North Korea. One of the most reclusive, unstable and unwelcoming destinations on earth - or is it? Yes, it absolutely is. Having said that, I would be lying if I said that I didn't have a slightly morbid fascination with the place - what is life really like in the self-contained and mysterious north?
Many a night was whiled away attempting to conceive a master plan of how I could travel the world and earn dollar at the same time. For some reason, I decided that teaching English to kindergartners was the answer, and shortly after signing up to a recruitment company I was on a one-way flight to South Korea - teaching little kids surely can't be that difficult?
The only way to get from Osaka to Tokyo is by bullet train. That isn't strictly true. I mean you could fly, drive, walk or ride on the back of a gibbon if you so wanted - but none are as comfortable as the Shinkansen. The five hundred kilometre journey takes just three and a half hours, and you barely feel as if your moving at all - it is basically the complete opposite of going for a jog after twenty-five sambucas.
A short train ride south from Kyoto and you arrive in Osaka - and the contrast is remarkable. If Kyoto was one of the most peaceful and calming places I have ever visited, then Osaka very well may be the least. As soon as we abandoned the train, we were sardined into the city centre - with no hope of deciding where our own feet went.
After just three weeks of teaching in South Korea, the summer holidays were upon me, and the break couldn't have come any sooner. Attempting to teach hyperactive infants from morn till dusk doesn't half make you want to board a plane and leave the country. Being so close to SK, Japan was always top of my Asian travel list, and Kyoto seemed like a peaceful place to begin our trip.
North Wales - an entirely different animal to its southern counterpart. Taller mountains, longer place names, and a completely unintelligible accent make the north a quite curious place to visit. On the road from the south (there's only really one), it is every tourist's duty to stop at Portmeirion. A village built purely on one man's imagination, it took Sir Clough Williams-Ellis over fifty years to finish his incongruous masterpiece.
Welcome to my home: Wales. I come from a small corner of the South-Welsh countryside where the land is beautiful and the sheep even more so. I’m only joking, not all Welsh people are infatuated by sheep, some prefer goats or bullocks. But I do come from the sort of town whereby if a person did proclaim their love for a farmyard animal, nobody would bat an eyelid. It has happened.
Having lived in the Unites States of America for ninety days without getting shot, I would like to take this opportunity to dispel, or confirm, fifty myths or misconceptions that I may, or may not, have believed were true before I started this journey. Admittedly, sweeping generalisations are made throughout but most of what I write is based on experiences I had in the states.
My final day in Iceland began with a forty-minute hop to the south-western corner of the island, in order to view another tourist attraction that has recently become synonymous with the country: the Blue Lagoon. Over the last few years, it has become one of the most photographed places in Iceland, with an incredible 32% of all tourists visiting it on their trips.
After my first failed Aurora hunt late last night, it was rather difficult to prize oneself out from under the warm duvet early this morn. However, with only a few hours of daylight available, there was little other option. I quickly donned as many layers as I had in my suitcase, battled through the ceaseless snow, and made it onto a bus that was going to take me to all of the sights within Iceland's famous Golden Circle.
