With a characteristic scratch of his sun hat, Dimitri took a seat at the front of the boat and we chugged away from the fishing town of Peshtani. Lake Ohrid stretched out ahead: A beautiful hazy mess of still water and white sky that made the mountains of neighbouring Albania almost invisible on the horizon.
As I looked down from Samuel’s Fortress, I marvelled that its 11th century guards would have taken in a similar view. Misty mountainous slopes, seasonally snow-capped, plunge towards slithers of shoreline that border the city of Ohrid’s ancient lake.
Well before sunrise Angkor Wat is bustling. Loaded tuk-tuks pull up in front of the iconic facade of Cambodia’s largest temple and immediately cameras start clicking. This is always how another day begins at the famous complex.
Better late than never. It seems that proper summer, as opposed to ‘that warm week we always get in May’ has finally hit England’s capital. Temperatures have inched over 25 for the first time this year, and the infamous Central Line has inevitably become a sauna.
We all have one. Some of us have more. Those places, those moments that we take ourselves to, that instil a sense of complete calm. Whether we’re at a bus stop in the pouring rain, or in yet another stressful meeting, travel to a happy place is sometimes, the only thing that keeps us sane.
Lille’s complex history is visible in the architecture of its prominent buildings. From the cobbled quarter of Saint André, to the tinted glass of the Euralille shopping centre, a walk through the city tells a story of constant evolution through the diversity of its façades.
I hadn’t expected it to start with a hill. As a lime green man-kini and its host buttocks pulled away up the gravel path, the tiny town of Reuil dropped away behind me, and I puffed my way through the first kilometres of France’s strangest sporting event.