Latest news with #travelwriting
Wall Street Journal
6 days ago
- Wall Street Journal
‘A Journey to the Western Islands of Scotland': A Londoner Out of His Element
Travel writing can be a tedious exercise in epiphanies, overstuffed with golden sunsets, balmy beaches and quaint locals graced by effortless charm. The perfections of paradise, it turns out, grow boring pretty quickly. 'Literature is made out of the misfortunes of others,' literary critic V.S. Pritchett once noted. 'A large number of travel books fail simply because of the intolerable, monotonous good luck of their authors.'
News.com.au
13-07-2025
- News.com.au
Dark truth of ‘enviable' occupation that has seen Aussie travel to 60 countries
Travel writing may seem like a luxurious, enviable occupation, but regularly visiting far-flung locations can result in unsettling experiences that range from weird to terrifying. During my 13-year career in this field, I've been to 60-plus countries and repeatedly witnessed the dark side of travel writing. Here's four of my wildest stories. Guangzhou taxi terror Somehow, I've just become involved in human trafficking. That is my panicked thought as I sit trembling in the back of a taxi in Guangzhou, while a woman screams in terror, kicks the dashboard, and assaults our driver. Rarely have I ever felt so terrified and confused. It is the middle of the night, I've only just arrived in China, and we're parked on the side of a freeway as puzzling chaos ensues in the front seat. My fear isn't due to the wild behaviour of that local woman. Her violent outburst is entirely reasonable because she clearly believes she's being kidnapped, and that I'm party to this crime. How did it come to this? Let me explain. After landing at Guangzhou airport 90 minutes' previous, my friend and I could find no legitimate taxis. Eventually, we had to accept an offer from a Chinese man in plain clothes who had been following us, saying: 'Taxi, taxi, taxi?'. He requested we pay upfront, before we sat in the back of his unmarked car, and sped towards the city. Just minutes later, we unexpectedly pulled into the freeway emergency lane. We asked what was happening, but received no response. Soon after, another vehicle screeched up behind us. Followed by the disturbing sounds of a man yelling, a woman screaming in terror, and the boot of our car slamming. Then we saw that lady being dragged along the side of our car, before she was aggressively shoved into its front seat. After repeatedly hitting the driver, she looked in the rear view mirror, saw us two Caucasian strangers, and exploded into an even deeper panic. Thankfully, things soon quietened down. What appeared like a kidnapping turned out to be a simple taxi scam. After the woman was dropped off at her Guangzhou hotel, it became apparent that we and the scared woman had all been charged full taxi fares upfront back at the airport. So by stopping on the freeway, to squeeze us all into one car, the driver and his accomplice had practically doubled their income. Never have I been so relieved to be ripped off. Japan porn sleepover I'm laying on the floor, trying to go to sleep, in a room filled with men pleasuring themselves. This was not my plan. That morning, I'd been leaving my Osaka hotel to go sightseeing when a staff member told me I needed to check out immediately. I mistakenly thought I had one more night booked. The staff showed me I did not, apologised that they had no rooms available for tonight, and warned me most Osaka hotels were booked out due to a major event in the city. When I searched hotel websites and found no rooms in my budget, the staff said the only other option was to spend the night in a nearby 24-hour internet cafe. So I went to this business, alongside Tennoji train station, and booked one of its private booths for a 12-hour block, starting from 7:00pm. When I returned to the cafe that evening, things quickly got weird. Firstly, I saw hundreds of porn magazines stacked near my booth. Secondly, every booth was advertised as 'fully private', because they had a curtain, and their walls were about 175cm high, which supposedly meant no one could peer down into them. Except, that is, for this 197cm tall Australian. As I walked towards my booth, I made unexpected eye contact with a startled, sweaty Japanese man, who was clearly in the midst of a passionate activity inside his cubicle. He yelled in shock, and I rushed inside my booth, wondering what lay ahead of me. For the rest of the night, I curled up beneath my cubicle's desk and tried to sleep. The discomfort of lying on the floor paled in comparison to being immersed in a chorus of perturbing male sounds. Life and death encounter in Melbourne My head is bruised, although not as badly as my ego. I've just let loose a loud, effeminate squeal and then rushed backwards in a panic, banging my noggin into the wall of a Melbourne home. Yet in that moment, all I cared about was staying alive. Because, seconds earlier, I'd endured one of the most terrifying moments of my life. I was spending the day following a Melbourne snake catcher for a first-person story for a Middle East newspaper about this dangerous profession. A distressed real estate agent had called the catcher after finding a venomous red-bellied black snake in a bedroom of the home he was showing that day. After the catcher scooped up the snake, using a hook on the end of a long stick, I requested to take a photo. As he held it in the air, the snake fell off the hook and rushed under the bed, straight towards my feet. I surged backwards, slammed into the wall, shrieked in terror and ran out onto the street. As you can guess, I'm no Steve Irwin. Stuck in a Belgian hell hole Urine, drugs and dirty mattresses: Three things I'll never forget about a bizarre and revolting night spent in a Belgian hell hole. I was on a whirlwind work trip across Europe when I landed in Brussels, checked my phone, and realised I hadn't booked any accommodation. The only hotel rooms available were too expensive, so I secured a single room in a cheap hostel, alongside Grand Place. I waited outside this locked hostel for an hour before its young manager finally arrived, off his head on some kind of intoxicant. He rudely told me my single room was taken, and led me to my new accommodation – a dormitory that looked like a drug den. Stained carpets, chipped walls, and dirty mattresses strewn on the floor. He told me I was 'lucky' to have a proper bed. So I kicked off my shoes underneath that bed, which seconds later collapsed under my 110kg weight. The manager chastised me, shifted me to a bed reinforced by a cinder block, and left me with a motley crew of male guests filling the room with cigarette and marijuana smoke. Then, I had a disturbing realisation. The bathroom shared by me and nine other men didn't even have a door. Its entrance was covered only by a curtain, so that every horrible, toilet-related sound and smell invaded our room. I avoided that bathroom. Until, in the middle of the night, I simply had to use it. I reached for my shoes, only to realise they were still under my original bed, which now was occupied by a snoring stranger. So I had to make a harrowing choice: walk into this grotty bathroom in socks, or bare feet. I chose the former, entered the bathroom for the first time, and immediately, my socks became saturated. The entire bathroom floor was covered in an inch of fluids. Then I turned on the light and saw the reason why: the toilet's base was leaking. So I was standing in a giant puddle of sewerage
BBC News
06-07-2025
- BBC News
Six new and upcoming summer travel books that inspire wonder
From a nine-month trek to a 20,000-mile motorcycle odyssey, these books will transport you across continents encourage you to see the world differently. Like travel itself, great travel writing can expand our understanding of the world – and of ourselves. It introduces us to places we've never visited and people we've never met. It expands our idea of the planet, and when done well, it can leave us permanently first book that did this for me was Peter Matthiessen's The Snow Leopard. Published in 1978, it transported me to a gruelling expedition in the Himalayas, immersed me in Buddhist thought and offered a poignant portrait of a family's emotional unravelling. Matthiessen's ruminations profoundly touched and transformed my life, inspiring a leap of faith to pursue a career in travel. Happily, that leap was rewarded, and led to a lifelong career editing and writing travel stories for the San Francisco Examiner-Chronicle, Salon, Lonely Planet, National Geographic and the BBC. After reading through this season's new and upcoming travel books, I've found seven that tap into a similar power. Each rekindles a sense of wonder and expands our idea of what travel can be. Best for wide-horizon nomads Free Ride, by Noraly Schoenmaker Free Ride recounts a 20,000-mile motorcycle odyssey that began with a jaunt from India to Malaysia, then morphed into a solo expedition through the Middle East and Central Asia and finally back to Schoenmaker's homeland in the Netherlands. Launched by a broken heart when she discovered that her live-in partner had been having a long-term affair, the journey became a route of reinvention. This passage set in the Pamir Mountains of Tajikistan captures the rigours and the rewards of Schoenmaker's odyssey: "I was freezing, I was scared, I was alone. But at the same time I realized: there was nowhere in the world I would rather be than right here. Despite the hardships of the cold Pamir, I had fallen instantly, completely, and head over heels in love with this part of the world. It felt like everything that had happened – my destroyed relationship, the forced sale of my house, my attempt to become a filmmaker – were all part of a bigger plan to get me here. Here, alone, on the Pamir. I wanted to stay here forever, in this wilderness." In no-frills, from-the-heart prose, Schoenmaker crafts exhilarating evocations of rarely visited landscapes and unforgettable portraits of remote villagers and their far-off-the-beaten-path homes. As she motors on, she also brings to vivid life the bone-jarringly rutted tracks, scarily flooded roads, breath-sucking winds, freezing high-altitude passes, broken and burned-out motorcycle parts and multiple motorcycle mishaps she must overcome along the way. But what ultimately shines throughout this moving and inspiring account are the attributes that enable her to persevere: her optimism and openness, her determination and resilience, her ability to engage strangers and at the same time to be comfortable with herself. The truth at the heart of this pilgrimage carries a soul-widening lesson for us all: because Schoenmaker brings a warm, wonder-filled embrace to the world, the world embraces her just as fervently and fully in return. Best for long-haul seekers: Northbound, by Naomi Arnold Naomi Arnold's Northbound charts her nine-month solo trek along New Zealand's 3,000km Te Araroa trail, from Bluff at the southern tip of the country to Cape Reinga in the far north. Setting off on Boxing Day 2023, Arnold's extraordinarily gruelling odyssey takes her through some of New Zealand's most remote and rugged landscapes. Her account brims with detailed observations, bringing the reader directly into the heart and hardship of the trail – in all its mud, pain, cold and beauty. Arnold combines these descriptions with keenly honest evocations of the challenges she overcomes – from blisters and fungal infections to loneliness and logistical missteps. As her journey unfolds, her perceptions and transformations take on a luminous intensity, as in this passage from the middle of her account: "I spent the day climbing from the valley floor up a long, steep ridge to 1462m Mt Crawford. I walked through rainforest, admiring pīwakawaka and miromiro leaping among the dripping rimu, mataī, mamaku, the trees laden with huge balls of moss, the ground covered in ecstatic bursts of crown ferns. Spiderwebs caught between trees were glistening with diamonds of moisture, shivering in shafts of white-misted sunlight…. This low light changed everything. It hit one thickly moss-covered tree and I could suddenly see the tree's real shape, its skeleton, strong beneath its fuzzy green exterior, illuminated like a pair of legs through a sunlit skirt." Northbound is a beautiful, brave book: harrowing at times, yet filled with hope. Ultimately, it's about much more than walking the length of New Zealand – it's about what Arnold found, and what she shed, along the way. And in this sense, it's about the possibilities that await all of us in life, and that we can choose to ignore, or embrace. Best for road travel romantics: On the Hippie Trail, by Rick Steves Long before Rick Steves became a household name, he was a young piano teacher filled with wanderlust. In 1978, he set out from Istanbul to Kathmandu along the legendary "hippie trail", filling his notebook with observations of a world in flux. On the Hippie Trail is a lightly edited version of that journal, and it presents Steves as a passionate young man falling in love with the world, bursting with delight at its dangers and disappointments as well as its treasures and pleasures. Steves' wide-eyed innocence and enthusiasm are present on every page, as are his clear-eyed depictions of local rites and idiosyncrasies – all intimations of the travel icon to come. Consider this description in central Kathmandu: "I lost myself in Durbar Square. This was a tangled, medieval-ish world of tall, terraced temples; fruit and vegetable stands; thin, wild and hungry people praying, begging and going through rituals; children, oblivious to it all, playing tag among the frozen Buddhas; rickshaws; and bread carts. Ten years ago, the only blemishes of our modern world – cars and tourists – weren't there and the sight would have been pure. But even with long, straggly-haired, lacy, baggy-clothed freaks lounging on stony pagoda steps, and the occasional honking taxi, this was a place where I could linger." Full of such observations and excitements, On the Hippie Trail rekindled my memories of early wanderings that widened the world for me. In so doing, it also robustly recharged my sense of wonder, the promise that had once suffused every day: that tantalising, life-changing possibilities awaited around the next corner. Best for spiritual pilgrims: Fiesta, by Daniel Stables Alternately rollicking and reflective, Fiesta profiles the most fascinating and eye-catching festivals around the world – and what they reveal about the human need for ritual and connection. Fuelled by a fundamental fascination with the topic, Stables spent a decade studying and attending festivals. In the book, he identifies 11 festival types – from identity to altered states, tribalism to utopia – and brings them to life through fieldwork and personal immersion. He dances with whirling dervishes in Turkey, joins Carnival in Venice and reflects on the spiritual ecology of the Green Gathering in Wales. Part of the pleasure of the book is Stables' deep digging into anthropology, history, psychology and folklore, and his resulting analyses of the motivations and meanings of the rituals and beliefs he encounters. An equally great pleasure is the way he wholeheartedly throws himself into these events, resulting in some seriously alcohol-imbibing and ego-surrendering adventures, all recounted in suitably soaring prose. Here he describes the culmination of a Romani community festival, when a statue of their patron saint, Black Sara, is carried into the Mediterranean by a parade of pilgrims on white Camargue horses:"The sound of hooves gathered on the promenade; those of us standing on the sand turned to face the approaching cavalcade, then bent down as one, rolling up our trousers, taking off our shoes and holding them in our hands as we joined the march into the water. Sara was carried until her pallbearers were chest high in the drink, and those handsome horses gathered around her in an imperious array, pale bellies touching the ocean, their riders hoisting iron Camargue crosses, guardian tridents, and velvet standards of deep burgundy…. I am not Romani nor Catholic, but I have rarely felt more alive than I did that day. Riding a white horse across the sand, necking plum brandy, and running barefoot into the sea in the caravan of gypsies – these are things which make life voluptuous." Best for close-to-home travellers: Go West, by Steve Silk Steve Silk's highly entertaining account of his bicycle trip through England and Wales, Go West, proves that you don't need to travel to the far corners of the planet to have a world-expanding travel experience. Silk – who works for the BBC's Look East – set out to pedal from London to the Welsh coast in eight days. He describes the goal of this quest early in the book: "What exactly is my kind of journey? I guess it's the kind of slow travel that revels in the places in between. Exploring the kind of towns and villages that you bypass by car, but that you won't, don't, or can't ignore on two wheels. And my emerging Law of Cycling Serendipity suggests that it's these locations that provide the unexpected highlights; the supporting actors who somehow steal the show." Silk calls this mode of travel "undertourism", and we all can learn much from it. As he moves slowly, he's able to notice and savour all manner of things he would normally just whoosh by: a transporting evensong at Oxford's Merton College; Witney Blanket Hall, a blanket-making museum-cum-workshop-cum-cafe whose signpost tantalisingly advertises "Woollen Blankets and Throws, Coffee, Pies and Assemblies since 1721"; a 2,500-year-old yew tree in Defynnog; a mossy, mushroomy, wooded valley on the outskirts of Talog that seems to embody the quintessence of Wales; and the particular pleasures of gongoozling – that is, "idly watching the passage of boats from the side of a canal, particularly from a lock or bridge". For me, the salubrious subtext of Silk's transcendent two-wheeled odyssey is the joy of travelling slowly close to home, and the truth that the closer we look, the more we see. If we journey with the proper mindset, there is a wide world of wonders waiting to be discovered even in our figurative backyard. Best for history buffs: Small Earthquakes, by Shafik Meghji In Small Earthquakes journalist and travel writer Shafik Meghji traverses landscapes from the Atacama Desert to Tierra del Fuego and Easter Island to South Georgia to reveal the overlooked yet profound – and profoundly enduring – connections between Britain and Argentina, Chile and Uruguay. Drawing on more than 15 years of travel and research in the region, Meghji brings to life a vivid collection of places (forgotten ghost towns, rusting whaling stations, isolated railways built by convicts and tea rooms in Welsh-speaking Patagonia) and characters (daring pirates, Victorian missionaries, rogue MPs, polar explorers and Patagonian cowboys). The passion and poignancy of his prose is captured in his description of Orongo, a ceremonial village on the southernmost tip of the island of Rapa Nui. First, Meghji paints a portrait of the site: "Inside are rows of low, oval-shaped houses built from basalt blocks, each with a low entrance barely high enough to crawl through. With a volcanic crater behind, sheer cliffs in front and the seemingly endless Pacific beyond, Orongo feels like it sits on the edge of the world. As I soaked up the view, I realised that beyond the island's shoreline, there was no one within 1,200 miles." Then he describes the village's role as the endpoint for the annual Birdman competition that determined the island's spiritual leader. Finally, threading history to heart, he writes: "Despite Orongo's history, scenery and sheer sense of remoteness, I was most struck by an absence, an empty space in one of the larger buildings that once held Hoa Hakananai'a. One of Rapa Nui's iconic monolithic moai, standing more than eight feet tall and decorated with Tangata Manu symbols – including stylised figures, birds and vulvas – the statue is held at the British Museum. He was the first moaiI saw in the flesh, a sight that tattooed itself on my brain as a child, helping to fire a life-long love of South America before I was old enough to question why the statue was there in the first place. In the Rapanui language, I later learned, Hoa Hakananai'a means 'lost, hidden or stolen friend'." Combining the immediacy of a travel memoir with the depth of a scholarly history lesson, Small Earthquakes illuminates how Britain helped shape these nations through economic ventures, cultural exchange and political intervention, and how those regions in turn have reshaped Britain, from the Falklands conflict to canned Fray Bentos pies. -- For more Travel stories from the BBC, follow us on Facebook, X and Instagram.
Times
04-07-2025
- Times
This is officially Europe's best cycle path
Many, many years ago, when I was just starting out along the travel writing path, I secured a berth on MS Juno, which murmurs along Sweden's Gota Canal between Gothenburg and Stockholm. This luxurious period piece has the reputation of being the Orient Express of sweetwater cruising, with a big emphasis on gastronomy, and I remember spending a lot of time at the dining table tucking into the likes of reindeer and Arctic char. I remember, too, being bewitched by the world beyond the portholes. Sweden's pastoral backyard was a storybook landscape of gossamer morning mists, of wildflowered meadows, of little Pippi Longstocking summerhouses, where apple-cheeked blondes sang to their babies while their dungareed menfolk tried to keep a handbrake on spring. At the locks, dusky red-painted wooden cafés served coffee and homemade cinnamon buns, children draped each other in daisy chains and families readied their kayaks for adventure. It was all rather charming and wholesome. At the time, I remember gazing at this unravelling landscape rather wistfully, wishing that I could freeze-frame the boat trip for a day or so and get off, to get to grips with the waterside in a less passive, more hands-on kind of way. Well, fast forward a couple of decades or three and I am back again on the Gota Canal, this time doing exactly that, and with my own apple-cheeked other half. Moreover, it's not just personal wish-fulfilment, because the canal's towpath has recently been declared the European Cycle Route of the Year at Fiets en Wandelbeurs, an annual Dutch cycling and hiking fair. The whole Gota route stitches together several big lakes. We had a plan to cycle over three days from its start at Sjotorp on the eastern edge of Lake Vanern to Karlsborg on the western side of Lake Vattern, roughly midway. We would be covering an average of 20 miles a day on sturdy hybrid bikes provided by our guesthouse for the first two nights, an elegant former vicarage called Prastgarden in the canalside town of Toreboda. • Discover our full guide to Sweden The canal is one of a tradition of nation-crossing waterways, like the Kiel Canal in Germany and the Canal du Midi in France, and when it was completed in 1832 it immediately had strategic significance in getting valuable freight and military hardware from one side of the country to the other without having to pass under anyone else's guns. These days, however, it is entirely given over to recreation, and is a considerable source of national pride, not least because digging out its 120 miles was a huge endeavour, involving 58,000 soldiers and an awful lot of wheelbarrows. The crew included a tough band of Scots brought over by our very own Thomas Telford, creator of the Scotland-crossing Caledonian Canal, whose expertise was engaged by the canal's driving force, the Swedish naval officer Count Baltzar von Platen. All of this can be gleaned from multilingual signposts along the canal's bank, and in historic buildings dotted along its length. • Europe's best active escapes We had our first fika — coffee and a cinnamon bun — in an antique wooden warehouse by the harbourside in Sjotorp, where the canal proper begins on the eastern shore of Lake Vanern, and where the good folk from Prastgarden had deposited us with our bikes. There's a canal museum upstairs, but the downstairs Café Baltzar feels like a museum piece too, sitting under chandeliers at a lace-covered table overlooked by a portrait of the count himself ( Fortified by the count's buns, we set off on the towpath, enveloped by birdsong, and ticking off the ells. When the canal was built, the ell was a common unit of measurement, and not just for cloth. Numbered stones are placed along the canal every 1,000 ells, which equates to about 600 metres — an ideal distance to convince cyclists that they are going 'ell for leather. • The best of adventure travel The canal winds through a mix of woodlands and wheat fields, celebrated at regular intervals by salvos of lupins in blues, purples and pinks. There are freshly painted roll-across bridges and lock systems, usually with a cluster of onlookers gathering to exchange greetings with boats passing through. Here too are the little wooden houses with summerhouses I remembered, although no more men in dungarees: instead robomowers graze slowly across the lawns, looking like fat rabbits, but that's about the only concession to the passing of time. After about 16 miles of canalside cycling we got back to Toreboda, welcomed into the town by a long gallery of paintings along the water's edge, backed by a succession of designer bungalows whose gardens were open to the towpath. When I mentioned to the Prastgarden's co-owner Yvonne Branfelt how unfenced-off everything seemed, she said people didn't need to lock their doors in Toreboda. Apart from when word went round that one particular well-known bad apple was out of prison. Next day we were back on the towpath for a couple of hours before the canal debouched into a smaller intermediary lake, Viken. Here the cycle route veers away into farmland, forest and fields of wheat, tracking the lake's outline from a distance along a network of gravel roads. • The UK's best cycling trails Secreted among the woodlands were holiday cabins, some elaborate, some primitive, but every one a private paradise. One had a little self-serve kiosk selling mostly knitted goods, which answered my unspoken question: what do people do here in the winter? That day was a tougher 40 miles, and my apple-cheeked companion was getting a bit Granny Smith by the time we reached Forsvik, where the canal does a short sprint between lakes Viken and Vattern. Here the drop between the two — and the resulting waterpower — has been instrumental to the success of a long line of industries, starting back in the 1400s with a sawmill and flour mill, and moving on more recently to smithy and iron foundry, all on the same patch of lakeside. They needed a lot of manpower, those industries, and today the Vandrarhem worker's apartments, where we stayed that night, have been transformed into tourist accommodation, in a timewarp of old coal ranges and period furniture. Walking out from here among the ghosts of old factories felt like a walk through Sweden's social history. From Forsvik it was a relatively short ten-mile ride on our final day to Karlsborg, a settlement originally created as Sweden's reserve capital, inland and up the canal, in case coastal Stockholm came under attack. There we were planning a visit to its castle, before setting off back to Gothenburg for our flight home. That short morning's cycle was different again from the previous day, being mainly through a pine forest completely carpeted in bilberries. The low sun shone stroboscopically through the trees, silhouetting deer that stood motionless as we passed, but bolted when we stopped to take a picture. At Karlsborg, it seemed a bit premature to bring the trip to an end with plenty of canal remaining, but it was a natural break, with more ungainly shaped lakes to be circumvented ahead before the waterway proper began again. All in all it was a very wholesome three days, along a carefully curated route, in a fresh climate that was neither too hot nor too cold. My only disappointment was that we didn't meet my old friend Juno somewhere along the way; she was plying her trade two days ahead of us. So I look forward to draping her with daisy chains when we eventually return to the Gota, having saved the eastern half of the cycle route for another Eames was a guest of West Sweden ( and Visit Sweden ( The Prastgarden guesthouse has two nights' half-board from £484pp, including bike hire ( Fly to Gothenburg then take the train to Toreboda and Karlsborg (
Daily Mail
21-06-2025
- Daily Mail
EXCLUSIVE I've solo travelled to over 60 countries - there's an underrated European city that feels like you're in South America
Solo travel is having a moment; never has it been more written about, talked about, and tagged on social media. But, while travelling alone as a woman is not a new phenomenon, there are certainly many more people willing to travel solo than ever before. The problem is, unlike the rugged adventures of pioneers like cyclist and author Dervla Murphy or travel writer Martha Gellhorn, many of today's solo travellers prioritise shiny Insta backdrops and photoshoots, over connecting with local people, or delving into the culture and history of a place. From the heavily-touristic capitals of Paris and Rome, to little-visited Polish and Romanian gems, over the past 20 years, I've visited more than 60 countries, and over 30 European cities. Some impress with ornate and ancient buildings, intriguing street art and great food. But, unfortunately, many now overflow with spots geared up for social media - all style and no substance. So if you're looking to escape the crowds for a culture-filled, solo-friendly trip that won't break the bank, these are my top picks. Łódź, Poland As soon as I arrived in the Polish town of Łódź (pronounced 'woodge'), I knew I was going to love it. Filled with over 30 large-scale street art murals by talented global and local artists, Łódź draws creative souls, including the late film director David Lynch, who described the city as having 'beautiful winter light'. Once a textile manufacturing hub, the now-burgeoning city has a seriously special air and a handful of top-notch modern art galleries, including my favourite, MS2, which houses works by Natalia LL, a controversial Polish artist who was way before her time with her work that comments on feminism and misogyny. Spanning out from the city's main street, sit reclaimed factory buildings, outdoor markets, fun cafes, and mirrored passageways. Łódź is also home to some of the most delicious and affordable cuisine in Europe, making it ideal for solo travellers. Head to Len i Bawełna and Anatewka to sample some of the best, and don't miss a homemade doughnut from Gorąca Paczkarnia F-Wiatrak. Tbilisi, Georgia It's debated whether the transcontinental country of Georgia sits in Europe or Asia, but, since many Georgians consider themselves European, I've included wonderful Tbilisi on my list. Ideal for solo travellers due to the large range of well-priced and well-designed apartments for rent, and an array of stunning restaurants, I could spend month after month in Georgia's capital. While it was once slightly more under the radar, thanks to a lack of direct flights from the UK, easyJet and British Airways are now making the journey from London airports. Ideal for both countryside and city lovers, the area surrounding the city centre boasts swimmable lakes, dramatic hikes, and quirky cable car rides - and the food is sublime too. Visit Klike's Khinkali for the best khinkali (Georgian dumplings) in town. Pamplona, Spain Fans of Ernest Hemingway will love Pamplona, since it's where the writer spent time during his 20s. Statues, busts and street art creations of the man himself dot the streets, where compared to Madrid and Barcelona, tourists are few and far between. I loved strolling through old town Pamplona's pastel-coloured townhouses, and admiring the Church of San Saturnino, both of which ensure superlative backdrops as the sun sets. Painted in mustard yellow, and decked out with ornate columns and bold chandeliers, Cafe Iruna was the spot I liked to laze in during the afternoon. One of Hem's fave watering holes, it still serves decent drinks and affordable tapas, plus there's a life-sized statue of Hemingway propping up the bar at the back. Timișoara, Romania The third-largest city in Romania may not be an obvious solo destination, but its under-the-radar status means it's authentic and not touristy at all, making it a true hidden gem. When I visited, during one cold January, I practically had the city to myself, and was met with grandiose buildings and cobblestone plazas that reminded me of my travels through South America. What's more, my return flight cost just £19. I mostly strolled during the day and dined on hearty Romanian food each evening, with Casa Bunicii's pork knuckle with rosemary potatoes, and homemade lemonade being a sure-fire favourite. Frankfurt am Main, Germany Lydia says: 'Less crowded than hip Berlin, prettier than Hamburg, and closer to the UK than Munich, Frankfurt is just the ticket if you're looking for an alternative weekend away' Less crowded than hip Berlin, prettier than Hamburg, and closer to the UK than Munich, Frankfurt is just the ticket if you're looking for an alternative weekend away. For solo travellers, this walkable, photogenic metropolis, and its riverside location, is ideal. It's brimming with plenty of things to see and do, including Goethe House - the birthplace, and now museum, of German poet Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. The only area solo travellers should be weary of is around the main train station as it can get a bit rowdy come nightfall. Art lovers will be particularly impressed by the many large-scale murals around town, with a handful by acclaimed artists, such as Case Maclaim, Thomas Stolz, and Artmos4. Naples, Italy Home to a Banksy, a fun Diego Maradona shrine and the awe-inspiring Museo Cappella Sansevero, Naples delights on each and every corner. And, unlike the shiny, polished streets of Milan and Florence, which overflow with steady streams of tourists all year round, it's possible to witness Naples without the crowds should you time your trip well. I visited in the middle of August when the oppressive Italian heat kept most other tourists at bay and fell in love with the characterful place immediately. Without a doubt, my favourite place is the astounding Museo Cappella Sansevero. Here, a handful of Europe's (if not, the world's) most beautiful sculptures can be found - all of which feature incredible artistic skill with translucent veils and fishing nets crafted from marble. And, for anyone not comfortable dining alone, Naples' large range of pizzerias all offer take-out options. Famed for its inclusion in Elizabeth Gilbert's solo bible, Eat, Pray, Love, the pizza at L'Antica Pizzeria da Michele really is some of the best in the city, regardless of the cliche. But, be prepared to queue - this is a spot loved by locals and tourists alike. Vilnius, Lithuania While tourists are getting wise about the charms of Vilnius, it's still fairly under the radar, with around 120,000 visitors per month, compared to Paris' four million. Known for its medieval old town that features cobblestone streets and Gothic architecture, it also feels safe for solo females and is pretty affordable. Return flights can be snagged for as little as £34 if you're lucky. My favourite part of the city is the UNESCO World Heritage Site of Užupis, a tiny commune that's a haven for artists and art lovers, but there's also riverside walks, plenty of impressive churches to admire, and a range of cosy bars and restaurants to relax in. Istanbul, Turkey After spending two weeks in the vibrant Turkish hotspot that straddles Europe and Asia, the pretty areas of Cukurcuma and Cihangir quickly became my favourites. Delighting travellers with antique stores, historic hammams and cat-filled cobblestones, I found these hip neighbourhoods brimming with warmth and hospitality, without the crowds. One of Istanbul's oldest hammams, Aga Hamami, is unmissable. Dating back to 1454, the building itself is as impressive as the treatments on offer, while the nearby Museum of Innocence is well worth a visit, too. The wide array of cafes, bars and restaurants all are well priced and welcome solo-ers. Tatbak, Geyik and Mellow quickly became my top spots for dining and drinking out alone. Sofia, Bulgaria With an abundance of street art, informative communist walking tours, affordable holiday rentals, and plenty of hearty cuisine, Sofia makes a sound escape for solo travellers. While it is indeed the capital of Bulgaria, Sofia doesn't get the crowds associated with other European capitals. This meant I didn't need to make restaurant reservations or plan too far ahead when I last visited. Even better? Airbnb has over 1,000 listings in the city, starting from just £35 a night for a one-bedroom central apartment.
