Looking for unusual things to do in Canada? Visiting Ottawa? Why not incarcerate yourself? My cell was mid-way along the corridor. … More
Aged 22 I travelled across Canada. 4 weeks on a Greyhound Bus covering 4,500km. I’d already backpacked around the world for … More
When you’re done with the harbour, beaches and Opera House, drag your tired, tourist ass over to see the murals in … More
2017 didn’t go your way? Lady Luck pissed on your chips? If the answer is yes, you’re probably feeling desperate. Ready to try some superstitious claptrap to get lucky in 2018. You’re in the right place.
As many immigrant Brits will tell you (repeatedly), Christmas in Australia is shit. What with that cloudless blue sky, close proximity to stunning beaches and relaxed bonhomie. It’s nothing like Blighty. It’s intolerable.
Explore the rough end of Newtown, Sydney. Better known as the far end of South King Street. An area that’s … More
A warm welcome to visitors from www.mscgerber.com.
In Varanasi, among the 2000 or so temples, is a charity-run hostel – Mukti Bhavan (‘Salvation House’) – where the guests come to die. The room tariff includes the wood for the funeral pyre. To be clear, this isn’t a centre for suicide. Not an Indian version of Dignitas, the Swiss one-stop-shop for euthanasia. The very old and very sick come here, when death is imminent.
Danger comes from unexpected places in India. Perilous roads, the ever-present risk of shitting oneself. We had a long list of potential hazards. But little brown Geckos were not included.
Budget travel brings an unavoidable level of intimacy. Oversharing in extremis. De-briefings requested and given after each visit to the toilet.
Carried by a motorcade of tuk-tuks through the dark, dusty streets of Delhi looking for a hotel room. It was like we were caught up in a surreal Nativity Story interpretation. THIS was the adventure we wanted… wasn’t it?
Age 22, I wrote a letter to my future self. In a moment of transcendent clarity, I committed my thoughts to paper so I could look back and remember that feeling. It was as if I’d been driving through a dimly lit, noisy tunnel. Coming out of the other side into silence. Sunlight. Sweet relief.
As I turned the corner I came nose-to-nose with a decapitated camel.
My tour of the English Language Teaching Centre was interrupted by an old lady who seemed to know everyone.