Travel

When my mum and I first arrived in Belize, we drove along a bumpy road for about an hour before reaching the river; once there, we caught a boat that took us deep into the jungle, near the Lamanai ruins. Somewhere along that first road our driver stopped and picked us cashew apples, or cashew fruit, which I had never seen or tried or even heard of. I guess I never stopped to think where cashews come from; I certainly didn’t imagine they grew this way, one to a fruit.

Without looking for it, we found blue everywhere in Cartagena – in the walls, the skies, the seas, in the beaded necklaces and the words of poets. But far from melancholy, it was electric. It was, like everything else in Colombia, full of passion, full of vigour and joy.

It’s the most popular question I receive in emails: “How can I save money to travel?”

I have written about this before, but I thought that I would combine tips for saving, how much you’ll really need, and how exactly I managed to afford my own travels. Please keep in mind that every person is different; these are just my own thoughts and opinions on the matter. I hope that you will find these tips useful not only for long-term, round-the-world travel, but for shorter trips as well.

I don’t have any photos of poppies. But today, for those we’ve lost, for those we remember, here are some flowers from around the world.

My absolute favourite thing to do on a Saturday in London is visit Broadway Market. Nearly everything is local, organic, and freshly made, from the smoked salmon to the mushroom risotto to the red velvet cupcakes, and, whatever you fancy, you’ll be sure to find it here. Broadway Market isn’t just for food, either; vintage clothes and jewellery, used books and records, and tons of other knickknacks fill the stalls.

The plan had been fairly straightforward: we were to arrive by train in Bucharest, the capital of Romania, around 8pm. We had already booked a hostel in the city, but we wanted to purchase our train tickets for Varna, Bulgaria, while we were still at the train station.

We had just spent a week in Transylvania, the famous home of Dracula, and so had arrived in Bucharest from the small town of Brasov. The week had fulfilled our every expectation and then some, with green landscapes, cobblestoned towns, and plenty of castles perched ominously on hilltops, perfect for sleeping all day and drinking blood all night. Why we had come to Romania at all was an impromptu decision, a three-week holiday booked between two friends who wanted to see an unusual part of the world. We had looked at a map and chosen a place we knew nothing about.