All posts tagged: travel

Southeast Asia in Pictures: Week II

Every week during our eight-week trip across Southeast Asia, I plan to post a handful of snapshots and stories from the week just gone. This week we caught an evening flight from Singapore to Phnom Penh, the capital of Cambodia – a short two-hour hop across the Gulf of Thailand. Minimising our environmental impact was something that was important for us to consider so we chose to take only two flights on this leg, in and out of Singapore, travelling otherwise by train (and occasionally, by bus). Given our limited time in Phnom Penh, we chose to visit the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum rather than the Killing Fields outside the city. A former high school requisitioned by the Khmer Rouge and turned into a prison and execution centre, it was a harrowing, necessary journey into the country’s tragic – and shockingly recent – past. The audio guide is well worth it and I left feeling even more inspired by the optimistic nature of Cambodia’s people. Most people over 35 or so have lived through unimaginable …

Southeast Asia in Pictures: Week I

Every week during our eight-week trip across Southeast Asia, I plan to post a handful of snapshots and stories from the week just gone. If you follow me elsewhere on the web, you’ll know that my everyday world has taken a turn for the tropical. After over a year of saving our pennies, I quit my full-time job in central London, my partner put his business on hold and we moved out of our one-bed flat in the city – to embark, finally, on our long-planned adventure. We are spending the rest of the year (October-December) exploring Southeast Asia: as my parents are (temporarily) living in Asia, the chance to explore this part of the world seemed too good an opportunity to pass up. I love to travel, and we had the luxury of being able to save up and plan far in advance so we could steer our commitments and finances with this excursion in mind. I have also been aching to go freelance for several years, but could never quite muster the courage …

London For Introverts | Chiswick House

London for introverts is a topic I’ve been pondering for a few months now, noticing how I (endowed with reclusive tendencies) gravitate towards quiet, deserted spaces in this seething, swirling metropolis. When I first mentioned writing something on the subject, my similarly reserved other half joked the guide would be just three words long. Stay at home.  Yet despite my monastic inclinations, I like to see the world. I find I often relish being alone, or in quiet company, while surrounded by the thousands of others experiencing their daily lives in this city, soaking in the quotidian mundane taking place around me, seeking serenity in the hubbub. At weekends, we tend to avoid Zone 1 as though the Great Fire is once again swooping through Londontown, seeking still sanctuaries, shying from the crowds while other days I can frequently be found haunting city centre bookshops, or museums bursting at the seams. My tolerance for people and for noise fluctuates and varies. Perhaps yours does too. So here goes. The first instalment of a new series around these parts: London for introverts (and, I feel keen …

A Weekend In Bristol

   Back in early November, we escaped the city for a weekend in beautiful, autumnal Bristol. I wanted to share these (already tardy) snapshots before they seem obsolete. It was as cosy and relaxing as we hoped – catching up with friends, lattes at the Watershed, crawling Clifton’s pubs, a lipsmacking Sunday roast at the Vaults, naps in our bolthole apartment opposite the Lido, flea market wanders, crunching through the leaves in Brandon Hill, admiring vintage single speeds chained to lamp-posts and our faces reflected in inky puddles. The whole weekend was really a walking tour of the places that once comprised my life. Closed tight like a fist, my world contained in these small streets. Where I lived and studied, biked, laughed, cried, was. And somehow it’s three years since I left and mostly, I’ve forgotten to miss it. That November weekend put an end to that; weekly, we talk now of our one-day maybe-someday life in this hilltop oasis, our house perched on a slope, his job at the university, our one-day babes tumbling through …

Venice | Backstreets

We spent most of our three days in Venice simply wandering, the mist creeping through the city’s labyrinthine alleyways behind us, a benevolent monster of sorts. Backstreets, my friend Emmy bid us, head to the backstreets; so in two pairs of tights, three woolly jumpers and a snug pair of boots, cameras in hand, we did just that. The backstreets of Venice are where you’ll find the city’s true charm: see elderly ladies, hoary-haired and unsteady on their feet, in immaculate red lippie and curlers, swaddled in floor-length furs, stopping to browse in the windows of decadent shopfronts, carting purchases home in trolleys clattering along the cobbles. Watch men, wrapped stylishly in wool coats and felted hats, meandering in pairs, copies of la Repubblica folded under one arm, as crinkled as the rings around their eyes. You’ll see wispy grey fog, soft and gentle as a memory, a whisper, inching through the alleys; tangled succulents reaching out from rusting windowboxes, like outstretched hands. Look for crisp white sheets and a rainbow of linens hung out to dry in the freezing cold. Look for dogs walking …