Slow and overland travel
Dear the Journey Between Places
On night trains, ferries and long bus rides, and on the value of the hours between one destination and the next.
The archive
34 letters so far, to cities and villages, mountains and islands, and to the people who travel between them.
Slow and overland travel
On night trains, ferries and long bus rides, and on the value of the hours between one destination and the next.
Curiosity and expectations
A letter about curiosity, expectations and travelling with an open mind, addressed to somewhere we have not yet seen.
Independent shops
A thank-you letter to the bakers, grocers and booksellers who keep a neighbourhood alive, and how visitors can support them.
Scottish Highlands, Scotland, United Kingdom
Glens, lochs, single-track roads and midges. A letter about wild places, weather and the responsibility that comes with access.
The Dolomites, Italy
Pale limestone towers that glow pink at dusk, mountain huts serving polenta, and paths that demand more preparation than the photos suggest.
The Azores, Portugal
Crater lakes, hot springs, hydrangea hedges and weather that can change between one bend of the road and the next.
Hanoi, Vietnam
Plastic ponchos in every colour, steam rising from noodle stalls under awnings, and the city carrying on regardless.
Kyoto, Japan
Maple leaves turning crimson in temple gardens, the busiest weeks of the year, and how to enjoy the season without adding to the strain.
Lisbon, Portugal
Roasted chestnuts on street corners, empty miradouros and a city that feels more like itself when the summer visitors have gone.
Spending where it matters
Supporting independent businesses, local guides and cultural experiences, without assuming every traveller has the same budget.
Crowds and timing
Practical strategies for timing, crowd awareness and considerate behaviour at the places everyone wants to see.
Respecting residential neighbourhoods
The laundry on the balcony is not decoration. A letter about remembering that the neighbourhoods we visit are where people live.
Travelling alone
On planning, safety, confidence, eating alone and the quiet pleasure of answering to nobody but yourself.
Plitvice Lakes, Croatia
Sixteen terraced lakes linked by waterfalls, wooden boardwalks over clear water, and a park that asks visitors to stay on the path.
Patagonia, Chile and Argentina
Granite towers, a glacier that groans as it calves, guanacos on the steppe, and a wind that rewrites every plan you make.
Lofoten Islands, Norway
Granite peaks straight out of the sea, red fishing cabins on stilts, cod drying on wooden racks, and weather that is always in charge.
Hoi An, Vietnam
A former trading port of ochre houses and silk lanterns that comes alive at night, and is most itself at six in the morning.
Chefchaouen, Morocco
Steps and doorways washed in every shade of blue, the Rif Mountains behind, and a slower pace than Morocco's big cities.
Hallstatt, Austria
A lakeside village of fewer than a thousand residents that has become one of the most photographed places in Europe. A letter about visiting more gently.
Coyoacán, Mexico City, Mexico
Cobbled streets, coyote fountains, churros on the plaza and the blue house where Frida Kahlo was born and died.
Nara, Japan
A former capital where wild deer wander among temples, a great bronze Buddha, and a lesson in respect for animals that are not pets.
Sintra, Portugal
Palaces in the mist, forests full of ferns, and hills that are steeper than every photograph suggests. Come early, and wear proper shoes.
Seoul, South Korea
Palaces between skyscrapers, markets open late into the night, and a subway so well run it feels like a quiet form of hospitality.
Edinburgh, Scotland, United Kingdom
A castle on a volcanic plug, closes that drop away into darkness, and weather that changes three times before lunch.
Buenos Aires, Argentina
Dinner at ten is early. Goodbyes take twenty minutes. You run on conversation, coffee, and a kind of late-night energy that never quite tires.
Marrakech, Morocco
A medina where maps give up, the smoke of grills over Jemaa el-Fnaa at sunset, and riads that open like secrets behind plain doors.
Hanoi, Vietnam
Plastic stools on the pavement, a bowl of pho at 6 a.m., and motorbikes moving like a river. You live your life outdoors and invite everyone to pull up a seat.
Istanbul, Türkiye
A ferry crossing that costs less than a coffee, a tulip-shaped glass of tea, and a city that has been the centre of the world more than once.
Cape Town, South Africa
A flat-topped mountain that wears a tablecloth of cloud, two oceans, and a history that asks to be understood, not just photographed.
A first trip
A reassuring, practical letter for anyone about to take their first big trip: preparing, packing, budgeting and coping when things go wrong.
Mexico City, Mexico
One of the largest cities in the world, sitting on a drained lake at 2,240 metres. You are loud, generous, full of murals and impossible to summarise in a single trip.
Kyoto, Japan
Fifteen hundred temples, a river with stepping stones shaped like turtles, and a rhythm that rewards anyone willing to stop rushing between them.
Lisbon, Portugal
Seven hills, worn limestone pavements and a yellow tram that groans up the slope like it has opinions. You are not an easy city to walk, and that is part of the point.
Our manifesto
Why we write letters to places, what travelling with love means to us, and why affection for a destination should begin with respect for the people who call it home.