Bill Bryson

Some months ago I had the pleasure of meeting my favourite travel writer, Bill Bryson. As an avid follower of his, I have devoured each of his books, completely addicted to his sarcastic humour and sharp observations. I anxiously waited for my turn, a selection of his books in my arms. I told him I was also a writer and that I wished to enter the world of travel writing. He was extremely friendly and welcoming and encouraged me to pursue my dream. Writing inside my copy of 'Down Under', he simply put 'Go!' as he reminisced about his time in the barren beauty of Australia. I think it is important that the people we admire encourage and inspire us to never lose focus on achieving our goals.

My Favourite Book... (For Real Travel Magazine)

The City of Falling Angels by John Berendt

John Berendt leads us on an intimate journey, walking the calles of Venice. We’re drawn in by the elaborate description and intriguing relationships he forges along the way, unveiling the secrets, the lies and the scandal beneath the ornate exterior.

     Immediately we are introduced to the focal point of the whole book, the suspicious fire of 1996, which consumes the Fenice Opera house, breaking the hearts of Venetians all over the city. What follows is an enthralling series of interviews with the eccentric people of Venice, each with a story to tell and a deep rooted love for their country. We become captivated as suspicion causes rifts throughout the tight knit community, an unthinkable crime that rocks the foundations of this picturesque city. 

     With mentions of the Mafia and the exposure of corrupt officials, this is not your average travel account but verges more on being a journal, exposing the raw intricacies of such a high profile city.

     On the trail for justice we get to experience the beauty of the canals, and how they act as veins feeding the heart of Venice, an intricate system of waterways used for hundreds of years by the likes of Ezra Pound and Casanova.

     In The City of Falling Angels, John Berendt has produced an exquisite ‘tribute to a people’. Venice is exposed through the eyes of its inhabitants. They are ‘the beating heart’ that keeps the city thriving, the people with secrets to tell.



One entrance in to the Souks



Djamaa El Fna Square

A trip to the Moroccan dentist...

Marrakesh provides a vibrant feast for the senses. The Djamaa El Fna square is a popular location for locals and tourists a-like, a buzzing source of entertainment by day, with snake charming and monkeys and a social extravaganza by night, with a lively market of fresh food and handmade crafts. The name of this square may ring a bell as it was sadly where a bomb exploded in a small cafe only a month or so ago, but don't let this put you off, there is still much to be admired at the heart of this african city. Take a stroll through the expansive souks and become immersed in the Aladdin-like cave of silver teapots handmade in nearby city, Fes and the elegant glass lanterns that dangle inches above your head. Marrakesh was an explosion of culture, I had never seen anything like it. Women were hovering, waiting to draw intricate patterns with henna guns, men were gathered, placing bets on which poisonous snake could be charmed for the longest and there amongst it all was the Moroccan equivalent of a dentist. A scruffy, bearded man was sitting on a chair behind a fold-out table. His weather-beaten hands were crossed aross his stomach and he was squinting his eyes in the midday heat. As I took a closer look I realised that his table was piled high with hundreds of human teeth and I recoiled at the sight. It seemed that if you were unlucky enough to get toothache out here, this was the man you saw.

A giant Cane Toad having a midnight feast!

Have you ever... (Article for Real Travel magazine)

Have you ever...had a mud bath in Costa Rica?

Sitting out on the porch framing our room, my friends and I discussed the spa session we had booked in. Anticipation filled the air as we watched the sun set, taking in the expanse of colour that flooded the sky. The evenings were a welcome relief to the heat of the day, although still an almost claustrophobic humidity, it was relaxing to sit and listen to the cicadas evening chorus, a subtle clicking that never ceased.

    The next day we were loaded into an ancient looking mini bus, eager for the pampering to begin. Tightly clinging onto our seats the bus rattled its way up a bumpy dirt track and we felt more than a little dubious about what was waiting for us at the other end.

     Clambering out of the bus moments later I felt a bit nauseous, but was intrigued by the ‘spa’ before me. There seemed to be something resembling a bird bath proudly standing in the entrance and behind it were two clear swimming pools. A man greeted us and pointed us in the direction of two wooden changing cubicles. Rather tentatively we each changed into our bikinis and huddled together. We were then led into a large wooden hut, which turned out to be a steam room. It was heavenly, the steam seemed to penetrate ever pore of my skin, soothing my muscles and sending me to sleep.

     Twenty minutes later the little man with the permanent smile returned and ushered our sleepy bodies out into daylight. Standing out in the open, we felt more than a little exposed. He walked over to the ‘bird bath’, scooped up a handful of mud and handed it to me. Let the mud bath commence!  We giggled as we each rubbed handfuls of mud over every part of our bodies. The mud stuck to us and formed a secondary layer of skin. We had been successfully transformed into mud monsters, but the best part of all. We had to let it set...

     For the next ten minutes we became human sun dials, rotating ever few minutes for the sun to settle on a new area of skin. My skin became tight as the mud began to dry, encasing me inside, like a living mummy. When we were sufficiently dry it was time to take a dip. One by one we jumped in the steaming hot swimming pool and felt the mud melt away. It was an amazing sensation, and I imagined my skin letting out a sigh of relief. Next was the turn of the freezing cold pool. Building up the courage I leapt in and shrieked. My body tensed and I jumped out making a dash for the changing cubicles.

     It was an exhilarating experience and one I’ll never forget. Although not quite the pampering session I had envisioned, the day I visited a Costa Rican mud spa was the most memorable and hilarious thing I’d ever done.

My most memorable travel experience

About 5 years ago, I went on a ten day trip to Costa Rica. To say I was excited is an understatement, this was the first time I had travelled without my parents and I could not wait! It was the most beautiful country I had ever been to, immense humidity created a sauna-like environment and the chirping sound of cicadas chorused me as the night drew in. I felt completely alive, immersed in a tropical paradise, living at the heart of the rainforest. The hotel 'rooms' were on stilts, scattered among the flora, wooden huts camoflaged with their surroundings. I felt like I could have lived out my life there, so close to nature. Everywhere I looked there were creatures lurking, giant spiders guarded their webs as candle light flickered across their hair-covered frames, bright blood-red crabs lingered under the walkways, scuttling away as light reached them and howler monkeys swung through the canopy above me, their eerie call echoing through the forest. For the first time I felt like nature was in control, this was their territory and I was just a guest.

Disneyland Paris

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.”  Mark Twain

Sweet Paris!

Paris has always been a city that I have longed to visit, so when the chance arose for a long weekend I snapped it up immediately. Being a student it proves increasingly difficult to travel as far and as regularly as I'd like, so I cherish any chance or opportunity that I come across. With the Louvre Museum and the Eiffel Tower (predictable I know) in my sights I was ready to explore. There is something thrilling about finding your way around a foreign city, reading maps and using the french underground were both things I was looking forward to.

The Louvre Museum was nothing short of stunning, I could not fathom the immense size and exquisite architecture of this national treasure, and that was just the exterior. Inside there were a maze of interlocking corridors and chambers, each room home to cultural antiquities and priceless treasures.

Although I have to say I was disappointed with the 'Mona Lisa' and found that not only were you prevented from getting anywhere near the masterpiece, but that it was encased inside shatter-proof glass, which meant that taking pictures was near impossible, unless you particularly like having a reflective glare across the captured image.

The Eiffel Tower lit up the evening sky, a magnificent structure, standing proud on the Parisian landscape. Queing on a wintery night I was eager to travel to the top and survey the city from amongst the clouds. Tourist atrractions aside there is much to do and see in Paris, and experiencing lunch in a lively cafe is a must!

The world is your oyster

As a student I find it increasingly hard to be able to afford to travel as frequently and as far as I'd like, but this doesn't hold me back. Whilst studying for the last three years, I have been to Amsterdam, Paris, Morocco and soon Itlay. With each opportunity I try to gain as much as I can, whether in experiences, memories, images or words. My dream is to write for travel guides or a travel magazine such as Real Travel or Wanderlust, but until that time arises there are hundreds of countries waiting to be explored and I'm just the girl to do it.