Nowhere in Particular

“Each book was a world unto itself, and in it I took refuge.” ― Alberto Manguel, A History of Reading Reading is a wonderful way of escaping to new places. Therefore, if you cannot travel, reading is the next best thing. But to be able to both, now that is my kind of utopia. The colour of the water at sunset in Kep, Cambodia In the first country we visited on our round-the-world trip, we were sitting in a little backpacker hostel reception on Cat Ba Island in Vietnam waiting for a bus to Sapa. To pass the time I picked up a dog-eared copy of a Vietnam travel guide and scanned through the content. I came across a book that it recommended called “Catfish and Mandala” written by Andrew X. Pham where he gives his account of going back to Vietnam to cycle across the country many years after leaving as a child refugee. Getting hold of this book seemed like a great idea. Not only would I be travelling through the country for myself, but I could broaden my experience by a

Not quite following the lyrics to the Otis Redding song “I left my home in Georgia, Headed for the Frisco Bay,” we came to Frisco from Big Bear, California where we had been pet sitting for two weeks. Our first view of this infamous northern California city was the lights of downtown as our bus crossed the Bay Bridge at night (only to realise later that we would need to go back over the bay to get to our accommodation a few minutes later). Golden Gate Bridge, San Francisco, USA We stayed in a suburb in Alameda, on the Alameda Island south of Oakland and east of San Francisco across the San Francisco Bay. Although you either needed to catch a bus or a take a costly taxi drive to get into the city, we enjoyed staying in this part of the greater Bay area. The suburb had a lovely relaxed pace, with only few chain stores scattered in between the many owner-managed unique shops, restaurants, and pubs. A good day in this area could involve walking along the lovely Victorian style

Even though it was mid-August, the air conditioning on our overnight Greyhound bus trip from New York to Chicago was so cold that my husband bought two blankets at a gas station in the middle of the night to keep us warm. I had a bad head-cold and was reasonably doped up, so at least I managed to sleep away most the 18-hour trip. Nevertheless, we were excited to be visiting a US city that so many people had raved about. We had arranged to stay in Irving Park in Chicago with a local who rents out a room on Airbnb. Although the area is far from downtown, we were within walking distance from the blue metro line into the city. Also, a great little Irish pub was on the way back from the metro station – a perfect stop for a drink or entertaining quiz night after seeing the sights in the city. With a highly entertaining metro trip into the city, comprising an older guy in a camo kilt and strange young girl dressed in an outfit that your granny would have crocheted for your dolls and plac