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Fountains & A Festival: Avignon & Aix
Aix-en-Provence is known to some as the “city of water” and to others as the “city of a thousand fountains”, both nicknames stemming from the numerous natural springs dotted around town. In fact, there were once more than a hundred fountains here, though probably not a thousand, and nowadays something like 30 remain. Losing ourselves in these quaint streets, emerging from beneath plane trees to bright sunlight and from narrow alleys to open squares is utterly delightful; Aix is so very attractive, a lovely, welcoming town. Each of the fountains in Aix tells a story, each has its own character, but perhaps the most quirky is Fontaine Moussue, the “mossy…
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Southwards To The Lavender Fields: From Paris To Provence
If one of our hopes for this adventure was to find quaint provincial towns with ancient and historic centres, then as we carry our backpacks from the bus station through the winding narrow streets to our apartment on the third floor of an ageing town house, we are overflowing with the feeling that we’ve hit the jackpot straight away. Welcome to Aix-en-Provence, where the squares are oozing splendour in the hot afternoon sun while the ancient plane trees which line its boulevards offer shade to anyone with a bit of time to spare. The bells from the clock tower resonate down the tight streets as we find our way to…
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A Brief Stay In Paris: The Journey Begins
If like me you’re a lover of train travel, a trip on Eurostar always feels special. Maybe it’s something to do with us Brits being islanders, but the very thought of boarding a train in one country and leaving it in another is one which is full of excitement and possibly even romance. However we’re just a little bit gutted to find we’ve been allocated the only seats in the carriage which aren’t next to a window – somewhat bizarrely, this is the THIRD successive Eurostar trip where this has happened. Given that there’s 90-odd seats in a carriage we are either seriously unlucky or we’re missing the clues when…
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Not A Good Time To Head To Paris?
Well here we are at that exciting time, the last day at home before we set off on our next adventure, the day when the backpacks get packed, the fridge gets emptied and the itching of the feet reaches fever point. Except this time there’s a succession of items which have us scouring the news stories and checking and re-checking websites for the latest updates. Our first point of call on this next adventure is Paris, and it can’t have passed many people by that this may not be quite the best time ever to visit that enchanting city. But first, there’s industrial action on the railways in the UK.…
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The Norfolk County Show
There are few things more endearingly, quintessentially British than a County Show. There are possibly even fewer things absolutely typically English than the Norfolk County Show, a county steeped in agricultural history and even on occasion the butt of affectionate humour through its connections to farming. With a slice of serendipitous timing, Michaela was last week able to join her Mum at what is one of Norma’s favourite events on the calendar, a chance to wander among prize animals, music, food, and that essential part of an English day out – eccentric characters who in their own esoteric way define Englishness. Joined by Norma’s lovely friends Daphne and Val, the…
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Michaela’s Favourite Photographs #14. Sometimes The Simple Things
Versailles, France, 2015. And here we end this short series of some of Michaela’s favourite photographs, with a shot of beautiful and stunning simplicity. Leaving the glorious palace to explore the sumptuous gardens, the rain started to fall with extraordinarily bad timing, just as we stepped away from the sanctuary of the grand building. And yet the rain brought a gift: clear, dainty raindrops clinging to leaves and flower heads throughout the gardens, nowhere more perfect than on this delicious pink rose.
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Michaela’s Favourite Photographs #13. When We Are The Mystery
Sunderbans, Bengal, India, 2017. Way beyond the end of the road network, far beyond the concept of cars, out into the world’s biggest mangrove swamp where our temporary home was to be a mud hut amongst the wild and mysterious terrain. The only means of transport was small, cramped, low slung boats across the water. Here, in these far off corners, the real mystery was us: what were these two pale skinned people doing right out here where white man is a rarity? As you can see from the faces of our fellow passengers, we were a source of friendly amusement. Elsewhere around the villages, tea sellers like this lady…
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Michaela’s Favourite Photographs #12: Village Party
A mountain village north of Foça, Turkey, 2012. It might have been a funeral, so we held back, not wishing to intrude on whatever this private village gathering was. But they called us in, beckoned us to join the strange procession in which every member of the village was playing their part. Invited to dance to the music, cans of beer thrust into our hands, the smiles of these mountain dwellers told us we were going to be part of the celebration. The event was in honour of Mohammad, a young boy passing from youth to adulthood: in essence, a party to celebrate his circumcision.
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Michaela’s Favourite Photographs #11: First Light
Tafraout, Morocco, 2016. I have to admit that this one is more my favourite than Michaela’s: I love it not just for itself, but also for what it represents. Out on the edge of the desert, the nights were cold, our breath clearly visible in the crisp morning air as we took breakfast. Within a few short hours the temperature had rocketed and the days were so hot. As we rose early one morning and braced ourselves against the cold, the first light of the day crept down from the tops of the mountains, sunshine creeping down the slopes towards the town…
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Michaela’s Favourite Photographs #10: Quiet Streets
Marrakech, Morocco, 2015 and Bratislava, Slovakia, 2014. Sometimes in the busiest and most manic of cities, it’s possible to turn a corner and suddenly find yourself in a little enclave of peace. It’s hard to accentuate this in a photograph – unless you’re lucky enough for one single person to wander into the quiet alley at just the right moment. That single figure somehow conveys peace more eloquently than a wholly empty street can….
