Spring is yet to arrive in Germany and indeed for the most of northern Europe.

It’s been bitterly cold.

I’ve been walking around in mostly sub-zero temperratures for most of the day.

In this kind of weather, my wanderlust has been more restricted to discovering more of the indoor sights and delights of Hamburg.

My search for Hamburg’s youth hotspots has taken me through a few museums, the odd bit of window shopping, few bars and checking out some of the city’s inexpensive fast food joints.

Cruising on Alster Lake, long walks in some of the city’s 1400 parks and gardens of Hamburg will have to wait till my next visit to the city when it’s a little bit warmer.

I have visited Hamburg a few times before and on those trips done some of the more touristy stuff like go on a cruise around the harbour, the obligatory hop on and hop off bus tours plus I loved the now sadly closed Beatlemania museum.

This time, I’ve tried to go more local and also dig into the musical and maritime history.

Hamburg is one of Germany’s leading musical cities: it’s where the Beatles started their long winding road to fame and discovered their sound, it is home to musicals like Lion King, Dirty Dancing and Mamma Mia plus you can enjoy world class classical concerts at the Laeiszhalle-Musikhalle and soon visitors will be able to enjoy the highly anticipated opening of the Elbe Elbphilharmonie.

My musical pilgrimage of Hamburg started at the cool district of Karoviertel ( Nearest U-Bahn stop: Feldstrasse )

Alt, quirky, laidback and grungy Karoviertel

While the Schanze is more hip and where the creative, cool types go ( Hence, the prices of everything are a little higher) neighbouring Karoviertel has that more rugged, alt-rough at the edges feel. In many ways it reminded me a lot of Shoreditch.

Mono. Karoviertel

There’s a ton of great shops to discover here-from second hand stores to designer boutiques to lots of smoke filled bars like Mono.

Yup, you can still smoke inside bars and restaurants in Hamburg. In a separate room, according to the law….

Mono has a very laidback feel with chatty barstaff and played a great selection of tunes everything from Massive Attack to Faithless. In the spirit of trying all things local I ordered a glass of the local Alsterwasser- ‘water of the Alster.’ ( Cost: 2.50 euros for a half-pint ) Basically it is the local version of a shandy but  ordering a ‘Alsterwasser’ sounds much cooler + masculine.

I am going to try that the next time I’m in the UK

Hanseplatte

For casual window browsing and as a refuge from the cold I visited Hanseplatte (Neuer Camp, 32) , unwittingly discovering a store which is a bit of everything that is local and unique to Hamburg.

Besides stocking music of local Hamburg musicians you can find a whole bunch of stuff from local artists –from art prints , designer tees to even locally made chocolate.

The music scene is quite eclectic in Hamburg and caters to people of all tastes: next store I popped into in Karoviertel was the Groove City Record Store,  which sells mainly vinyl records of funk, soul, hip-hop, jazz, Latin, Afro and electro.

I had fun hanging out in this place. Has real character and great music.

Groove City Records, Hamburg- Tone of groove and character

It’s a shame to see record shops die out in the UK and everywhere else but I am happy to report to you that in Hamburg the spirit of music that the Beatles discovered is still well and truly alive.

This is more than evident on my unexpected last-minute invitation to the Adam & Binki gig at Mojo Club- one of Hamburg’s hottest nightlife hotspots that in the 90’s was the hotspot for dancefloor Jazz in Germany hosting a bunch of great music artists like Gilles Peterson, Massive Attack, Moloko, the Propellerheads, Pizzicato Five, Roni Size, Goldie, the E-Z Rollers as well as Kruder & Dorfmeister.

It was a great gig and had I good company in the shape of local bloggeratti : Kathryn Wittich and David Phillipe. Even though I hadn’t heard of Adam Green and Binki Shapiro before, I loved their honest, bittersweet songs of heartbreak and well crafted, chilled out melodies.

The locals love, appreciate good music and the loud hollering, whistles that followed at the end of the show, show that they clearly loved their personalities too.

Adam Green with his good natured banter and ridiculous dance moves clearly warmed the hearts & voices of the crowd.

Beatles Platz. I am a John or Paul here…hmmmm

The last stop of my Hamburg musical pilgrimage fittingly ends with a silly picture of me at the Beatles Platz ( Is that Paul or John, John was lefthanded right? ) a vinyl record shaped memorial at the crossroads of Reeperbahn and Grose Freiheit, dedicated to the memory of the Fabulous 5′s ( Stuart Sutcliffe, who left the band after Hamburg) time in the city from 1960-1962.

So….Brahms, Beatles or Binki ? Whatever music turns you on…do make a date with music on your next visit to Hamburg.

Next instalment : I’ll be digging into the maritime history of the city. Catch you soon.

If you’re coming to Hamburg definitely I would check out some of the city’s cool live music scene and also check out concerts. Here are some links to some local concert venues to have a look at

http://www.fkpscorpio.com/en/ , http://kj.de/.

I’ve been a guest of the cool Hamburg Jugendherberge Stintfang hostel which I’ve found a cool base for exploring the city and highly recommend.

Big thanks to Catharina, Martina and everyone at the German National Tourism Office , their partners for the ‘Youth Hotspots’ campaign – Jugendherberge : The German Youth Hostelling Association and Deutsche Bahn for sponsoring my ‘German Wanderlust’ tour.

I’m touring Germany as part of an effort to highlight and discover the country’s emerging ‘Youth Hotspots.’

Find out more about these hotspots at their website , feel free to add your own and also do download their free youth hotspots app that is now available on the Apple Store & Android Store .

Please note: While my trip has been sponsored, the views and thoughts represented in this article are my own.

BudgetTraveller intern Amy Woodyatt’s latest post addresses the highlights and pitfalls of making friends while on the road….

One of the best things about travelling is getting to meet new and interesting people. However , sometimes, even if you set out with the best of intentions, that new friend can turn out to be mental. Time and time again I have learned this the hard way.

Friends for life

The summer of 2010 and I was travelling without a parent for the first time around Europe with a group of friends, your standard Interrail holiday. We arrived in Vienna weary, smelly but ready to ditch our bags at the hostel and explore the city. Staying in our otherwise all-female dorm we found Josh, a chatty Australian travelling alone.

He seemed nice enough, was our age and most importantly, not at all fazed by the fact that he was sharing a room with a group of giggly 18 year olds (I half expected that he would ask the hostel staff to relocate him), so we invited him along to join us for a meal, as he was travelling alone and seemed pretty chilled. To really get a taste for Austrian culture, we went to a restaurant recommended by several locals, and due to us being obviously foreign, we were given picture menus.

Wow, this place was cheap. We ordered from a picture menu that priced every dish at 10 euros, but nothing prepared us for what would happen next…

Lo and behold, a MEAT SWORD was brought out of the kitchen and presented to us. A SWORD OF MEAT.  The thing was about half the size of me.

AMAZING we thought. All of this for only 20 euros!

Lo and behold, a magnificent sword of meat!

Our amazement was shortlived when we received the bill, which revealed that the meat sword actually cost us 100 euros. Uh oh. We were nearing the end of our trip, and as true budget travellers, we only had about that much money to last us ‘til we went home.

And here’s where our new travel buddy stepped up. Unfazed, he paid for over a third of the bill, and wouldn’t even let us pay him back. With no money for a bar we shared a beer in a park later that night and it turned out the guy had some pretty awesome stories from the road. We got on so well that when I’d gone home and he continued his travels, he even made a detour to visit me in England!

Just goes to show, however brief your encounter, you can make lifelong friends when travelling.

Friend or ‘wife’

Sat on a street corner at a Bia Hoi stand in Hanoi, Vietnam, my boyfriend and I were enjoying a refreshing glass of (20 pence) beer to finish off the day. A few tourists were sat around us, it was warm and breezy; we had found an oasis from which we could sit and watch the busy, bustling city.

‘My name is Sunshine’. She certainly was a vision, wearing only a bright orange vest and neon yellow Playboy boxer shorts. Yes, that’s right, she was wearing underwear as actual clothes. A sweaty, chubby vision in underwear stumbled towards us.

Nothing more attractive than a woman in boxer shorts

Although she came to sit next to us, it became clear after a while that Sunshine didn’t want to be friends with us… well not both of us, anyway.

‘Your face is so old. You are wrinkled. I am so young, my skin is so young, don’t you think? But you look so old!’ she charmingly told me.

(At this point, can I point out that I was 19 and she was about 40…)

‘Err…’

‘Everybody says I am beautiful. You agree.’

Conversation between myself and Sunshine had stopped. She had moved on to my boyfriend.

‘Err…’

‘You want to take me to tourist office? Get me a visa?

Wow, she was forward alright.

‘I always wanted to marry Western man. So we go tourist office?’

My boyfriend politely declined, at which point her comprehension of English also dramatically declined.

‘Get me visa. I am very beautiful and want Western husband. Get me visa.’

It took an hour and a tenuous story about food poisoning and sleep deprivation to get rid of her.

My advice: if they seem crazy when they approach you, don’t kindly give them the opportunity to prove you wrong. Run for the hills.

The next day our taxi driver drove past her, burst into laughter, pointed and screamed ‘she crazy!!!’.

No shit, Sherlock.

Funny how talking about a place to a friend can make you nostalgic about a place. It’s like entering a hidden portal that takes you magically back in time exactly to that moment.

Friend and fellow blogger, Ayngelina Brogan from Bacon is Magic is off next week to explore Finland as part of a blogger fam trip to the region.

She mentioned if I had ever visited Tampere and had any cool tips about the place and BOOM!… just thinking about all the places I visited made me want to grab my Macbook air and whip out a fresh word document to start writing down all the cool things I did.

Before they escape my memory.

Sadly I have no pictures from the trip. My iPhone 4 with all my pictures and memories from the trip was stolen in Nice. I just have a few from my Instagram feed to share with you.

A memorable travel experience always starts with meeting an awesome local.

In this case, the awesome local was a guy called Ville Virkki, owner of Tampere’s coolest hostel called the ‘Dream Hostel.’

Dream Hostel, Tampere. Beautiful hostel and you get to meet the great Ville!

I had only 36 hours in the city.

I arrived at the Dream Hostel on a damp evening in July and on entering the hostel was afforded a hearty welcome and some popcorn by Ville.

Popcorn? The Dream has a memorable tradition of offering popcorn whenever it rains in Tampere ( which it does a fair bit so your chances….) or when it is Friday.

After dumping my bags, Ville is standing there with towels and saying that we are heading to the sauna.

I am not sure about the idea.

After the stress of a long journey, a pint of something local would have sounded like a better idea.

Ville tells me

 ‘Visiting the sauna is our favourite national pastime. It’s very relaxing and the most authentic Finnish experience. Trust me, you’ll enjoy this.’

A 15 minute bus ride and we are out of the city and transported into a different reality.

Everywhere I see are lakes and green lush forests. It’s a heavenly sight. I feel I am in God’s land. I don’t know what heaven looks like but I sure think it can’t be more beautiful than this place.

I feel already the stress draining away.

We then come to public sauna. It’s by the lake. A gaggle of old men, nubile young women and kids are all scurrying back and forth from the sauna house to the edge of the lake. There is an elevated platform from which they jump into the water with a big ‘yelp!’

Ville shakes his head and informs me

It’s probably not even 14C the water now in the summer. I wouldn’t go into the water now.’

Sensible lad. I see grown men and boys walking back, shivering as they enter the hothouse. It’s one of 3 public sauna houses in Tampere. A mere 5 euros gets you access. I’ve been to saunas in my local gym so I am expect a slightly, snot inducing steamy affair. However what I had not reckoned with, is the hardiness of the Finns.

I walk into a cauldron of steam. I make the mistake of trying to breath through my mouth ( bad habit from being a kid) instead of my nostrils and instantly feel, my organs are cooking. Ville motions me to take a seat on one of the benches higher in the room. I think my contact lenses were melting and I couldn’t for a few moments see a thing. I felt like running out but after a few slow breaths  I begin to relax, adapt to my surroundings. I see in front of me a row of people of all ages, mainly older men, lobster faced with a kind of half-pained expression. It doesn’t look like a very pleasurable experience, especially to a newbie like me. Even the kids seem to be struggling.

Everyone’s sucking it up so I stick with it. I maybe didn’t want to be perceived as the foreign ‘jessie.’ After a few minutes, it’s getting not any better. Ville seems to be toiling in the heat so we finally bail and walk into the fresh cool lakeside air. It’s only then that I feel the beauty of the whole exercise. Pain and then pleasure. It’s like a warm but chilled blanket of happiness, the air, tousling my eyebrows and tufts of my hair. I can feel the endorphins pouring out. I am on a natural high. Ville then cranks out of his rucksack magically a pair of chilled beers. I sip on that and feel heavenly bliss.

The Finns now how to relax in style.

The next day, Ville takes me for another bite of the authentic Finnish life. This time we are trying something a bit local and special.

We visit the local Tammela market. It’s bustling at 9am and packed with locals.

‘Its’ a typical breakfast. You will like it,’ Ville assures me.

‘What’s it called?’  I ask

‘MUSTAMAKKARA’ he says, in his deep baritone voice.

I love the word the moment I hear it. It’s love at first sound. It rolls off my tongue and the moment he mentions the word, it plays on repeat in my head. That’s until I see ‘it.’

Mustamakkara with Lingonberry Sauce: Tastes better than it looks…..trust me

It’s big and fat. Black.

On first look, you might mistake it for a big fat turd to be frank.

Looks can be deceiving though.

Ville sees my disconcerted face. He then brings out on a tub of Lingonberry sauce which definitely adds a bit of colour to the proceedings.

‘What’s it’s in the sausage’ I ask nervously.I have that half-pained expression I saw on the faces of the men in the sauna last evening.

Ville confirms the unique origins.

 ‘It’s blood sausage. We eat it with the lingonerry sauce and wash it down with milk.’ 

I realise how Ville’s firm and deep voice as an air of authority about it. You can’t say no to it.

I am stop worrying if I can stomach something this exotic at this early morning. In the spirit of trying new things.

Let’s do this!!!

I take the fork. Dive in. Sausage with a juicy red interior and then dunk it liberally in the lingonberry sauce. Taste.

Surprisingly, it’s damn tasty! I love the mild spicy flavours ( thinking of Haggis ) mixed with the sweetness of the lingonberry sauce.

Then gulp it down with some good, local full-fat milk. All that for just 2 euros.

Who said Finland was expensive?

Fortified by blood, sucrose and calcium, we go for a walk through the city. It’s green and lush. Lots of red brick mills along the side of the rapidly flowing Tammerkoski river reveal it’s industrial origins. In it’s heyday, Tampere was a hotbed of paper production and cotton making it an industrial superpower, earning it the dreaded epitaph ‘Manchester of the North.’ It’s great walking around the downtown with it’s mix of historic buildings. Especially at night when the canal walls and surrounding buildings are tastefully lit when it’s dark.

We then stumble upon Tallipha, a collection of quaint Russian style houses in beautiful garden surroundings. Very twee indeed. The houses were formerly stables from the 19^th century. In these houses you can find artisan boutiques, handmade chocolate and a café. We’ve barely walked off the calories and we are sitting down in this traditional , quaint cafe with plates of homebaked goodness and being served tea in ornate china teacups.

Our next stop is something off the beaten track. Ville takes me near the railtrack near Santalahti, pass a hippy commune and one of the city’s popular public sauna’s. By the railtrack we visit an abandoned roof felt factory. Its’ got some amazing work of graffiti there. This place really moved me.

Something about the whole abandoned desolate nature of a place and seeing all these empty spray cans and colour everywhere-I feel extreme highs and lows. I’ve seen a lot of graffiti around the city. It’s a big part of the city since the 80’s and for a small city, it has a very vibrant scene. The locals are proud of it and there is a demand for it seems. In 2011 the Tampere Power Utility ordered a large work of graffiti art for the temporary fence surrounding a construction site near the Frenckell dam bridge in central Tampere. The graffiti, “Fiery Stream”, was made by seven graffiti artists, including Tero Karvinen, also a provincial artist laureate of the Pirkanmaa area of Finland.

It’s late in the day and the sun is breaking through the clouds. Ville has one more surprise in the bag for me.

We power walk to the Pyynikki Ridge. Rising between two lakes this is a beautiful forested area of walking trails that is great for people for all ages to explore. I find wild berries growing everywhere and voraciously plunder them. It’s a steep climb up and suddenly we come to a clearing in the forest and a carpark. I then realize what we are here for. In front of us a there is a red granite observation tower (adult/child €1/0.50; h09:00-20:00) which apparently is on top of the world’s highest gravel ridge Pyynikinharju.

26 metres high and 180 meters above sea level, it’s a wee jaunt up.

However the view is worth it. From the top of the tower, I get a stunning panoramic view of the forest, the city and the sea in the distance.

‘Next time, you must come for longer’

Ville notices my solemn almost wistful look as I see the sun sink beneath the horizon. I agree and nod my head.

It was an amazing, fun-filled 36 hours.

We go down the tower and then drown my sorrows with some freshly grounded coffee and some ‘munkki’ aka doughnuts.

They were the best doughnuts I have tasted.

As if I needed another reason to revisit Tampere.

My trip Tampere was made possible by the kind sponsorship of Visit Tampere and Visit Finland. Massive thanks also to Ville from Dream Hostel for being the most awesome guide ever. As awesome their support was, please note that all the views and thoughts are completely mine

Why do I travel?

plus why do people travel…..These are questions that have been a kind of lifelong obsession for me.

Especially since travelling is now not just a hobby but also the way I earn a living.

I was a long train journey from London to Edinburgh recently thinking about this topic and finally have managed to pull together a post.

I’d be interested to hear what travel means to you-feel free to leave your comments below.

Travel for me has always been more than just the journey.

It has served different purposes at different stages of my life.

A means of escape from everyday life?

The breakup of my marriage 2 years ago forced me to revaluate my life. In the last few months of my marriage I had kind of gone into a bit of shell. I restricted myself to the companionship of one or two good friends, ignoring everyone else. I had become a hermit to the point of not interested in nights out. I was content with a sedentary life of watching the Food Channel, drinking Merlot and listening to Classic FM. I wasn’t happy with my career path in sales within the media sector and wanted a change.I was looking for answers.

This is where travel became very important to me. This was the heyday of budget travel where you could still fly for 2 pence return with Ryanair. Any of these marvellous 1 pence Ryanair sales became an opportunity to escape from my humdrum existence and my everyday problems. A 2 pence return flights and cheap hostel room and boom…I was off.  These ultra budget short breaks were not just about discovering new places. The hours of travel offered an opportunity for reflection and a pause for thought.  Each new place visited represented a new window of life. Observing how locals interacted, the food they ate, the places they socialised were all part of finding of my quest to find a better ideal, a better way of life. In many ways these little trips also made me realise that I still had a sense of curiosity and hunger for life. The fire had gone out but beneath, the embers were burning bright.

Travel allowed me to discover a new career, a new identity.

In the last year of my marriage, I started my first blog: Europebudgetguide.com It was a big turning point for me. After years of talking about starting a blog, I finally had managed to find the will to starting one. This was thanks to the endless promptings from my ex-wife and friends who advised me to start a blog so that I could share some of the travel tips I had picked up on my budget adventures.

Starting a blog was like going into therapy.

I didn’t have the time or money to travel. I was working three jobs to pay the bills. The blog was an outlet for reliving past travel experiences which for me is the next best thing to not travelling. The more I wrote on the blog, the more I started becoming passionate about its existence. Unwittingly, the blog became a personal growth tool for me.  Blogging was like starting a new degree at university. I had missed using my brain and learning new things in my few years of working in sales. It forced me to redevelop my skill set. Everyday was a new test- from developing my writing skills to learning how to start a wordpress blog. Endless hours of my precious youth (haha) understanding the importance of SEO and the plethora of social media channels that were crawling out of the woodwork.

The blog breathed life into my body again.

I was waking up everyday with a renewed sense of purpose. I was hungry and my brain full of questions.

Starting a blog also brought me back to the highs and lows of starting a business. I was still raw from the failure ( still I am paying off the debts) of my first business 7 years ago- a magazine for students. However my passion for entrepreneurship had not been extinguished by the experience. In fact, the failure made me even more determined to succeed. I rediscovered some old passions from running a business like the joy of networking- I realised I still enjoyed meeting new people and the joy of shared ideas and learning new stuff. I started attending various travel related conferences to help develop my network of contacts within the travel industry and learn more about the craft of travel blogging from some of the leading bloggers in the industry.

What I loved interacting with travel bloggers was their passion and dedication to their craft. Interacting and listening to inspirational travel bloggers in my early days like Keith Jenkins from VelvetEscape, Melvin Boecher from Traveldudes, Janice Waugh aka The Solo Traveller  and Lara Dunston from GranTourismo was one of the best things to happen to me. I gained so much knowledge and ideas from simply listening to them.

More than just learning, through my life as a travel blogger, I’ve been lucky to meet some amazing people that I am lucky to count as friends. These are people who I not only have the ability to share the highs and lows of my profession but also in general are GOOD PEOPLE. I think a life of travel makes people more aware of the world around them and less selfish.

 One of the other great reasons why I love my life of travel is that it in the end, it’s all about the experience.

I learnt this firsthand through my experience of developing the guide to Luxury Hostels of Europe. Each hostel I visited, offered a unique experience. The initial idea behind the project was to enlighten people about these cool new hostels where people could enjoy the comfort of staying in hotel style private rooms whilst still enjoying the benefits of the hostel experience. After visiting these hostels, I realised that these hostels were so much more than just offering a comfortable bed with a private bathroom.

Plus Berlin -One of my many memorable hostel experiences this year

Whether the hostel was a gateway to meeting locals and creative artists , a portal for discovering local fashion designers and emerging  musicians or just about enjoying a superb meal or just… relaxing in a swimming pool or sauna: all these hostels offered a great experience for its guests. Sometimes the experience could simply be distilled from the passion and enthusiasm of the people running the hostel. Meeting them was what made my trips to these hostels so memorable. It wasn’t about just a cheap bed and a great location. Hostelling was evolving with the maturing demands and interests of travellers. The incredible diversity of these experiences in these hostels for me also was indicative of how rich, varied and rewarding travel itself can be.

Travel continues to be a rewarding source of inspiration in my life.

It also present some answers to some of the key challenges I face in my everyday existence. I’ve become a better person because I travel. I hope in the years to come, I can grow more through my blog and my life of a travel. There is so much more to learn about the world around me.

When it comes to travel, the sky literally is the limit….

There is no greater pleasure than the joy of renewed pleasures

This is especially the case when it comes to Edinburgh,

It’s a never-ending box of delights.

Over past few weeks, I’ve been taking advantage of the unusually mild weather and walking everywhere in the city .

In the process trying to shake off the excesses of the Xmas festivities and Winter stupor.

I found within myself a new hunger and renewed passion for my ‘auld acquaintance’

I realised that despite my exciting travels across Europe, I’ve missed Edinburgh.

Blogmania!: Bloggers storm the No 12 Lothian Bus enroute to the Old Town from Haymarket

Then came Blogmanay!

Last week, I was joined by 20 bloggers came from all over the world.

Blogmanay is a new annual initiative where bloggers are invited to experience and blog about Edinburgh’s Hogmanay- the only festival in the world that celebrates New Year’s Eve.

For me this project has been the perfect excuse to rediscover Edinburgh.

Be a tourist in your own city – how cool and crazy is that?

A chance ( excuse) to revisit old favourites.

Bene’s -Fish and Chippy. Delirious scenes of happiness amongst my Blogmanay buds after an amazing fish supper.

I took my blogger buds to an old favourite Bene’s- an Italian Scottish fish and chippy in the Canongate area of the Royal Mile.

I’ve been all over the world but nobody quite does fish and chips like Lorenzo and Maria at Bene’s.

The chips are thickly cut, fried in lard and taste heavenly.

The fish is fresh.

It’s fried in a nice, flaky batter than melts in your mouth.

My friends loved the ‘fish supper’ experience and also meeting Lorenzo and Maria-two of the warmest, nicest people you could meet in Edinburgh.

A moment shared, a memory created for life.

Flamin hot!: Flora and Kirsten at the Torchlight Procession

Edinburgh, by night is just another world.

I got reminded not once but twice of how beautiful the city looks at night thanks to Edinburgh’s Hogmanay.

On the 30th, I had the unique chance this year to be a torchbearer in the Torchlight procession.

The event draws on Scotland’s Viking heritage and pagan celebrations , the thankful passing of the Winter Solstice.

In my 7 years of living in Edinburgh strangely I had never attended the torchlight procession. Call me an apathetic local.

The procession started in Chambers Street, right in front of the newly refurbished National Museum of Scotland.

Urged on by the rattle of drums and the shrill voices of the hearty Shetland’s Up Helly Aa’ Vikings, I absorbed myself into a swarm of 40000 locals.

Walking down some of the busiest streets in the city, swimming in this sea of flaming torches feeding off burlap and beeswax was kinda surreal.

I had to pinch myself. I felt I was in an alternative reality.

It was wonderfully meditative and peaceful- an almost stunned silence and sense of awe amongst everyone walking in the procession.

Fire, even in this age of digital 3D enlightenment , still has the ability to create a sense of wonder and enchantment amongst us just like it did with our forefathers.

Talking about being enchanted , there are few sites can send a shiver down my spine than the sight of Edinburgh Castle at night, atop of an ancient volcanic plug, glowing in the distance.

Hello 2013! Blogmanay Bloggers usher in the New Year with their usual crazy expressions

Set that view of the Castle against probably the most spectacular New Year’s Eve fireworks display I’ve seen , that too viewing in the company of good friends and you have a moment of true perfection.

I’ve been to the street party a few times and it’s always such a well organised great event with people from so many far-flung corners of the world.

This year with the 5 stages, there was a fantastic range of new and old bands and variety of entertainment.

The Kelidih stage

I headed down to the outdoor Celidih arena which was set up in front of the beautifully lit up Corinthian pillars of the Gallery on the Mound.

I’ve been to a few Celidih’s in my lifetime but always never seem to remember any of the dances.

At least, I looked the part on the night in a kilt which was a historic first for me!

Peter and me looking the part hopefully in our new kilts!

Yes! In 14 years of having lived in Scotland, I never have worn or been tempted to wear it, not even for my graduation ceremony at Abertay.

Thanks to the awesome people at the Edinburgh Woollen Mill, some of the bloggers all got the chance to get ‘kilted’ on the afternoon of the 31st.

Was great fun.

I just wish they were more hours in one evening.

The night just passed so quickly.

Guess it’s a sign of having a great time.

On the 1st day of 2013, I woke upto probably the most beautiful January Winters day in living memory.

With my body weary from last nights festivities, a good long walk in the park and fresh air was just what the doctor ordered so hooray indeed for Dogmanay!

Hooray for Dogmanay: Beautiful Huskies at the event

I don’t think I’ve seen so many beautiful dogs in one square mile.

Great to see so many families out and about with their kids- Hogmanay should’t be just be a grand occasion for a pissup but also an excuse to

After Dogmanay, it was time for the hair of the dog at the Jinglin Geordies on Fleshmarket Close.

Time to quietly reflect on the events of the last few days and catchup on the madness of earlier, when some bloggers braved the natural elements to go for the Loony Dook in South Queensferry.

I constantly marvel at the ability of the creative ‘artizens’ of Edinburgh who keep coming up with new concepts and events, reinventing the city landscape in different ways within our psyche.

Thanks to the year round calendar of amazing festivals-from Edinburgh’s Hogmanay to next week’s Science Festival to the summer Fringe and International Festival, there is always an excuse for not just tourists but also locals to ‘revisit’ and rediscover their city.

So don’t be an apathetic local like I used to be.

Get involved with the festivals, raise your cup of kindness for 2013 and rediscover the passion for your ‘auld acquaintance.’

Disclosure: This campaign is brought to you by Edinburgh’s Hogmanay and is sponsored by Visit Scotland, ETAG, Edinburgh Festivals, Haggis Adventures and Skyscanner . The campaign bloggers were sourced and managed by iambassador. As always, all opinions expressed here are entirely our own.

There’s something ethereal, almost illicit about the beauty of walking the streets of a city bathed in the light of dawn

Especially when those streets are those of Rome.

6:30am

I step out of my HomeAway apartment and within seconds I am at Piazza Navona .

Devoid of it’s crowds, I enjoy the beautiful dormant desolation.

During the day the Piazza it reminds me of a stage for a crazy opera….

From wailing violins and guitars being played by Bangladeshi street musicians in ill-fitted suits to the raucous banter of the finger wagging, barrel shaped elderly locals…

Juxtapose that against the calm, long haired artists in the piazza.

Swirling their thin, elegant paintbrushes on a huge canvas, trying to concentrate amidst the madness of the stars of the show.

The tourists.

Hopping up and down like excited kids , making weird faces and strange body shapes in front of the fountain in the middle of the square.

Sadly I can’t linger at the Piazza and enjoy the rare moment of peace.

I walk briskly on.

I have a very important date with the Pope at the Vatican.

Well, I may get lucky and see him if he’s hanging around…

Plus there was the small matter of getting up close and personal with the Sistine Chapel-the greatest artistic masterpiece known to mankind.

I wind my way across the Tiber. A few blocks down I find myself at the meeting point with my Walks of Italy guide for my Pristine Sistine tour of the Vatican.

I usually am not the biggest fan of guided tours.

Something in the blogger DNA that rebels against any form of authority or guidance

However, this tour was worth a special exception.

Walks of Italy manages to get their customers into the Sistine Chapel an hour before it opens to the public. Magic!

I line up in a short queue and in a matter of minutes, whisked through the security scanners and into a new country. Yippee…

I didn’t know what to really expect about the Vatican.

First impressions-it’s HUGE.

Sprawling over the small matter of a 108 acres, Vatican is the smallest country in the world.

It’s an independent sovereign state.

Walking towards the Sistine Chapel the first thing that bowls you over is the room of geographical maps.

Detailed maps of each region of Italy dating back from over 400 years back are on show. It’s quite awe-inspiring.

For an era where there was no google maps or even maps, for the untravelled, this room must have been an exciting revelation.

After soaking in the beautiful central courtyard of the Vatican Museum and catching the first rays of sunrise, we make a quick march towards the museum’s greatest treasure- the Sistine Chapel.

Nothing quite prepares you for the moment you walk into the Sistine Chapel.

You’ve seen it in books or on TV but the actual thrill of being there is as good or even better than you would imagine.

The moment I walk in and look up at the ceiling of the chapel, there is a shiver down my spine as I scan my eye over the 350 figures that Michelangelo painted on the ceiling.

It was a real labour of love and dedication. In all it took 4 years for Michelangelo to complete his masterpiece. That too, he painted under a secretive veil of scaffolding which meant that no-one, not even the Pope could observe the evolution of this grand masterpiece.

Given that Michelangelo had never painted a frescos before the Sistine Chapel ,makes this an even more amazing achievement.

I was grateful for the chance to have come earlier because as we wound our back through the chapel an hour later, the place was heaving with tourists bringing an entirely different complexion to the place. It’s almost impossible to stand still-I had to keep moving.

Out back into the grounds of the Vatican walking in the mellow Autumn sunshine there is still one more amazing treasure that awaits me.

It’s probably the world’s most breathtaking church and architectural marvel-St Peter’s Basilica.

Spanning two of the great architectural periods of Baroque and Renaissance, it took 13 architects from Raphael and Michelangelo , 120 years in total to complete the creation of St Peter’s Basilica.

When you go inside, it’s hard not to be dumbstruck by the scale and grandeur of this church. It’s huge. It’s roughly the size of 2 modern day football pitches.

The canopy is 100 foot –ten storeys high. As revealed by our guide, given the amazing geometrical proportions of the building , it never appears that huge inside a real feat of the architects and their planning.

Then you have the stunning expanse of enamel and gold mosaic across the central dome. When measured, the mosaic covers an area of 20 acres!

By the time I walk out of the Basilica , the sun is high in the sky and it’s approaching noon. The past 4 hours have really flown by.

Still, it’s only 11am.

I feel rich, as if I just won a competition or a holiday.

I’ve seen the world’s most stunning masterpiece and probably the world’s greatest church and I still have the good part of this beautiful Autumn’s day to enjoy Roma.

Bella Roma ……

Huge thank you to Stephen, Loredana and the rest of the Walks of Italy team for this great opportunity and also to the sponsors of my Rome Holiday Apartment HomeAway UK.

‘I was born a boy!’

Sex fiend trapped by dirty hanky 

‘Why we’re forever friends’

Smiling strangler

A mummy’s shame-baby I got selling my body

…are some of the stomach churning headlines that I discover in gossip magazine ‘LOVE IT!’ that had been benevolently left behind in the pocket of my easyJet airline seat.

Even though ‘LOVE IT!’ has never featured prominently on my top 100 magazine hitlist, it still exerts an irresistible force on me.

I read it from cover to cover with great interest.

From the scandal of the 84 year old Burnley grandmother with the 21 year old lover, to the sex change blonde lady complaining about her manly square jaws.

Even in this day of the internet, it’s amazing what news we just seem to miss by not reading magazines and newspapers

Especially when you’ve been 4 months away from the UK.

By the end of the flight of reading LOVE IT! I am fully satisfied and empowered.

Gratitude must also extend to the perfect accompaniment to banal gossip magazines: Boxer crisps,  that easyJet serve on the Barcelona London Gatwick flight. I devoured the whole box in a few lusty mouthfuls.

I have travelled throughout Europe but nobody does crisps like the Brits and Boxer.

Meantime, in Britain, it’s been another wettest month in 30 years.

This time it’s the turn of September to take the accolades and set a new world record for rainfall in 24 hours.

I am so absorbed by ‘LOVE IT!’ I missed the captain’s ominous warnings of a bumpy landing because of the bad weather.

Strangely enough when we land, it’s surprisingly smooth.

We’re also 15 minutes early.

Understated and always cool- welcome back to Britannia.

Under a blood red sky- Autumn months bring unpredictable weather and produce stunning sunsets in the UK

I arise from the plane to be greeted by a familiar cold breeze.

It goes straight for my throat.

In seconds I feel soreness, a dreaded feverish ache creep over me.

I am suddenly running around like a raving nutter across Gatwick  airport–I need a hit of soothing strepsils.

Then a moment of calm as I step out.With no warning, the  sun dramatically pierces through the dark moody clouds , bathing the lush green landscape in a haloed  glow. Suddenly it’s a blood red sky and the most stunning sunset.

Looking at it, I instantly feel all my soreness melt away, a sense of gratitude for beautiful moments like this.

As I crowd into the train to South terminal, it’s strange to suddenly hear a cacophony of English voices around me.

Even the cockney sounding passengers sound exotic and comforting to me.

This is a strange feeling for me. I exchange euros for pounds.

The coins feel heavy in my pocket and swing against my balls but , it feels good. Ha!

Nothing can spoil my feel-good sense factor. I queue to buy my train ticket to London Victoria.

An elderly gentleman comes upto me and asks me if I need help. The fare single with Southern Trains from Gatwick to Victoria is  around £13.00 ( tip: takes the same time as the London Gatwick express but £5 cheaper) but guess what, the gentleman tells me for a £1.50 extra I get a Zone 1-6 Daysaver that can be used all day on the underground and buses.

Brilliant! On the train to Gatwick, I engage in another traditional luxury- speaking to strangers in English.

I alight from the train station , energised by a good ole natter about the footballing fortunes of my beloved Liverpool Football Club. I step out to see the familiar advertising hoardings of brands I know so well, that mad rush of well dressed people and that acrid, taste of London’s air- I feel a surge of adrenaline.

Coming back to London- Love wondering aimlessly around Covent Garden and for some reason always seem to take a picture of this telephone box everytime. Maybe something to do with the free wifi at…..

There is something about the air and energy of London that always exhilarates, excites me.

Everytime I come, I always discover a new neighbourhood, a new visitor attraction , a restaurant or cool bar- it’s a city of never ending pleasures.

Nothing- a crowded stuffy tube ride, a few shoves and rib punching on my way up the escalator….even vertical sheets of rain can dampen my excitement of being reunited with Britannia.

I’ve had weeks of sunshine in Spain but there was not a drop of rain in it’s plains.

I was parched. In a weird sadistic way, I am actually enjoying the cold wind hustling my hair, the sharp heavy rain bruising my skin.

I feel alive.

On my first night close to the excellent Safestay hostel, I discover an Indian take away nearby.

I haven’t ate rice or curry for weeks in Spain. My daily diet there consisted of mainly eating Jamon, Jamon and more Jamon.

That first taste of a chicken biryani was wow. One of the things I love about the UK is that you could pretty much eat each food from all four corners of the world. Celebration of traditional pleasures continues at M&S the following day where I buy my favourite cheese in the world: M&S Chilli Cheddar which I nibble away happily all day.

Next day I am on an East Coast train to Edinburgh.

I am excited and nervous at the same time.

In the same way you feel when you are reacquainted with an old flame.

Edinburgh in the Autumn-stunning

It’s Autumn in Edinburgh.

Probably my favourite season of the year.

The air is crisp , fresh and the sky is a cold blue.

It’s the time of farewells and promise of new beginnings.

I walk the streets of Edinburgh.

Enjoying the fall colours and meeting faces old.

I am excited to see new places too- a new bakery around the corner from where I used to live.

I spend the weekend, checking out a new cocktail bar with a friend and also heading to the new Jamie Oliver restaurant.

I go back to my favourite cinema possibly, the Cameo and watch a great movie called Liberal Arts.

I feel that I am falling in love again with the city.

The love affair is brief.

On the Monday, the weather takes a turn and suddenly it gets really cold.

I am ill equipped, after months of being in Europe.

All my clothes are mainly tees and I have only one sweater.

I struggle to get out of bed in the mornings.

Evenings get more colder and dark.

The daylight is getting weaker and more melancholy.

Suddenly, I am in the dreary, cold embrace of winter.

I find writing becoming a chore.

Before you know it, I am stressed out and in the midst of a mini-depression.

Wales- Wet but beautiful

Then an opportunity presents itself -Two days trip to Wales to review a new luxury hostel called Plas Curig in Snowdonia.

I gleefully accept.

It’s a beautiful train ride up.

Backpack. Me and my trusty travelling companion-Macbook Air.

Music –some Einaudi for aural pleasure.

I feel at peace.

I am writing…this piece.

I am a nomad. This is me.

Edinburgh was my past and part of my present. Future –who knows where?

Next week I’ll be in Genoa and I’m looking forward to the sunshine to warm my damp soul.

Then Rome for 2 weeks to write a guide to the city.

I might eat some ham again.

I’ll be carrying my Indian spices also just in case

I’ll also be carrying a block of my M&S chilli cheddar with me as backup.

Maybe, I might just for laughs, for the flight get the latest copy of ‘LOVE IT’

There is no such thing as the ‘perfect love’ I guess?

Always is something ….you wish could be better.

So maybe, just maybe I will miss you Britain.

It was exactly 12 years ago I had my first sip of Cognac.

It was the summer of 2001. I was at a friends wedding in France.

Somewhere in the middle of France.

Near a city called Angolueme.

Summer’s at an end: Field of withered sunflowers we discovered just outside of Cognac

The wedding reception took place in a big huge field which had sunflowers to one side and pretty French girls in floral summer dresses on the other side,

Me?

I was somewhere drowning in the middle.

In an ill fitting pair of  £19 reduced from £59 grey trousers.

Right leg seemed lightly larger than the left leg and the crotch area was kinda small which…..

I had them got on sale from a shop that sold all big brands at knockdown prices.

I had paired this with a blue M&S shirt that I had worn almost everyday proudly on my recent winter placement at M&S.

However, the coup de grace was a very fine velvet jacket that I had bought from the winter sales in River Island.

My theory was that the jacket would look so fine that it would kind of cover my imperfections beneath.

The only problem was that it was hot.

34 celsius barmy humid HOT.

To say I was sweaty wreck, was an understatement.

It was the first wedding I had ever been invited to.

I was terrified.

I had heard how impossibly chic the French were.

My contact with them had been minimal at University till then.

I think I was ahead of my years. I was like Raj from Big Bang Theory.

I had a case of selective mutism where I could not speak to any girl who was not Indian .

There were ‘out of bounds.’

Which made them even more exotic and desirable.

They smelled, amazing everytime I spoke to them

It was an urban myth maybe in my head but it felt that their sweat pores oozed eau de cologne.

Nothing could save me that day.

I was after all wearing multiple layerings of Brut that my father had gifted to me.

I thought Faberge being a French brand, I would be kind of like a demi-god in France.

Little did I realise, as masculine, overpowering Brut is, smelling like the girl’s father probably would probably not do me much good.

My nervousness was amplified by my charming, sexpert Irish friend who kept on raving in the run-up to the trip about how amazing French lingerie  was.

‘ They even iron their knickers,’

he told me in the brief, pre-wedding briefing session we had in the pub at Edinburgh aiport before flying.

From the moment of take-off , though a restless night in a rustic French B&B, I was haunted by images of nymph like French women, smelling irresistible and all of them ironing underwear in Victoria’s Secret.

I think the haunting images of beautiful French women in beautiful lingerie were imprinted deeply on my forehead that day.

Everywhere I looked, people looked away.

Maybe, it was the overpowering stench of my masculinine Brut power.

Or, it was just the smell of paranoia and the insecurity of youth that was the turn off.

My Irish friend told me I needed to relax.

Have a drink Kash. Relax

Last time he told me to relax, that night ended with me spewing Guinness in a ladies toilet in a small island called Achill off the west coast of Ireland.

Small enough that nobody goes there.

It was in this amazing context that I had my first sip of Cognac.

They were handing out on plates-tender cuts of pork with crusty bread.

I was advised by the brother of the bride that Cognac Schweppes was the drink to enjoy with this fine French delicacy that was being presented to me.

After 21 years of being a vegetarian and only recently having turned to the dark side, meat was still an unknown mysterious quantity to me.

Anyway, I start sipping on my first ever Cognac cocktail.

Pared with the bitterness of the tonic, the sweet flavours of the Cognac were perfect.

Nice, smooth and very refreshing in the heat.

Then, like a seasoned pro I was chugging it down quicker than you could say Jack Robinson

Before you knew it , the world was a happier place.

The pork tasted sensational.

I even summoned the courage to converse with a girlfriend of the bride without breaking a sweat and imagining her in Victoria’s Secret lingerie.

All was well that evening, until I decided to grab the microphone and sing to the bride and groom.

I sang Nat King Cole-When I Fall in Love.

Yes. I am an emotional wreck when drunk and sing soppy love songs.

You have been warned…..

I think all I remember after singing is the abrupt, over enthusiastic and slightly hesitant applause.

The kind of applause you hear when you don’t know you if you have been treated to a moment of pure magic or something absolutely horrendous.

You decide.

Fast forward 12 years on.

I am back in Angouleme. On a mini-bus to Cognac.

Cognac!

Cognac!

Yes, believe it or not there is a place dedicated to this wonderful drink.

It is a shame that there are not places in the world one can visit like ‘Whisky’ or ‘Beer.’

Missed marketing opportunity.

However, Cognac is the real deal.

From Hennessy to Martell to Courvoisier-all have originated here in this sleepy little town by the river.

We’ve been invited to the House of Courvoursier for the day.

The house of Courvousier is actually just out of Cognac in a sleepy town called Jarnac by the beautiful Charentes river.

It sounds posh, I know.

Something appropriate for royalty like Napolean or Busta Rhymes instead of the BudgetTraveller.

Guess what?

You can pay a visit here and join one of their tours to learn of the magic of how Cognac is made for as little as 9 euros ( 7 euros if in a group)

The tour include the history of the Courvoisier House.

Napolean the 3^rd offered Courvoisier the royal charter in 1869.

Which was a pretty neat deal- lots of free booze basically for Napolean and his platoon.

I kid thee not! This bottle is supposedly the lifelike resemblance of Josephine, Napolean’s wife.

The House of Courvoisier loved Napolean so much that even the shapely size ( narrow plume like neck and nice very curvy shape henceforth ) of the bottle was shaped supposedly in the form of his wife. Josephine.

Courvoisier and Napolean were indeed a royal match.

The tour includes some very interesting museum pieces including the original hat and coat worn by Napoleon.

Golden Amber Cognac

You also learn the process of making cognac from grape to bottle. The grape from which Cognac is made is limited to 75000 hectares, 6 growing areas and 800 vineyards in the region.

Some of the tours include the option of a special tour of the Privi (Paradise) Cellar, where I saw bottles and barrels dating back centuries.

Save the best for the last- Tasting of the Courvoisier VSOP exclusive was worth the wait

The best part is at the end though when you get it taste the Courvoisier VSOP Exclusif at the end of the tour.

Tasting that Cognac was wow.

Very complex and elegant with hints of chalk, clay, lime- typical of the soil of the area with aromas like hazelnut or orange blossom

I am lost drinking the Cognac.

I am floating out of the House of Courvoisier on a virtual boat down the Charente.

Strong stuff this Cognac.

I’m probably looking for my big field of sunflowers and pretty girls in summer dresses where my younger, innocent self once stood.

That was another lifetime, another place and person.

They told me on the tour that it takes many years , often a hundred for the eau de vie ( water of life) to reach perfection and form the perfect Cognac.

Many life cycles come and go before the moment of perfection arrives.

In that sense, Cognac is not dissimilar to life I guess.

I was a guest of Visit P Charentes tourism board to whom I’d like to extend a warm thanks, especially to the amazing Sandrine plus also to Sue, Alexandra and Ali from Magellan PR  for again reacquainting me with this beautiful region. Also thanks to the House of Courvoisier for a memorable afternoon. Plus I must mention the fantastic group of #EpicCognac bloggers Iain Mallory from Mallory on Travel, Laurel Robbins from Traveldudes & Monkeys and Mountains  and last but not least, Larissa from the Blonde Gypsy - was an epic few days hanging out with you guys!

Please note that all the views expressed here are solely my own.

Thank you for reading and do drop by again for more instalments from my trip.

I’ve been cooking like mad for the last few days.

Spices flying out of the jar, sauces spluttering everywhere (damn, always forget the lid. Sorry Claire for making a mess of your lovely wee kitchen) and the beautiful smell of curry is resplendent everywhere in the house.

Time to get the incense out.

I am temporarily resident in Edinburgh at my friend, Claire Connachan’s cosy little house.

Having been on the road for 4 months, it’s been great to be in a ‘home’ and be able to cook all my favourite dishes.

I miss the comforts of simple, home food while on the road.

There’s only so many greasy kebabs, sandwiches, burgers or pizzas you can eat before you just lose appetite.

You long for something simple and nourishing.

Like a kick ass Greek Salad maybe.

I often just loving eat lentils- we call it ‘dahl’ in India, with some nice basmati rice.

Few mouthfuls of that and I’m home, in my mum’s kitchen in Kolkata.

So, it’s great whenever you get a hostel with a kickass kitchen.

For me that’s one hallmark of a Luxury hostel.

I’ve talked about the concept of Luxury in a hostel about not just being a private bed.

For me the concept of luxury extends to a number of things- like hospitality of the staff, the ambience and the facilities they offer guests like a beautiful kitchen.

I’ve been to some amazing hostels in my Luxury Hostels trip and had the pleasure of discovering some great hostel kitchens to cook in.

I thought I’d share with you some of the best hostel kitchens I’ve cooked in so far from my Luxury Hostels tour.

So in no particular order…

Loft Mountain Hostel, Bourg St Maurice A kitchen with a view

Massive! Loved the kitchen at the Loft Mountain Hostel- so much space to cook in (make a mess) plus an awesome shelf of spices to cook with.

The kitchen at the Loft Mountain Hostel situated in the picturesque ski resort town of Bourg St Maurice , is something out of a 5 star luxury apartment.

With room for 15 residents, the kitchen never gets overcrowded with guests.

Plenty of plates, pots, pans and cutlery.

A big huge fridge to store all your food.

Also, there is a spice shelf if you are missing your spices plus other key cooking ingredients like oil, salt and sugar that are free for guests to use.

Charley- the bubbly, friendly owner of the Loft is a big foodie herself.

She will often be seen pottering around the kitchen conjuring up some very tasty creations with the help of her great selection of cookbooks ( often treats guests to impromptu dinner- she is awesome ) which I dipped into frequently for inspiration.

Just across the road, there is a Lidl. Which stocks a good selection of local French produce too. Plus there is fantastic local food market in Bourg on Saturdays to take advantage of.

They also have free coffee and tea which guests can help themselves to you.

Most importantly, while cooking you also have a view of the lofty peaks of the Les Arcs mountain range to inspire you.

What’s a kitchen, without a view?

Cocomama, Amsterdam 

The kitchen cum living room space at Cocomama was a happy oasis of good food, banter and wine for me during my stay in Amsterdam.

Lot of the guests, including the owners would cook in the kitchen so you had a cheerful, happy communal vibe that never got too busy, thanks to the boutique small size of the hostel.

Plus right beside the kitchen, you had the beautiful lush green garden where guests could eat their food.

During the day sunlight would flood into the kitchen giving a bright, happy feel about the room.

A Lidl around the corner meant I could get my hands on a lot of essentials.

The hostel offers guests free pasta, oil and essentials like salt, sugar.

On Tuesdays, if you feeling broke after the excesses of Amsterdam’s  nightlife, they organsise a Tight Ass Tuesday where you eat pasta with the guests for as little as 3 euros.

Plus we can’t forget Jupp- the hostel cat who lazes around the kitchen and makes you feel at home.

Dream Hostel, Tampere

Dream Kitchen at the Dream Hostel, Tampere

The kitchen at the Dream Hostel, Tampere is a dream- like something out of an Ikea showroom but far better.

With it’s colourful palette of blue and white, the kitchen has a very dreamy, happy feel about it.

Lots of small, potted plants and low lighting give the place a nice, chilled out vibe.

I’d just go back to sit in that kitchen and happily work all day, break the monotony by speaking to the awesome staff  and of course cooking my food.

Pride and joy of the kitchen here is their filter coffee machine which guests can use to brew a very decent cup of coffee for free with their generous supply of top notch Columbian grinded coffee.

A great kitchen and also an amazing hostel- Dream Hostel, Tampere

Often Ville, will shower guests with random acts of kindness like leaving huge bowls of some of the juiciest, sweetest strawberries from the local market down the road for the guests to tuck into.

Also other quirky surprises in the kitchen include, free popcorn whenever it rains ( which it does a lot in Tampere, so your chances are good) or on a Friday night.

Gallery Hostel, Porto

Beautiful kitchen and dining space at the Gallery Hostel, Porto

Set in a 19^th century building, Gallery Hostel is a stunning space.

One of the highlights is the open plan communal kitchen.

During the day guests can relax, drink free tea and coffee and work on the long breakfast tables.

In the morning, you get an awesome breakfast buffet spread that would not look out of place in a 5 star hotel.

Evenings at Gallery Hostel kitchen are quite special- after a drink at the bar, guests can sit down to a 3 course meal, enjoying authentic cuisine typical of the local area for 10 euros that includes a whole bottle of port wine. It’s a great way to meet fellow guests and bond with them.

Dinner at Gallery Hostel: Delicious Caldo Verde, perfect for a cold Spring night

When I visited we had a delicious Caldo Verde.

The meals are cooked by the hostel’s very own Brazilian chef. It’s the kind of food your mother in law (if you’re lucky to have one)  would make, that good.

Rooms Deluxe, Valencia

Sleek and very cool- kitchen at Rooms Deluxe

The kitchen cum living room at the Rooms Deluxe Hostel in Valencia  is a beautiful space.

Large, modern in design and well stocked in terms of cutlery, the kitchen has a very nice layout.

Plus the biggest surprise is the excellent Nespresso machine.

80 cents to enjoy your own brewed cup of Nespresso.

Talk about finding luxury in a hostel

Ok readers I’ll be honest with you.

When I was first invited on my recent trip to Florida, courtesy of Virgin Holidays, I was worried about flying with them.

The image in my head was that of being stuck on a plane with screaming kids for 9 hours.

Worst flying nightmare: Stuck with a baby crying?

When sharing flying stories from hell with friends, one of the most common horror stories you’ll hear is about being stuck with the kids from hell.

Lobster faced , stressed parents who are drinking umpteen G & T’s to pull themselves through the agony of their journey.

My worst suspicions are confirmed when arriving at the departure gate for my Virgin Holidays flight to Orlando.

I walk into D47- a room , teeming with excited, squealing & hyperactive kids.

The kids were crawling like termites over hapless, haggard  looking parents.

The battle was over before it had begun.

It’s a nine hour flight from Gatwick to Orlando.

I expect chaos to ensue soon after takeoff.

Luckily, before departure I check into the Virgin Holidays V-Room where I am treated to a hearty cooked breakfast and a Mojito ( yes, at 9am) which had fortified me for the worst.

Surprisingly, an hour in and there is an eerie calm in the cabin.

I peek around and see all the kids busy thanks to a number of factors: Virgin Holidays’s excellent Inflight entertainment system packed with the latest Disney blockbusters, special Virgin kids goody bags ( while giving them out I suddenly have a jealous pang ) and also Dad’s Ipad.

In front of the loo they form part of an orderly queue , showing a maturity beyond their years.

I guess kids are a much more evolved species nowadays.

Much more well travelled and experienced pros than when I travelled for the first time.

It got me thinking about the time when I flew for the first time as a kid to India

1984. I was 5.

Flying with Aeroflot.

Changing 3 planes from London to India.

14 hour stopover in Moscow Sheremetyevo Airport.

One of many depressing views at Sheremetyevo. This photo was taken in 2007. Hasn’t changed much from 1984 to be honest.

 Photo sourced under Creative Commons License, thanks to http://www.flickr.com/photos/jystewart/

Probably the worst airport I have visited in living memory- I still shudder when I recall it’s bleak Stalinist architecture and long, straight corridors.

There was nothing much to do.

No shops or duty free or Starbucks or Internet then.

Lots of bored looking faces.

I remember spending hours colouring in my sketch books and reading Red Rackham’s Treasure a billion times.

Remember, Russia was still then in the fearful grip of the cold war. This was Russia before the reforms of Perestroika and Glasnost.

It was a very lean, mean and insipid space designed to strike fear into it’s temporary residents and make anyone think twice about visiting the country.

I remember being greeted by leaden faced security guards who spoke in monosyllables and short jerky sentences.

If only I had know the Meerkats then, would have found them much more funny.

Simples.

It was also at Sheremetyevo  that I developed the fear of shitting in public toilets.

The toilets were never cleaned and pretty disgusting –which probably scarred me life.

Leading to a little known disease called Parcopresis –‘irrational fear of shitting in public.’

Smoking was permitted on flights then.

I remember being stuck in a smoky haze for most of the flight.

The smoking section would be in the front but I think that did little do stop the smoke escaping to the back of the plane.

Comparing that memory of flying to the one I experienced with Virgin Holidays : wow what a difference 3 decades have made to flying with children.

Now that you can enjoy direct flights, no smoking on flights,  shorter journey times and also the benefit of a more family centric approach with better seating arrangements and special kids inflight menus.

Airports  have grown up since.

Still stressful places to be but at least a little more busy and cheerful.

Besides duty free and Starbucks you can get a Indian Head Massage, visit an Art Exhibition or dine at a Gordon Ramsay restaurant.

Flying with kids has never been better.

Plus there is the luxury of add-ons like checking into Virgin Holidays dedicated airport lounge, the V-Room where before the flight, parents for an extra £20 can enjoy a breakfast fit for a queen and king while the kids can fool around in a dedicated play area.

I’ve seen the light.

Travelling with kids is an altogether different and much more stress free , enjoyable experience now.

I think also the fear of travelling with a baby crying throughout a whole flight -maybe an modern day myth?

I’m just a tad less apprehensive about approaching parenthood now.

What is your opinion?

Love to hear from families who fly frequently with their kids.

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Starting at £949, I spent seven nights in Orlando with Virgin Holidays, including scheduled flights with Virgin Atlantic from London Gatwick or Manchester direct to Orlando.

This included two nights accommodation at the 5V Hilton Orlando Bonnet Creek, two nights accommodation at the 3V+ Sunset Vista Beachfront Suites, two nights at the 5V Longboat Key Club & Resort and one night at the 5V Walt Disney World Swan & Dolphin Hotel, all on a room only basis with car hire included starts from £949. Prices are per person based on two adults travelling and sharing a standard room, price includes all applicable taxes and fuel surcharges which are subject to change. Prices are based on departures 12 – 14 Nov 2012.

Booking the v-room experience at Gatwick Airport or Manchester Airport for as little as £20 (Adults) £12 (Kids)

To book: www.virginholidays.co.uk , 0844 557 3859 or visit one of our 90 stores located in Debenhams and House of Fraser stores nationwide.