Kakadu. The sound is soft yet distinctive, like a bird call that rolls and unfolds across the willows and the reeds, the waters, the low and smoky air, to reach me on the scrunched and scorched soil. On the earth that is itself Kakadu.
The word…
Highlights from Inside the Travel Lab – the best writing from the blog.

Kakadu. The sound is soft yet distinctive, like a bird call that rolls and unfolds across the willows and the reeds, the waters, the low and smoky air, to reach me on the scrunched and scorched soil. On the earth that is itself Kakadu.
The word…

Sometimes I dream that I am falling. Apparently, everyone does. But more often than that…

It’s an inauspicious start. No map. No SatNav. No cash – my very last dihram cleared out by the unexpected fuel charge.
No internet access to check the route. No signal on my iPhone. Just a pen, a scrap of paper and a hastily scribbled map, uneven streaks of biro connecting Moroccan towns that appeared on a picture in the hotel lobby.

The final instalment of the Iron Route Journey. East, West, Good, Bad, Win, Lose, Draw.
Another look at 1989.

You don’t need me to tell you that football’s popular around the world. But as Poland gears up for Euro 2012, here’s why I’m laying my ghosts to rest…

Sometimes things go wrong in life. The printer at the car hire company breaks, the sat nav doesn’t work, the

I stand in the queue, a man turns me back.
I stand in another queue. Alone, in silence

The older I get, the more I enjoy cooking classes. With an opening statement like that, I’m in danger of

Cold War. Iron Curtain.
Four words, two phrases, several meanings.
When I went to school, a third of the world lived under “communist” rule. Travel was restricted…

Dust rose from the ground as the horse thundered past and the sun began its ablutions. It painted pinks and pomegranates, amber, pistachio, charcoal and soft apricot rust across the walls of Petra before calling it a day and turning in for an early night…

Italian food. There was a time when I couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about, but I can barely remember that now. The moment my train slowed to a stop in Trieste (and, if I’m honest, quite a while before that) my daydreams wandered…

Trieste, Italy Behind me, I know that sapphire lights stud their way across the stone. [...]

A man casts a glance over his shoulder before arching back and casting his line into the water. The street chatter and rush hour traffic drown out the subtle splash but from the look on his face, you’d think he stood alone in the countryside, miles from anyone, miles from anywhere.

Whenever I feel the cold breath of winter on my neck as autumn runs out of time, my tastebuds turn to octopus, the signature dish at…

Rain. When I first arrived on Desroches Island, the rain stalked and prowled and lurked around like the relentless soundtrack from a gothic horror film. Yet all the malevolence and theatre of the sky couldn’t…

A number of things are wrong. To begin with, I’m standing in a field surrounded by darkness, my mind pulling the duvet covers back over its head and mumbling into its pillow. Second, I’m…

Quite simply, good food is one of the best things in life, wherever you find it. And Malaysian street food ranks among the best of the best.

In the scorching cauldron of Andalucia, the Sierra Nevada mountains rise up to tickle the skies and gather enough snow to cover the peaks for most of the year. Beneath them…

Ferran Adria, head chef at the world’s best restaurant, talks about women, words and how bloggers are changing gastronomy.
Hi, I'm Abi, a writer and photographer who swapped a career as a doctor for a life on the road. Find out more
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