Travel Writing Library

There had been only darkness and the drone of the engine for several hours before the coach suddenly lurched to a halt. A few of the inmates stirred, awakened by the advent of the dim interior lights.

‘You people from England?’ asked the bus driver. He was a grizzled old man with a grey goatee and thick spectacles. It wasn’t really a question; it was more like a taunt. We nodded.

I always hated playing baseball. I found it boring and frustrating, and frankly, I just wasn't very good. Nonetheless, ever since I was a kid and up through my sophomore year of high school...

My journey to Borneo was a coincidence, or simply unintentionally made. I did most of my journeys for a simple reason, to pursue my passion for capoeira and photography.

I don't dance. For the simply reason that I can't dance, so I try not to. I may, therefore, have made a mistake coming to Seville during the Feria, a week long party that sees the streets get taken over by crowds Spanish men...

Don’t tell mum. Please. If you do, she’ll be terribly angry with me, and probably so afraid that I’ll never get to go anywhere on my own again. I know that what I did was extremely foolish...

All I wanted to do was show my kids the sights and sounds of London, but I soon realised memories can be quite visually orientated as I had forgotten one other thing, the smell.

Ah the greyhound! You collect your tickets from a motel office, you await inline in a garage parking lot and see who is to accompany you on your leg of a journey across the USA.

Lacking more direction but refusing to move back in with my parents, I decided it would be best if I did some volunteer work before entering the real world.

“No! Uno cigarette!” I shout in a pathetic Spanish accent, hopelessly assuming that my audacious attempt to translate would calm the situation. Monstrous shadows tower behind him, smothering the moon.