u/mildpandemic

Morocco is a short ferry ride or medium-length swim from Spain, and a week there wasn’t enough, but it was sufficient to give a taste of a fascinating African country. We were feeling lazy so we caught the ferry, landed in Tangier, and headed to Casablanca, which was an enigmatic name to me until I learned enough Spanish to translate. The city is a modern affair and is home to the Hassan II mosque, with room for 105,000 worshippers and a minaret 210 metres (689 ft) tall. It’s one of those buildings that seems big until you get closer, at which point it looks absolutely enormous. 

The further we travelled inland the more the landscape resembled Mars, if you added some low scrub and an occasional band of actual trees to mark the line of a river. Inhospitable, in a word, and that’s coming from a boy who grew up in country Australia, so I felt very much at home. The people, however, view hospitality as a sacred duty rather than a social nicety, which may be due to the fact that making a mistake in the desert can result in looking very stupid, or dead, or both. Accidents happen though, so being able to count on the kindness of strangers becomes crucial.

I had wanted to go to Marrakech ever since hearing it briefly mentioned in Raiders of the Lost Ark. It’s a name that conjures visions of smoky rooms where rare goods are traded by mysterious people, and the good news is it’s pretty much like that, even if the wares were legitimate as far as I could tell. The markets are lively, full of variety, colour, and noise, open well into the night so that people can avoid the heat of the day. 

Built over a thousand years before cars made wider streets necessary, the Medina of Fes is a maze of 9,000 alleys, 40,000 dead ends, and 150,000 people. Mercifully, there is a ban on motorcycles, and although some still sneak in, it is a haven from the incessant noise of other cities. The high buildings and narrow alleys, some of which are famously less than a metre wide, shade against the brutal sun and allow for more interior space. They also provide a passive defence against the invaders who were an alarmingly frequent event throughout the city’s history.

The tanning pits of Fes are a breathtaking place to visit, by which I mean they have a smell that would give a skunk pause for thought if it found itself fantastically lost. It’s not so much bad as overwhelming, with leather soaking in hundreds of stone vats containing a mixture of quicklime, salt, cow urine, and pigeon droppings. We left the pits with an appetite of course, and due to its location Morocco’s cuisine blends Mediterranean and African spices to marvellous effect. Flavours are complex, with as many as twenty-seven spices combined into one particular mixture called ras el hanout. Give everything a try is my advice.

The Atlas Mountains act as a physical barrier from the Sahara, and also add to its harshness by trapping rain that might otherwise move further across the continent. They are filled with scenic valleys and narrow roads, a fact that was brought home to us after our bus took the wrong road, which forced an Austin Powers-style 15-point turn to get back on track. Looking out the window was disconcerting as the rear of the vehicle repeatedly edged out over the cliff but hey, everything is funny in retrospect. 

Morocco is hot, dry, dusty, and mostly red or yellow, randomly slashed with green. It is also ancient, extraordinary, and well worth a detour from Spain.

1 - The Hassan II Mosque in Casablanca.

2 - Todgha Gorge, in the Atlas Mountains.

3 - Wednesday night traffic in Marrakech.

4 - Wide view of Morocco.

5 - This guide’s turban game was on point.

6 - This local gang of ne'er-do-wells took my lunch money.

7 - Night market in Marrakech.

8 - Random roadside viewpoint.

9 - A peek into the Sahara.

10 - If you can’t find the leather tanning pits, just follow your nose… Pungent is the word.

11 - This lighting store really had a theme.

12 - GPS reception can be patchy in the Medina of Fes.

13 - A rare lake in the desert.

14 - The Mausoleum of King Mohammed V.

We were about to visit the happiest place on Earth. Not that one, but the mountain kingdom of Bhutan, where signs along the roadsides urge people to preserve social cohesion and the general good humour. First, you have to get there though, and that is an event in itself.

When flying from Kathmandu to Bhutan, you want to sit on the left side of the aircraft on the way there and the right side on the way back. The reason, of course, is that you will be almost at eye level with the summit of Mt Everest, so it’s literally port out and starboard home. That view is worth the flight on its own, but then you have to land, and at the time we travelled there were fewer pilots rated to land at Paro International Airport than people who had walked on the Moon. I vividly recall the hard right turn around a mountain peak before levelling out for the runway, but it wasn’t too hair-raising on a calm and sunny day. 

Bhutan is pristine, and the residents mostly wear traditional dress most of the time, the Gao for men and the Kira for women. The clothes are compulsory for government office workers and students, and the people wear them well, giving the impression of a theme park that got out of hand. The government is not keen on foreigners wandering around and spoiling the ambiance, so you have to be on an approved guided tour where practically everything is prepaid.

The national sport is archery, performed on a schedule that makes test cricket look like a sprint, with targets that are 145 metres (475 feet) apart, and about the size of a dinner plate. The Byzantine scoring system, coupled with frequent breaks for taunting and celebrations, means a traditional match could take up to a month. Better equipment means that modern events rarely take more than a week to reach the 25-point goal. We joined the spectators lining, and often crossing, the long, narrow field, only finding out later that penetrating head and neck injuries are rather more common than is ideal. Perhaps it’s an unworthy thought, but an arrow to the face would certainly be an effective way of breaking the opposition’s concentration.

People assume the food in Bhutan is wonderful. It is not, at least not to the palate of anyone in our group. A three-course meal at a homestay began with mutton stew so fatty that we were left with the feeling of having taken a sip of hot candle wax. It was paired with Kewa Datshi, literally potato and cheese that was stodgy enough to use as brick mortar. To finish, there was tea, made by churning tea leaves, yak butter, water, and salt, tasting much as you would expect. We may just have been unlucky.

Paro Taktsang, aka The Tiger’s Nest, is to be found atop a 500m climb. The views are breathtaking at 3100 metres altitude, both figuratively and literally, and you can hire a donkey to carry you up the steep path, but please don’t. The original building was constructed by hand in 1692 without so much as a plan, destroyed by fire in 1998 as often happens to old wooden buildings, and rebuilt in its current form. It clings to the mountainside in stark defiance of convenience and common sense, and is all the more marvellous for it. I’ve often thought that some places should just be straight up difficult to get to.

So about that happiest country in the world thing. A young woman asked me if I might sponsor her out of Bhutan because of the lack of opportunity there. It didn’t bring down the entire edifice of contentment the country shows to the world, but it did remind me that one person’s heaven may be another’s hell. Bhutan feels mired in a past that I can only imagine feels very restrictive.

As we were driven to the airport to leave, we realised that the national marathon was happening on the one main road through the valley, and that road was full of cars and trucks. Practically all of Bhutan is in a valley, so there weren’t many alternative routes, but fortunately for the runners, the traffic moves at a sedate pace that matches the overall vibe of the country.

Bhutan is gorgeous, clean, safe, and you should go there.

1 - Mt Everest: Check which side you need to be on and fight for it.

2 - Even a monk needs to check his email.

3 - Some of the forests were straight out of fantasy.

4 - A sizeable and shiny Buddha.

5 - The precarious and precious Tiger’s Nest.

6 - The people walk 7 laps around the Stupa, no more and no less.

7 - Bamboo scaffolding has never looked more sturdy.

8 - The traditional Kira, worn by women throughout the country. 

9 - Everything looks better at night.

10 - Celebrations for a good shot.

11 - Butter lamp flames signify the fluid nature and impermanence of life. 

12 - A gentleman watching his grandchildren at play. 

13 - Pretty much the entire country looks like this.

Flawless repair job, no notes.

We were off to a great start after boarding an A380 to Qatar that was empty enough for everyone on board to have had three or four seats each. Even better was the fact that the flight to Kathmandu was overbooked, and so we were asked if it would be acceptable to place us in business class. It seemed churlish to say no, so we risked it up front.

Kathmandu! The stuff of legend and a mental image of mysterious monasteries surrounded by misty mountains. The reality was a city of a million people, and a sharp divide between the tourist areas and the other 99% or so. There were plenty of mountains at least.

If you’re going be adventurous in Nepal and your life will depend on the quality of your equipment, then make sure you buy it from a shop with windows and a door. There are any number of open-air shops selling rugged-looking clothes with rugged-sounding names, but suspiciously cheap, sometimes misspelled, and insulated with something akin to shredded newspaper. The real deal may cost a lot more, but you’ll die a lot less.

We boarded a bus for the seven-hour journey to Pokhara, on a highway that would have benefited from some serious repair. Large rocks were used to warn drivers of potholes, and the surface was rough enough that by the time we arrived, my watch had registered 11,000 steps. The town was scenic, peaceful after the chaos of Kathmandu, and popular with paragliders who drifted by the dozen in the skies around the nearby hills.

The mountain Machapuchare, also known as The Fish’s Tail, has never officially been climbed to the top. In 1957, the Nepalese king granted permission for a British team to make the ascent on the proviso that they not set foot on the summit. The team complied and stopped 50 metres short, but there are reports that a New Zealand climber successfully and illegally completed the climb in the early 1980s.

Next up was Chitwan National Park, which was reputedly home to a lot of wildlife. A rhinoceros wandered by us seconds after getting off the bus, so full marks to the tour documentation. She was something of a local celebrity, judging by the local visitors taking selfies with her, although I used a zoom lens and kept my distance. I like a rhino, but I don’t like to take liberties. 

Our accommodation for the night made a decent attempt at Western-style food, but we requested local cuisine for the next day, and it was fantastic. The chef was duly summoned and given a standing ovation. It’s always worth trying the local specialties in any country you happen to visit.

Nepal is dusty, bumpy, occasionally chaotic, and highly recommended.

1 - A view over the Pokhara Valley.

2 - Kathmandu seen from Swayambhunath, aka The Monkey Temple.

3 - A very chill Rhino in Chitwan National Park.

4 - The Local kids were always keen to have their photo taken.

5 - Machapuchare has possibly been summited once, but probably never.

6 - A colourful local in Kathmandu.

7 - A menacing local in Chitwan.

8 - The tourist area of Kathmandu, identified by English signs and dodgy Goretex.

9 - An elephant calf being roused from sleep by its mother.

10 - Incense sticks and candles are a major business in Nepal.

11 - The Monkey Temple was aptly named.

12 - Prayer flags at the 14th century Boudha Stupa. 

I have no quarrel with Auspost, but this sight made me wonder if they're not allowed to repackage something when the box has been to thoroughly destroyed.

It’s a little disconcerting when you arrive at the airport for a 15,000km flight home after a month travelling across Europe, only to find out your flight has been cancelled. It’s even worse when you discover that your airline no longer flies to the country you’re in at all, but more on that later.

The train portions of our journey were scenic and trouble-free for the most part, although we noticed that the further east we traveled, the slower the trains were. The final segment was considerably slower than you could manage on a bicycle, but if you wanted to stretch your legs it was entirely possible to jump off the back and run alongside.

London was, contrary to expectations, sunny and warm for our entire stay. That seems to be happening worryingly often in 2026, but at the time it was a welcome surprise. All of the usual tourist attractions were very grand, but my lingering memory was of some strawberries we bought at a local market. I realised that I had never really liked the fruit because I had never actually tasted a good example. No added sugar, not dipped in chocolate, and it was like I’d been lied to my whole life.

I knew I would enjoy France when, at the border control in London, the young French agent looked at my passport photo, looked at my broad grin IRL, and made a face that indicated that I should make my face match my official photo. I put on my passport face and he waved me on with a laugh. We saw Notre-Dame in its pre-fire form, the Eiffel Tower before they dismantled it, and ended at the Palace of Versailles. Walking to the palace I was tickled by the fact that we were offered selfie sticks by half a dozen street vendors, only to see a large sign at the entry expressly forbidding their use.

The Swiss town of Zermatt is one of the most scenic places I have ever visited, and it wouldn’t surprise me if the flower boxes on practically every window are required by law.. I said to an employee at the supermarket that she had a beautiful town. ‘I know!’, she matter of factly replied. The Matterhorn is one of those sights that is even more impressive than you could have imagined. It dominates the landscape in such a way that I finally understood the obsession it provokes in eager, often short-lived, mountaineers. 

As we were travelling to our first hotel in Romania, I commented to our guide that there were pear trees everywhere, and asked if the fruit was a local favourite. It was not, or at least not in the way I imagined. At the time, each household was permitted to produce 250 litres of pure alcohol from the pears, with Palincă being the local drink of choice. I was offered a sample and can only describe the taste as equal parts battery acid and hate.

In Istanbul we encountered another food related revelation, and once again it was instantly obvious that I had simply never tasted the real thing. I’m from Australia, and the only Turkish Delight available to a country boy from Victoria was a rosewater flavoured chocolate-coated monstrosity with the texture of a rubber bathmat. You would probably be jailed for selling such a thing in Turkey. Bloody good job too. 

Then it was all over, and we headed to the airport. Malaysia Airlines had decided to abandon Turkey altogether shortly after we had left Sydney, and our travel company had sent me an email to this effect, to my work email address, an hour after our plane had taken off. They had my personal address, as proved by the email I received 12 hours before the now fictional return flight wishing us a pleasant journey. We had to buy flights on the spot and on arriving home I sent an email that was frank, bordering on direct. The company compensated us in full, and we made a few dollars profit after currency fluctuations were taken into account. Call it even, I guess.

1 - The Mad Hatter holding court at Camden Markets.

2 - The London Eye.

3 - The Houses of Parliament.

4 - Lemmy the Harris Hawk, protecting Nelson’s Column from pigeon poo.

5 - Richard the Lionheart.

6 - Tower Bridge.

7 - Notre-Dame, pre-fire.

8 - The Palace of Versailles was designed to impress, and it did.

9 - The Royal Chapel.

10 - The Eiffel Tower.

11 - I don’t think the flower boxes in Zermatt are required by law, but they’re ubiquitous.

12 - The Matterhorn seizes the imagination, and doesn’t easily let go.

13 - The McDonald's sign in Salzburg was required to fit into the local decor.

14 - ‘The Shoes on the Danube Bank’, a memorial to a dark past. 

15 - Matthias Church, Budapest.

16 - Perhaps the most scenic cottage ever in Sighişoara, Romania.

17 - Dance competition at Oktoberfest in Bucharest.

18 - The Sultan Ahmed Mosque, aka the Blue Mosque, Istanbul.

19 - The Grand Bazaar.

20 - The 6th-century Basilica Cistern, beneath a public square in Istanbul.

The people of Vietnam know how to get things done. This was brought home to me the day we arrived in Saigon for a 14-day tour, and met two young women who had just found out that they had arrived for their own trip early, indeed a year early. The company representative didn’t so much as blink, merely saying, ‘Give me a moment.’ Shortly thereafter, their trip was organised, and they were off. This level of flexibility when business was on the line was reinforced over the next two weeks as we discovered that we were not, in fact, on a single tour, but rather half a dozen tours stuck together end to end. Our group morphed in size daily, anywhere from 40 to 4, with the smallest number consisting of the two of us, a guide, and a driver. Despite all this, everything ran like clockwork.

Barter is, of course, expected. I was offered a kind of doughnut on a stick, and after I asked how much it cost, the seller looked me up and down before saying 5000 Dong. At the time, the exchange rate to the Australian dollar was 14,000 to 1, so I handed over the money and enjoyed my treat. My girlfriend contrived to pay 2,000 in a fit of competition, and another traveller told us he had paid 10,000. We later found out that the base price was 1,000, but I would have felt bad paying that little. 

The cities in Vietnam are scenic, fascinating, and swarming with motor scooters, but the smaller towns are the place to be. Hoi An is a particularly charming example, with the only downside being the fact that the river running through the middle floods every year, putting the nearby houses several metres underwater. The residents deal with this simply by moving everything up to the second floor to wait it out. The nightly markets are relaxed and great value, and since the streets are closed to vehicles they are a peaceful blaze of colour, light, and food.

If you see a line of people at a store in Vietnam, it’s a good idea to join it. There is likely to be a treat at the end so good that even the locals, who are surrounded by vendors who have devoted their lives to perfecting one particular delicacy, are willing to put up with the wait. In Hanoi the line was for Banh Ran, a deep-fried glutinous rice ball traditionally filled with a sweet filling, and well worth the wait.

Ha Long Bay is a beautiful place, with almost 2000 towering limestone islands that march into the ocean, and buried beneath one of these islands is the magnificent Sung Sot cave. It is unreasonably huge, with giant pillars of stone and a roof that looks like it was carved by Tolkien’s dwarves for dramatic effect. If you zoom into photo 14 you will see a visitor for scale, but one simply has to see it in person.

With half an hour’s notice and for a modest sum, Vietnam will make it happen. Highly recommended.

1 - The Linh Phuoc Pagoda, Da Lat, decorated with recycled glass and ceramics

2 - A floating market in the Mekong Delta

3 - Just married

4 - Sleeping Buddha 

5 - A night market in Thanh Binh

6 - Family transport

7 - Po Nagar Temple Nha Trang

8 - Stumbled on a model shoot in Hoi An

9 - The Hoai River that runs through the middle of town

10 - One of many buildings that are flooded each year

11 - Traditional wedding dress

12 - An old but charming building

13 - A colourful gate in Hue

14 - City street scene

15 - The Presidential Palace, Hanoi

16 - Graduating students wearing the traditional Ao Dai

17 - Sung Sot Cave’s massive main cavern

18 - Ha Long Bay

Everything you’ve ever heard about India is probably true. It’s big, it’s hot, it’s cold, rich, poor, and stuffed to the gills with humanity. It’s not for the faint-hearted, but it is beautiful, the people are wonderful, and yes, there are cows everywhere.

Armed only with my first DSLR, I staggered out of our hotel in New Delhi to be greeted by the sight of an elephant walking by, directed by a child astride its neck. ‘India!’ I proclaimed, and looked around for breakfast. We found a vendor frying flat breads in oil, served with curry sauce and eaten standing in the middle of the street. I was dubious but took a tentative bite and was transformed, because the flavour was wonderful, the cost was negligible, and the food was hot enough to be safe. We ate on the street for the rest of the trip and suffered no ill effects, because nothing comes out of a tandoor or deep fryer alive. 

New Delhi seethes with 30 million people, but it was the sheer disorganisation that made it so unlike any other city. A highway lane might end abruptly at a bridge support, and the bridge might not be connected to anything. Any open space tends to host an impromptu and never-ending cricket match, with teams made up of whoever passes by. Poverty exists cheek by jowl with wealth, and one doesn’t seem to notice the other. Cows wander like oversized stray dogs, safe in their holy status but tolerated rather than worshipped. Getting onto a train is something of a competitive sport, but somehow people manage. 

The Taj Mahal in person is more impressive than I could have imagined, even if its reason for being is a sad one. We passed through metal detectors to get inside the grounds, and found out why when we saw that someone had carved their name into the blindingly white edifice. The poverty of the people who live right next door was perhaps the most stark contrast possible.

India loves a temple, and if you’re going to do some decoration then plainly it’s worth overdoing. The riot of colour on some of the facades would probably look gaudy if done poorly, but you just have to admire the commitment to flair. This carries over to the city of Varanasi⁩, which is where people go to die if they can possibly manage it. The cremation pyres burn through the night, and people crowd to watch the astonishing and, to me at least, incomprehensible ceremonies that are held a short distance down the river.

India can be wonderful or horrible. The impression you take away largely depends on the attitude you bring.

1 - Sunrise in ⁨Agra⁩, ⁨Uttar Pradesh⁩

2 - A local resident at the fort that was our accomodation for the night

3 - A man and his camel

4 - A flower seller in New Delhi

5 - The 13 story deep Chand Baori stepwell

6 - 2 ladies in Karauli⁩, ⁨Rajasthan⁩

7 - The Taj Mahal

8- The Kandariya Mahadeva Temple, reputedly the inspiration for the Kama Sutra

9 - A traditional performer 

10 - A bull, chilling in the crowd by the Ganges river 

11 - Some kids checking their shots on one of our cameras

12 - The nightly funeral pyres of ⁨Varanasi⁩

13 - This lady was a hoot

14 - A religious ceremony by the Ganges

15 - If you lifted a camera the kids were all about it

16 - Fishing nets in ⁨Kochi⁩, ⁨Kerala⁩

17 - A dance competition we chanced upon in ⁨Chengalpattu⁩, ⁨Tamil Nadu⁩

18 - The 11 story Meenakshi Temple, decorated from top to bottom

19 - A traditional martial arts performance in ⁨Kumily⁩, ⁨Kerala⁩

20 - India bid us farewell

We pulled the trigger on a trip to Antarctica and boarded the Roald Amundsen in Ushuaia, the most southern city in the world. The thought of crossing the Drake Passage was daunting, with typical swells of 5 meters and frequently reaching 10 (15 and 30 feet respectively). We caught mother nature in a good mood however, and spent the 2 day crossing gently rocking in seas of a meter or less: The Drake Lake, as the captain put it.

Ships with more than 500 people on board are not allowed to land in Antarctica, so ours carried 498. It’s much cheaper on a bigger boat, but you can’t get up close to things that way. There’s less to do on a smaller vessel, but I had a book I’d been saving especially for the occasion.

During the crossing we were told that while on land or ice we must not sit, squat, or indeed touch anything at all, unless we brought it with us. The reason was the millions of migrating birds that carry a variety of exciting diseases, while we were three days away from the nearest medical help. I saw a guy forget the rules and try to make a snowball, only to be unceremoniously side-tackled by one of the crew.

Antarctica is simply stunning. We first saw the shore with fog covering most of the scene, but it soon started lifting and I realised that some of the clouds I could see through the gaps were mountains, and they were huge, and they were everywhere. Every direction was an epic scene of rock and ice in various hues of blue that piled into the sky and spilled into the water. It’s difficult for photos to do justice because the air is so clear and the reference points are so few and far between. 

Whales swam, seals lounged, and penguins ducked and dove around the ship, completely unbothered by our presence as far as I could tell. On land they regarded us with the middling interest of creatures who had seen it all before. I think the strongest memory is simply how vast the place is even though we only saw a tiny percentage, and the absolute hush when the wind dropped.

The abandoned whaling station on Deception Island was a sobering scene of past misdeeds, but it did afford an opportunity to go for a swim. To give an idea of what that feels like, when I came out of the water the merely freezing wind on wet skin felt warm in comparison.

It was summer of course, and the weather ranged from short sleeves to multiple layers and gale force winds within the space of a few hours. We were loaned boots for shore excursions that had to be cleaned of any dirt or stones before being returned at the end of the trip. They were checked and handed back to you if you didn’t do a good enough job. The crew were very serious indeed about biosecurity.

The return crossing was a bit rougher than the journey south, and quite a few people felt queasy. I asked one of the crew to give it a rating and he laughed as he said it was 2/10 at worst, so we counted ourselves lucky.

It’s an expensive trip, potentially rough, and there’s a small chance of an outbreak such as the recent Hanta virus incident. It’s well worth it.

⁨1 - First land sighting of Anvers Island⁩

2⁨ - Our ship, the Roald Amundsen

3⁨ - The sun came out, the clouds lifted, and the wind stopped

4⁨ -  Penguins on Wiencke Island,⁩ but stay upwind if you can because that is not dirt

5 - Hogvaard⁨ Island⁩

6 - ‘Black ice’ off Hogvaard⁨ Island⁩

7 - A seal taking a break off the Antarctic Peninsula 

⁨8 - Gentoo penguins on Bryde Island⁩

9 - People going for a stroll on the peninsula 

10 - Sea ice, cracked by the ship  

⁨11 - Whale oil tanks on Deception Island⁩

12⁨ - Abandoned whaling boats

13⁨ - Black sand beach in a small cove

14 ⁨- Tierra del Fuego⁩, ⁨Argentina⁩

It had been a long time since I was in China and I've done Beijing and Shanghai before, so it was time to head west a little.

The landscape is spectacular in places, and green beyond belief for an Australian boy from the Mallee. We stayed in cities that had comfortably more people than my entire country, which isn't saying much, but 32 million does seem like a lot .

There are cameras everywhere, and although that seems to be a trend worldwide now, China has really gone to town. There were constant strobes of light at some intersections taking shots of seemingly every car that passed, and every public area is under observation.

The changes since my last visit were stark: Rail lines everywhere, their stations are like airports and the trains do 300kph+, subways are spotless, there were electric cars from makers I'd never heard of, pollution was much improved, and the streets were clean. I saw no graffiti, no rubbish on the ground, and not a single homeless person or panhandler... although that might not bear thinking about.

I've seen a post where the author was being stared at constantly, but I never noticed anything myself.

China has problems, and huge ones at that, but they're trying.