Many consider sun, surf culture and endless sprawling coastline to be synonymous with Australia. Of course, it has all the above in droves, but it also has frosty winter mornings, ski fields and snow. As we enter the deep dark depths of British winter, I look back at a colder version of the world’s hottest country.
From the moment we began walking the earth, we found ways to record our experiences and explain the world around us. Be it through cave paintings, stone carvings or the printed word, we’re experts at describing our surroundings.
Tasmania is expansive and magnificent yet sometimes daunting. As I stood atop the state’s peaks and battered west coastline, I sensed that I was almost at the end of the earth.
I thought I was hallucinating when I arrived in Bicheno. In the middle of the campsite sat another vehicle exactly like mine: A compact campervan covered in purple and yellow flowers.
At the edge of London’s Zone 2 there’s a wilderness. The constant hum of traffic is replaced by nesting birds, damp ground underfoot and a thick canopy that drops dappled shadows onto the pale faces of long-forgotten gravestones.
I have some advice: Don’t holiday in Lithuania if you don’t like carbs, if you wince at the thought of loosening a belt buckle or if, for whatever reason, you don’t enjoy eating.
A drizzly day in Vilnius can be deceptive. Rain hits the greys of dilapidated tower blocks and the cobbled streets of the old town are shiny underfoot.
From a thin slice of fertile land that extends into the lakes of Lithuania’s southeast, wooden jetties push into the still water dangling narrow fishing boats and colourful pedalos.
A large, friendly zebra carefully took the hand of a small child before looking both ways along a hectic main road. Then, calmly and upright, the pair began to cross to the backdrop of angry horns and revving engines. Once safe, the animal left the child and turned to repeat the process with someone else.