city anywhere in the world, Kuala Lumpur has plenty of places to eat whether you describe yourself as a carnivore, vegetarian or pescatarian. But for me and many other hungry bellies, the ultimate destination is Jalan Alor. This incredible street is jam-packed with food stalls every evening and there was only one night in the whole of my stay in KL when I didn't eat here.

You can almost smell this evocative thoroughfare from a distance and once the sun goes down, the light from the yellow and red lanterns looped from each side highlights the rising steam from the grills. It is just about impossible to see where one stall ends and the next starts. I walked the length of the street until I reached the tea bus, checking out what was on offer before making my choice.

On the first night I made a schoolgirl error and ordered far too much food, but the butter prawns and assorted greens were amazing. The fried rice was probably delicious too, but there was little chance of me making in-roads into it. I learned my lesson for next time.

Jalan Alor

During the course of my stay, I enjoyed everything from delicious whole fish to durian ice cream. The chap selling this delicious concoction had a specially made container that looked like three barrels joined together complete with perfectly fitting lids. He reached in with his incredibly long spoon and dug out the ice cream.

Before his customers managed to get a taste, however, this deft showman would use the thick consistency of the ice cream to stay stuck to the spoon. This allowed him to spin the cone out of reach just as the customer was about to take it. Twirling the handle and having fun, visitors to this ice cream stand are guaranteed entertainment with their sweet treat.

Durian is well known for its foul smell, but this was hard to detect when in ice cream form and the flavour was gorgeous. So if you are going to eat the stinky fruit, I recommend having it served up in a cone instead.

The ice cream entertainer at work

The pimped-out trishaws of Melaka

In many ways the city of Melaka is a traditional place, with stunning architecture and a sense of history, but in another element it is tacky in the extreme - its trishaws. The kitsch factor associated with these old forms of transport, which have been pimped-out to the nth degree has to be admired. If you are going to do it, then do it in superlative proportions.

Festooned with fake flowers, Hello Kitty dolls and sporting sound systems any super club would be proud of, you can see and hear these vehicles coming from a mile off. The trishaw is dying out in many parts of Malaysia, but business is booming in Melaka due to the colourful overhaul of these humble methods of transport.

I have to admit that taking a trishaw ride wasn't at the top of my list of things to do in Melaka, but having seen so many of them both carrying passengers and waiting for customers, it seemed I should have a go myself. Almost on a whim I decided to do it while snapping a few shots of the drivers lined up in their carriages near Stadthuys in Dutch Square.

Zam with his trishaw

My driver was a young Malaysian chap called Zam, who chatted away to me, answering all my questions as he peddled the trishaw around the most prominent sites. To my eternal gratitude he played Adele and Otis Redding on his sound system, as opposed to some of the more thumping beats of the other vehicles and turned it down a little so we could conduct our conversation. On the last stretch of the journey he did ramp it up again and blast his horn a few times - so I did get the proper Melaka trishaw experience!

Zam's trishaw could in no way be described as understated, with its fake pink and red roses arranged in the shape of hearts and what looked like a winged ladybird with Mickey Mouse's head acting as a canopy above. Its owner was also prepared for all eventualities and when it started to rain, he produced a huge umbrella in rainbow colours to keep me dry. At this point, he also hid his MP3 player and cigarettes in a waterproof pouch.

After the ride I stood and chatted to Zam and a few of his fellow drivers. He told me that he has been in the trishaw business for six years. He used to work in construction during quiet periods, but a shoulder injury means that he no longer has this option. Without the computer skills many of his peers already possess, Zam is limited in his options, but he said he would like to run his own business one day, perhaps decking out trishaws for those just getting started.

I tipped Zam an extra five ringgit, since he had been so helpful in giving me an extra insight into the world of a trishaw driver. After initially trying to turn it down, he accepted the additional note and asked if I was married? I explained my attached status and Zam invited me to find him later that evening to take more photos of his trishaw once it was dark, as it is customary for the owners to attach lights to help attract custom.

When I returned later that evening, Zam was in the same location I had found him earlier. I ignored the shouts of the other drivers as I walked over to my friend's trishaw. He greeted me warmly and I took my photos before saying goodbye and leaving with smiles.

Zam's trishaw, complete with its night-time lights