Travel Writing Library

I am no athlete. My Norwegian friend is a compulsive rower. These two simple facts should have warned me against making the worst journey of my life while I stayed with her this summer in rural Norway.

“We should experience how the Mozambicans really travel,” my boyfriend and I decided one fateful day in the capital city of Maputo.

Don’t worry; I am not going to tell you another story about delayed Indian trains, broken rickshaws or food poisoning. Indian trains are not all that bad, and certainly can’t be blamed for ‘the worst journey of my life.’

Residents of Bogota will often tell you about the most well preserved colonial town in Colombia, Villa de Lleyva, a 4 hour bus ride from Bogota. Arriving there is a welcome sight after the busy streets of the Bogota...

John M. Edwards hunkers down in the hallway of his Caribbean concrete-block hotel to sit out a hurricane tempest more powerful than Peter Potamous’s “Hippo Hurricane Howler”!

Egypt. Hot, dry, and the color of sand—the streets, the buildings, its people, and even the Nile. For a visit to the pyramids, our friend, Pericles, picked us up at our hotel. My husband sat in front, while I kept order...

My leg looks like the pork trotter that seems to be a feature in the window of every tapas bar here. I have self diagnosed myself on www.webmd.com and think I have deep vein thrombosis.

Passing Letseng Diamond Mine on previous visits there has always been the anticipated promise of children splashing happily as dikkop around the kraal or patient girls smiling a stubborn Basotho ritual of polite enquiry...

Oh my God is that a gun! Only an hour ago I was wondering in the sultry heat of Orchidtown Road, drinking in with envy the latest high-end fashions. The stores luring me inside with their promise of self confidence...

Forrest Gump was playing on a small television above the driver’s cabin. As Forrest met Jenny, there were heavy thuds that, in my groggy state, I confused for rainfall.