Posts Tagged ‘Travel Writer’

The End of the Olive Harvest

The End of the Olive Harvest

It all started with the police check last night. Torchlight zig-zagged across the car and we huddled in the backseat. “You are English,” said the policeman. “And yet you say you want to go to Pegalajar.” “That’s right,” said MG, our driver. “My friends here – they want to pick olives.” “They want,” he lingered [...]

Hunting Whales

Hunting Whales

Pedro Martina’s sun-worn face lights up as he grabs my shoulder and points into the distance. “Three of them are under the water now,” he says as I scour the shades of blue. “One baby and two adultos… and further behind them I can see two more.” It’s certainly not the first time Pedro has [...]


White Ice in the Pink City

White Ice in the Pink City

Toulouse, nicknamed La Ville Rose or the Pink City, turns white near Christmas with dripping lights, a skating rink in Place Capitole and, if the weather’s just right, a soft snowfall. Find my full article on how Toulouse celebrates Christmas at National Geographic’s Intelligent Travel. Joyeux Noël.

Riyadh

Flashbacks of an Arabian princess….


Marseille

Marseille

Cassis – the nearby picturesque port. The city of Marseille..


Biarritz

Biarritz

Spotting surfers on the waves at Biarritz…and for once feeling grateful that I’m on dry land.
For those thrilled by the fact that the surfers in this photo are barely visible (giving perspective to the size of those waves) – and who actually clicked on this link to find out more information about the surf in Biarritz,

Cambridge

Cambridge

  Early morning..


Toulouse

Toulouse

Christmas markets, marathon finish lines, free concerts, pillow fights, organic vegetables, book fairs and general lazing around. The heart of the Pink City beats at Place Capitole.

It Doesn’t Take Two to Tango

It Doesn’t Take Two to Tango

      Buenos Aires. Ah, you can almost hear the accordion in your mind. The stomp and the swish of the dancers. The haughty stare and ice-licked face of the star, raven hair tight against her scalp.   Or, you can see a rambling, scruffy line of pale-faced young men shuffling forwards in clear [...]