It's hard to pin down the essence of a metropolis, endlessly shifting as they tend to be, like litter stirred up by a gust of wind. But in small cities like Málaga the character of the place stays more or less the same. It's changed little in the years I've been visiting. Strike out from the bus station to a bustling historical core that's packed with atmosphere and authenticity. Which makes it all the stranger that it's not packed with visitors. So, starting from the top - reason number one to fall in love with Málaga: because, historically speaking, few others have bothered to try.
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In a verdant valley tucked into the arid, high terrain of Italy's Gran Sasso range, farmers in the medieval village of Santo Stefano di Sessanio produce some of the best lentils in the world. Each year, in early September, Santo Stefano celebrates the land and the August harvest in Abruzzo with the Sagra delle Lenticchie (Festival of Lentils).
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[First in a two-part series on hiking Spain's Santiago de Compostela pilgrimage trail]

The little train to St. Jean, after the TGV from Paris to Bayonne, passed through beautiful, alpine like country with tiny towns of meticulously tended stucco houses reminiscent of Swiss chalets. A rushing river offered rafting and all was green. It was to be a trip that would have many meanings: spiritual and sentimental closure, rites of passage, mother and daughter bonding, and physical challenges.
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Sailing the Ionian Sea in a private yacht, following in Odysseus' wake, docking every night in a charming Greek port, sampling local delicacies and sipping wine under the stars: who wouldn't thrill to such a voyage through the Greek islands? Unfortunately, I don't own a sailboat in the Mediterranean and I don't sail very well, so accomplishing my dream seemed unlikely. Yet, my three sons and I found ourselves sailing a small yacht in the Ionian for a week in summer 2010.
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[Second in a two-part series on hiking Spain's Santiago de Compostela pilgrimage trail]

Non-stop rain dictated our next moves, so the intrepid mother and daughters decided to take the train all the way to Leon, bypassing much of the flat central plains of northern Spain. We were now in the bailiwick of the legendary Isabella of Castille and Ferdinand of Aragon.
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Over the centuries, Deia has drawn artists, writers, composers, Moors and sundry other invaders, and had everything we wanted. In the village - or nearby - we found wonderful restaurants, amazing hiking trails that offered sublime views or off-the-beaten track antiquities, and quaint, cobbled village squares ideal for people watching. Our favorite pastime was wandering from the village, down the old donkey trail, to the secluded, pebble-strewn cove along the coast. The trip would have been perfect had we never strayed far from Deia, but one day, on a lark, we decided to see more of the island.
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All weddings mean to include magic and romance. Plan one in Venice, Italy and just imagine what might ensue. A dear friend and her fiancé live in Sussex outside of London; both are architects and planners and have worked and traveled all over the world. When Steven jubilantly convinced Despina to marry him, her Greek family and friends in Athens were ecstatic. When friends from all over the world heard the news, all were delighted and created the demand for a serious celebration.
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Torches flicker in the dark street and candles glow on the float. I can almost touch some of the kneeling men beneath their burden. Their faces dripping with sweat, they rise as the drums begin again. It is the night of Holy Thursday in Popayán, Colombia.
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