RUBBER TRAMPING ACROSS NOMADLAND – It was early March, and cold had made a home of my bones. If you’ve nowhere to sleep but your car at that time of year, the American northwest isn’t a cuddly proposition.
ONCE IN A VERY BLUE MOON
THE WILDS OF SONORA: NOT QUITE THE FINAL FRONTIER – The El Pinacate and Gran Desierto de Altar Biosphere Reserve is vast – “visible from space” vast. But its amplitude had no say in UNESCO making it a World Heritage Site – no, it owes that distinction to having an inscrutable quality: “outstanding universal value”. A fitting accolade for a place whose pleasures are otherworldly
THE ART AND CRAFT OF SURVIVAL
LESSONS FROM THE GULLAH-GEECHEE – Despite its dull label, the South Atlantic coastal plain is a place of decided wonder. As much air and water as terra firma, it’s more a state of mind than strictly mappable territory – a theatre of weather, of tenebrous skies, racing clouds, and sunlight breaking suddenly, like news from above
FOR THE CHOP IN CIUDAD JUAREZ
DRUG-WAR DIARY, PART ONE – The British are a nation of rubberneckers: we chase ambulances as though they’re ice-cream vans, and our paramedics play to packed houses. But here, on the US-Mexico border, people turn their backs – it’s better to face the wall, lest, seeing something you shouldn’t, you wind up sliding down it.
TAURUS RISING
RUNNING WITH THE BULLS IN PAMPLONA – At someone's nod, I forget whose, we neck our coffees, bin the styrofoam and move as one, picking our way through a whooping, unsteady crowd. We clamber through a barricade intended to keep the underage, the improperly dressed and the obviously wasted off the streets, where the mood is markedly less festive.
WHISKY BUSINESS
BENRIACH DISTILLERY – Writing about booze is a gig that pays twice – in freebies and cash – but the hard stuff can be a ruinous thing to put words to. It can visit infirmities on its scribes that are more disabling than the shakes and slurred speech
GOING WHERE THE SPIRIT TAKES ME
FEAR AND LOATHING ON THE KENTUCKY BOURBON TRAIL – I was in a diner, somewhere close to the childhood home of Hunter S Thompson, when my hangover began to take hold.
DANCES WITH WEREWOLVES
THE TAIN WAY, COOLEY PENINSULA AND CU CHULAINN – Forget the hibernophiles, the neo-Celts, the fifth-generation Americans with a Dooley in the family – anyone who can spell Ireland will tell you it’s an enchanted place.
A TALE OF TWO QUEENS
PANTI BLISS, QUEEN MEDB AND ME – Drag performer Rory O’Neill became a household name in Ireland when, as his alter ego Panti Bliss, he led the campaign to legalise same-sex marriage there. Together, they became the symbol of a forward-looking nation almost overnight
PERIOD DRAMA
HORSE-TREKKING WITH THE SVANS IN THE UPPER SVANETI – “Stop trying to lead him. I don’t care if you’ve ridden before. He knows the way – you don’t. If you think you know better, why don’t you carry him?”
THE WORLD CUP FOR COUNTRIES THAT DON’T EXIST
THE CONIFA CUP, ABKHAZIA AND NORTHERN MACEDONIA – With barely two minutes of normal time on the clock, a funereal hush had fallen on the stadium. The team with home advantage were a goal behind, and their supporters had all but abandoned hope of them drawing level.
AT DAWN WE DRINK
A SMITHFIELD PUB CRAWL – St John Street, Finsbury, 5am. Not first light. Maybe third. The crack of dawn, plus some thigh and midriff. It’s not unlike me to be awake at this time, but it’s rare for me to have been to bed first.
MY FIRST PORT OF CALL
BIG WEEKEND: GENOA – What do you want from an Italian city break? Culture, history, good looks, great food, maybe some sun if it’s in the mood? Well, Genoa has all of those things. But it’s also missing the thing no one wants: crowds. It’s the work of art you don’t have to queue to see.
ALL OF LIFE IS HERE
OPERA, LONDON – Il Trittico (Royal Opera House, 2011); Don Giovanni (Royal Opera House, 2012); A Magic Flute (Barbican, 2011); Elegy for Young Lovers (Young Vic, 2010)