Travel Writing Library

I slapped at a nagging mosquito. Mozzies? In broad daylight? “This is just ridiculous,” I muttered. “Well,” Frank said, consulting the compass, “I think it’s to the south.”

My boyfriend and I planned to leave Rome at 7 a.m. so we could meet my parents for dinner in Annecy – a French mountain town built around Europe’s purest waters.

I love India a lot, its people, its unique culture. India has not changed for many decades, as if the country has frozen in the past.

It was night-time, and darker than anything I’d ever experienced. The bus was hurtling through the blackness of the Moroccan Sahara region.

Hot fumes rammed in through my lungs. My cheeks burned. Have I caught fire? The wind had suddenly changed its course bringing along earth’s fiery belches. We should have heeded the banner at the entrance, “Temporary Closure.”

The rail trip itself couldn’t be faulted. The Express train which had already done the 18 hour overnight haul up from Petrazavodsk was itself in quite reasonable condition, surprisingly clean, and not too crowded.

In 1804 colonial England christened their coal-mining port in Australia with a strikingly original name – Newcastle. On the big island down under, Newcastle was where the very worst-behaved convicts were sent to...

"Delayed" reads every line on the single TV screen suspended from the ceiling.

Like most catastrophes this one begins with the best of intentions.

To call the experience I had driving an auto-rickshaw 2,000 miles across India the worst journey of my life would be unfair. True, we were stopped by bandits and spent a night in a police cell.