From across the dark water, it looked like fairy lights had been flung against the jagged mountain slopes. Forming arcs and triangles, occasionally broken by backlit towers, Kotor’s twinkles put on quite the show. “You see…” Slavko my guide explained, “The lights form the shape of an old man. He guards this city”.
I became inexplicably teary as I listened to the accordion’s brassy tones. I was perched underneath a bronze statue of Preseren; Slovenia’s most beloved poet. From across the main square, his ‘Juliet’ gazed back at us. As a mauve dusk settled over Ljubljana I realised that I was rapidly falling in love…and I don’t even like the accordion.
Did you know that barnacles have stomachs? It had never crossed my mind. Neither had I formed opinions on the size of salmon’s ovaries or the intricate structure of a whale’s bladder.
What is a country? As I walked towards the border I suddenly realised I had no idea what that word actually meant. A few minutes later I crossed into the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus; the first place I’ve visited that technically, doesn’t exist.
Wingo was a wanderer by nature. In tales of his childhood he recalled staying in the jungle until night fall, only brought back to his village by the enticing thought of his mother huddled over the fire preparing food.