'Here terrible portents came about over the land of Northumbria, and miserably frightened the people: there were flashes of lightning, and fiery dragons were seen flying in the air.'
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Until I visited, all my images of New Jersey came from song lyrics - Paul Simon's traffic-clogged turnpike and Bruce Springsteen's urban working class childhood.
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The early morning clouds hung so low over the forest that we couldn’t see the tops of the trees. And we certainly couldn’t see any howler monkeys! Just like us it seemed, they like a lie-in on a miserable morning.
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'Please treat the church and houses with care; we have given up our homes where many of us lived for generations to help win the war to keep men free. We shall return one day and thank you for treating the village kindly.'
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There was something special about Takayama. I could feel it in the air as soon as I stepped off the train – crisp, fresh mountain air, so refreshing after the heat of Kyoto.
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I think it was in Syria that I first fell in love with the huge open skies of desert landscapes. I felt I could sit and look out of the bus window quite happily for hours ...
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I went to Syria in 1996, when it was a very different country. Today I can’t help wondering about the fate of the people I met there.
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History, they say, is told by the victors. But what if there are no victors? What if the war never technically ended? Then, perhaps, each side feels free to tell its own version of history, a version in which they were triumphant.
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‘Excuse me, may we ask you some questions?’ The three school girls spoke in chorus, politely and in good English. We naturally agreed and, armed with a clip-board and a work-book with a set of these questions, they proceeded to ‘interview’ us.
