A few days ago, I was roaming the alleys of Valletta, built by the Knights of St. John after the great siege of 1565. Traces of the Knights are visible all over the place. For instance, their legacy can be seen from the city walls at Upper Barrakka Gardens, where I had a magnificent view over the Three Cities and Fort St. Angelo where the Knights lived before the siege.
So I’ve been back in Paris again, one of my favorite cities on the planet. One of the advantages of repeated visits to a place is the leisure pace of awe and discovery while drifting slowly down the worn streets of the French capital. Just skipping the Eiffel tower and endless queues to attractions, replacing it with whatever feels good at the moment.
I spent the weekend in the French Riviera. It’s always nice to revisit old favorites as well as discovering new locations. Even though many towns in the Riviera are all about money and luxury, most of them still have a few gems.
I recently visited Banff, the national park with the cutest name in the world. Even though the main town is surrounded by mountains with names such as Sulphur Mountain, it is as far away from Mordor as one could imagine.
Ah, Wales. The country with the most impressive and baffling language. It was even used in the Bosnian conflict, where a Welsh regiment used the language for as a way to “encrypt” communication.
As the sun set over the Lake Zürich, the wedding celebration is kicking into high gear inside the Stübli. It feels good to be back in Switzerland, and even better to experience the best kind of festivities with a lot of love in the air.
So I’m back in Portugal. Way down in the south, to be exact. The town of Faro is kind of sleepy, but since this is my fourth country visited in the last five days, I could use some rest.
Seville may be the city of Carmen, Don Juan and a certain barber. But today I’m roaming the ancient streets in the footsteps of a foreigner. Traces of Christopher Columbus can be found all over Andalusia.
The city of Algeciras have sometimes been mentioned as the most ugly town of entire Spain. Even though the harbor is a disaster due to the refinery, I can think of far worse places.
I’m back in Morocco, a decade later. But this time I’ve arrived at the gritty city of Tangier.
