[Blog entry written for NananTravel]
Luxury trains redefine excellence and adventure
There’s a soft knock on the door of your cabin. You’re gently pulled out of your smiling dreamland into the morning sunlight. You roll over on your plush mattress, the thick cotton sheets wrapping softly around your rested body, and lift your cheek off the fluffy pillows.
“Come in,” you whisper loudly.
A smiling attendant slides your door open, carrying a tray with a steaming coffee plunger, two coffee cups and an assortment of baked goodies. The sharp, sweet smell of the freshly roasted coffee delights your senses as you welcome the new day. Outside the landscape is flashing by in bright greens and blues and yellows. You get excited about the new places you’re going to discover today as you pour yourself and your lover/spouse/partner/friend a welcome cup of morning brew.
Where are you? Continue reading
I managed to spend a week in Iringa and Ruaha, in Tanzania. These are a few of the amazing sights.
Eager to see Cuba before it became too open and spoilt, I took a trip there recently and got high on being transported to somewhere so different and unreal.
December, and a return to Turkey. Because it takes my breath away.
See the rest of the album…
There are drums. In the distance. The beats join the music in a happy union. I can sense smiling. And a twirl of tulle-ed skirts and can-can costumes. I walk closer, unable to keep myself away. Someone takes my bicycle from me. “Don’t worry, it’s safe here.” The tarred road quickly becomes gravel as I walk further off today’s route. That’s okay. It is safe here. The music gets louder and as I round a corner; a red flash. Then more red, and a torso. First just smiling and shaking and rhythmically undulating. Then a louder flash of music. And the drums again. Always the drums as I walk into what feels like an African tribal ritual of stomps and starts. I walk through the beat. People start writhing around me. More red. Beautiful red that makes me smile. Smile because everything red is a dress and only some of the dresses are women. That feels strange out here in the raw country, where cows stare and butter is churned instead of manufactured. But it feels like home. I walk in deeper. Continue reading