Travel stories for freedom chasers
It’s the first morning of 2016, and I’m eating fruit and nursing a head that pounds with the memory of last night. 2015 came to a hurricane close, its final days and weeks spiralling past in a blur as we packed and moved house the day before Christmas Eve, spent Christmas eating and drinking far too much with our families,…
My first view of Sicily is from the water. We have travelled by train through the afternoon, our table in the first class carriage scattered with the remains of our picnic; white wine in cups made from plastic bottles and huge slab-like sandwiches wrapped in paper, Italy rolling sedately past the huge picture windows. As the light becomes soft and…
We are currently seven weeks away from our departure date, two weeks away from Christmas, and deep into final countdown mode. We’re moving out of our house the day before Christmas Eve. We’re away both weekends before that happens, trying to make the rounds of all the family we’re not going to see for at least a year. And we’re…
I hadn’t planned to be in Rome, and then suddenly there I was, fresh from the dark, steamy jungle cities of Sumatra. The sense of displacement was acute; I felt flung sideways without a second to catch my breath, my senses suddenly awash in sun-dappled, coffee scented European summer. Rome is one of those places that I’ve always thought about…
And all at once, summer collapsed into fall Oscar Wilde Summer gives in without even a whisper of a fight, giving up the pretence and fleeing as soon as August is over, and I walk out of the door on September 1st into a world transformed overnight. The damp pale light and lukewarm…
Last summer, after the dengue had faded from my blood, after I had put on a bridesmaid’s dress to watch my best friend marry her life’s love, after I had repacked my backpack and rebooked flights to Bangkok, I spent five days in Barcelona. The idea behind this was that I would already be in Spain for the wedding, and…
This past weekend marks one whole year since the day I came home to England, having spent a beautiful, difficult, altering year in Asia. It also happens to mark two whole years to the day since that adventure began. I’m not generally one for symmetry, but on this occasion, I think it’s sort of poetic. We arrived back in London…
There’s something about August that always feels like the end of something. It is a languid month, long days and long weekends, long journeys to make long over-due visits. The end of summer holidays; the end of summer, for that matter. September hovers just over the horizon, signalling a time of change, the air snapping colder and the green of…
