Island-hopping in Greece

My guest post for Gecko's Adventures on behalf of Pocket Village- 'Island-hopping in Greece'

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The dive of your life

My latest post for Pocket Village - "The Dive of Your Life: Top 5 dive spots"

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Colourful Bermuda

Laid-back Rodrigues

Wherever I hang me knickers...

I think a turning point for many avid travellers comes when they realise that they no longer have only one place to call 'home'. If home is simply where you feel 'at home', that opens up a whole host of options. If 'home is where the heart is' then friends and relationships made along the way can add to the confusion. I guess most of us are lucky enough to have one place where our roots lie... but when I have lived and loved, earned and learned in a new place I often feel my relationship with the setting itself evolving from a whirlwind affair into a long-term romance; no matter where I move on to, those few special places will always tug away at the old heart strings.

Via Etsy

Mad for Karneval

In Cologne Karneval time is so important that it has been named as the fifth ‘season’, kicking off with a whirlwind day of costumed alcohol consumption on 11^th November (‘Elfter Elfter’) and culminating in a six-day party extravaganza in February. This is no tourist event or youth rebellion; here the overwhelmingly native German crowd brings together the fresh-faced, newly legal drinker and the veteran Karneval-goer in a mass of crazy, ridiculous, and often entirely impractical outfits in order to celebrate… well I have no idea what actually, perhaps beer? Or the quashing of the German stiff ‘n’ sensible stereotype? Certainly watching my boyfriend flail his arms around gaily whilst dressed in a ghastly old blue wetsuit and entirely random mullet wig made me stop and think – we were wrong all along; the Germans DO have a sense of humour, we just don’t get it!*

Why Tommy Girl hit the road

It’s time for some background information, focusing in large part on who is Tommy Girl, and why on earth is she travelling? Well, my hypothetical inquisitive friend, she is a 22-year-old graduate from Britain who has been driven to where she is today by her three great passions: languages, travelling and writing. Oh alright, there may be a boy involved too…

We'll meet again: Paris Take Three

Well, we had to have one photo of the good old Eiffel Tower!

And so the final day of my Parisian trip arrived, and as if to mark the occasion and send me on my way with a positive impression I was treated to a good dose of sunshine. I still had several tickets remaining from my carnet of metro tickets (€12 for 10 as opposed to €1.70 each), so I was keen to squeeze in a couple more areas of the city before my departure. Emerging at Hôtel de Ville we were greeted by numerous hunky, ridiculously tall men in equally ridiculously baggy shorts and vest tops shooting hoops in a temporary basketball arena that had been set up for what appeared to be some kind of NBA promotional event. Rumour has it Tony Parker was in town, but sadly we had to make do with a lanky ‘cool dude’ being dragged from the audience in order to (very reluctantly) tear his street cred to shreds by twirling 15 times around a basketball with finger touching nose and elbow touching said basketball.Very amusing!

The proof is in the pastry: Paris Take Two

After a nice long sleep we were eventually stirred by music floating in through the open window, announcing the beginning of Journée du Patrimoine (Cultural Heritage Day, when numerous monuments and important buildings open their doors to the public, usually offering a special programme of events). Once fuelled up with a café crème and three mini viennoiseries we sauntered towards Le Château de Vincennes to take advantage of the free cultural programme. The château is large, attractive, and, well, very French-looking! People were lining up to take tours, several of them kitted out in traditional dress, but we continued to the central courtyard where we could see some kind of marching band emerging from an archway. This turned out to be a reenactment of a march by the Grognards de la Somme, soldiers of the old guard of Napolean I. The drummer’s time-keeping and the group’s synchronicity left a lot to be desired, but the concentration on the their wrinkled faces as they huffed and puffed in their archaic uniforms was endearing to say the least.