A dash through Vienna with eyes wide open and a schnitzel in hand.
We had just eight hours in Vienna—but what a whirlwind. The hop-on hop-off bus became our chariot through baroque streets, the Museum Quarter a blur of beauty and history. And of course, lunch was chicken schnitzel, golden and crisp. Sometimes, even a day is enough to fall for a city’s charm.

Medieval charm, quiet canals, and blossoms that bloom once every two years.
Belgium feels like a place lifted from the pages of a well-loved book. In Bruges, time slows along winding canals and cobbled lanes. Ghent surprises with its gritty elegance and golden light, and Brussels—more than just the capital—delights with grand squares, Art Nouveau curves, and every kind of chocolate. I was lucky enough to see the city’s Grand Place transformed by the bi-annual Flower Carpet, a fleeting tapestry of colour and artistry that takes your breath away. These are my stories from Belgium—sweet, unexpected, and stitched with beauty.

Rock-hewn sanctuaries, fortress walls, and a town suspended in time.
Bulgaria surprised me with its depth and stillness. At Basarbovo Monastery, carved quietly into the cliffside, I found a rare kind of peace. Then came the dramatic rise of Tsarevets Fortress—stone battlements and centuries of history standing guard over the Yantra River. But it was Veliko Tarnovo, with its terraced houses clinging to the hillside and winding streets steeped in story, that truly lingered in my heart. This is Bulgaria: rugged, sacred, and gently unforgettable.

A city of spires and a village of quiet wonder—each unforgettable in their own way.
Prague was a dream in motion—cobbled lanes, baroque beauty, and a kind of old-world elegance you feel in your bones. Then came Český Krumlov, a village plucked from a painting, where time moved slower and crowds thinned. These two places couldn’t be more different, yet both captured something rare and magical. A study in contrasts, and journeys I still think about often.

Easter by the sea, wine tours without the wine, and a solo day in Paris I’ll always remember.
France has always felt like an unfolding adventure. There were seaside villages in the south, winery tours that made us laugh (even if the wine was missing), and a joyful Easter trip with friends. Paris came later, through the eyes of a Contiki traveller—but the day I set off solo, wandering the city in search of magic I’d only ever seen on screen, was the day it truly became mine.

Villages with timbered charm, cities alive with memory, and a New Year’s Eve I’ll never forget.
Germany was my first solo passport stamp back in 2006, during the World Cup’s electric summer. I fell head over heels for the storybook streets of Rothenburg ob der Tauber and Heidelberg—villages that felt like fairytales brought to life. Berlin sparkled at Christmas, and one wild New Year’s Eve in a not-so-quiet Frankfurt restaurant, surrounded by incredible friends and full hearts, marked the end of a road trip I’ll carry with me always.

Golden-lit nights, riverside reflections, and stories beneath the surface.
Budapest glows after dark. I wandered its boulevards by night, stood still beneath the arches of Fisherman’s Bastion, and drifted along the Danube on an evening cruise that felt like a dream. At the Shoes on the Danube memorial, silence spoke volumes. Beyond the city, a train carried me to Eger—home to underground cellars, clinking glasses, and unexpected warmth. Somewhere along the journey, an overnight stop in Szolnok offered quiet, unfiltered glimpses of everyday Hungary. This is a country where history lingers and beauty surprises.

Emerald fields, stormy coastlines, and a thousand welcomes.
Ireland is where I once called home—and each return feels like stepping into a memory. Whether wandering Dublin’s literary lanes or chasing sunlight through the Wicklow mountains, there’s a particular warmth here that lingers long after the journey ends. These stories are as much about belonging as they are about travel.

Waterways, windmills, and a quiet grace in the spaces between.
The Netherlands isn’t just tulips and bicycles—though those are lovely too. I passed through Zeeland where sea meets land in soft, windswept harmony, wandered canal-side in Amsterdam beneath golden light, and stood still among the windmills of Kinderdijk, timeless against the sky. On the outskirts of Venlo, I stayed in storybook châteaux where mornings began with birdsong and relaxing walks through the grounds. This is a country that unfolds gently, and invites you to notice the little things.

Tiled cities, ocean breezes, and a slower rhythm that settles into your soul.
Portugal is a patchwork of charm—where Lisbon's steep streets echo with fado songs, Sintra's palaces peek through the mist, and Porto pours its heart into every glass of vinho. I walked part of the Portuguese Camino too, tracing a pilgrim’s path along quiet coastal trails. Even the smaller towns like Aveiro, with its pastel boats and canals, feel like gentle discoveries. These are the moments and places that stayed with me long after I left.

Fairy tale landscapes, forested mountains, and villages that whisper old-world charm.
Romania surprised me in the best possible way. With its painted monasteries, dramatic Carpathians, and a sense of stillness that’s rare to find, it’s a country of quiet depth and hidden beauty. These entries are for the curious traveller ready to go beyond the expected.

Storybook spires, quiet streets, and a little blue church that feels like a dream.
Slovakia may be small, but Bratislava holds its own kind of magic. I wandered the old town on foot—past pastel facades, hidden courtyards, and statues that seemed to smile back. The castle watched over it all from the hill, proudly overlooking the Danube. And then, tucked away like a secret, stood the Blue Church—delicate, dreamy, and unlike anything I’d seen before. Slovakia was soft-spoken but full of charm, a place best discovered step by step.

Vibrant cities, timeless stone towns, and the quiet rhythm of the Camino.
Spain is a tapestry of contrasts—Madrid buzzes with life and art, while Segovia rises like a storybook with its Roman aqueduct and fairytale castle. But it was walking the Camino that grounded me most: from Sarria to Santiago, and again from Tui to Santiago, each step stitched me closer to Spain’s soul. The land here doesn’t just ask to be seen—it asks to be felt, slowly, with intention. These are the paths and places that changed me.