Don't Worry, Be Happy: Beijing to Bombay with a Backpack [Paperback]

This is a thumping good read... it really grips you from the start. Beautifully produced and a joy to read. --Readers' Review Magazine, Summer 2006

In 1989, just six months after Michael Palin's Around the World in 80 Days was first broadcast on the BBC, a green and impressionable 25-year-old set off on his own life-enhancing trip to the East: an 18-month jaunt that would ultimately take him through China, Australasia and India. From braving the streets of Beijing on a bicycle to witnessing a dog s throat being slit in a Guangzhou market, from the thrills of drug infused dance parties on the moonlit beaches of Goa, to treading a path through the devastating slums of Calcutta, there's seemingly never a dull moment on this roller coaster trip. Reconstructed from a series of Dictaphone recordings made at the time, Jim Ford has been able to chronicle all his highs and lows in candid, comical and often toe-curling detail. The end result is a light-hearted, perceptive and thoroughly engaging account of what life is really like on the road for the lone and, in this case, somewhat unconventional backpacker.

This is a book that will appeal to armchair travellers and seasoned backpackers alike. It'll also suit anyone looking for a travel book that doesn't take itself too seriously!

Jim Ford was born in 1965 and grew up in Cardiff, before his parents unexpectedly upped sticks to a remote hillside farm in the Brecon Beacons. Realising there had to be more to life than just sheep and wellies, he eventually moved down to the South Coast in order to further his education. Once he'd graduated in 1986, he toiled for three years in the back offices of two large American banks, before the travel bug ultimately came to his rescue, finally snapping him out of his senses and removing him from the office environment once and for all. Or so he thought! Having since joined the ranks of the self-employed, he now lives happily in West Sussex with his partner, Sam; their two young children and their mad but lovable Springer Spaniel. Don't Worry, Be Happy is his first book.

I was setting off alone not entirely by choice. The truth of the matter was nobody wanted to come with me. Naturally, it would have been nice to depart in the company of a mate or a loved one to share all of those illuminating experiences en-route but the opportunity simply hadn't presented itself and I could no longer let this stand in the way. I was after all reaching the ripe old age of twenty-five.

Unlike many others, I'd purposely decided not to embark on a full round-the-world trip as that would invariably entail travelling back through the States and this was not something that enthused me in any way, shape or form. Not that I had anything against America in particular but when it came to places to visit, virtually every other country in the world seemed more interesting.

I'd booked three flights in all, the first to Beijing, where I'd spend my first week visiting the city's sights; Tiananmen Square, the Forbidden City, the Great Wall, slowly acclimatising and trying to adjust to the backpacking routine. Then, when I was confident I'd found my feet I'd leave the capital to start the long six-week overland trek southwards to Hong Kong. After that I'd make a brief stopover in Kuala Lumpur and then fly onto Sydney.

I was setting off with around £4000 worth of savings although I'd taken the added precaution of obtaining a 12-month working visa for Australia just in case I needed to supplement these funds before travelling back through India. I was also curious to see if Australia was all it was cracked up to be. When I was three years old, my mother, leaving me in the capable hands of doting grandparents, had embarked on a twelve-month teaching exchange in New South Wales. She came back extolling the virtues of the country and for many months after, seriously contemplated moving back there for good. Not entirely sure I wanted to settle in the U.K. I was thus keen to test the water myself.

But aside from this there was no apparent mission or quest. I wasn't following in anybody's footsteps, I wasn't travelling on a camel or with a fridge or television crew, I was just heading off into what for me at least was uncharted territory. Sure, travelling through China and India was never going to be easy, though this was just part of the challenge. More and more people were setting off on similar trips and travelling now at such an impressionable age seemed the obvious thing to do. Yet almost without exception all of these friends and relatives were going off in pairs or small groups whereas I was setting off alone.

So the big question was how would I cope travelling by myself. I'd always thought myself strong-minded and independent but this would surely be the ultimate test and in truth I couldn't wait for it all to begin. That said, there was a certain point to prove and that was the small matter of silencing the critics.

`So let's get this right,' people would say before I left. `You're travelling through China all by yourself? Surely you must be worried?'

`Oh, I'll be fine,' I'd glibly reply. `You don't have to worry about me.'

But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried. Of course I was worried. In the months leading up to my departure I'd been worrying my little head to death. I was worried about meeting people, I was worried about not meeting people, I was worried about being ripped off, I was worried about getting lost, I was worried about losing my money, my passport, my rucksack, I was worried about falling ill; contracting diarrhoea, dysentery, malaria, hepatitis, or even worse, the dreaded Aids. I was worried about being hospitalised, I was worried about being drugged, being accosted, being kidnapped, I was worried about drowning, about being burnt alive, about falling off a cliff. You name it I was worried about it; wars, military coups, revolutions, typhoons, earthquakes, volcanoes, hurricanes, bus crashes, train crashes, plane crashes, the list went on and on. Quite simply, when it came to worries, I had more things to worry about than Mr Worry himself though I was damned if I was gonna let anybody else know this.

And not only did I want to silence all the doubters, I wanted to confound them as well, by proving that the advantages of travelling alone - not having to continually rely on others all the time, not having to forever discuss which places to visit, which routes to take, which places to stay, which places to eat - actually outweighed those of travelling with friends or partners. I had no restrictions as such, there was nothing I needed to get back for: no children, no job and no girlfriend and herein lay the beauty and excitement of it all. I could feasibly go where I wanted, stay where I wanted and return when I wanted, money and health permitting. In my eyes travelling solo effectively meant the world was my oyster. The fact I was ultimately responsible for my destiny counted for everything. As far as I was concerned so long as this was the case all of the worries would duly take care of themselves. Right from the outset, all I'd wanted to do was to set off and just see what happened. Okay, I'm not saying I didn't have this rough itinerary mapped out in my mind, but I didn't necessarily have to follow it. I was at the helm, I was in command, I was behind the controls just as those two cheery middle-aged men in uniform were now sitting behind that cabin door only fifteen feet ahead of me. Now at long last I was finally on my way. Now it was time to start looking ahead.