It happened in Lisbon — although it really could’ve been anywhere. I’d turned down a narrow street on my way to the Miradouro da Graça viewpoint, certain I knew the way. Ten minutes later, I realised I had absolutely no idea where I was. No map.

I still laugh when I think about it now — though at the time, it felt more like living in a low-budget sitcom. It was Lisbon, midsummer, and I’d booked myself into one of those charming old hostels where the walls are thin, the floors creak, and the reception desk doubles as a bar.

It makes Romania somehow cozier than can be replicated or even captured on film, it is the hospitality that is not practiced and taught to tourists, but the one that is natural, as the one of a long-lost friend.

I used to think travelling was about where you went. Then I realised it’s mostly about who you go with — or whether you go with anyone at all.

I’d been planning it for months — quietly checking flight prices, pretending I wasn’t up to anything, and finding excuses every time my mum got suspicious.

Spain is one of the countries in Europe that attracts you in many ways, like Food, culture, and tradition.

Flying used to wind me right up. Even short flights had me stressed before I'd even left home. Then I developed this little routine that actually works. Starts way before I reach the departure gate.

Let’s be honest, I consider myself a seasoned traveller, yet my suitcase is a chronicle of good intentions and last-minute panic.

Travelling on a budget isn't about deprivation—it's about working smarter. After visiting 17 countries without breaking the bank, here's what truly moves the needle.

Kraków stole my heart without emptying my wallet. Here’s exactly how I stretched £100 across three magical days in Poland’s cultural gem.

The empty seat beside me on that Gatwick-bound flight seemed to yawn with judgement. Who travels alone? I’d wondered, fidgeting with my boarding pass.

I’ll confess: I once treated cities like checklists. Louvre? Tick. Sagrada Família? Tick. A blur of queues and pixel-perfect photos, no memory of how Barcelona smelled at dawn.

Dear Italy, I still feel that first punch of heat when I stepped onto the tarmac at Pisa – like walking into a wall of rosemary and petrol.

One Sunday, I woke up feeling stuck. No plans, no energy, just a strong need to get away. So, I grabbed my bag, went to the station, and booked the next train without checking where it was headed. 

Travelling in your golden years should be about joy, not stress—but let’s face it, navigating airport logistics can test anyone’s patience.