It was 1985, and I had just crossed into Zimbabwe from Zambia, arriving in time for the fifth anniversary of Zimbabwe’s independence. I carry two deeply etched memories from that country, both involving close encounters with the Grim Reaper. Having travelled across Zambia from Malawi, I headed straight for Victoria Falls. On the Zambezi River, the falls plunge 108 metres into the narrow Batoka Gorge, and standing at the edge is an almost physical experience. The sound hits yo

In late November 1983, I crossed into Syria from Turkey on foot. I was 19 years old, in the first year of what would become a five-year backpacking journey around the planet. The two countries had been fighting on and off for years, and by then had pushed their border posts several kilometres back from the actual frontier, leaving a stretch of no-man’s land between them. When I showed up on the Turkish side with a group of truck drivers I’d hitched a ride with, the exit offic

My first trip to Chile was in 2006, during that beautiful phase of life when parenthood was new but my wanderlust remained undiminished. My wife Gillian and I had always been spontaneous travelers, ready to explore distant corners of the world at a moment's notice. The arrival of our son Sage, then just three years old, hadn't dampened our adventurous spirit—it merely added a new dimension to our travels. Without iPads (still four years from invention) to entertain a toddler

Under the glimmering Cambodian sky, I found myself working in a country poised delicately between recovery and renewal. It was 1997, barely two decades after the devastation of the Khmer Rouge, and only a few years after the UN-brokered peace accords. Siem Reap was still a quiet provincial town—dusty roads, wooden houses, and a rhythm of life shaped more by rice cycles than visitor itineraries. Tourism, as the world now knows it, had not yet arrived. Angkor Wat loomed nearby

In the early hours of April 26, 1986, Reactor No. 4 at the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant exploded during a badly designed safety test, compounded by human error. The blast blew the reactor apart, ignited a graphite fire, and sent a plume of radioactive material high into the atmosphere. In the chaotic hours that followed, authorities made a desperate early attempt to douse the burning core with water. It failed. The water instantly evaporated, and radioactive steam was carrie

High above the Rhône Valley, tucked into the Valais Alps, Leukerbad is one of those places that you can't help but fall in love with. People have been coming here for centuries for the thermal baths, but it’s always been more than just a spa town. Some of my literary heroes spent time here — James Baldwin , in particular, along with Mark Twain, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, and Jules Verne  — and knowing that made the place feel immediately familiar, even on a first visit. The

It was a crisp, cold morning in Khartoum as I awoke before dawn.  I crawled out of my sleeping bag in the courtyard of the students' dormitory at the University of Sudan and woke up my Sudanese friends to bid them farewell.   No matter how used to travelling one becomes, it's always difficult to say goodbye to friends with whom one has spent time . In the summer of 1984, I stayed in Khartoum for five months, teaching English to Ethiopian refugees to earn enough money to conti

Antonio Inoki is a well-known Japanese professional wrestler and martial artist who, during his heyday, beat most of the world’s wrestlers and professional fighters, from Pakistan’s Akram Pahalwan to America’s Mohammed Ali.  As a politician Inoki was twice elected to the House of Councillors, the equivalent of the United States Senate.  He was also actively involved in trying to build bridges of communication and understanding between North Korea and Japan – not an easy task

Pulling water from a remote well in the middle of the Sahara Desert.   March 1983 – Two large trucks rumbled north along the Route de Tanezrouft, their engines roaring like distant thunder as they ventured toward the border with Algeria, leaving contrails of dust in their wake. In the local Tuareg language, the name of this unforgiving land means “Land of Thirst,” and I could see why. The area stretched before us, notoriously flat, featureless, and without any sign of water –

Nearly four decades after my last visit, I return to the serene grounds of Wat Suan Mokk in Southern Thailand for a ten-day silent meditation retreat. This article is available on Dreams Abroad. Please read it there by clicking on their logo, below: