Travel Writing Library

“Don’t bother, I’ll do it!” an elderly lady said when I wanted to pick up a magazine that fell next to her.

The new day was slowly waking up to a gorgeous misty morning, in the mountain town of Yelagiri. The monsoon dew hung festively amidst the July sunshine, stirring a perfect weather, to trek up...

It had rained all through the night and though the dawn opened somewhat dull and damp, it didn’t look as if it would rain right now.

My new boss Gary kicks his feet onto the dash board, wrestles a cigarette from the pack with his teeth and lights up. Late night inner city Jakarta and life festers like an open wound as we make our way through Indonesia’s crumbling urban decay.

He slipped, bare-footed, in to our camp one night, bringing nothing but a machete hung on a belt of rattan at his waist, and the tattered shirt and trousers he was wearing.

“And how long have you lived in Ethiopia?’ the woman asked me as I stood nervously outside the National Museum of Ethiopia in Addis Ababa.

In Western Europe, travelling in winter means Christmas markets and the thrill of classical architecture under a dusting of snow; in Transylvania, I found, it meant an opportunity to see sides of Romania hidden in peek tourist season.

I could say that the thunderous “whoosh” of a large golden eagle’s wings as it took off from just next to me was one of the most astonishing things I had ever heard or seen.

So I fell into a gutter in India.

The Jokhang temple is the holiest temple in Lhasa, the ancient capital of Tibet. The first time I entered the temple I could feel the energy of its sacred history. Rows and rows of candles were casting shadows on the dark walls.