Jardin de Balata hadn’t originally made it onto my to-do list, but as I slipped through a hillside tropical paradise of palms, ferns, tropical flowers and flitting hummingbirds I quickly realised what a mistake missing this would’ve been.
It is thanks to France that Martinique is one of the top foodie destinations of the Caribbean, but along with being French comes the infamous Sunday closures
It was 2015 in the Southwest French summertime, visiting the Périgord region not far from Bordeaux. Before this, I’d never set foot in Europe. A wide eyed and brand new to this land, so heavy with culture and history. My first glimpse of Paris entailed a zip down the Seine with barely a pause for …
It was summer twenty sixteen, and in a desperate bid to lay low and recover from my time volunteering in Greece I was on a somewhat aimless wandering around the warmer parts of Europe. Sleeping in hostels, picking up volunteer work in exchange for a bed and a meal, writing for money when I could …
The longer I had travelled, the more my desire for planning new destinations had fallen by the wayside. Not due to laziness, rather because at this time in my journey I’d come to deeply enjoy the last-minuteness of it all. A last minute trip to Bulgaria evolved into an even more last minute weekend in …
After just a few days in Fort-de-France we set off on a Martinique road trip around the South of the island, from Trois Ilets down to Sainte-Anne.
Fort-de-France, capital of Martinique in the French Caribbean. Here I was, spending December exploring buttery croissants, excellent wine, & palm-fringed tropical beaches.
If you watch carefully underwater, the middle of the bay at Anse Noir is home to a number of sea turtles The gorgeous Anse Noir is one of the only spots on the island of Martinique where you can spot turtles every day. Of all the beaches we visited here, this was hands-down my favourite, …
Thirty years ago Claudio Magris travelled the Danube’s winding trail from Hungary, musing on the philosophies of the area. Rapidly approaching my own 30th year, it was my turn.
The bus lurched into Sofia amidst a storm that might rival armageddon. The first taste of Bulgaria, and hopefully not an omen of things to come. After weaving in and out of the scorching heat of a Greek spring, we headed north through tiny villages. Worn stone cottages with trellises draped in vines dotted across …
