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.
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.
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”.
This week, UNESCO added 24 new sites to its ever-growing list of places worth protecting on this planet. The UK’s notable offering was the Forth Bridge in Scotland, a masterpiece of Victorian engineering, which I was lucky enough to see first hand last summer.
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.