There is no getting away from the fact that I am a city girl at heart. On my travels I wonder at stunning landscapes (mountains and deserts in particular). And I'm always thrilled to observe wild animals in their natural homes. But I couldn’t live anywhere other than a city. I like to be close to the action: to galleries, cinemas and restaurants. And I enjoy the buzz of city streets and the diversity of modern city living.
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There are two ways to get to Taos from Santa Fe. There is the quicker (but still pretty) Low Road, and the more dramatically scenic and historically interesting High Road. This winds through the Sangre de Cristo Mountains through high desert, forests and tiny communities. On the way there are stories to be discovered, stunning landscapes to marvel at and picture-perfect churches to explore.
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In the mid 1930s a young couple set sail on the SS Moldavia with a group of friends, cruising to Lisbon, Madeira and the coast of north Africa on what they termed a ‘proper holiday’. They captured their adventures in photographs which they carefully stuck into an album and labelled. Later they added to the album: photos of a walking holiday in Germany, camping in Devon and more.
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Nothing makes you feel more welcome in a country than to be invited into someone's home, however humble. And language is no barrier to connecting with a friendly hostess and her curious children.
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On a hillside above Pyongyang, commanding a wonderful view of the city, stand row on row of granite blocks, each topped with a bust. The figures portrayed gaze out over the wooded slope of Mount Taesong to the rapidly changing cityscape below. These are North Korea’s fallen, martyrs in the cause of freedom from Japanese occupation.
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When the first Spanish explorers arrived in what is today northern New Mexico in 1540, and saw the adobe structures of Taos Pueblo, they believed that they had found one of the fabled seven golden cities of Cibola. These were rumoured to be dotted across the desert plains of this region. Some say the sunlight glinting off the straw embedded in the adobe mud fooled Europeans into thinking there was gold in the soil.
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Some say that a photo should be a direct representation of what we saw as we clicked the shutter. I say, that is impossible. The eye, like the camera, may see the true picture, but the brain tends to see what it wants to see, and the photo may therefore disappoint.
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One of the pleasures of a stay by the sea is an early morning walk on the beach. The waves lapping the shore, the sound of sea birds, a gentle breeze … a tranquil spot in which to recharge the batteries. But what most of us regard as a welcome break from our day to day lives is for others a place of work, and hard work at that.
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When Newcastle United reached the last 32 of the Europa League in 2013 we held our breath to see what team we would be drawn against, dreaming of a February trip to warmer climes, maybe Italy, Spain or Portugal. Instead we got Metalist Kharkiv, a team we had never heard of, in the eastern depths of chilly Ukraine. Would we go? You bet we would!
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Please don’t ask me to pick my favourite landscape – it’s impossible. I love the drama of high mountain ranges, and the huge open skies of the desert; the haunting light that illuminates certain lands close to our poles, and grassy savannahs strewn with baobab trees; gentle green rolling hills, and roaring waterfalls.
