As they would say in Scotland, it was blowing a hoolie on the North Sea. After being tossed around all night like tiddlywinks in rough seas, by the time we approached dawn, the waves flatlined and a calm, cold blue eyed morning greeted us as the DFDS cruise rolled into Newcastle. 

So yeah. Why the hell am I here? (other than the pure love of slow travel and storms at sea) Well, I was on the verge of a footballing pilgrimage of sorts, to some of the greatest football cities of Great Britain.

I would start first in Glasgow, then Newcastle, then onto the great rivals of Newcastle – Sunderland, then onto Liverpool and finally Manchester. So, a distinctly northern flavour. Over the course of a week, I had one key aim – to decipher what makes football so great in Britain and why people are so mad about this beautiful game.

I think I should start by asking myself.

Why is football so special to me?

I grew up near Manchester in a place called Oldham. And in the late eighties, Liverpool was the team. There was only Liverpool and Everton. Manchester United and Manchester City were in the doldrums. 

Plus, it was the era of Barnes, Dalglish and Rush. These were the 3 most fearsome forwards of their era. Then we had Alan Hansen in defence. It was a great Liverpool team to watch.

I think I was 6 years old when I watched the Merseyside derby on TV. I was immediately hooked, and I’ve never looked back since. It’s been a lifelong addiction and passion. I think briefly when I went to India, I lost the passion and became hooked on cricket. However, the moment I set foot back on British soil and went to university in Scotland, I started watching Liverpool again, and it just came flooding back. The passion, the love of the game. It was always there.

Since leaving Britain in 2012 and embarking on my nomadic journeys across the world, football has been my lifeline to Great Britain, to my identity of being British. Wherever I go in the world, I try to watch the Liverpool games at supporters clubs around the world. I’ve made so many friends thanks to following Liverpool. However the best thing, when I see Anfield on TV and I hear the anthem, You’ll Never Walk Alone, it just brings back all the memories of my childhood and all the emotions, the face of my father and friends I have met along the way. Football is my connection to Britain and to me. After the disillusion of Brexit, this trip would be a way of reconnecting with my British roots and a more innocent, version of myself.

1. Glasgow

‘Some people think football is a matter of life and death. I don’t like that attitude. I can assure them it is much more serious than that” 

Bill Shankly

I start my pilgrimage way up north on the south side of Glasgow. It is a typical wet, dreich day. The faint drizzle gets heavier as a thick gust swirls across the thick clumps of uneven turf and eats into our skin. There is no protection from the elements. We are standing on the edge of the Queens Park Recreational Ground. To most casual observers or passers by this would be the most nondescript field and patch of grass, except that this is no ordinary field. The haloed piece of turf is where THE first game of football was ever played, back in the Victorian era.

Just a few steps away, we walk upto the Queens Park Bowling Club, which at first sight, may not look much, but you are now looking at the worlds first ever purpose built football stadium that could hold 20,000 back in its day. These are just one of the many amazing facts you will discover on the incredible Three Hampdens  Tour, led by the warm, articulate and passionate Lindsey Hamilton.

‘If you ever go to the Fifa museum in Zurich, you will see them say that the history of football started in 1864 with the formation of the Football Association which is the English football association. We would argue that the game started well before that, here in Scotland, not a bunch of English guys in a pub!’

Lindsey Hamilton, Glasgow Football Tours

We hop across the road to the second Hampden Park stadium, which most people will know as Cathkin Park, once home to Third Lanark FC. 

The park, while still in use for local community football is barricaded on all sides. It might have been the weather but I felt very sad, at the dilapidated state of what was once the Scottish national football stadium, the terraces surrounding it, now thick with overgrown weeds, nature having replaced the vast empty spaces. 

Cathkin Park is a parable of what football has become. While at the top of the pyramid, rich clubs thrive in the era of hyper-commercialisation raking in billions of revenue from everything from naming rights to t-shirt sales, you have on the flip side, hundreds of historic clubs, community clubs that are on the verge of bankruptcy and extinction. Is the beautiful game is in danger of losing its spirit and soul? Still, with all its good and bad, many will argue that football has an important role to play in today’s society.

Cathkin Park is home to the Jimmy Johnstone Academy, a local community grassroots football club. While visiting Cathkin Park we were fortunate to visit the academy and learn about their various projects that include Freedom from torture, where former torture survivors who recently have arrived in Scotland have the opportunity to play football and rebuild their lives and improve overall mental wellbeing. I had the chance to sit down with Rabin Omar, a professional football player who has also been here working with the Jimmy Johnson Academy since he was 13 years old. I was curious to hear his perspective of local football culture 

‘I mention passion but football is more of a religion here in Glasgow. You see how locals follow their team, week in week out and how it sort of flows through their life on a daily basis. They will live, breathe and think about their clubs most of the day.’

Rabin Omar

Lindsey agreed with Rabin on how football is a metaphor for life in Glasgow. 

‘I think in Glasgow, it’s been ingrained in us since the beginning of time. We are obsessed with football. I think it comes from the fact that it is just such an easy sport for people to go to, just start playing in a park, and it just kinda grew from there.

I think football is just life for me as a Glaswegian. Like, I don’t mean that in, like, a whimsical sense. I mean, like, it’s ups and downs, the same way that life is. And that’s how I always see things, you know. I literally live my life, if I’m having a tough day, tough morning, or even something annoying has happened. I’m like, give me 2 halves. And it’s like a reset. You just go again.’

Lindsey Hamilton

The tour appropriately finishes with a pint of the local Tennents at the fantastic Rose Reilly Pub, a pub dedicated to Scotland’s sole World Cup winner.

Tourist essentials

You can book Lindsey Hamilton’s brilliant Three Hampdens Walking Tours via her website. Tours last 2 hours and cost £15 for adults and £5 for kids.

Just like football, the weather in Glasgow was a game of 2 halves. Morning, absolutely shite, drizzling rain and grey, afternoon – blue skies and beautiful sunshine. It was perfect weather for a wander through the west end of Glasgow. Packed with vintage shops, art galleries, fabulous restaurants, a great bar scene and some breathtaking architecture, the West End of Glasgow is a must on any visit to Glasgow. Definitely make time for the Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum (Argyle Street), probably the best free museum in Scotland and the UK, from its Ancient Egyptian artefacts to amazing animal displays. If you are a Liverpool fan and looking to watch their games, hop later to The Record Factory (17 Byres Road ), which is the home of Liverpool fans in Glasgow. Great atmosphere, nice staff plus reduced drinks prices during the games. If you are hungry and looking for some scran, you can hop into the University Cafe (87 Byres Rd) few doors away where you can get your fish and chips (£7.50) fix or if you dare, follow in the footsteps of Anthony Bourdian and try the deep fried Mars Bar, £3.50 ) and deep fried egg. Or you could sample another iconic Scottish dish, Haggis Neeps (turnip) and Tatties (potato- £13.95, vegan version available) at Rab Ha’s (83 Hutcheson Street) in Merchant City.”Rab Ha”, short for Robert Hall, lived in the area in the 19th century and was infamous for his love of fine food, earning him the moniker, the Glasgow Glutton!

2. Newcastle

‘Unlike other towns and cities in the UK, our stadium is right in the city centre so it forms part of the fabric of the city, not just metaphorically but literally.’

Eddy Hope, Tyneside Life

When you come to Newcastle, the first thing I notice is how the city revolves around the stadium, St James Park which is slap bang in the heart of the city. It literally takes us a 15 minute walk to reach the stadium from the train station. Along the way, we visit a terrific football memorabilia shop, The Back Page, on St Andrew’s Street. If you want to get a first hand taste of Newcastle Geordie culture and an insight into the history of the city, the club, then this shop/fans museum is an essential stop. 

The scale of the passion and support for the club becomes apparent to me when I see the number of bars and pubs. Newcastle enjoys the highest concentration of football pubs within a half mile radius of any football stadiums in Britain – 108 to be precise.

We visit a few of them, the Newcastle Arms and another local favourite, Rosie. We make a quick pitstop at the German inspired beerhall, Wunderbar, which is an enormous venue and then finish at probably the most famous Newcastle supporters bar of the lot – The Strawberry, which has been sitting right across from the stadium since 1859. The pub truly reflects local devotion to the black and white stripes, with pictures of Newcastle footballers past and present. If you can’t get match day tickets, the next best thing is to watch the game at the Strawberry. You will hear the roar of football fans from the pub and if the team wins, then it will be utter bedlam in the pub.

For football fans the 1.5-hour tour of St. James Park is must. Spend time going behind the scenes of where the real matches take place at the park. Gain access to areas that aren’t normally open to anyone but players, coaches, and officials. Get a chance to slip into the media suite, and see where players and managers are interviewed before and after games. Plus, you can even sit in your favourite players spot in the home locker room.

Tourist essentials

Obviously beyond St James Park, there are the various statues outside it (Shearer, Bobby Robson, Jackie Milburn), and the little Alder Sweeney memorial garden to remember the two fans who died on the MH17 flight. 

Then there’s The Strawberry pub which I mentioned, just opposite the ground which is a traditional meeting point for fans.

There’s a terrific football memorabilia shop, The Back Page, just a stone’s throw away, on St Andrew’s Street. There’s a couple of wall murals, one off Northumberland Street, celebrating NUFC legends, and one on Morden Street, remembering Ish Bamba, a project worker for the Newcastle United Foundation. And finally there’s the Castle Keep itself, from which the football club takes its logo.

Other essentials. Do make time to visit the stunning Grey Street which has some of the finest examples of Georgian era architecture anywhere in Britain and was named after former Prime Minister Earl Grey, yes the very same person who was responsible for introducing Earl Grey tea to the country. Go for a walk along the Quayside, if time permits pop into the BALTIC Centre for Contemporary Art and also to nearby Ouseburn Valley, once the cradle of the industrial revolution on Tyneside and now a hub for the creative arts and also home to several outstanding independent pubs where you can sample great food, find live music and comedy acts throughout the week.

Finish off with dinner at the Thai House Cafe ( 93 Clayton Street ) in the city centre. Food portions are huge, all mains are below a tenner and the quality of food, and taste was outstanding. Sabrina tried their beef noodle soup and broth which was excellent, beef well cooked and tender while I had their massaman curry which was flavourful and so tasty. 

3. Sunderland

All the great sports are defined by their intense rivalries. In Britain, especially in the industrial heartlands, the rivalries take on a life of their own, fuelled by a heady cocktail of history, geography, and sheer passion. While many may argue Rangers – Celtic to be the most intense rivalries, the two cities of Sunderland and Newcastle upon Tyne, separated by 12 miles (19 km), can lay claim to be one of British football’s harshest rivalries. The history of the Tyne – Wear derby is a modern-day extension of a rivalry between the two cities that harks back to the English Civil War merchants in Sunderland became a Parliamentarian stronghold in protest against the advantages enjoyed by their counterparts in Royalist Newcastle.

While it was almost impossible to get hold of tickets in Newcastle live (or any Premier League club unless you want to pay €€€€ ), I did manage to get tickets for a Sunderland match, thanks to a partnership between the club and DFDS Seaways. The two clubs have enjoyed contrasting fortunes with Sunderland suffering successive relegations while Newcastle’s fortunes have soared with the recent Saudi takeover. A short hop by train from Newcastle, the match day experience was a refreshing break from the razzmatazz of Premier league football. We land at noon and head to probably the most legendary of all Sunderland pubs, The Colliery Tavern. 

On match day it gets lively early on with lots of passionate locals piling in for a few pints. We grabbed a pint of Carling and found ourselves chatting soon to Guido and Bastian from Germany who had come to see the match. Both passionate football fans, they love to catch football games across various countries in Europe. When I asked them if they had a favourite country for watching football besides Germany they mentioned Britain.

‘The history of the clubs here, the culture surrounding it, the passionate fans, the quality of football and the locals create a special atmosphere which is something we can relate to.’

They had been really impressed with the friendliness of locals and fans in Sunderland, something we quickly noticed. After a few pints in the Colliery, we headed to the legendary Fans Museum. Located in what was a derelict, former train station, the Fans Museum, the brainchild of Michael Ganley is not your archetypical fan museum. Michael has amassed an extensive collection of Sunderland football memorabilia and even football shirts worn by Maradona and Beckham. The shirts are not just there to be seen. Families, children come in every day asking Michael to wear a football shirt of one of their icons, to which he happily obliges. The museum also shows football matches and on match day is packed to the rafters with often 3 generations of families gathered in the space. 

I come away impressed with the strong sense of community spirit in Sunderland. While the team continues to struggle, the dedication of the fans remains unquestioned. If there was an award for the most passionate fans, Sunderland fans would definitely be up there with the best fans in Britain.

I ask Michael how he would sum up his club in one word and he mentioned a word, I would hear a lot from fans that week.

‘Passion! If I would sum up my club in one word I would use something written on the back of my shirt- Passion. It’s passion. Passion in belief. Passion in disbelief, but it all comes under one roof. Whatever the outcome of today, there is always tomorrow and that’s the passion. We never walk away from our beliefs and our true love, really and that’s how you would sum our football club and city.’

Michael Ganley, The Fans Museum

Sunderland lost 1-0 to Millwall that day. It was not the greatest game to watch. One of the highlights was half time grub when I treated myself to chips with curry sauce. So good. 

Still, people. I left with only the best memories of all the warm, friendly passionate locals we met.

Tourist Essentials

The Nexus Tyne and Wear Metro provides a service between Newcastle upon Tyne to Sunderland every twenty minutes. Board a train heading in the direction of South Hylton and disembark at Sunderland or directly at the Stadium of Light.

4. Liverpool

“Liverpool is the pool of life, it makes to live.”

Carl Jung

Liverpool. I emerge from the train station, serenaded by seagulls, the air smelling of diesel, fish and tar. In the distance I can see the dark greyish blue blur of the Mersey, swirling amongst the skyline of the famous waterfront architecture. Even though I have never lived in Liverpool, it feels like home. I have the same sense of familiarity when I visit Hamburg. Maybe, I have a thing for port cities. Places where you have a bit of grit rubbed in with some glamour. After dropping off our bags I go for walk around the city centre and waterfront. Liverpool One. The spectacular array of old and new architecture that is concentrated around the dock that would be the envy of any modern city.

Then there is the Beatles connection. We pop into the Beatles Story Museum. From childhood lives to their first hellos, at the Beatles Story Museum you can learn about the band’s life before their glory days. Spot the stars as young boys in black and white family photographs. See the instruments from their early days – when their passion for music first ignited. Look back at their transformative years when they took to the stage as the modest Quarrymen before blossoming into the Beatles.  It’s packed with memorabilia, such as John Lennon’s glasses, Ringo’s drums and George’s first guitar, as well as recreations of key locations like The Casbah and Cavern Club and Abbey Road Studios. 

I pause for a moment to enjoy the architecture of the Museum of Liverpool which was designed to resemble the trading ships that once dominated the harbour. At the far end of the waterfront, I find the beautiful bronze statue of the four Beatles standing in front of the majestic Royal Liver Building, once the tallest building in Europe. From the waterfront, it is a short walk through the fabulous Liverpool One before reaching the most iconic street of the city, Matthew Street. It is a narrow alleyway that was once bustling with tradesman. However, in recent decades it became a hub of nightlife and home to the most iconic Cavern Club, where the Beatles had their first break. The club hosts a roster of live bands from 11am everyday and is a must see when in Liverpool. Entry tickets cost just 5 pounds. 

Liverpool’s other legendary export is of course football. Every club boasts that their fans are the best and after meeting fans from Glasgow, Newcastle and Sunderland, it is tough to argue against that but… Liverpool fans are truly a unique species. The first and only time I went to see a game at Anfield, the noise in the terraces was something different. Everywhere I walked in the city, there was a buzz about the place and the club… you can feel the passion of the fans. There is a strong sense of identity, set of values that comes with being a Liverpool supporter. Fans are proud of the club’s working-class roots and the spirit of solidarity that characterises Liverpool as a city. I asked Liverpool superfan and Beatles tour guide, Dale Roberts about what makes Liverpool fans so special 

My city and my club is different. I don’t think there’s any city on earth like Liverpool. What makes Liverpool different is the fact that we’ve accepted difference. Liverpool is a melting pot of communities and cultures. There’s so many different types of people, so many different types of ideas. And I love the line that Gerry Marsden said, not in You’ll Never Walk Alone, but in Ferry Cross the Mersey. He has a line in the song, which is 

we don’t care what your name is, boy. 

We’ll never turn you away.’

Dale Roberts, Liverpool Eco Tours

And that epitomizes Liverpool for me.

Liverpool is all-embracing. It is all-encompassing, but it is different because it has its own unique ideology, it has its own unique culture, but it’s got that unique culture by accepting so much else.

The Anfield Stadium tour is a must as part of any pilgrimage to Liverpool, even if you’re not a die-hard football fan.

The guides with their razor sharp Scouse wit are entertaining and informative. Highlights of the tour of course include the chance to enjoy epic views of the Anfield pitch from the top level of the Main Stand, a visit to the state-of-the-art home team dressing room and of course the chance to walk through the players tunnel and pass, touch the iconic This is Anfield sign and get a photo in Klopp’s seat in the dugout. The tickets also include entry to the Club’s interactive museum – The Liverpool FC Story, with nearly 130 years of Club history plus all the silverware including all six European trophies. After the tour, I would also recommend a walk around Anfield to see all the beautiful murals of Liverpool players, past and present.

Tourist Essentials

For Beatles fans, two pubs I highly recommend (Cheers to Dale for the introduction) is the Ye Cracke (Rice Street), the pub that John Lennon used to frequent with his wife Cynthia when he was a student at the arts college around the corner of the pub. The walls are covered with Liverpool- and Beatles-themed paraphernalia alongside some local art of variable quality. When we visited, there were a few locals in but it was quiet, not many tourists. Second must visit pub, right from the Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra is the flamboyant ‘Phil’ aka The Philharmonic Dining Rooms (36 Hope Street) where Paul McCartney did a secret gig on the James Corden’s The Late Late Show and even Buddy Holly performed. It is a stunning wood panelled pub, with ornate furnishings and the most beautiful toilets you will ever see in a pub.

5. Manchester

Separated by just 35 miles, Manchester enjoys a lot of key similarities with Liverpool – striking architecture, rich musical heritage, tons of culture and things to do, great nightlife and of course their passion of football. Despite all their similarities, the rivalry between the cities, the clubs and the locals is fierce. Not as fierce as Glasgow but still, its a rivalry that defines the cities, especially given the rise of Manchester City over the last decade. The city is now home to not one but two of the biggest clubs in Britain and the world: Manchester United and Manchester City. Both share an intense rivalry with Liverpool but many would argue, including myself, that United remains Liverpool’s biggest rivals. The rivalry goes back decades and may have started with the building of the Manchester Ship Canal in 1894 or from the industrial era fallout between Mancunian industrialists and Liverpudlian merchants.

Personally, while I loathe both Manchester clubs as any Liverpool fan would, I love both cities. Having grown up near Manchester, a big part of my childhood was spent here. As our paths have diverged over the last few decades, on every visit, I see something new and leave amazed, always wanting to stay longer. One of the areas I love coming back to and rediscovering is the Northern Quarter, with its glut of creative and alternative flair that reminds me a bit of Kreuzberg or Shoreditch. We start with an incredible brunch at Pot Kettle Black, a northern take on Australian breakfast culture. The food, service is top notch and such a nice lively vibe – great place to start the day. We then pop into the fun and colourful fashion boutique, Thunder Egg whose clothing indulges in our nostalgia for trends from the past decades, from vintage frocks to noughties fashion trends. From there it is a short hop to the world famous Afflecks, which has been an outlet for independent designers and traders across four floors.

Since we are on a footballing pilgrimage, no trip to the Northern Quarter would be complete without a visit to Classic Football Shirts. What started as a challenge between two friends to source classic football shirts from the last few decades and sell them via internet, became a massive enterprise selling football shirts from across the world from the last 50 years.

Even though I no longer have a record player, I still love the old school and physical feeling of being in a music store, browsing records and listening to them on turntables before almost buying them – if that sounds like you then definitely pop into Piccadilly Records. The staff are super friendly and approachable. It is the kind of place where you get talking to people and that’s how we met the amazing Lydia Huna.

As a proud Mancunian and United fan I had to ask her what she loves about Manchester….

‘Community. I think my favourite thing is that despite all the changes that Manchester is undergoing, and a lot of those changes are not great. You know, they’re corporate and steeped in bureaucracy. I think my favourite thing is the history of community and, you know, the struggle that exists because of the north/south divide and the economic challenges that the north has sustained and faced for decades and decades and decades since forever, that gave people no choice but to congregate and be together and look at one another and come together. And, that ethos still runs true, and it pervades in, I think, most Manchester culture, all Mancunian culture, northern culture in general. Like, you just step into a shop like this, and immediately, like, you’re confronted with the culture, and the people. Like, I come in here and immediately start singing. I don’t even know what his name is. He just goes by Pasta Man. I don’t know what Pasta Man’s name is. I just think of him as Pasta Man. 

(Man behind counter: Oh, that’s Paul Pasta.)

….Oh, it’s Paul, Pasta Paul, oh, there we go. But, nevertheless, like, I’ll refer to people by their nicknames before their actual names because you’re confronted with that before anything else. And, just, yeah, like, the prevailing sense of, where these connections take you. Like, Matt works at White Hotel. He does like, runs gigs there. I’ve got a whole community of friends there. It’s so close knit. Some might say incestuous. Manchester is lovely. It is wonderful plus that was a very long answer.’

The topic then turned to football and I had to ask her how she fell in love with her club. 

‘They made a film called Bend It Like Beckham in the 90’s which is synonymous with my childhood like Man United. Like, those glorious summers and knowing that David Beckham was playing, I think that’s how I fell in love with it, but I also fell in love with it because my dad was a Man United fan. I think, through my dad and through the kids that I went to school with and playing football as a kid in the garden with my dad and, yeah, rocking a t shirt with a big 7 on the back of it.

Initially, the world was red. I am Manchester United through and through. We haven’t been doing so good in the Premier Leagues for some time now, but, nevertheless, it’s Manchester United till I die. And real Mancunians support United. Don’t listen to what those City boys say. It’s not true. ‘

Tourist Essentials

If you could not get tickets to the game but want to watch the football in a nice pub – I have 3 tips for you. Try the Tib Street Tavern (74 Tib Street) in Northern Quarter – good grub, ok priced drinks, BOX Deansgate (125 Deansgate) bit more modern, lots of screens and outdoor seating and finally The Lost Den (144 Deansgate), a warm and welcoming gastro pub right in the heart of Deansgate. Also if you are a Manchester United fan, you have to pop into The Old Nags Head (19 Jacksons Row) this is THE ‘George Best’ pub, lots of football memorabilia. Non football pubs that are definitely worth a visit are: The Peveril of the Peak and The Temple.

Also if you are United fan, definitely consider staying at Hotel Football, overlooking the Old Trafford stadium. Owned by former players Ryan Giggs, Paul Scholes, Nicky Butt, Phil Neville and Gary Neville, it has a rooftop 5-a-side football pitch, in-house restaurant and basement sports bar.

They have packages where for £109 ( £139, double occupancy) you can book a package which gives you a room in the hotel with Class of 92 themed toiletries & complimentary retro treats in the mini bar, 2 course dinner in their in-house restaurant and buffet breakfast.

Conclusion

Initially, this week my world was green or blue. Then black and white. Then red and white.Then red.Then red again.Then light blue.

One week. 5 cities. It was a breathless trip, maybe a little too rushed in the end. When we were hopping back on the plane, I had the feeling of wanting to stay longer. A pilgrim’s journey never ends. While it was hard to describe the emotions of all the places, all the people we met, the trip was definitely a reminder of the good stuff that makes Britain such a wonderful country to visit. Don’t believe the doom mongers. With all the ills and pains of Brexit, Britain remains a great place to visit. That is all thanks to the people, their warmth, the witty humour and of course, their passion.

Whatever you make of the divided loyalties, the tribalism, the religious zest,  the incestuous love for their clubs, after this trip, the one thing that for me stood out when I try to summarise football culture in Britain and all the people we met, was the sheer passion. A passion borne from generations of families supporting a club, a passion born from long hazy summers in the garden playing with their Dad, a passion born from the love of their community and how you stand together in the eye of any storm, the unswerving loyalty to your identity and that unspoken rule of staying true to who you are. Call it old fashioned, call it foolish, call it romantic, wherever your loyalty lies, football in Britain exerts a magical almost mythical hold on us. There are no words to describe it. That’s why I guess they call it the beautiful game?

Disclaimer

This video was made possible thanks to the kind support of Visit Britain but all the views, good and bad are entirely my own.

The year is 2012. June.

I had just quit my full time job to become a nomad.

I would have forgotten my nomad anniversary but the onset of the Euros have brought back a flood of memories. Then, the fixtures gods threw up Denmark Vs Germany.

Again. 

My thoughts turned towards that fateful summer.

I had got rid of all my earthly possessions and packed my life into a backpack to start my 2 month interrail trip across Europe. I remember checking into the Generator Copenhagen on a cloudy muggy day in June, looking out onto a sea of spires, that eclectic range of architecture and feeling a surge of excitement. I remember just going for an aimless wonder, catching sunset at Nyhavn, the harbour area before heading into town to watch the inaugural Euro 2012 game between Denmark and Germany with my friend Alex Berger.

I can still remember it. The chaos and excitement after Denmark’s unexpected win over Germany. The countless beers that followed after. 4am. Sitting at the bus stop wasted with friends. I sometime wish I could bottle that excitement and anticipation. Looking back at the pictures of Copenhagen from that summer, I can still feel a bit of the old excitement  and energy coming back. Travel gives you that buzz, that glorious anticipation of the unknown, the luxury where pretty much anything could happen. There was a rough itinerary but no big plan, other than to visit a few hostels which would form the basis of my first ever book, The Luxury Hostels of Europe.

Travel is a wonderful drug, the best one. Even after all these years of travel, I love the act of travel. Packing the backpack. Checking in for the flight online or checking the train reservation, planning the trip to train station. Stocking up on travel snacks. Reading up a little about the place and making notes on my phone. With every beloved ritual, comes a set of rituals, each, cherished that all form to become one wonderful act of escape, of self care and love. 

I miss travelling that way. It might come as a surprise to you but I can’t remember the last time I had a proper holiday. Now, you might think, you are the guy who constantly travels the world for a living. True, but there is a difference between travelling for pleasure and travelling for work. I chose to make travel my lifestyle, my work so my confession might sound a bit rich to you. Don’t get me wrong. I wake up everyday, happy. Still, when you build your life , business around travel and have no home base and have to plan your movements 6/12 months in advance, you miss those moment of spontaneity, that thrill of the unknown. We try to build in some time for downtime but the last few years have been a bit of slog, working as much as we can to pay off all the debts, build up our bank balance after the barren years of the pandemic. Now, as the pandemic disappears in the rear view and we can again look forward to a life of rich possibilities, I am dreaming of escape. Of wondering aimlessly till sunset. Wasted at 4am in a new city with friends. Who can relate?

I also seem to have the inability to know how to switch off and relax. If I decide to take the day off. I’ll charge the kindle up to read a book while enjoying a coffee. I will probably have patience to read though a few pages before I either feel tired or I go back to the bad habit of just mindlessly browsing my social media feeds before I take the dreaded decision of checking my emails! What kind of an idiot does that on their ‘day off’? Maybe, it is a habit I have picked up from being self employed. I find long walks to be one thing I can do on my days off.

I do find that being with friends, gives me the permission to switch off. I lied a little earlier.  I actually did have somewhat of a holiday last year in Greece, when our good friend from Berlin, Pascal visited us when we were in Athens. As a first time visitor to the mainland, he was keen to hire a car and explore, so we suggested a roadtrip to the Peloponnese. 

It was a magical few days. The weather was perfect.  The landscape was rugged, wild and overgrown. There was a wonderful sense of isolation about all the places we visited.  I loved Napflio, the old Venetian outpost with its beautiful fortress sitting in the azure blue Argonic Gulf, its narrow cobblestone cafes with a magnificent backdrop of mountain scenery. When the daytrippers left town, I would wallow in the silence of centuries and just look in awe at the fortress, glowering in the dark. There’s this slight sense of decay in parts, which just makes Napflio even more haunting.

Later, we visited the stunning hilltop fortress of Larissa. It was close to sunset and the abandoned fortress, overgrown with wild flowers and weeds had this almost magical, ethereal glow. That broad expansive view of the surrounding towns and the Argolic plains will long remain in memory. We visited a few wineries and drank lots of good wine. The days were infinite, unplanned and had a sense of real adventure that sometimes I feel is missing in my work and travels. In keeping with the unplanned, offbeat theme of the trip, I lugged around with me an analogue Olympus OM 10 camera to document the trip. It had been probably 20 years since I touched an analogue camera. 

When the pictures came out, phew a lot of happy and old emotions came back. Here’s a selection…

I think, many of us are in this nostalgic frame of mind, often longing for a simpler way of life which involved less tech, less being ‘on’ and being in the moment. Or, maybe this is all just a way of us trying to reconnect with an older version of ourselves. 

Life comes full circle. Another summer. Denmark vs Germany. Denmark wins again? Another chance to rewrite the script. Another chance to write a new story. Create some good memories and pause, remember the older version of yourself. Nostalgic but happy, still optimistic and excited for what lies ahead.

We stumble down the sulphur-yellow dirt track, no sign of Claire’s secret beach. In the past 15 minutes we have been honoured with just the odd lonesome goat for company and the swallows, dancing above our heads. I take a slurp of my water. It is past midday but already the April sun feels strong on our skin. We reach a dead end. Force of nature implores me to look at my phone for answers. According to Google Maps, the track or beach does not exist. We are in no-mans lands. I look up again, into the distance, my eyes swimming in the most perfect shade of deep blue Mediterranean Sea. Sabrina reminds me that Claire, our new Gozitan acquaintance had mentioned a turn off to the right. We retrace our steps up the dusty yellow track.

I notice the clumps of wild feral fennel casually growing amidst the poppy flowers. We find our turn off, an overgrown path covered with a thicket of wildflowers of all the colours of the rainbow. I pause to take photos of them so that someone can identify them to me later. Besides the happy dance of swallows there is also the sweet meditative hum of bees, frolicking in the meadow of wildflowers. I close my eyes. Sometimes, travel presents you with these moments of almost near perfection.I soon hear a wild yelp of happiness from Sabrina. I open my eyes and see she has ventured forth, via a craggy slope through the impenetrable haze of wildflowers.

She has found the path to the mythical secret beach. It has the perfect view of the dreamy turquoise blue waters of Comino in the distance. We must have sat there in perfect silence for almost half an hour before a couple came. There was a look of surprise and then a big smile. 

‘So you know about this beach too.’

We nodded our heads reassuringly and raised our hands, half apologetically to reassure them…the secret stays with us. We retrace our steps up the track. The goat had disappeared. When we reach the top of the track and look down again, there was no visible landmark in the horizon of our secret beach, just the swallows dancing in the sky.

Maybe there are no secrets in travel anymore.

It was better before. We had to use our imagination and not rely on Instagram to visualise a place. Maybe its an old age thing, but there is this horrible tendency of people in my age group to romanticise the past. Travelling was more fun, authentic. There were less crowds in the most popular travel hotspots. You didn’t need to get up at 5 am to see the Trevi fountain. You could fly Ryanair around Europe for as little as €2 return. Plus, there was no hassle with carrying liquids or restrictions of carry-on luggage. Hostels were super cheap. I remember travelling with my trusted Lonely Planet guidebook and the 3 hostels listed seemed to have room for everyone.

Then came the age of the internet. Social media. Suddenly, there was a huge amount of information at the tips of our hands. We were in theory, better equipped to travel more and better. The opening hours of restaurants could be found without the need of a phone call. We could find the list of the ten best things to do in Berlin in a flash thanks to the boom in blogs. There was no need to pop into the tourist information office or speak to travel advisors anymore. No need for human interaction. Everything you needed to know about a city or place was one Google search away. Now we have AI tools to help plan our travel itineraries. Nothing is left to chance. We have our bottomless bucket list of places to see before we die. Instagram over nourishes our desire and dream to travel. With so many places to see and so little time, travel becomes another task, another list of things to finish. We arrive home, miserable and unfulfilled. 

‘If I was to tell a tourist what to do in Gozo, I would tell them to go swimming on one of our amazing beaches where locals spend lot of time in spring and summer. I would tell them to do a cooking class. Immerse yourself in the everyday life of the island. Go to any cafe or bar.’

Claire, Mojo.

I am back in Malta after almost 8 years. I remember looking at the old photos and feel like it was a different era and a different me. One of the highlights of my trip was visiting the small, traditional fishing village of Marsaxlokk in the south eastern corner of Malta. I remember on a sleepy late September afternoon having the whole waterfront to myself, a bottle of the local Cisk lager in hand. I also remember wandering the narrow streets of the Mdina, the silent city, timeless and this feeling of almost walking back in time. 10 years later and I am excited to be back in Malta but a little nervous. It is like when you reconnect with old friends and wonder, will it be as nice as before?

The popularity of the island in the years past has soared thanks to the popularity of shows like Game of Thrones. We revisit Mdina and it seems a lot less silent. The crowds have multiplied. Luckily, I had been warned by some locals to avoid Mdina and visit the neighbouring village of Rabat. Rabat feels as timeless and enchanting as Mdina but when we visited, there was hardly any crowds to be seen, just the odd local. We were grateful to Mark from the Kings Crown pub for the tip.

Confession time. It was not entirely by chance we met Mark. Philip told us about Stephen. Stephen spoke of Mark. We met Philip thanks to a card game we invented. Let me explain.

For this trip to Malta we had decided to do something different. Instead of planning the trip to death via researching endless blog posts, Pinterest boards and Instagram galleries, chewing through a guidebook, we decided to have a different kind of trip. The whole trip would be a game of chance, constructed with the help of speaking to random locals. No guidebook could be used. No smartphone too, unless we were completely lost. Approaching locals randomly to ask for travel tips can be awkward sometimes so I had to come up with a device, so I thought why not create a deck of cards with questions to the most common things you would want to know on holiday. The cards would help reduce the awkwardness of breaking the ice. The idea would be that locals would draw a card and then give us a tip based on the question on the card. We would then follow on that tip and also ask the local to recommend another local we should meet and help us on our quest. 

The trip

So how did it go? Our experiment started in Gozo when we met the wonderful friendly Philip Spiteri from the popular Ta Philip restaurant. He pretty much introduced us to the whole island. After drawing the card asking him to name his favourite lunch spot, he recommended we meet the lovely Claire who runs Mojo restaurant in Victoria, Gozo. Claire, was responsible for introducing us to the secret beach I mentioned earlier. When he drew the card asked to name his favourite pub, he recommended we visit the Gleneagles pub in Mgarr Harbour, run by the affable Tony who turned out to be a goldmine for tips and also a man with many stories to tell of the island. While there is sadly no such thing as a time machine, with some people you meet on your travels, you have a connection with the past, with all the magic and sadness that has passed before, that sense of almost being there when they describe all the emotions, the stories of the people they met in their bar for the last 40 years. Tony was that kind of person. A connection to Gozo’s past.

We ended three memorable days with a bag full of new memories and friends. We ended up in a lot of new places and a very different perspective of Malta. I would need an entire day just to tell you about all the magic but let me finish with the end of our trip. Picture the most incredible sunset. We were at Dingli cliffs. We had received the tip from countless locals. It seems like everyone had got the same tip too. The car park was jammed and the viewing point was already a tussle between visitors, scrambling to get that perfect picture of the sunset that would immortalise the moment in history. Led by our driver, Alex we walked further away from the crowds, along the cliffs until we were strangled by the empty silence of the big wide open sea. A retired police officer who hunted down local smugglers, Alex knew every street, every dust track like the back of his hand. He wasn’t a man of many words but there were times when showing us the island, I would see a flicker of emotion in his eye. I saw his eyes widen when we reached the spot. We were a million miles from everything and just the open wide sea, bathed in this golden light as that fiery red ball of fire slowly melted into the horizon. Somewhere in the distance was Africa. It was then I fished out my pack of Twistees.

It was a tip from local chef Stephen La Rosa. 

‘Do not leave the island without eating this!’

We sadly had no Cisk but those twistees tasted damn good. We ate it to our hearts content in perfect silence, till the darkness swallowed the sun and our shadows. I then gave Alex the biggest hug and I think we both had a tear in our eyes.

What makes moments like this and travel so perfect?

No matter how much we perfect technology and AI, some things in life can’t be manufactured. In the end, it comes down to timing. Plus, also being in the right place. Serendipity. In this sense, Malta was perfect. 

The beauty of our adventure was that it was nothing to do with luck but all about being brave and taking a chance. So, my message is simple. If you do visit Malta, leave the guidebook and phone behind in the room. Go to a bar. Order the local drink. Have a random conversation with a local. Give them the permission to share their home with you. You don’t need the card game. I promise you, you will be surprised at what you might discover. 

In the end, it is really simple. Travel is all about the people. It becomes so much more meaningful and exciting when we connect with locals, find out their story and maybe learn something new that changes your perspective.

Turns out, there are still secrets in travel. You just need to ask the right people.

Further reading

Best cheap eats in Gozo

Cheap eats guide to Malta

Things to do in Malta and Gozo

Disclaimer: The trip to Malta was possible thanks to the kind support of Visit Malta UK and partners. However, all the opinions expressed here, good and bad are entirely my own. Plus, a huge thank you to all the locals we met in Malta and Gozo who made our trip unforgettable. More Malta and Gozo stories and tips coming up soon on the blog. In the meantime, please visit the Visit Malta website for more ideas to plan your trip.

It was a similar misty, moody day at the end of the summer. South of Dresden, the landscape becomes widescreen, spread out like a Super 8 film and terraced vineyards arch steeply into your view. They stand sturdily upright, protectively framing the terraced landscape, as they’ve done dutifully, for almost the last 850 years. I close my eyes and imagine what the valley would have looked like back in the 12th century. The area had been considered something of an economic backwater, undeveloped and unloved until a senior member of the Catholic Church, Bishop Benno had the grand idea of planting vines there, which legend dictates, was to help cultivate wine for his Holy Mass. An unusual intervention but then again as Europe’s most northern wine growing region, the Sachsen wine region has always defied the norm. Even when the odds have been stacked against them. After overcoming the steep decline in temperatures that swept Europe in the 18th/19th century (that turned Sachsen wine into a sour, unforgettable mess), in early 19th century, Saxony was hit by the Philoxmena plague that destroyed the vines. That, combined with the fact that large breweries of the time reduced the price of their beer, sounded the death knell of the wine industry. After the barren years of communism, wine making in the region has made a comeback in the post reunification era, thanks to the joint collective efforts of independent winemakers in the region.

Now there’s even a wine route for you to follow and help discover the region.  Winding its way for almost 60 km along the Elbe River, the Saxon Wine Route was established in 1992 to help hikers discover Germany’s smallest wine growing region. It is a beautiful trail that promises a fantastic mix of beautiful vineyards, cosy traditional wine cellars, historic towns, sophisticated architecture along the river Elbe, between the starting point which is in Pirna and the  end in Diesbar-Seußlitz.

There are a number of ways to discover the region, depending on the time of the year and how much time you have on hand. You can tackle the route through individual legs, circular walks, or go for the whole distance. We started in the middle with Radebeul, at the gates of Saxony’s gorgeous baroque capital, Dresden.

Radebeul is a dreamy little town. It has this lovely relaxed laid back vibe, thanks to the impressive hillside vineyard landscape edging up from the Elbe. There are lots of artist workshops, galleries and cute boutique shops to explore plus you have one of the oldest narrow gauge railway lines in Germany, where nostalgia evoking steam trains chug their way to neighbouring Radeberg.

In addition there are a bunch of independent wineries, which form the basis of one of the town’s most popular events, the Radebeul Winefest. Celebrated at the end of September to mark the onset of Autumn, the festival besides marking the initial wine harvest also takes place in parallel with the Internationales Wandertheater Festival (International Itinerant Theatre Festival).

You have an intoxicating combination of Radebeulers chugging down the sweet young Federweisser wine and at the same time art, clowns, musicians and actors turning the cobbled streets into a stage. With all the wineries of the Saxon Wine Route showcasing their wines, it is the perfect introduction to the route.

In what becomes a bit of a ritual in the days to come, I wake up at the crack of dawn to catch the most magical sunrise by the Elbe.The autumn mist hangs mystically in the air creating this cauldron of deep blue smoke. I don’t know whether it’s the hangover still talking (another ritual I would develop over the days to come) but for a few split seconds, the Elbe for a brief moment, seems to rise above me, serpent like, into the hazy morning sky.

The mist lifts, sky breaks to reveal the most glorious Autumnal sunny morning. My head, still aches from all that delicious Federweisser so it’s perfect timing to head to one of the wine route’s most famous and popular wineries, Schloss Wackerbarth.

Exquisitely Saxon is the motto of Schloss Wackerbarth but can be applied to most vineyards here. One of the distinguishing characterstics of vineyards like Schloss Wackerbarth are their centuries old steep vineyards bounded by dry stone walls. Maintaining these stone walls, some hundreds of years old, is an expensive setup that demands a great deal of manual care. Working the vines, on these steep terraces is a real labour of love, a lot more exhausting than simply driving a tractor through a flat field of vines.

The end result is pretty special. The grapes are handpicked. The vines deliver incredibly mineral, intensely flavored grapes. Also the grapes here achieve a surprising ripeness, odd, considering their northern latitude. When you consider the small quantities these wines are produced and their local popularity, finding them outside of Germany, or even outside of Saxony for that fact is quite difficult, what you sample here is unique. That’s what makes any trip along the Saxon Wine Route, a very special experience.

Exquisitely Saxon. In my mind, the motto symbolises the Saxon way  of wine harvesting and other things in life: exquisitely hard, but ultimately one that has the best end result in mind. Keeping that motto to heart we hike to the neighbouring winery of Hoflößnitz. Sometimes dubbed the ‘stairway to heaven’, walking up the old stone staircase of the winery, almost out of breath, I do feel for a few moments close to heaven. I reach out my hands to see if I can touch the infinite blue and then stare away disappointed, only to be gifted the most stunning panoramic view – the winery and the iconic Belvedere, where only just moments before I had been enjoying a glass of delicious Sekt.

After an hour jaunt we pass the famous Spitzhaus staircase, where from the top of its 397 stairs, you get a fantastic panoramic view of Radebeul. If you’ve timed your ascent perfectly, you’ll spot in the distance, the impressive sight of the Radebeul-Radeburg  steam locomotive winding its way through the Lößnitzgrund. It is a great place for a picnic which was what we did. If you are glutton for punishment, the Spitzhaus is also home to Mount Everest Treppenmarathon, which the website site of the German Ultramarathon Association describes the run as “the heaviest and largest extreme stair run in the world”. The idea is to the climb the length of Mount Everest in upto 24 hours. 8,848 meters can be covered in 100 laps. Not, for me. Lets get back to the wine.

Hoflößnitz winery is the cradle of Saxon viticulture, representing a 600 year proud history of wine culture on the slopes of Losnitz. The vineyards dates back to 1203 when Wettin Margrave Wilhelm I acquired the village of Kotchenbroda in 1401 with all its fields, meadows and vineyards. The centrepiece of the winery is the historic Lust und Berghaus , built for Saxon Elector Johann Georg I in 1650 which now houses the Saxon Viticulture Museum. You can dig into the centuries old rich history of wine making, the work of the winemakers of past centuries and their equipment. You’ll find maps, models and works of art that illustrate the peculiarities of viticulture in the Elbe valley. Other notable reasons to visit is to see Albert Eyckhout’s (a court painter, from the Netherlands) lavish ceiling frescoes in the castle’s banquet hall,  a masterpiece of art that features 80 Brazilian birds. Besides guided tours through the historic vineyards, it is worth noting that in the Press House is housed the Saxon Wine Route Visitor centre, where you can plan your trip along the wine route. Last, but most importantly at the end you can sample a delightful glass of Hoflößnitz wine at the onsite Weinstube.

‘Klein aber fein!’  (Small but beautiful)

Katharina Pollmer

Katharina replied with a twinkle in her eye when I asked what makes the wine route and area unique. One thing I’ve quickly realised over the course of my trip is that most of the wineries, barring a few major producers like Schloss Wackerbarth are quite small in their scale. The focus in boutique wineries like Schuh is less about scale but more in producing wine ‘with character and soul’. This passion for character and soul reflects in their onsite winery restaurant where we have a fabulous 4 course dinner at night. Klein aber fein is also a perfect way to describe the village of Sörnewitz and the vineyards too. On the steep slopes of the village, we spot the dreamy spires of Meissen’s cathedral on the horizon. To our left, we see the misty eyed Elbe, an ever constant, reassuring presence on our journey. A feeling of deep satisfaction sweeps over me with as I sip on a glass of Katharina’s wonderful riesling.

‘I can escape into nature easily here which is perfect for the times we live in.’

Katharina Sommer

A few months have passed since our trip to Saxony. I’m back in Berlin, deep in the musty red roots of Autumn. The trip and our wine filled days of wonder and fairytale castles, beautiful villages are a distant memory. All I have is a bottle or two of some of the wines from the trip. We are a few days into another long lockdown awaits in Berlin and the rest of the Germany. There will be plenty of time to reminiscence about our trip to Saxony and other trips. While I love the comfort of the place we stay in and Berlin itself, somehow a nostalgic part of me longs to be back in Saxony. I miss the daily series of slow rituals that characterise the best holidays. For us in Saxony it was to get up at the crack of dawn, enjoy sunrise by the Elbe, watching the autumn mist hang above the meadows, a filling breakfast (which always true to local tradition, involve lots of delicious local cheeses, meats and a glass of the local sparkling wine Sekt), then a long hike which involved maybe a beautiful fairytale castle or two, then onto a winery, sampling a few glasses of wine accompanied by a dreamy sunset and then after a delicious meal, we sunk happily into one of the many beautiful hotel beds along the wine route and eagerly awaited the start of another day on the wine route. The more I discovered the route, the more I wondered why still so little is known about this region and its wines in UK and beyond. That not only goes for the wine but for Saxony itself. I search in my mind for an answer and that brings me back to the penultimate winery of our trip and probably our most memorable one- Weingut Klaus Zimmerling.

Picture this. It was another spectacular late summer sunset by the Elbe. We’re standing in the vineyard of Klaus Zimmerling, high in the steep rolling hills above the picture postcard village of Pillnitz. When you see scenes like this , you understand why Dresden once earned the epitaph ‘Florence on the Elbe.’ For a moment I feel like I’m in Tuscany.

The fiery ball of orange, sinking into the horizon saturates our skin and wine glasses with beautiful hues of colours – orange, pink and then purple. While sipping on the wine I admire one of the graceful female sculptures, by his wife, Malgorzata Chodakowska.  I don’t know whether it’s Malgorzata’s subtle ethereal sculptures or the wine talking but I feel that I’m somewhere quite magical. There we were, sunk in green lush rich fields, interspersed with tall magnificent trees, bathed in the rich glow. In the distance, Klaus points out the mystical fairytale vista of the Sachsen Switzerland mountains.

‘You should come to Saxony with an open mind and discover the region for yourself.’

Klaus Zimmerling

Until then, Klaus Zimmerling had been a man of few words. Only when showing us the landscape or uncorking another bottle of wine, I see his eyes sparkle. I posed to him the same question as to why so little is known about the wine region. It could be the fact, that the region produces only 0.2% of Germany’s wines. Zimmerling only produces around 14,000 bottles a year which are quickly sold out. The wine is more expensive than the average bottle of German wine. In an era where everything is built for mass consumption, I find it comforting that the wine I maybe drinking, will be no longer – tomorrow. In uncertain times like this, where the future is difficult to predict, it is more important that we savour the smaller details and gifts of life. Like a good bottle of wine. I have two bottles of Zimmerling’s signature high-quality organic Riesling wine left. I will save it for the cold nights ahead. It will be a moment worth waiting for, only, a brief few moments, to be transported back to memories of a beautiful late summer by the serpentine Elbe river. Memories of early misty mornings, of some good wine and the eternal hope of better times to comes around the bend.

Essential facts

Planning your trip

We stayed in a mix of hotels within the wineries ( was perfect!) and aparthotels-all very decently priced. Will share more practical information in our next post which will be a ‘how to’ guide for exploring the Saxony Wine Route. So stay tuned for that post. Plus, in the meantime, if you are thinking of planning a trip to Saxony in the near future, checkout their new microsite – Saxony Travel Dreams, where you’ll find lots of inspiration & practical tips.

Disclaimer

Please note that alongside Sabrina, I was invited to Saxony to write and create a video about the Saxony Wine Route. All the opinions expressed in this piece are entirely my own. I had planned to do this trip so I was really grateful for this trip and opportunity, especially give the year we had with little or no work. So I’d like to say a huge thank you to Dorothea, Nadine, Wolfgang and the TMGS team for inviting us back to Saxony and sharing their beautiful region with us. We hope to return soon!

I crisscross the cobbled streets with Sabrina, soaking up the boisterous energy. A few brass bands are playing, the rakija is flowing and the people are feasting like no tomorrow. My nose is constantly doused by the smell of fresh meat on the grill. This is Serbia after all. No matter the time of the day or even if there is a war happening, one thing you can be certain in Serbia, is that people will be eating or drinking something. Or both. I remembered the words of my friend Srdjan, probably the country’s best tour guide:

‘Even during the bombing of Belgrade in 1999, in those 78 days, the cafes and restaurants were filled all night- Serbians never stop living life for anything or anyone.’

So, if I was going to try and understand the soul of Serbia, its people and culture, then learning about their food culture would be essential.

With that in mind, over the course of that week, with the help of Srdjan and a few friends, I went on a bit of a roadtrip across Serbia, meeting local food producers and eating, drinking as much as my liver would permit.

Green markets of Belgrade

Abundance, quality and a true taste of Serbian hospitality

‘People still prefer to come to the market, mainly the elderly people. They come here to meet the butcher or the cheesemonger whom they’ve been buying from, for the past 30-40 years. In a green market like this, you come here to meet people. For most of them this is their main social event of the day. In Serbia we don’t need newspapers as long as we have markets.’

Lepi Brka

In any new country I visit, the first thing I love to do is visit one of the local markets. They are the perfect introduction to any city or town and Belgrade’s green markets are no exception to that maxim. On our first morning, I’m privileged to be in the company of Lepi Brka, one of Serbia’s leading food chefs. Lepi translates as stallholders offer their wares. We are in Blok 44, home to one of Belgrade’s most popular green markets. Lepi grew up here in this concrete brutalist jungle of New Belgrade, a relic from the former socialist Yugoslavia. Green markets like this one were an integral part of growing up here.

They are one of the few places in the city where you can get certain ingredients that are key to traditional Serbian cooking such as Kajmak (pronounced Ki-mack) – a creamy and mildly fermented Balkan spread and Pršuta , a traditional Serbian smoked ham. We are greeted by friendly smiles from behind the rows of tables brightly decorated with hundreds of varieties of fresh fruits, vegetables, beans, and cheeses. Most of the the food we are seeing is grown in small villages just outside of Belgrade. No issue with food miles here. Lepi grabs a bunch of spices, fresh fruits and some fresh leeks and potatoes which he will use in the preparation of our breakfast later. All the vegetables and fruits we buy are not more than €1 a kilo here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Tucked away under one the block of flats, near the market, Lepi ushers us into his stylish studio where he films his very popular cooking show. Lepi is preparing for us a very hearty Serbian breakfast. I help him prepare the stuffing for one of Serbia’s most iconic dishes, Gibanica, a kind of ‘pita’ aka pie made with filo pastry that is a popular item for breakfast alongside the classic Burek. Lepi’s makes us two types of Gibanica- one savoury one with leek, potatoes and mushrooms plus a sweet version with apple, dried fruits, walnuts and cinnamon. I love both but the savoury version with leeks is delicious.

We prepare enough to feed an army of 50 plus we have also some delicious hleb bread from the market to mop up the kajmak with some pršuta. At some point, after falling into a food coma, Lepi offers us some plum and apricot rakija. I’m not entirely sure if drinking Rakija for breakfast is a thing (it should be) but I later learn that Serbian grandparents like to have a nip of it with their morning coffee. Apparently, it helps the stomach.

Before leaving, I asked Lepi the secret to a Serbian diet. He says there is no secret, just that they eat a lot of home cooked food and have a balanced diet. I asked the same question to our  driver Arsenio later and he shook his head.

‘The Serbian diet is an urban myth. We eat everything. We look pretty but suffer inside.’

Riding the white horse with a few drops of Rakija

If anyone knows how to suffer in dignity and cover it up, it is the Serbians. The number one weapon Serbs use to fight the pain is their beloved rakija. It will destroy bacteria, relieve you of stomach and muscle pain, annihilate any virus apparently and disinfect a wound instantly. It may also leave you with the worst hangover, especially if you drink the wrong kind of rakija. On my last trip to Serbia, everyone I met would insist on feeding their father or grandfather’s rakija. ‘It is the best rakija you will ever taste’ was always the bold promise but the domaca stuff would always burn my throat and leave me with the foulest of hangovers the following day.

One person trying to shift the perception of rakija is Branko Nesic who started the city’s first rakija bar in 2006 called, Distilerija. We meet for some rakija tasting at his Urban Distillery, the first open-style, craft distillery for rakija in Serbia. Walking in, observing the rows of oak barrels and the small copper vats where the distillation takes place, reminded me of a traditional whisky distillery. The branding, labelling also feels like a cut above the usual rakija bottles I’ve seen in shops.

Branko serves up to us small mezzes such as carpaccio of pike with olive salsa or gnocchi with pesto along with the drink. This is critical to enjoying a strong drink like rakija according to Branko.

‘Drinking rakija is like riding a white horse. If you know how to drink it, with mezzo and lots of water, it is a great ride. If you don’t know, then it could be a bad trip.’

Branko’s rakija is very smooth and clean. My throat doesn’t burn. They are 23 different flavours to choose from including the popular plum brandy but my favourite is the apricot rakija. Thankfully, as Branko promised, the following day I have no hangover. I can’t quite remember riding the white horse but the overall experience left me with a newfound appreciation of the drink.

A taste of Salaš culture

Glimpse into the laid-back slower pace of life in Vojvodina

We’re motoring north the following morning leaving the beautiful chaos of Belgrade behind. Our destination is the town of Subotica lying in the autonomous region of Vojvodina that borders with Hungary. This part of Serbia is flat as a pancake. As far as my eyes stretch from the car window I see lush and very fertile farmlands, a few filled with sunflowers and maize. It is hard to imagine that once upon a time there was a shallow sea here, the Pannonian Sea that covered a vast part of the north Balkan region during the Pliocene period. Eventually, it was drained to leave behind a deep, fertile soil. Fought over and occupied by several dynasties, the Romans, Huns and Ottomans and later the Franks, Bulgarians and Hungarians, have all left their mark here. The result is a very rich ethnic mix of cultures- there are no less than 24 ethnic groups in the region plus 6 official languages. When I arrive early in the evening in Subotica, I immediately spot the influence of former rulers in the beautiful architecture of the city.

The stunning art nouveau buildings like the The Jakab and Komor Square Synagogue, a perfect example of the halcyon days of the city when the Habsburgs ruled. Subotica, in the current day remains a pleasant city to explore thanks to its colourful secessionist buildings, leafy parks and big shady trees. We are in luck on the evening we arrive. In front of the stunning City Hall (Gradska kuca), the annual Zavičajni Dani (Native Days) festival is taking place. All the kids and their doting parents are out in full in force, dressed in their native costumes. I witness a fascinating mix of style of costumes. I scan their sun burnt faces, eyes shining with excitement. Every 15 minutes, different groups enter the stage, serenaded by the local orchestra and performing with gusto to an adoring public. We soak up the festive fanfare with a refreshing pint of Valjevsko Pivo before hitting the hay.

The next morning, we’re up early and heading towards Salaš Kátai Tanya in the village of Mali Idjos (Kishegyes), which is roughly halfway between the cities of Subotica and Novi Sad. The word salaš stems from the hungarian “szállás,” which literally means accommodation. In this case, it refers to small farms with family homes, akin to ranches, specifically located in Vojvodina. Visiting a salas is a must on any trip to Serbia. Besides a relaxing rural retreat, visitors are offered an insight into the unique mix of local cultural heritages followed by a generous spread of local dishes that allows you to discover the region’s unique food heritage.

Salaš Kátai Tanya was born out of a simple idea- to offer an art camp for local kids back in 1995. The popularity of the summer camps soon led to a dining room, kitchen and other premises being built to cater to the kids, followed by the farm. The construction of the “jurta”, (a building showing a typical abode of the ancient Hungarian tribes) and the `koplyafák` in the playgrounds: burial totems of the Szekely Hungarians, gave me an indication of the strong Hungarian influence here.

When I arrived at Katai Farm, Annamária Kátai and her family made us feel right at home and most importantly, immediately fed us. In a large outdoor dining space, we feast on a number of traditional dishes and drinks.The dishes had a mix of influences, Hungarian and also Serbian.

‘Our food is influenced by our Hungarian roots. However, when we visit my sister’s mother in law’s house for Orthodox Xmas, we learnt about Serbian dishes we never knew about. Our food reflects the best of Serbian cuisine but also our own culture plus a few dishes from our travel.’

Annamária Kátai, Salaš Kátai Tanya

We start off with a delicious vegetable soup with semolina dumplings and followed by a plate of grilled local meats like  šunka, Kulen and Kobasica, roasted potatoes accompanied by some Ajvar, a relish made with red peppers and garlic plus some Serbian style coleslaw and cabbage salad. We tried to digest this wonderful food with copious amounts of their homemade quince rakija. We finished off the meal with a strudel.

After lunch, we also paid a visit to their Bakery Museum in Mali Idos where the kids of the family showed me how to bake over an open fire, Hungary’s oldest and most famous pastry, a cake named kürtoskalács aka chimney cakes.

I’m humbled by the enthusiasm and passion of the kids when preparing the dough for the kürtoskalács with their grandmother at the bakery museum. The simple way of life here, the century old sustainable farming practices, the unique ethnic culture and traditions that have been preserved here are fascinating to observe. Everything we ate and the people we met here, made us feel like we were a million miles away from Belgrade.

A few hours Prijepolje with Sabiha Dacić

Understanding the Ottoman influence on the local Bosniak cuisine

Our last stop on the roadtrip was the border town of Prijepolje with roughly 36,000 inhabitants, nestled in western Serbia. It is a place where East met West throughout history, most notably in the 15th century when the Ottomans conquered the region. The city has a mixed population of Serbs (52%) and Bosniaks (44%). Despite the challenges of the past decades, the Serbs and Bosniaks here live in harmony, side by side. To understand better the Bosniak influence and heritage, I was invited to the home of chef Sabiha Dacić.

who runs a very popular cookery show on Kitchen TV.

Sabiha’s mission has been to be preserve the original recipes and traditions of the Bosniak food culture which originates from the 15th century when the Ottomans came to Serbia.

Sabiha created an amazing spread of dishes for us. We were treated to a range of dishes, all which have the Ottoman DNA like Meso Na Pari Pod , a roasted leg of lamb which slow cooks in its own juice for several hours in the oven Ceske, a meal made from chicken and grain. After that we were treated to sweet dishes ranging from the local Posadusa Baklava that has walnuts to stuffed Kadaif, a sweet dessert made from pastry soaked in sweet, sugar-based syrup and then some Tulumba-a deep-fried doughy dessert drenched in syrup. Bosniaks love sugary, buttery desserts. These are definitely not for the faint hearted but are absolutely delicious.

It is hard to summarise this trip to Serbia.

It is an undoubtedly complex place to visit but it’s that constant feeling of being on the edge of things that makes them a bit more vulnerable, a bit more bold and open to sharing their life I guess? The several centuries of pain and conflict have made them more present in the moment…and for them, there is no better way to be present and celebrate life than enjoying food and a drink. Every meal is a celebration and affirmation of life. An act of rebellion. That’s Serbia. While they all come from very different backgrounds – Sabiha, Lepi, Branko and Annamarie Katai’s family, they all had one unifying thing- their undying love of sharing their food, their story and finding connection and purpose through their food.

After centuries of conflict, being misunderstood, standing at the crossroads of civilisation, I feel it is Serbia’s time to shine. Come to Serbia soon. Not just Belgrade. Get out of the city and experience real Serbian warmth and gastronomy. Just wait for the white horses to appear, for the ride of your lifetime.

Disclaimer: I visited Serbia along with Sabrina, thanks to a kind invitation from the Serbian Tourism Board. This trip was created and managed by me in association with the Serbian Tourism Board. As always, I maintain full editorial control of the content published on this site.

Hungry and feeling miserable, for a brief moment as we walk outside, I feel that temporary state of panic that sets in when you set foot in a new destination. Had it been a smart idea to come to Lisbon in winter? I park my thoughts and alongside Sabrina, brave the swirling rain, to find a place to eat. It’s past 10 but we’re lucky to find a pastelaria open on Rua Augusta, just a block away from the hostel. Through the sheet of rain, I can make out the faint silhouette of the triumphal arch of Rua Augusta, the gateway to the city. It’s late.The chef is about to leave the restaurant when we enter. However, there is still soup. A winter classic, Caldo Verde. In Portugal, few things in life you can be sure about. One of those, is that you will always find a good bowl of soup, even in the humblest and most obscure places. A waiter in a pristine white waistcoat, pours us a small glass of port and gently places it us beside our piping hot caldo verde. I raise my glass to Sabrina and our kind saviour. The port instantly warms our bones, the soup soothes our weary soul. I smile. I am back in Lisbon, the land of my dreams. I’m home.

The next day, I remember opening the window and feeling a chill down my spine as I gazed up at a perfect, icy blue morning sky. I spot a bunch of pigeons huddled together for warmth on the beautiful street lamps across the road. There is a brief shaft of morning light spilling onto the beautiful patterned pavements. We grab our trainers and decide to go for a run. Running , first thing in the morning, for the last 2 years has been my new drug. I can’t think of a better way to start the day, to clear away the cobwebs and worries that each dawn often brings. We slowly jog down the narrow cobbled streets, slowly running towards the light. I sniff at the distant whiff of freshly grounded coffee that always follows you wherever you are in Lisbon. I feel an instant surge of electricity. The closer we come to the waterfront, the golden morning light grows brighter, fiercer, engulfing us, like a warm welcoming embrace. After months of eternal winter darkness in Berlin, it feels like a hug from my mother. I feel a teardrop or two crawl into my eye when I finally arrived in the beautiful broad expanse of Praça do Comércio. It is one of my favourite parts of the city. I love the bright yellow colour, the beautifully shaped arcades and symmetry of the buildings lining the square. I also love how the rectangular shape of the square opens onto the broad expanse of the deep blue Tagus. It is the closest thing to a perfect vista. You can see the sky and sea in perfect harmony while standing by King Jose on his horse, symbolically crushes the snakes on his path. We run by the river, drinking in the beautiful coastline and that gorgeous morning light bouncing off the water. We run that morning as far as our legs take us. It was one of those days I could have kept on running forever, to see what other, invisible worlds we would discover. On colder mornings since, especially in these tough times, I often revisit this morning in memory.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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I always have a particular route I like to walk, every time I’m back in Lisbon. It usually starts in the neighbourhood of São Bento, west of Bairro Alto. I stayed here a few winters ago in a simple but beautiful flat. As is typical with most Lisbon houses, there was no central heating. I would be fine during the day but in evenings and early mornings, I would be dependent on an electric heater that would blast warm air until you can’t breathe. I would prefer the more rustic method of a glass of red wine in the evenings instead to warm myself up. After a glass or two, early every evening before sunset, I would always go for my evening stroll. I would slowly edge up the hill, along the long snaking Rua do Sao Bento, passing the odd coffee shop, convenience store and tiny antique shops that slowly seem to disappear every time I return to Lisbon, replaced by some hip smoothie or craft beer store that you seem to find mushrooming in every city across Europe. The cobbled streets here are reassuringly still unloved with grass growing through them. I watch my step, dodging the dog poop.

It depends on the time of the day but you’ll always find the odd local, popping their head out of their tiny windows of their house, puffing on a cigarette and stringing up their laundry or just staring at every passerby or if they are in the mood, indulging in a bit of banter with their friends across the road.

I always pause in the fork of the road at the intersection of Rua Polais de Sao Bento and Rua do Poco dos Negros. It is a perfect spot to admire the iconic yellow Tram 28 rattling down the hill from Bairro Alto. On certain days, I love to stop for a quick bica at the fabulous Mill cafe but on most days I push on up the steep hill. This section of the street, Calcada do Combro, nudging Bairro Alto, is a killer and often has me out of breath by the time I reach the top. I’ll often pause at the Igreja de Santa Caterina to catch my breath. The plain facade is unassuming but inside, this church is a stunner. I love the stucco rococo ceiling and the monumental organ here. This church was one of the few buildings that survived the 1755 earthquake. Once I get to the top of Calcada do Combro, I love to get another glimpse of the tram thundering down the hill. Within every ritual, there are always mini rituals, each, satisfying in their own aspect and life reaffirming. My walk from here can change. Sometimes, I love edging to the top of the hill and onto Largo Calhariz. I love to pause here. If I’m hungry, I love snacking on the piadina, from La Bottega Piadina, an authentic slice of Emilia Romagna in the heart of Lisbon.

I’ll then stop, admire the bright yellow Bica funicular perched precariously on the top of the steep Rua da Bica de Duarte Belo. It always attracts a gaggle of people, from the tourists furiously snapping photos of loved ones, trying to freeze the moment for eternity to the drug dealers, casually slipping you a menu of every drug under the sun. It is a scene that never changes, no matter how much Lisbon gentrifies or grows older. I’ll continue sometimes to Baixa Chiado but in most times, I’ll never make it to the top of the hill. Instead, I shift right onto the sloping cobbled alleyway of Travessa da Condessa do Rio, plastered with snazzy graffiti.

That brings me onto the Rua de Santa Caterina. First thing I spot as I turn onto the street is the reassuring view of the towering palm tree that stands in the garden of the beautiful Oasis Backpackers Hostel. Oasis was one of the first hostels I stayed in Lisbon back in 2012 when I started my Luxury Hostels project. It is a beautiful building, a century old mansion , with that warm honey yellow facade and sludge green wrought iron balconies that would not look out of place in Paris or the French Riviera. I haven’t been back to the hostel since. It kinda faded and slipped in standards over the years but I’ve always wanted to go back, just for old times sake.

I like to finish my walk in Miradouro Santa Caterina which is right next the hostel. The view from here is probably my favourite view of the city. You have the shimmering waters of the Tagus river and the towering Ponte de Abril suspension bridge. I love spending sunsets here. The city kind of unfurls itself from this viewpoint like a finely embroidered bedspread, a beautiful melange of terracotta, yellow and pinks and that unforgettable Lisbon moody blue. It is a popular spot for sunsets with locals and tourists alike. Plus, you always meet a bunch of characters here, from poets to pimps. The other key feature I love here is that it has one of the classic Lisbon beautiful ‘quiosques’ where you can buy drinks or snacks at pretty affordable prices. At one point, an obsolete and forgotten feature of local street culture, these beautiful quiosques, combining a mix of oriental and art nouveau styles, have now restablished themselves as a staple part of local life.

The last time I was in Lisbon, the miradouro had just been rebuilt and opened to locals and tourists again. Few of the original green benches had been removed. I was a bit sad to see them gone as I had a lot of memories sitting there, watching the sunset. My favourite memory of the square was back from 2012 when I had the amazing fortune of bumping into the Austrian actor, Bruno Ganz who at the time was filming the ‘Night Train to Lisbon’ movie in the city. ( Few key scenes are filmed right on that square ) It was a quiet June afternoon. Hardly any tourists in sight. Keep in mind that Lisbon was still relatively undiscovered at this point and slowly emerging as a tourism hotspot. I had just ambled out of the Oasis hostel, a book in hand and the idea had been to enjoy the view from the square with a coffee. When I saw Bruno Ganz, sitting there, quietly enjoying the view, it was a kind of surreal moment for me. I am a huge Wim Wenders fan, his earlier stuff especially. Growing up, I must have seen his films on repeat a trillion times. One of my favourites was the ‘Wings of Desire’ , in which Bruno Ganz stars as a guardian angel who wishes to become human when he falls in love with one of the humans he looks after.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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I remember smiling at him and admitting how much I loved this movie of his. He probably had heard this a million times in his life but he was kind and thanked me. In fact, he was kind enough to talk me to for almost an hour on that bench. We talked about Wenders, the movie he was shooting at the time and even indulged in a spot of politics. Contents of our conversation, I shall keep private but it was indeed an experience, I will never forget. He sadly passed away the year before. My memory of meeting him will now forever remain intertwined with Lisbon and that spot, even if the bench is there no longer.

By the time we were wrapping our trip in Lisbon last year, the disease that shall not be named, had started spreading like wildfire across Europe. Little did we know what was ahead and how the world around us, our lives and that of loved ones, the way we travel and how places like Lisbon for example would hugely be impacted by this terrible disease. It is tough to predict the future but one thing I do know for sure, that when it is safe for us to travel again, I definitely will be returning to Lisbon.

While I am missing my annual January pilgrimage, I am happy to wait for Lisbon. All I have to do is close my ears and eyes and I am back there, walking the streets again. I can hear the passionate voices from the local tascas, the warm roasted smell of freshly brewed bicas and the vexed voices of silvery haired ladies rise, float into the seven hills above as they put their clothes out to dry on their rusty iron balconies. I hear those sounds and like magic, I can see Lisbon again. I am running towards the golden light and the familiar embrace of an old friend.

Anthony Bourdain

Part 1: Last time I saw Bangkok

Like Bourdain, I’ve been fortunate to have visited Thailand a few times. Three to be precise. The last time I saw Thailand was just after Xmas, 2018. We had just spent Christmas in the dreamy town of Luang Prabang in Laos. After the blissfully meditative humdrum life of Luang Prabang a return to Bangkok was a return to the comfort of chaos, of extremes that is the DNA of all my best backpacking memories in South East Asia. No one ever forgets that first intense zap of muggy humid heat that hits your skin the moment you land in Bangkok. That intense wall of sound that drowns your senses initially. Where you can hear the loud bells ringing from a nearby temple, to the sharp snarl of the tuktuks, to the cacophony of market traders hawking their wares. After a few hours, you feel punch drunk, delirious. Only after a few visits to Bangkok, do your senses manage to develop super powers, where you can start to process everything better and relax. You start seeing patterns in the chaos, method in the madness. Just like all big, unwieldly huge metropolises, it takes times to love Bangkok. However, once you fall in love with Bangkok, it is a place that stays with you forever.

On this last short trip to Bangkok, we decided to base ourselves in the more residential and slightly gentrified neighbourhood of Ari. The reason we chose this area was to try and find somewhere a bit slow-paced. The area has a growing reputation for gastronomy and a good cafe scene. Bangkok for us both is up with London as one of the world’s best food destinations. We come here to eat and drink from dusk to dawn.

Our other key reason to stay in Ari was to finally stay at the beautiful Yard hostel, a place I had heard rave reviews about from friends. Run by the affable duo, Som and Som, the name Yard is a reference both to the yard in which the shipping containers are built, as well as the Thai translation of the word “Yard” which means relative. How would I best describe the vibe? It is a real oasis of calm in Bangkok – a rarity. Lush trees offer a natural shade over the central lawn courtyard where guests congregate at various times of the day, lazing in the hammock with a book, journaling with a cup of coffee from the hostel bar. It is the kind of hostel where you could easily strike up a conversation in the lounge or lawn area or if you needed your space, there is always a cosy corner to seek refuge. The rooms are very comfortable, mattresses you just sink into and where you fall asleep instantly. The rooms are insulated with recycled paper, LED lightbulbs are used to save energy. In those 5 days, we met so many wonderful guests and had so many great conversations with like-minded people. This hostel reminded me of the reasons I fell in love with travel and backpacking. It was also one of my last proper hostel stays pre-Covid so that’s another reason I remain particularly nostalgic about this hostel.

Every city has their rituals, places and people that you miss. One of the things, both me and Sabrina love about Bangkok and Thailand in general, are their night markets. After the humidity and oppressive heat of daytime, the markets are an opportunity for market traders to sell their goods in a more relaxed atmosphere. Locals come here to unwind and relax after a long day of work. Bangkok explodes into life, a riot of neon, of colour, of beautiful exotic smells and humanity. Nothing sums up the magic and romance of Bangkok better than these markets. So naturally, the first thing we did after dumping our bags in the hostel, was to pay a visit to a night market. There is an incredible array of night markets to choose from but one of our favourites is the Night Train Market Ratchada. Opening everyday from 5PM to 1AM , the Night Train Market is located right behind Esplanade Cineplex on the busy Ratchadapisek Road. We arrive around 6pm at dusk. We grab a big bottle of Chang beer and jump to the roof of one of the bars, just in time to see the sky darken and admire the market’s colourful tents slowly illuminating in the dark.

While the Train Market has a very impressive ‘pub street’ which is a popular draw for locals and tourists thanks to its really cheap prices, the main draw here is the variety of really good quality food, available at very reasonable prices. It is a good place to try classic Thai specialities like Pad Thai, Pad Kra Pao, Leng– a stewed pork rib or Goong Tung, a famous Thai-style seafood dish. Then there are the classic edible insects, very popular in Thailand that might be a bridge too far for mosts tourists. I had resisted eating edible insects till this trip and all I can say is that it is definitely an acquired taste. A lot of the restaurants here try and catch your attention with a very unique name-for example Bamijompalung (Gigantic Bowl of Noodle) Besides great food you will find everything from second-hand vintage clothes to new trendy accessories, such as stone bead bracelets to vintage toys, from childhood memories. The big draw for most tourists are the cool T-shirts, vintage and handmade shoes, eyeglasses, hats and more – I always end up buying something even though I have a ton of tees from night markets. Feel free to haggle a little – it is all part of the experience. Other things to remember -always bring cash with you to the night markets.

PS On the subject of food, for UK based readers, if you can’t travel to Thailand but want a slice of Thailand in your home, please order a Thai Home Cooking Kit from the legendary Rosa’s Thai Cafe. More details, click here. )

Bright lights, big city- one of the other things we miss about Bangkok is the nightlife. While it’s not quite a 24 hour rave party like say Berlin, Bangkok does have that highly unpredictable element and incredible variety of bars that leaves you begging for more. One of the most unpredictable and interesting nightlife havens in Bangkok is Sukhumvit, one of Thailand’s best-known roads. Sukhumvit is dominated by its ‘sois’-side streets. From side street 1 to 18, each soi is a parallel universe, a mind bending rabbit hole where you will find everything from cheap ass hostels to 5 star hotels, classy cocktail bars to seedy pubs, eclectic restaurants to neon, red lights- be warned for a night out with a big difference. On this last trip, we were back in one of the ‘sois’, diving into the world of hidden, speakeasy style bars. Part of the problem and the fun is of course trying to figure out their location. The hidden bar we had in mind goes by different names- ‘Hidden Bar with no name’ or often it is referred to as‘ #FindthePhotoBooth’ The latter gives you a hint of where you might discover the hidden bar. However, it is not that simple. The bar is hidden inside another bar. We find the bar- your run of the mill sports bar with people playing pool and watching premier league football. On the outside, it does not look like the most obvious location of a classy speakeasy style bar. However, tucked away right in the corner of the second floor, is the mystery photo booth. We sit inside the photo booth. I won’t tell what happens next because that would kind of spoil the element of mystery but once you gain access to the hidden bar, wow, it really feels like entering a different dimension and era- it has this wonderful laid-back styled interior which oozes class and the cocktails are really out of this world. Wonderful service as you would expect. Not cheap by Bangkok standards but you pay for seriously well crafted cocktails, service and of course the ambience.

Part 2: Last time I saw Ko Lanta

After a week in Bangkok, we crave a more slower, relaxed pace of life. Sometimes we head north to the second city of Chiang Mai which has a much slower easygoing vibe. You also have the joy of hundreds of islands to choose from, all with stunning beaches and a laid-back lifestyle. With over 1430 islands in Thailand to choose from, it can be a daunting task, trying to figure out which island to choose. Our go to paradise is the island of Ko Lanta. ( You can go by plane or if you are on a budget take the bus to Koh Lanta which is far cheaper than flying ) It is hard for me to pinpoint one reason why I choose to keep returning to Ko Lanta over the other 1429 islands in Thailand. Sometimes it’s that warm comforting feeling of going to a place you know well. The joy of renewed connections. I’ve now been twice to Ko Lanta and I always seem to keep discovering new places or things to do.

The first thing that I love about Ko Lanta and yes, this could apply to the other islands, is the slower, laidback pace of life here. There isn’t a huge party scene here but a handful of excellent beach bars where you can kickback, relax, enjoy the legendary Ko Lanta sunsets (a daily ritual in Ko Lanta is finding a beach bar, Chang beer and watching that golden ball of fire swallowed by the deep blue waters of the Andaman Sea) and there’s always a bar with something to offer, if you really are looking for an excuse to party. One of our favourite bars on the island is a place called Funky Monkey on Long Beach. They have pool tables, quick service, cheap beers but the main draw here is their infamous Karaoke night where there always is a huge turnout. Free shots are offered to everyone who sings, so after awhile it can get a bit messy but it is definitely a really fun night.

The another reason we love Ko Lanta is the food here. You’ll find a good mix of all types of cuisines. From intense southern Thai curries, delicious noodle soups (I have a tip for you -small noodle joint which I would dearly like to keep a secret- do drop me an email if you are curious) and salads from roadside vendors to fresh fish and then there is a nice mix of joints serving Farang western food. In the past trips, one favourite place we loved to visit was Red Snapper. A fusion of Thai and Western food, they serve tapas style dishes from Moroccan Lamb Sliders in a Feta Fig chutney, Indian style chicken curry to Garlic Prawns in an Aioli sauce or Duck Carpaccio and Goats cheese served with asparagus and walnuts. Prices are above average but in terms of quality and ambience, it is a lovely place.

As digital nomads working from the road, one of the biggest struggles we face often is finding a cafe or place to work from with stable good internet. Thankfully, Ko Lanta has an awesome coworking and coliving space called KoHub. The team who run it are warm and extremely helpful, it attracts a great mix of nomads from all walks of life so I always meet someone interesting here plus they also organise a number of events for the community here. The internet is fast and stable plus there is a nice restaurant on site if you are hungry. Altogether, it is a wonderful oasis of calm and productive bliss on the island. PS: KoHub currently have 40% of their food and accommodation packages. Click here for more details.

After a typical day of working from KoHub, we usually try and squeeze in a few hours at one of Koh Lanta’s beaches. I haven’t travelled to any of the other islands, but beaches here are rarely overcrowded, have a nice fine almost white sand plus there are plenty of affordable, good bars from where to grab a beer or coffee. On our last trip to Ko Lanta we became very fond of the Fat Turtle Beach Restaurant on Long Beach. Coffee is great here, they do some great milkshakes plus the cocktails are awesome here. Lot of our best memories of the island are here, sitting under the swaying fringes of palm trees and enjoying sunset-it is a really cool spot.

The other thing we love about Ko Lanta is the range of good quality and very affordable accommodation here. On the first trip we stayed at place called Dreamy Casa in Saladan. It is clean, comfortable and just a 5 minute walk to the beach but the best thing about the place is the owner, an Italian gentleman named Fabio who really does everything possible to make your stay comfortable. On our last stay we decided to base ourselves in Long Beach at Patty’s Secret Garden. There is a fantastic restaurant onsite that does a mix of fabulous Thai curries and also if you have a craving for burgers or pancakes they offer that too. The accommodation here is simple, clean and comfortable – so altogether an unbeatable choice. ( Worth mentioning that Patty’s Secret Garden has moved to a new location by the sea. Click here for more details).

I’ve reread this post and realised I have spoken a lot about eating and drinking, which is really our favourite pastime when it comes to travel. Thailand ,though, is so much more than just a wonderful plate of food and a crazy night out. It is more than just a beautiful beach and those epic, unforgettable sunsets. Thailand is a feeling. For both me and Sabrina. We miss this feeling. It represents freedom. It represents a home away from home. I love how hospitable and friendly Thai people are. Despite the language barrier, there is always an eagerness to interact and connect with you, something that can be rare in travel nowadays. In a world ruled by fear, often hatred and bigotry, holidays in Thailand remind me of the simple joys of life. A few drops of sunshine and sweat, an ice cold beer,  a cheap bowl of delicious noodle soup and a warm smile that greets you when say goodbye – so simple but perfect. Thailand, I can’t wait to meet you again.

Disclaimer

This article was supported by Fan Club Thailand but as always, the opinions and photos in the article are all my own. This post was produced in collaboration with the Tourism Authority of Thailand (TAT).

Further reading

Feeling nostalgic about travel like me? Join me for a virtual, hassle free trips down memory lane as I recall The Last Time I saw Lisbon and also how I lost my passport ( and heart) in Nice

Part 1: I want to ride my bicycle

Like ants crawling upon each other, reaching for the infinite sky, the century-old vineyards outside of Bolzano seem to be crawling over each other in their haste to reach the sunlight. Our bus from the train station loops countless circles through the lofty mountains, spinning us slowly into a mysterious planetary orbit. The higher we ascend, the more majestic the view and the more emotional I get. Even the smallest, most beautiful things move me to tears in these emotional Covid times.

As with the beginning of every new travel adventure, I feel my brain clouded by the heady combination of excitement and nervous intrepidation of the road ahead – but this was going to be a slightly different adventure from the norm. I was on my way to the lofty mountain village of Collepietra not far from Bolzano and the Dolomites, where I was to be part of a sustainability camp with Bosch eBike Systems. The camp would explore about how we can make a positive contribution to sustainable tourism with e-bikes at the heart of it. The invitation stated that we would be shown the ropes by two of Europe’s leading e-biking athletes, Greta Weithaler and Jérôme Clementz.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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My first reaction to the invitation was…mixed.

First of all, I didn’t consider myself good enough at biking. It was only 2 years ago I was learning to ride a bike in the garage of my ex-girlfriend’s house. I had tried and failed a few times, a few bones (and my precious ego) badly bruised along the way. The older you grow, the more fear seems to eat your soul. I am grateful that my ex did push me into trying to learn again. Once I got over my fear, I was cruising. My only issue was my nerves with riding on public roads. I also didn’t ride that much to be honest. Last time I was on a bike was 18 months ago on the island of Föhr which is blissfully car free. I’d bike all day if I lived on an island like Föhr.

Part 2: I try to ride my bicycle

I’m a bundle of nerves. I can feel my heart rate rising as everyone slowly starts jumping on their bikes and slowly getting a feel of my e-bike. I have no clue where I am going but luckily my bike knows- it is armed with a clever piece of tech developed by Bosch called the Nyon– an all-in-one on-board computer which also includes an on-board navigation system. The user can for example download routes, track my progress and see my average speed, and most importantly, it offers 5 different riding modes. It can also download routes, track my progress and see my average speed.

As we wind our way from the hotel downhill to the village of Collepietra, I still feel my legs are jelly. Jérôme Clementz, the champion biker kindly decided to take me under his wing and looks me in the eye-‘I will lead you and ride with you so please, don’t worry. I’m with you,’ he reassures me in his warm French accent. It is not everyday you get to ride with a world champion, so I said screw it and started pedalling and slowly riding downhill with him. After safely navigating the traffic lights and passing a big truck, we turn onto the main loop towards the village and started gliding down at a nice speed, comfortably in the ‘eco’ mode of the bike. Riding downhill feels great. My nerves return when I see a big track pulling up beside me but I move to the side and let it pass. Relax, I start moving forward again, swimming in the great expanse of the beautiful South Tirolean landscape around me. It feels like a balm on my eye and soul. The wind is in my wings, I’m riding a wave of happiness. This feels good but I’m keen to practise more, overcome my nerves.

Following day, I go for a practise run in the mountains with Sabrina. We’re riding this time through a dreamy piece of farmland, sitting at the foot of a steep hill that snakes into the sky, framed by long coniferous trees. There are no cars around. I hop on the bike and try to go uphill. I start pedalling and as we start making the steep ascent, I shift my gears with a quick flick. As the going gets tough on the steep slope, Sabrina hollers at me to try the turbo mode. The moment I switch, I zip up the hill as if I had picked up some magic golden tokens to boost my speed. Once you feel that thrill of speed, you don’t want to stop. I kept pedalling up and up the hill and then we passed another farmhouse and some very angry dogs started barking at me from behind the gates. The adrenaline kicks in and I start pedalling more furiously. A couple of sharp twists and turns and soon we’re zipping into the forest. We stop finally and my eyes are shining. The bike feels in harmony with my mind and begins to feel like an extension of my body.

The older we grow the more fear eats our soul. You get set in your ways. Trying something new can be a huge challenge. I can see parallels with the journey into sustainability. The older we get, the more difficult it can be to change our ways. Once you get hooked onto cheap flights, swapping it for longer and often more expensive train journeys for example can be really tough. Same way, buying an €2000 e-bike might seem something not within the reach of most people, especially for someone who enjoys being frugal. Which brings me onto the next question- can a budget traveller be truly sustainable?

To help answer this question, I probably need to take a few steps back. Bear with me.

Part 3: Budget Travel = Sustainable?

I’d like to explain to you a little about my philosophy of why I love and write about budget travel. For me, my blog has never been about finding the cheapest hostels or hotel to sleep in. When I was 25 and broke when I started my blog, yes, the blog was initially about scoring deals on the cheapest hotel or hostel in town. However, with age, I found my travel style to evolve into more about curating travel experiences that were still budget friendly but also offered soul, purpose and a sense of community. Budget Travel for me at the age of 40 has now evolved into what I call travelling smart, saving money on say flights or spending a few euros more at good quality hostels so that you can spend money on the stuff that is important to you – this could be going for a really nice 3 course meal at a local restaurant with a nice bottle of local wine or it could be simply buying Christmas gifts for your family from local craftsmen and making a real difference with your purchasing power. My travel philosophy extends to my everyday living. We rarely go shopping. We actually have a lot of clothes we want to give away. Sabrina has a clothes swap planned with a friend soon. We cook at home and mainly Indian vegetarian food. We don’t miss meat. This means we have always had money to invest in things that are important to us …like buying a new lens for Sabrina’s camera. The most expensive thing I ever bought in my life (other than my Macbook Pro Laptop) is my Leica 25mm f1.4 lens for my Panasonic Lumix Camera. At the time it was £500 and my hands were shaking when I handed over my credit card. That lens has lasted me 9 years now and still takes beautiful photographs.

So, in many ways, a life of travelling on a budget and being a minimalist has naturally taught me to think sustainably.

Part 4: Kurt’s journey to sustainability

‘It’s a journey. We are not perfect. What we’ve achieved here is through small steps.’

Kurt Resch, Hotel Steineggerhof

To help me gain a better understanding of what sustainability entails and implies, as part of our sustainability workshop, we had the pleasure of listening to a fascinating talk from Kurt Resch, owner and our host in Collepietra. Alongside his daughter, Lisa, Kurt explained how via their Bio- und Bikehotel Steineggerhof, they had undertaken their journey into sustainability. I like how he emphasised the word ‘journey’ a few times when talking about sustainability and that’s when a few lightbulbs started to flash in my brain.

The hotel runs climate-neutrally and supports projects for reforestation and clean drinking water as CO2 compensation. Vegetables and herbs come from their beautiful garden onsite. The cooking here features mainly vegetarian and vegan dishes. This is again something that didn’t happen overnight. Kurt and Lisa’s interest in vegetarian/vegan cuisine started 5 years ago when Lisa’s brother became vegetarian and then vegan. The whole family soon decided to become vegetarian. The menu of the hotel started to change to reflect their passion for vegetarian, vegan cooking. I asked Kurt in an area of Italy that is especially famous for its passion for meat, wasn’t this change a challenge for him and his customers?

‘It was a huge challenge but I think in this day and age, it is important to stand up for our ideals and what we believe in. We’ve had repeat customers for many years. The majority have enjoyed our journey into sustainability and understood their passion for vegetarian/vegan living. Some have disagreed strongly but they have been a minority. In the end, being one of the few hotels in South Tyrol to cater exclusively to vegan and vegetarian people has been of huge advantage to us.’

The improvements over the years have been gradual. Covid-19 was a turbo accelerator for further change. They were the first hotel in the region to be CO2 positive. All the food on the menu is mostly sourced from the hotel garden. Kurt though is keen not to be seen as sitting on his laurels. He’s always keen to try new things and implement new ideas in his hotel to improve their product. 

One of the signature items on the breakfast menu is their delicious chocolate spread, made with no dairy obviously. While the chocolate spread is very popular with customers, Kurt is still reworking his 2 year old recipe. It’s this desire and drive to keep working, improving that makes Kurt and his hotel’s journey into sustainability unique.

Does “going sustainable” in general have to be expensive?

It should come as no surprise, Kurt’s journey into sustainability has also massively helped him cut costs. By making smart choices like growing and sourcing everything from his garden, by reducing food waste, by using energy efficient lightbulbs, Kurt’s not only reduced his environmental impact, he’s also keeping costs down which I imagine has helped him keep his hotel going through the current Covid crisis. The more I listened to him, I consciously started realising that his journey to sustainability was not just because of his dietary needs, it made perfect sense given the fragile environment he lived in and also economically has helped him improve his business. 

‘People are scared of labels’

Kurt Resch, Steineggerhof

Which brings me onto my biggest beef with the label sustainability.

It always seemed like a cliche, a label that didn’t feel very inclusive. In my head it was a label synonymous with luxury ecolodges, opportunistic green washing that always comes with an expensive price tag. I’ve never been a fan of labels. My boxing ourself into some moralistic definition, we seem to scare rather inspire people.  In the end, it’s not rocket science. Sustainability is just using common sense. Do great stuff, help your local community and save money so that you can spend money on even more good stuff- how can we define that better? Answers on a postcard.

Part 5:  Why Biking Is A Really Big Deal (In Every Sense)

I’m definitely a convert to e-biking. As we look to build a carbon free world and with an increased interest in active holidays I definitely see e-mobility vehicles like eBikes, equipped with Bosch eBike Systems Drive Units  becoming more popular, more mainstream in the future. With starting price of around €2000, it is undeniable that e-bikes remain a discretionary purchase. It depends on everyone’s priorities and needs – but even for a BudgetTraveller, if could be a worthwhile investment, just like my old trusty Leica lens. We just have to do the math. How much money, how many journeys will a bike save you in its lifetime….while getting you fitter, which helps extend your life?

Let’s do a cost analysis of how much owning a bike saves the average person in transport fees every year. In the UK for example, I found this study that estimated an average saving of £3000 a year. If we assume the lifespan of an average bike to be 5 years, that’s a saving of £15000 on public & private transport which is massive.

Conclusion

I might need to save up a bit more and also take a break from my nomadic life, but if I did settle down, I definitely would consider buying an eBike. I think the key takeaway from my experience of the camp was that even as a BudgetTraveller, I can be sustainable. You probably are on that path, too. I was already consciously taking small steps in my travels and everyday life. (This post on how to travel sustainably by my friends, Dan and Audrey from Uncornered Market, was a great reference point for me personally)

Once we move away from the label, the realisation of the need to move away from this constant pressure of trying to tick a list of do’s and don’ts, the journey into sustainability can be an adventure in itself. If we are going to create real change, we need to get away from the culture of guilt shaming people into making a change of a lifestyle. We need to empower people, remind them they have the ability to make a big impact through the smallest of changes.

As Kurt mentioned, just as with any journey in life, it is always about first of all recognising as an individual you have the power to change things for the better – once you’ve realised that you have the ability to make a difference, you can start to make those small changes gradually. It is also recognising that the journey will not be perfect. We will make mistakes. We will have to face our demons. But as long as we are conscious of our ability to change our ways and have an impact, we slowly will start making more better, positive decisions. Even if we cannot touch the infinite blue sky, just like the ants, we can always reach for it. Once we frame sustainability as a journey rather than just a goal in itself, just like trying to ride an eBike or learning how to become vegetarian, life can get a whole lot more exciting and the possibilities, infinite.

Disclaimer: I was invited by Bosch eBike Systems and Hotel Steinneggerhof to be part of their sustainability workshop and also experience how ebiking will contribute to the future of sustainable travel. For more details about the Bosch Sustainabiilty Workshop , checkout the website.

Please note that all the views expressed here are entirely my own. Huge thanks to Steffi and the team Bosch eBike systems for the opportunity to be part of this project and also thanks to Marta, Norman and the team at Desire Lines Agentur for this fab content collaboration.

August 2020. We’ve come almost full circle since last summer. The year has been the most extraordinary and craziest year in life. In uncertain times like this, it is important to pause. Reflect. Hold onto the memories of happier times and people. The friends we made along the way during our travels. The memorable meals and of course the wonderful company, with whom, we’ve shared those meals.The long serendipitous days of travel when you carve a line through an unknown city and create your own magical, dream universe full of people, places…memories…when you feel like you’ve entered into a parallel universe of some sort. When the holiday is over, even though we leave these magical worlds behind and retreat back to our everyday life, they never leave us. In a way, they enter into our DNA and become part of us forever.

As we pause, revive our weary souls in August, just like Xmas, I’m grateful for this period when life temporarily hits the pause button. One of the few shining lights of the pandemic has been the gift of time, opportunity to think and reflect. In times of strife, I’ve found my travel memories to be a place of healing and solace. I’ve dug deep in my box of memories. Amongst many things, I wondered why does the loss or absence of travel hurt us so much. Why does travel mean so much to us? Sometimes the act of travel is so much more than just travelling. Correct me, but I feel it somehow represents an ideal and a sense of freedom that is often missing in our lives. What is it about these parallel universes we inhabit for a few days, that mean so much to us?

To find out the answers, as travel restrictions have slowly been lifted over the summer,  I’ve been retracing my steps recently to some of my favourite parallel universes recently. Even though flights to Athens and Lisbon are cheap as hell and I see repeated stories on how safe air travel is, I’m not feeling really upto the demands of air travel.

Time to explore my backyard. Recently, as some of you know, I was in Leipzig which was incredible fun and an emotional weekend too. Prague, was an emotional trip and lot of fun. The next old favourite that we were dying to revisit was Hamburg, a city where both Sabrina and I have strong emotional connections. Sabrina lived in Hamburg for a while and went to university there, so there’s always a strong pull to return to her ‘heimat’. Over the years we’ve collected a lot of amazing memories. Going back here, feels like slipping into a pair of well worn comfortable slippers. I know the city and I feel the city knows me.

I can’t quite sum what is it about Hamburg that makes it special and keeps me coming back. With some cities, just like love, it is an instant feeling and connection you feel the moment you walk its streets.

I can tell you that Hamburg wasn’t love at first sight. 2012 summer. I walked out of the train station, the smell of piss and chaos instantly sapping the life out of me. These were the days of no Google Maps remember. I spent an eternity on a very humid day in June trying to find my hostel, A&O Hostels which was tucked behind the Hauptbahnhof in St Georg. Back in 2012, St Georg was a few glorious light years away from gentrification, very rough around the edges and probably not the best introduction to Hamburg. Especially for someone like me, who at 33 was a belated entrant to the world of backpacking and travelling solo. There are far better hostels in Hamburg than A&O. The hostel was filled with pimply faced teenagers ranting at the poor wifi and casual labourers, mainly from Eastern Europe, who had landed in the city in search of any kind of work. I can still remember their sad faces, chain smoking furiously at the entrance and jabbing their shrill voices into their mobile and fingers into the sky, protesting with an imaginary god, the injustices of life. Travelling solo can be such an intimidating experience at first,  especially in a new city. I remember sheepishly asking for the city map at the hostel reception and venturing out at night on the first evening, walking the streets of the city, wide eyed and slightly feeling sad for myself, an unhappy voyeur, looking on at the scenes of life unveiling themselves before me. The sense of isolation and unhappiness was the starkest when I hit the Reeperbahn. A riot of neon lights, aggressive pimps and heavily drugged beggars, I quickly left. After the almost sterile, disneylandesque nature of Amsterdam’s Red Light District, Hamburg’s Reeperbahn felt every inch what a red light district should be – grotty, seedy, loud and a wonderful assortment of characters that could only be from the Reeperbahn.

My trip did improve over the weekend I was there. My redemption lied in the comfort of the now sadly closed Beatles museum on the Reeperbahn. The Beatles have been a huge part of my life. Alongside my sister, I danced, sang along to all their songs from a young age. My favourite songs were their more earlier, happier poppier stuff like ‘Love me Do’ and ‘Hard Day’s Night.’ As I grew older, I appreciated their later darker stuff on the White Album.

My love of Hamburg, much like my love of the Beatles, I’ve found kind of grows with age. The grotty, seedy Reeperbahn which I hated so much on first glance, I grew to love, the more I explored its layers and its incredible bar scene. There’s a bunch of amazing bars here, all with their own history and story. There’s Rosi’s for example, named after Rosi McGinnity who opened the bar in 1969. She flirted with the Beatles here, married the British musician Tony Sheridan who played in many clubs on the strip and paved the way for the Beatles arrival.  Then there’s cult places like Zum Silbersack where you can get shots of local Mexikaner and sway to 1950’s German schlager till dawn. The bar is not the most glamorous place on planet earth with their gruff service, smoke filled rooms and sticky floors but this is the place where you will encounter true local Hamburg legends and have as we say in Scotland proper banter. When day breaks, everyone heads for breakfast brunch at Cafe May – one of the best places to start your day in Hamburg.

I travel through my stomach but that wasn’t always the case here. On my first trips, when money was tight and I wasn’t very well aware of the city, I would end up eating a kebab or one of those ‘wok to go’ fast fried noodle joints. When you are young, travelling solo, you want your food fast and cheap. However, as you grow older and become more self assured in your own company, you start developing a better, finer taste of food and also where you might find the true locals eating, instead of the more touristy joints. There was one snack I discovered on my first trip in Hamburg that for me sums up the city in one bite – the humble but ever so tasty fischbrötchen. I would usually grab my fischbrötchen at the stands right after exiting Landungsbrucken – fish fillet sandwich with homemade tartar sauce (pretty tasty stuff but after a few trips to the city I realised I was missing out on the really good stuff further up the ‘brücke’ pier 10 to be precise where you’ll find Brücke 10). Here with a nice bread roll, you’ll get a choice of fish fillet, matjes or crab meat. Sabrina loves it with crab meat, I love it with matjes and a few crunchy onions thrown in for flavour. Wash it down with an ice cold Astra beer and you have the perfect Hamburg meal. ( PS Here’s a recent list of some good places to eat in Hamburg )

We talked about the importance of good drinks and food when travelling. Plus I told you how much I hated A&O hostels on my first trip. In fact, I’ve never had a great experience staying at their hostels. Just like love, there are some hostels or hotels where you feel an instant connection. Superbude in Hamburg is one of those places where you feel at ease, at home. ( If you haven’t visited Superbude, here’s an earlier review of why I consider it, one of Germany’s best hostels ) Even though the staff were wearing masks, they greeted me with their eyes shining and an energetic ‘Moin’. Somethings in life, you can’t fake. It was an emotional experience to be back in a hostel again after Covid. The hostel industry has been one of the worst sectors in tourism affected really badly by Covid. I know a few travellers feel that hostels aren’t safe places to be and I wanted to reassure everyone that hostels like Superbude are doing everything to make guests feel at home and safe. Let me tell you what the Superbude are doing to help guests feel safe.

The common areas are being cleaned regularly. Every floor has a disinfection station with polite reminders for guests to wash their hands at all times. QR codes are on tables and chairs in the common area, asking guests to check in so that the staff know who was there and when.

Breakfast is to go and a very generous selection of delicious homemade muesli jars, freshly baked franzbrötchens ( True Hamburg classic sweet pastry baked with butter and cinnamon, similar to a cinnamon roll ) , delicious sandwiches, yoghurt and fruit. To minimise contact at the moment there are no social activities in the hostel. The flip side is that the hostels seem rather quiet places to be in the evenings. This was very strange for me to experience but that’s the reality that hostels and everyone in tourism is facing. I know, hope that the virus won’t be around forever. However, till things get back to normal, I hope we continue to support tourism businesses that give a real damn about you having a good holiday like Superbude. So, next trip to Hamburg, stay with them. ( Here’s a list of current special offers at Superbude ) Make a difference with your hard earned money. Amen.

We’ve established some of the ingredients of a perfect holiday in Hamburg-where to have a beer, eat and where to stay. Last but not least, where are the places I love to visit that make Hamburg perfect for me? Here’s a list from earlier but to give you an idea, let me tell you about my morning walk through the city, where I revisit some favourite spots and maybe discover a few new places.

One of the best things about staying in the Superbude is its location in the Schanze/ St Pauli area where there’s this wonderful vibe, air of electricity, especially in the summer when the locals all flock to the streets and the whole area has this vibe of a big huge summer festival. I turn right from the hostel and walk up Juliustrasse towards the colourful chaotic street of Schluterblatt. Schulterblatt is the nerve centre of Schanze where all the artists, expats, immigrants, hipsters, punks and anarchists of Hamburg congregate for drinks in the summer. The spirit of the area and Hamburg in many ways is symbolised by the Rota Flora theatre, which has been squatted in continuously since November 1989. Covered in grafitti, political slogans, the protest against the rampant gentrification of the area has now lasted 30 years and still continues with over 150 squatters occupying the building. This message of respect and tolerance for people with different values, ideals I think is what makes Hamburg unique and a very special city.

Another part of Schanzeviertel I return to on almost every visit is the Rosenhofstrasse where you’ll find a diverse range of painted/printed paper on the walls, so called pasteups with works of art from some of the world’s most famous street artists like El Bocho’s Lucy. I talked about the joy of inhabiting parallel universes – the street art scene in Hamburg is one of the mini universes, once you enter its orbit, you see the city in a different way.

While in the area, on this trip, looking at my Google Maps, I spotted a name of a store I long wanted to visit. Place is called Human Empire. My connection with them happened almost 2 years ago when I published my book, ‘The Grand Hostels: Luxury Hostels of the World.’ They were proudly displaying my book in their beautiful shop and had tagged me on Instagram. I had dropped them a line to thank them and made a promise to visit them, the next time I was in Hamburg. Somehow, I couldn’t make it to see them on recent trips but here I was on a sunny day in July, finally meeting them.

It is a beautiful store. Originally a men’s outfitters store dating back to the 60’s, with its wooden built-in wardrobes and long counter with large mirror walls, there’s a wonderful nostalgic retro quality about the place. Originally an illustration and design studio, Human Empire founders Jan and Wiebke, created a physical extension to their labour of love by creating a concept store filled with all their favourite things, ranging from paper goods such as posters, notebooks, books, magazines and wrapping paper to a fine selection of home accessories and clothing from European designers. Wiebke was in-store when I dropped and was as friendly and wonderful in person as online. We had a great chat about all things Hamburg and classic design posters from Scandinavia, one of the store’s many specialities. The conversation turned towards our mutual love of travel and she started telling me about this really cool hidden artists enclave in Leipzig. I left an hour but could have spent more time chatting to Wiebke. I leave, with a smile, enriched by the generosity of her spirit and her warmth.

The rest of the weekend in Hamburg remains a happy blur. It involved meeting some dear old friends who have been a big reason why we fell in love with Hamburg- Kathrin, Jessica and Florian. Lots of reminiscing and good food. There are few birthdays to celebrate. There’s lots of Astra. Lots of prosecco. Lots of hugging and emotional conversations. Long walks home at 5am. There is a hangover or two. There’s still more good food- an epic meal at a brand new Indian restaurant called Authentikka. We’re talking real indian food here, probably the best I’ve had in Germany.

I leave Hamburg with a heavy heart but bag full of new memories, faces of places, friends, old and new, I hope to meet again soon. The best trips in life, like love are like that. Where you feel at the end wanting more and more. The journey ends but in your mind you want to continue to draw that imaginary line through a city, this imaginary land of make believe in which you and a few friends exist. See where this new line takes you. Even as our heart seeks the unknown, the distant shores of cities far out reach, there is joy in returning to the familiar places we know we love, rediscover the imaginary worlds we carve out, those parallel universes, invisible to our eyes, waiting to welcome us again.

Disclaimer: I was invited to Hamburg as a guest of Hamburg Marketing and Superbude but the views, emotions expressed here are entirely my own. 

This was our first trip anywhere since the 10th March when we went to Amsterdam for my birthday/work trip. After the stress and strain of the last few months, packing the bag feels like a release.

I dust off the packing cube. It has been sulking in the bitter depths of my backpack since early March. I’m little unsure of what to pack. I mentally go through my checklist. Sometimes, its these small rituals of travel that you miss the most about travel. We pack our existence into our trusted Arcido carry on backpacks and head to sleep. It is a restless night and we don’t sleep well. We are leaving on a very early train ( cheapest train tickets with Deustche Bahn are always at the crack of dawn or midnight ) from Berlin’s main train station.

6am.

The early light of dawn leaps through our bedroom and tickles our feet. I wake up before the alarm and feel a familiar surge of adrenaline. I suddenly feel like I’m 5 again and its Christmas Day. After enjoying a strong cup of coffee and a quick hot shower we slowly shuffle out of the door of the apartment. The tram to Berlin’s main train station is half empty. Everyone has their face masks on. I see a lot of tired eyes looking listlessly out of the windows at the unspoilt blue morning sky. Some cast an envious eye at us with our backpacks. I know you miss the drug of travelling, of escape. Hopefully, soon we can all travel soon.

There’s a deep knot in the pit of my stomach as I enter the train carriage. The act of travel nowadays carries the heavy weight of guilt. My friend pointed out that travel and the economy seems insignificant when people are dying. His words weighed heavily on my mind when I got on that train.A part of me rightly feels guilty that I shouldn’t be travelling with the virus still in circulation. The act of travel seems pointless when people are dying everyday. Millions of people are still under lockdown. Like my parents and sister’s family in Kolkata, India. They and millions more can only dream of the privilege of travelling again.

It is a tough one but as you know, travel for me is simply more than an escape. It is my job. It is my life. Travel industry in Germany contributes 43.2 billion euros to the Germany economy and supports 2 millions jobs. 100 million jobs are estimated to be at risk globally because of the current Covid crisis. The past few months have been tough. I’ve seen people in the industry lose their jobs. We’ve had some savings to live off over the past few months but we’re close to scraping the bottom of the barrel. There’s been little or no support from my government. The traffic to the blog has decreased by 80% plus I’ve lost a lot of my clients. I’ve been pretty demotivated and as you may have noticed, hardly blogged here for the last few months.

I know I’ll pull through. I hope we all do. I will continue to do what I do best -tell you the stories about places I’ve visited, the hostels, the tour guides, the street food stall owners -the everyday people who make your travel experience better. Travelling is more than just an act of escape. Done the right way, it can be a force of good. It can put money into the local economy and help sustain jobs. . So when we travel again, lets show even more care for the world and the people we meet, lets focus on spending and supporting the right kind of businesses. Plus lets keep social distancing until its safe , wear a mask please in public and clean our hands. Take all the precautions. Be responsible. Travel is and has always been a privilege. If we all do it the right way, we all win.

We’re heading to the city of heroes, Leipzig. A city where we have some great memories. ( Click here for the story of our last trip to Leipzig )

The national rail operator Deutsche Bahn indicated a low to average occupancy on the app. However in reality, the train was a lot busier than we expected and for the majority of the journey, we were sharing a table with another passenger. Everyone had masks on so that was grand but it still didn’t feel right.If I was Deutsche Bahn, I would have ensured that passenger seating is spaced out to ensure proper social distancing.Towards the end, we managed to bag our own table and then heaved a bit of a sigh.

We arrive in Leipzig’s grand central station. One of my favourite things about travelling to Leipzig is arriving in its grand train station-the epic scale of the terminus really is awe astounding. I only recently learnt that it is the biggest passenger railway terminus in Europe. We trundle out of the station and walk towards the city centre from where we would catch the tram to Sudvorstadt. Every time I come to Leipzig, I always take the same route. I love wondering through the extensive network of passages and walkways that are dotted throughout the downtown part of the city. Walking through these ornate passages feels like time travelling back to the era when Leipzig enjoyed the status of being one of Europe’s leading trade cities. I pass by the elegant Cafe Riquet with its two copper Elephant heads flanking the stunning art nouveau facade. We end up in the grand Markt square flanked by the beautiful Old Town Hall. There’s a huge outdoor farmers market packed with local traders. The air is heavy with the scent of smoked fish, cheese and fresh bread. There’s a lot of people packed in the square with some degree of social distancing being observed. It is worth mentioning now that Leipzig and the greater Saxony area dealt really well with the coronavirus crisis and on the day we arrived, Leipzig had reported no new cases for the past 5 days.

We hop on the tram to Sudvorstadt. We were lucky to stay at a friends apartment for the weekend. She was out of town so we had the place to ourselves. I love Sudvorstadt. It’s a happy hippy concentration of nice bars, cafes and some really nice restaurants. Plus there is the wonderful Feinkost flea market and also the beautiful Clara Zetkin Park nearby. It is late in the afternoon and we’re hungry so we first head to a local Vietnamese restaurant. This was probably not our best meal of the trip but by no means was it bad. I think once you’ve tasted proper Vietnamese food in Vietnam, everything after that feels like a major disappointment. Still, it was ok and decent prices. It was a small hole in the wall kind of diner with a handful of social distanced tables outside and we were lucky to bag one of the remaining tables. After devouring our meal we head to an old favourite, the magnificently named Killywilly Irish pub. We sup on a pint of the not so local Lowenbrau beer. It was a pretty decent beer and I tell you what, after a train journey and on a muggy humid day, ice cold beer tastes like heaven. Killywilly is perfect for people watching and that pint of beer, was one of the best I had tasted for a long time. There is no greater comfort that being a stranger to town and watching the world go by.

Keen to preserve our modest budget, before heading back to the apartment we head to the nearby Aldi supermarket to buy breakfast essentials and some wine for the evening. God, I love Aldi. Incredibly good value. I wish we had one near our house in Berlin.

After chilling for a few hours in the apartment we headed out to see what Leipzig had to offer on a Friday evening. Our options were limited. Because of Covid, as with Berlin and the rest of Germany, all clubs were closed. Nightlife was restricted to mainly bars and restaurants. Bars, which only opened last week are allowed to open from 6 till 11.30pm. Plus, it is table only service in  the bars-no standing allowed. We went back to Killywilly but it was packed with no tables available. We then headed to three other nearby bars and were turned away from all of them-no tables available. This was a sobering reminder of the new reality of going out. On the other hand, it was great to see all the bars taking all the precautions and making their customers feel safe. We were close to giving up but tried one final bar- Horns Erben and we got lucky. A popular location for live music, on the night, the bar was only open. Nice spaced out tables, place dimly lit , soft crackle of something jazzy in the background and the nice hum of human conversation-it was as close to the real thing of having a drink in a bar and we loved it. Sabrina had a delicious whisky sour while I went for a Vodka Mate drink which was OK. Next time, I would be better sticking to something more traditional cocktail wise. We went home happy.

The next day was a cloudy one with occasional breaks of sunshine. The aim was to walk and see as much of the city on foot. We first headed to the nearby Clara Zetkin Park which we had missed out on during our visit in 2018. I didn’t know much about the history of the park but it was beautiful to wonder through. There’s towering oak trees arching over wide marked out paths lined with neatly arranged colourful flowers and the odd pond -it looks very idyllic and blissful.

In the heart of the park there’s the Glashaus im Clarapark restaurant and bar. It’s just hit 12 and there’s a few people having a beer or enjoying some coffee and kuchen. We decided to stop for a cheeky beer. With plenty of outdoor tables, social distancing wasn’t an issue. The weather was perfect too. I think while going to the toilet I must have counted 4 hand sanitising stations so top marks to the restaurant.

With a spark in our step we then headed further, soon crossing the iconic Sachsenbrucke. There’s a few people gathered around on the bridge with takeaway coffees. Below us on the river , there’s a few people sauntering up river on their kayaks. A part of us wanted to just sit there all day and watch the comings and going of people. We soon nudge our way out of the park in the direction of the hip neighbourhood of Plagwitz, another favourite part of the city for us.

We come across another stunning bridge Könneritzbrucke that marks the entrance to the neighbourhood of Plagwitz. We pause for awhile to admire some of the beautiful 19th century industrial architecture lining the canal here. As our eyes swim in the canal, suddenly a man in a Venetian gondola comes into view with a few people in tow. It is a surreal sight that I did not expect in Leipzig-later I discovered that the nearby Ristorante da Vito offers its customers a ride on their gondola to admire some of the fine industrial architecture lining the canal.

In Plagwitz we head for lunch at an old favourite, Salon Casablanca. The food here is fabulous, well priced and service is fab. Despite being a Saturday, Karl Heine Strasse did look pretty quiet. I wasn’t sure because it was the afternoon or maybe there was a distinct lack of tourists. The bars were closed because of the restricted hours so that could have been a factor. The cafes were busy though.

We wanted to visit another old favourite, the nearby Spinnerei but due to the coronavirus, the complex remains off limits for visitors which is a shame. The Kunstkraftwerk, another favourite museum was open but we were not to keen on the Vincent Van Gogh experience so we headed back up Lutzner Strasse to another old favourite Tapetenwerk. As we had expected, the Tapetenwerk was also closed and off limits like the Spinnerei. Last time we were visiting, they were hosting their biannual Tapetenwerkfest when all the galleries open their doors to visitors all night. It was such an incredible atmosphere with all the people, music and food. Our heart sank a little at the sight of the empty yard and the closed ateliers.

As we left the silence courtyard and turned back on the main road, in the distance I spotted a small bar with a’ Delta Coffee’ sign visible. Now, if any of you have been to Portugal, you will be familiar with Delta Coffee. I really love their coffee so I thought we could swing by for a cup. We discovered the bar was actually a Portuguese bar and run by two guys from Madeira! Now, for those of you not aware or new to the blog, you will probably not know that I once lived in Madeira. 4 years I think. Incredibly beautiful island , wonderful people and yes, the island has some wonderful food and drink to savour. Besides stocking a range of popular Portuguese beers like Sagres and Super Bock they also had the native Madeiran beer, Coral. So I had treat myself and Sabrina to a bunch of corals. While sipping on the Coral I then had to ask Andre and Fabio, the owner if they could make us a very traditional and special Madeiran drink, poncha and they said yes! A poncha is the most typical of Madeiran drinks and is a mix of Aguardente de cana which is distilled from the sugar cane that grows on the island, lemon peel and sugar or honey. You can have poncha with orange or passion fruit but the guys made us the real thing. Boy, oh boy, this stuff blows your socks off. If you are ever in Leipzig and curious to learn more about Madeira and its cuisine, please go to their bar.

Our head was in the clouds after those drinks. We went home to rest for awhile, feeling quite drained from the long walk. Maybe a sensory overload we were not used to after weeks, months of being cooped up indoors? It was a warm wonderful evening and I was keen for Sabrina to checkout Conne Island, a bastion of Leipzig subculture that and a local hub of everything alternative with an iconic skatepark. It also is a popular venue for musicians from all walks of life. I had visited Conne Island briefly back in 2015 when we came to film a video about streetart culture in Germany and really fell in love with the vibe of this place.

We slowly walked our way south towards Connewitz from Sudvorstadt. It’s close to 9 but the sky is still partially bright and there’s a soft warm breeze. I can hear random pockets of laughter bursting through the air, carrying on their crests the occasional hum of music blaring from a radio and also the heavy waft of beer mixed with smoke. It feels emotional. Like meeting an old friend.

In Connewitz, we stumble upon an impromptu concert outside Könich Heinz bar, a popular local divey bar hangout that attracts a colourful mix of characters. It’s probably the first concert of any kind I’ve heard for months and we immediately stop to listen to the music. The band was called Bar Philosophen and their music was jazzy and uplifting. Everyone was snapping their fingers and singing along with the charismatic lead singer. It was an emotional moment. Music. People. A warm beautiful evening. A cold beer in hand. What more could you ask? We catch the last 2 songs of their outdoor gig and then move onto Conne Island. We arrived at the skatepark shrouded under a cloak of darkness except for a bunch of people gathered around dim candle lit tables drinking some wine. There is a bar onsite but it was closing as we arrived. One of the ladies sitting on the tables intervened and brought us two beers and invited us to linger which was nice. Its tough to make out the place at night but still I was happy we came and Sabrina had the chance to see the place. Afterwards, we head home with mixed feelings. These are the things we miss. The endless freedom of the night, of serendipitous conversations … the feeling of letting go and for a brief few moments, losing ourselves.

The following day is a miserably cloudy morning. Perfect Sunday to laze in bed and almost do nothing. However there was the small matter of the Black Lives Matter solidarity march at 1pm near the main train station. We had sadly missed the epic demonstration in Berlin the day before but were excited to be joining the Leipzig demo and show our solidarity with our black friends in Germany and around the world. The last demo I went to was 18 years ago was when I went marching to protest against racism with a bunch of my university students in Glasgow. 18 years on, countless protests later, at the ripe old age of 41, here I was again, along with Sabrina, marching against to protest against the injustice of the events of the past weeks and also the centuries of previous injustice against black people. Given the current threat of Covid, I was nervous at the prospect of being in close proximity to thousands of people. But, we both decided it was important to show up and stand for what we believe in. We live in such crazy times. I can sense a general dissillusionment with politics and the general lack of moral leadership in the world.  In times like this when we feel hurt, directionless and feel like we are losing our purpose, it is important to remember that we can make a change, if we stand together. In our case it was to standing shoulder to shoulder with thousands of strangers and say that the system has to change, that black lives matter and they cannot continue to live in the dark shadow of hatred, ignorance and fear. We cannot to live in ignorance and turn a blind eye. We have to make a change, however difficult the road lies ahead. I have more to unwrap and talk about this topic but this probably is a blog post for another day.

There was a wonderful irony that we were marching in Leipzig.

Leipzig is after all , the city of heroes, where back in 1989, the locals were the first in East Germany to protest against the oppression of the GDR regime. Dubbed the ‘Peaceful Revolution’ , the locals set in chain a series of events that eventually led to the reunification of Germany.

We leave Leipzig the next day, our hearts filled with hope and some optimism for what the future holds for us.

The journey begins again.

It is not a road I know but I will walk it. I know this road ahead will be difficult , filled with risks and riddled with difficult compromises. Then again, I never signed up for an easy life. Did you?

If you’re planning a trip to Leipzig, checkout our earlier guide to the best things to do in Leipzig.