Travel Writing Library

I opened my eyes slowly, expecting the soft mountain morning rays to invigorate my irises. Instead, I was greeted with harsh florescent bulbs. My mouth was unbearably dry—I didn’t even have enough saliva to lick my lips.

I had just finished my summer removing bushes with 1 inch thorns and chiseling trails into the dry, dusty rock of an Arizona canyon and making teenagers do the same thing in the equally harsh burn zones of Idaho...

Back when my sisters and I were on the same spring break schedule and our family spent our spring breaks relaxing on beaches rather than ‘spring cleaning’, we went to Florida.

I sat squashed in the back seat, my bags occupying more space than I was. I had heard so many stories about taxistas driving off with people’s luggage in the boot that I wasn't going to be caught out!

In Hindsight when a monkey steals your Samosa, scampers onto the station roof then pees on your backpack, it’s a bad omen.

We were taking the train from Budapest to Prague. The first of many inspectors came along. We asked him what time the restaurant car opened. He laughed quietly to himself and kept repeating the words.

First trip away from home and in the humid musk of Thailand, where we lay our scene. My friend and I had to travel from Phuket to the Malaysian border in a series of first class coaches, or so we thought.

Stony roads, stony-faced travellers and stoned drivers: Luang Prabang to Hanoi, August 2013

Do you know that feeling when you’ve found yourself exactly where you’re supposed to be, the air feels as warm as springtime? When you reach an agreement with the universe, and everything falls into place?

It’s 4 am in the morning and I’m taking the taxi direction Beirut airport. After year and a half in the city I’m leaving behind so many friends, parties, tabboulehs[1], broken hearts!