About Me - Who the tuk am I?

Hi, I’m Sheryl - wanderer, solo adventurer, and apparently a mosquito snack bar! My journeys have taken me from the bustling streets of India to the serene rice terraces of Bali (and everywhere in between).

Travelling solo means I set my own pace - naps included. However, it also means that when chaos strikes, it’s all mine to handle. And trust me, chaos loves me.

Highlights from the Sheryl School of Travel Mishaps include…

• Getting lost in India because I forgot to write my hotel name down before jumping in a tuk-tuk. Spoiler: “It’s near the temple” doesn’t narrow it down much.

• Trying to explain my Ibiza hotel location to a taxi driver using nothing but a flimsy tourist map. Honestly, same vibe as India!

• Accidentally getting into a hilarious mud fight with an elephant. Yes, it was as slippery and chaotic as it sounds.

• Leaving my passport in a hotel safe while island-hopping through Indonesia. Nothing like realising you’re travelling in the opposite direction to your ID to give you a jolt.

• Dug a cesspit in Cambodia (I do not recommend as a spa treatment)

• Learned to fold momos in Nepal (half the filling fell out, but I still call it a skill).

• Plus: 12 planes, 5 boats, 6 lizards, 1 toxic millipede, a sprained ankle, and at least a million mosquito bites in one trip - all lovingly collected along the way.

People often ask why I travel solo. The answer is simple: freedom. Freedom to get lost (literally and metaphorically), to change my mind, to follow a hunch, to sit and watch the world without having to explain myself (and because I’m a bit of a Billy No-Mates). And just to keep it interesting, I travel with a chronic health condition. This means I move a little slower, rest a little more, and occasionally swap temple tours for Netflix in bed. But it also means I celebrate the small wins harder, laugh louder at the mishaps, and always carry extra snacks because you never know when fatigue will hit.

For me, travel isn’t about the picture-perfect Insta shot (even though I’ve swung in the rice terraces and smiled at the Gates of Heaven in Bali). It’s about the stories, the strangers who become friends, and proving that you can live a little wildly, even when your body sometimes has other plans. I’m not influencer chic. There are no floaty dresses at sunrise or perfectly staged beach shots here. Instead, you’ll find sweat, mosquito bites, cheap flip-flops, missed trains, and noodles eaten on plastic stools.

Serving full TukTuk drama at the Gates of Heaven — because if you didn’t queue for 2 hours and pose like this, did you even go to Bali?

But you’ll also find joy, growth, and a reminder that travel doesn’t have to be polished to be profound. The stories that make us laugh the hardest - the ones that start with, “You’ll never believe what the tuk happened…” are usually the ones worth keeping.

Right now, I’m here, writing this, fresh from another round of adventures. Yet, a part of me will always be out there—perched on a tuk-tuk seat, bargaining for fruit in a bustling market, or side-eyeing airport security as they swab my backpack once more. And if you’re here, maybe you’re the same kind of traveler. The kind who doesn’t mind a little chaos. The kind who believes the best stories come from the unexpected. The kind who knows that sometimes the only answer to life’s big questions is 'Where the tuk am I?' So, here’s to the next adventure, wherever it may lead.

Solo, somewhere between getting lost, found, and muddy, but always laughing - Sheryl