'In the South, they do things differently,’ a Tuscan friend had explained. ‘Most of us, we don’t understand it — the life, that is … they disappear in the afternoons for an endless lunch break, and then resurface, at six, only to shut their shops and start drinking by seven.’ I took this to be an exaggeration of a much lighter characteristic, the sort which is all too common when a person from one region talks about another, inimical one.

I arrived in Brindisi in the mid-afternoon, hungry and eager to check into my hotel. On arrival the receptionist wasn’t there. After several attempts to phone him, I got through. ‘Fifteen minutes,’ he said, ‘wait. Relax.’ It felt as if my importunity had caused offence. I sat on a small bench and smoked a few cigarettes, looking at the city around me. It was bleak, and I pitied the people of Brindisi: the sun-kissed Pugliese, whose only representatives seemed to be a few old men, making lethargic passeggiate, stopping for beers, cigarettes and games of cards in empty bars, or else sitting on steps, resting one hand on their olive faces, thinking those Mediterranean thoughts. There is a kind of knowledge to the Mediterranean which only those ancient waters can transmit and understand.

Alberto, the receptionist, arrived and led me up the thin, steep staircase. My suitcase knocked against each stair, and as I reached the top, my face was covered in sweat. Alberto then told me I was not allowed to smoke in the room, something I had assumed. But he drilled this knowledge into me, until I repeated ‘I will not smoke’ several times over, like a naughty boy reciting his Hail Marys.

Brindisi was a stopping point: a place where I would end and begin. Ever since reading Lawrence Durrell’s The Greek Islands and Prospero’s Cell I had wanted to take the ferry from Brindisi to Corfu, to see how the two countries differed, to see how, as Durrell described, ‘somewhere between Calabria and Corfu the blue really begins.’ It did.

I visited the Crusader’s Church, modelled on the Temple at Jerusalem, which had been built to give passing pilgrims a vicarious reminder of what lay ahead. It served, then, the same role which the city itself did for me. It was a reminder that to journey is often a noble thing, that it’s worth the strains and discomforts. The nearby Cathedral was closed. I peeked my head in through a half-jarred side door and discovered that there were two squawky middle-aged women having a singing lesson. I returned to my hotel and took a nap.

I went back out at seven. The city was alive. It confused me at first, and then I remembered the words of my Tuscan friend. There were people everywhere; it was a Friday evening, after all, and
I struggled to find space at a bar. I drank an Aperol and watched, as the city played out its nocturnal rituals, unaware of my presence.

I moved on to a restaurant. It seemed like a refuge for the lonely, as all my fellow diners were, like me, sitting alone, reading books, or playing on their telephones. In broken Italian, I asked them to bring me a typical Pugliese meal. I had to repeat myself twice before he understood. I ate orechiette, that bizarre and alien ear-like pasta, which wouldn’t have been out of place on Hannibal Lector’s plate. They served it with a thick tomato sauce and a salty local cheese; it was the cheapest thing on the menu, but it was utterly delicious. It went down nicely with the cold red wine they’d given me in a carafe. I headed to bed, then, a little tipsy from the wine and the salubrious Adriatic air.

The next morning I took a taxi to the port. The driver was so carefree he watched football on his telephone as he navigated the thin Brindisian streets. I had asked, specifically, to go to the Grimaldi Lines check-in desk at the port. For some bizarre reason, he took me to the airport, far on the other side of the town. I reminded him of my intended destination, and he then offered to take me to the port for no extra cost, as if it were a particularly kind offer to take me to the place where I had asked to go to.

The port was huge. It struck me that much of Europe’s traffic must take this route. I checked in, without showing my ticket, passport, Covid test, or Passenger Locator Form. I then walked about a mile to reach the ferry, dragging my suitcase through the dizzying heat. I was one of the only foot-passengers. I walked up the ramp into the stomach of the shop, amongst large trucks and campervans with exotic driving plates. I was determined to stay on deck until I had seen Italy dissolve into the horizon, nor would I miss the sudden emergence of Albania and the islands which I hoped would rise like phantoms from the brightening blue.

Notes written on the Ferry:

Italy kicks its heel out at us one last time, and then draws away, fading into the horizon. It leaves us landless, with eyes for sea and sea only. The sky’s blue is unrecognisable from that which had hung over Brindisi. I am sitting on the deck, watching the ferry’s interminable wake scar the water.

The ferry itself is quite bizarre. It’s the daily Grimaldi Lines service which stops at Corfu on its way to Igoumenitsas. There are several truck drivers on the ferry, one of whom is quite threatening. He stood in front of me in the queue for food and shouted at the server for being too slow. There are some older tourists: a few, semi-obese couples, who seem to be here for a cheap cruise alternative. They’ve spent most of the journey bent over slot machines, feeding small ten cent coins to the moloch of fate.

For lunch, I eat a gruelly Carbonara, with soft, smoked, undercooked bacon, and, strangely, some zucchini too. I look into the serving tray and a few chips have fallen into it. The server picks these up with his fingers and places them in the correct tray. My beer was flat, too, and it tasted as if it had been left open, in the sun, to spoil for a few days before being served.

Albania now appears. Its mountains seem to collapse into the sea, with the force of a landslide. The clouds hovering above create the impression of snow-capped peaks. It seems as if there’s no green there; only the pale, Illyrian dust, and the dying shrubs.

Three islands appear. These are Merlera, Mathraki, and Othonoi: Corfu’s dramatic prelude. Each rises, phantomlike, from the water, as if they were a spectral vision dreamed up by an old and forgotten Prospero. The sunset begins quickly. A yellow sun sets in a blood orange haze. It presses itself down into the sea, halving itself, before extinguishing into the dusk.

Arrival in Corfu:

A crackled announcement came through the speakers. The noise broke and so I heard only the first syllable: ‘Corf’. There was some commotion and so I headed to the reception area so that I wouldn’t miss the stop. I queued for a lift and then emerged on the bottom floor: the great, dark underbelly of the ferry. A few foot passengers had congregated at the back-left, near the ferry’s stern. I waited for several minutes until the ramp, like a whale shark’s mouth, opened as if to consume the harbour. I noticed we were still moving. The ramp screeched as it descended and thankfully it landed on hard ground. As it moved downwards, a steward stood on top of it, smoking a cigarette.

I was the first off the ship; and so I hit customs first, where neither my passport nor my Covid Test nor my Passenger Locator Form were checked. The taxi which I’d booked wasn’t there and so I sat, on the Terminal Steps, for an hour, smoking persistently dull cigarettes and watching a crowd of Italian students, who played football and flirted, waiting for the return ferry.

I sat there, anticipating a feeling of differentness, that feeling of having crossed a boundary, a natural border, which Durrell so vividly described. With each vapid and pernicious drag of a cigarette, it became ever clearer that there wouldn’t be such a revelation. Globalisation has, to a large extent, done away with borders of personality and characteristics. It was a geographical change, not such a cultural one.

By Cosmo Adair

Following the cancellation of numerous travel plans, from au-pairing in Austria, to inter-railing around 10 different countries, I turned to my home soil of the United Kingdom to satiate my desire to see the world, or at least a small part of it. With COVID bringing a halt to almost all international travel, the notion of the ‘staycation’ came to fruition.
 
As trains seem to cost more and more, compared to the ever-cheap plane fare of budget lines such as Ryanair, travel for me became almost synonymous with going to new foreign countries, with different languages and cultures, particularly as a student of Modern Foreign Languages. Only when forced to (not) look elsewhere, did my appreciation for the variety and beauty within the UK increase. The position of privilege that this comes from, naturally, must be acknowledged, as I know many have never been able to travel abroad, with or without COVID.
 
Of course, I would visit places in the UK as a child, of which I have fond memories, but the real appeal lay in the early mornings, going through airport security, waiting eagerly as the flight began to descend and being hit by the smell of warm air as the flight attendants flung the aeroplane door open. Yet, in order to remain safe and follow guidelines of both UK government and that of any country you may seek to travel to, this was put on hold.
 
Over the course of the year, when restrictions allowed, I instead became a tourist of my own country, visiting places such as Bath, Liverpool, Edinburgh, North Wales and more. As opposed to using money I’d saved for foreign travel, which would have been spent in another currency, I put it towards sightseeing in places where I wouldn’t need a passport. Visiting museums and galleries, seeing sights of significance (such as Stone Henge, which somehow, I’d only seen this summer), buying ice creams and trying out new restaurants were all on the agenda.
 
All that being said, the first flight abroad in which I won’t have to worry about PCR tests, travel clearance, social distancing, and all those other buzzwords that have preoccupied those with a heavy dose of wanderlust, is long overdue. However, I can’t deny that my perspective of my native country has changed for the better, and I am excited to continue to explore that which is closer to my doorstep, even with the option to travel abroad on the table.

As a metropolitan, cosmopolitan city, Paris doesn’t immediately spring to mind as a runner’s paradise. Like many other capital cities, it is full of people, pollution, busy roads and urban buildings – things which make it a vibrant place to live, but not always to immerse oneself in nature. However, the reality of the matter is that, whether you are looking for a quick morning jog, want to train to run long distance or even partake in ‘running tourism,’ a term coined (by myself) to encompass the new role running has in travel, Paris has something for you. Which is why, arriving in the French capital amidst a national lockdown, I was keen to experiment with routes across the city and compile a list of my favourite spots to walk, jog, run or even rollerblade!

​Bois de Boulogne
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​To the west of Paris, right next to the 16th arrondissement, you’ll find the expansive Bois de Boulogne, a forest with two gorgeous lakes right at the centre. Boasting some 35 miles of trails, look no further for any running desires. Since I live 5 minutes away, my favourite (and most practised!) jog circles both lakes, totalling roughly 5km. On the weekend, you can even stop at some of the little café stalls for a chocolat chaud or crepes. From the stunning views across the lake to the thick, shady woodland areas, there’s no surprises for guessing why the path surrounding the lakes on a Saturday morning is reminiscent of a world far pre-Covid…

​Champ de Mars

A breath of fresh air in the centre of Paris is the Champ de Mars, famously known for framing the Eiffel Tower. When I first moved here, my apartment was merely a few hundred metres away, meaning I could easily visit the park every day, even within my 1km allotted radius for exercise. As such, I could (legally!) jog up and down the gorgeous, lined pathways as much as I liked! For interval training, use the straight pathway on the side bordering the 7th arrondissement, and for a nice and flat 5km route, roughly 2 laps of the entire park, including the Eiffel Tower, should take you to the distance you want. Don’t forget to pause and look up in awe at one of the world’s most iconic landmarks!

​Parc Monceau

Not always on the radar of tourists, Parc Monceau boasts one of Paris’ most beautiful green spaces, hidden just outside of the city centre. In the heart of the 8th arrondissement, you will find this small but beautiful park. Built in 1778 by the cousin of King Louis XIV, the Duke of Chartres, it consists of an eclectic mix of historical statues. From a miniature Egyptian pyramid, to a statue of Guy de Maupassant and a Roman Colonnade, it really does capture an ancient, mysterious, and grandiose air. Whilst the perimeter of the park is around 1km, you can always extend your distance by adding in a detour to the Arc de Triomphe, a kilometre away if you go directly up Avenue Hoche, a quintessentially Parisian boulevard. Personal recommendation – the kiosk in the middle of the park has some of the most underrated crepes in all of Paris!

La Seine – the Tourist Route

​Ever since I got into running, I’ve found that one of my favourite ways to see a new city is to go for a jog through its centre. It is a wonderful way to see the city in its true colours. Paris, I’ve found, is particularly beautiful early in the morning, where you can see commuters on their way to the boulangerie to pick up a breakfast croissant. On a Saturday morning, the banks of the Seine are packed. The banks are very well adapted to walkers and runners alike, being particularly flat and pedestrianised. Whilst you can run along this river for miles, far beyond the borders of Paris, it’s also a fabulous way to see the city centre. To really see all the sights and get a feel for the geography of the city, start your route at the metro station Bir Hakeim and run up the Rive Gauche, the left bank of the Seine, all the way up to Notre Dame Cathedral, taking any detours you like to circle the various monuments on your way. You can stop there and check out the street bookstalls by the iconic cathedral, or cross over and run back to create a picturesque 10km route.  This route takes you through some of Paris’ tourist landmarks – from the Eiffel Tower, through most of Paris’ famous bridges as well as the Louvre and the Musee d’Orsay, you really get to see so much of the city this way.

​Parc des Buttes-Chaumont

A little less well-known, this beyond gorgeous park, situated in the 19th arrondissement and near the Canal Saint-Martin (also very aesthetic but usually far too packed for convenient running!), makes for a great hill-training session. In Paris, where most areas are relatively flat, the intense hills and scenery here provide not only exquisite views, but also some vigorous training for anyone looking to get those glutes really working!

​​
​So there you have it – a (semi) comprehensive list of the best places to run in Paris. But don’t worry, these routes work even if you don’t fancy jogging breathlessly across the city – they are just as beautiful and scenic if you’re looking for a walk, sightseeing trip or to sit on a park bench with a pain au chocolat and a café, soaking up the scenes around you.

​​Thinking of the Caribbean, the first image that springs to mind is one of beautiful beaches with crystal clear waters, a relaxing and soothing atmosphere full of sumptuous food. The Caribbean, in my mind, has always sounded like a dream.
 
Travelling to the Colombian Caribbean coast was an unbelievable experience. Setting off from Bogotá, the capital, we (my friend and I) landed in Santa Marta, a beautiful coastal town, quintessentially Colombian: charming, colourful, relaxing; much more tranquil than Cartagena (the main city on the Caribbean Coast). A great little getaway place, we spent a couple of days wandering the streets and discovering this delightful town before moving on to Parque Tayrona. Parque Tayrona is a unique and magical place. A vast stretch of protected land, it contains many paradisiac beaches, and is inhabited by several indigenous communities. We travelled in a small bus, on the floor right by the driver (the only space left on the bus) for a few hours before finally making it to the park. On our arrival, much to our despair, we noticed the park was closed. It was dark and we were disappointed, but we found a nearby hostel and spent the night there before setting off to the park first thing in the morning. Our backpacks strapped to our backs, we wandered into the park, excited to explore what had been described to us as blissful location. The extensiveness of the park means that the beaches were rather spread out, and getting to any one was a little bit of a trek – some 10-15 km – in the blazing sun and heat. But the walk itself was lovely, and the beaches were well worth the effort.
 
There is no accommodation in Parque Tayrona – unless you’re ready to splash out hundreds of pounds. Instead, people rent hammocks on the beach, and get assigned small locker in which to store their belongings. That’s what we did whilst we were there – and it was surprisingly comfortable! We went for a swim in the water and ate some fresh fish at one of the small restaurants on the beach before heading to our hammocks for our first (short) night on the beach. We woke up at 5 am to watch the sunrise – the most beautiful one I had ever seen. A deep-coloured sunrise, with rich colours painting the sky; from orange, red, yellow, to a heavenly blue and purple; it was breath-taking.
 
As we left Parque Tayrona, sweaty, smelly and covered in mosquito bites, we made our way to our final destination: Cartagena, a stunning, vibrant and glowing colonial city. We travelled by bus again, taking in the beautiful Colombian scenery on the way. Arriving in Cartagena, we were amazed. It truly is dazzling. A stunning day with no clouds in sight, vibrant streets full of friendly people, we wandered whilst indulging in the exotic fresh fruits sold at every street corner. We spent the day wandering, before filling our stomachs at a local diner that was family-owned and served succulent Colombian food. The next few days were spent a few days exploring the area, and on the final day we went island hopping in the Islas Rosarias, just off the coast of Cartagena, and swam in the corals; a lovely end to our trip.
 
 
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With a pretty much cancelled summer behind us, it’s no secret that ‘travel’ and ‘2020’ in the same sentence should be taken with a hefty pinch of salt. Those of us who’ve managed to get away have become all too acquainted with more ruthless hand sanitisation, the possibility of having a Covid test sprung upon us at any given moment, and have had to wear a mask that much, that it’s become something of a second skin. Nevertheless, the go-ahead to get away in the summer was the first hint of normality in months; an escape, a small taste of freedom.
 
Writing from my year abroad in the beautiful Bavarian city of Passau, I’ve been fortunate enough to do some travelling during my two months in Germany. Whether or not my friends and I would be able to go abroad was thrown completely up into the air when the pandemic was first declared, so to hear that travel could begin again was a huge relief. A big part of the pre-year abroad excitement is the prospect of being able to explore and really get to know your host country, so this meant we were that step closer to discovering every single thing on our new doorsteps. But things were still uncertain. Would we be able to enjoy ourselves with the virus lingering? Would we be insured? Was it just too great a risk to travel full stop?
 
Travelling to Germany at the end of August was, by this year’s standards, surprisingly normal. Couple the empty airport with being the only person in my three-aisle radius on the plane, and anyone would be instantly anticipating a very solitary month of language classes moved online at the last minute and no chance of seeing any of Berlin’s sights. To my amazement, my entire first month away in the capital was anything but. Berlin was very much alive, with its famous coffee still pouring from each cafe (Gott sei Dank!), tourism thriving and even tequila-infused Mexican street parties. With masks only compulsory in shops and on public transport, it felt like a reassuring new chapter for everyone’s travel diaries. Fast forward a few weeks to celebrating what would have been the final weekend of Oktoberfest in Munich’s beer halls, my hopes of continuing travelling most weekends until Christmas were unquestionably high.
 
One month later, Germany is back in national lockdown. With the possibility to mix with others restricted to just one other household, and the bar taps switched off until further notice, going to work or the supermarket is quite the treat these days! Travel really has come full circle and truthfully, the transition into lockdown wasn’t easy to adjust to after weeks of unexpected freedom. With things changing so quickly at the moment, the best thing if you’re planning to go anywhere is to just be prepared for anything:

• Bring plenty of face masks; it’s always good to have backups and you won’t want to wear the same one every day!
• Keep your hand sanitiser close.
• When booking, look for the flexibility to make changes and potentially cancellations, just for your own peace of mind!
• Be prepared to fill in extra forms on arrival/return. They can be very time consuming, so to save some minutes, keep handy notes of any details you may need to provide, for example emergency contacts, your passport number and the accommodation address.
• Use Google and choose places with plenty to do outdoors, where you’re less likely to be restricted by Covid and last-minute closures. It’s a bit difficult at this time of year, but something to think about for 2021 and the weather’s getting warmer! 

Happy flighting (if you’ll pardon the pun)!
​

Sarah Graham
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​Travelling during Covid-19, a concept which seems with the current lockdown, something from another universe. Luckily, I was fortunate enough to travel abroad this summer to Paris with a group of my closest friends, and even with all the changes, it was still an incredible experience.

The whole trip started off strangely: for the whole 8-hour coach journey from London to Paris, I was sitting what seemed miles away from everyone else and was constantly overheating from the mask on my face. I knew then it wouldn’t be like any other trip I had been on before. 

Arriving early morning in Paris and seeing the streets empty and serene was eerie. Having the Champs-Élysées completely silent, the usual choirs of tourists buzzing around the Louvre gone and the expected queues waiting to climb the Eiffel Tower somehow distanced and apart, was disorientating. It was hard to disconnect the typical imagery of tourist-laden Paris from the disquiet of the Paris I was witnessing. There was something nice though about the ability to walk about without having to dodge hundreds of people trying to catch a glimpse of the Mona Lisa or snagging a drink next to the Seine. Due to the various opening and closing of the famous tourist attractions, this is actually what we spent the large majority of our time doing: drinking by the Seine. Our days were filled with drinking, eating and relaxing at various points along the river, reminiscing on our first year at Durham and admiring the beautiful architecture of the famous buildings. Despite the distancing between us and other groups of people, it was also lovely to see families, friends and couples enjoying the city after such a long period of time stuck indoors.
 
One memory which does strike me about the trip was our shopping experience of Galeries Lafayette. The upmarket department store that is usually filled with the sound of excited visitors and happy shoppers was replaced by the constant reminder to wear a mask and keep your distance. The previous act of trying clothes on and experimenting with different outfits was replaced by the fear of touching anything and having to buy it. Definitely not the typical Parisian shopping experience you would expect from the department store. 

​Clearly, the experience was very different to what was expected, or even close to normal times. However, I don't think I would have changed it. The city was filled with people who had been inside for months and were enjoying being outside. It was filled with families enjoying the public parks and taking advantage of the sunshine. We were more relaxed as we knew there wasn't the usual rush to see the sights and visit all the attractions. We took it slower, as we had wanted to rest and refresh after all the months of being separated.
 
Being in Paris during the Covid-19 pandemic was far from normal but definitely a trip I will never forget.

Hanami, literally translated as ‘flower-viewing’ is the yearly Japanese Springtime tradition of celebrating the cherry blossom season. From around the end of March to the beginning of May in mainland Japan, and early February for Okinawa, the country’s millions of trees come into bloom. The blossom forecast (sakura-zensen) is announced every year by the weather bureau, and attentively monitored by those wanting to plan their celebrations under the symbolic flowers. Since 2004 the sakura-zensen has been aided by official blossom monitors; over 10,000 Japanese citizens who are enlisted to painstakingly monitor the state of their local cherry blossom trees throughout the year.

The custom of Hanami dates back to the Nara period (710-794) where people would appreciate the ume blossoms. The practice then morphed into the celebration of sakura (cherry blossoms) as they signified the rice planting season, as well as foretelling the year’s harvest. People believed kami (spirits/holy powers) inhabited the trees and so made offerings, this was followed by the consumption of sake. In the Heian period, Emperor Saga embraced this practice, hosting flower viewing parties with food and sake under the sakura trees in the Imperial Court in Kyoto. This practice spread to the Samurai people and then subsequently the lower classes. Now thousands of people around Japan congregate in parks around the country, holding feasts and parties which last way into the night.

My experience with Hanami occured on a yearly visit to Tokyo at around the age of eight. Taken to the local Asukayama park by my aunt, we sat on blue tarpaulin sheets under the trees with friends, enjoying the homemade onigiri (rice-balls) we had brought and sipping on cold barley tea. The park was overflowing with people of all ages, families, colleagues and friends. I vividly remember observing the people around me, the busy lives of the Japanese momentarily halted by something as banal as nature. Everyone, from salarymen, to tourists, to the elderly. Those who would not ordinarily encounter each other in everyday life, now flocking to the same places to enjoy the very same things. Japan is known for its technology, its work ethic, the fast paced lifestyle of its citizens, and yet the culture that permeates every area of the country’s framework is equally as significant.

To me, Hanami perfectly captures Japanese philosophy, and in particular the concept of wabi-sabi, a form of aesthetics which centres around the acceptance of fallibility and transience. The appreciation of fleeting beauty and the recognition of nature’s impermanent reality is reflected through the sheer number of people who gather to celebrate an ephemeral yet strikingly significant occasion. Gazing at the blush toned petals, people are unified through the country’s rich and vibrant culture. The cultural traditions of Japan, from Hanami, to Obon, to Yama no hi (Mountain Day) allow people to leave their busy lives on pause and focus on something beyond the superficial. These brief moments of reflection are tinged with an impression of serene wistfulness, here brevity is celebrated. 

By Maya Bagshaw

Every culture is interesting and has its own unique aspects, but what makes Chinese culture stand out? Perhaps, the majestic martial arts or the illustrious ancient wonders of China?

Architecture
As you may know, traditional Chinese architecture is eye-catching and is known for its vibrant colourful patterns. There are many Buddhist temples in China which are painted red, gold and blue with hints of green- the colours that Chinese people consider to be ‘lucky’.

A few years back, one of the most striking architectural styles that I had encountered was in Beijing. This was the historic ‘Temple of Heaven’ which consisted of the Hall of Prayer, the Imperial Vault of Heaven and the Circular Mound Altar. All these parts are unique yet share many things in common as they are all circular and are built on levels of marble stone. The circular mound altar differs slightly as there are pillars with carved dragons which appear in the tales and legends of ancient China. For all you philosophers out there, you’ll love this architectural gem as the features of this temple symbolise the connection between heaven and earth, influenced by ancient Chinese philosophy.

Theatre
One of the other things that I appreciate about Chinese culture is the spectacular theatre. Chinese theatrical performances consist of opera, acrobatics and martial arts. Speaking of martial arts, my favourite show was ‘’The Legend of Kung Fu’’ at the Red theatre in Beijing. This show is perfect for anyone who would like to watch an inspirational story with a mixture of graceful ballet and impressive Kung Fu skills.

During the show, I really loved the atmosphere created by the classic fighting style and enchanting music with powerful drumbeats. The plot is about a young boy who wants to become a Kung Fu master but has to overcome his own fears and obstacles that get in his way. This story shows that only we are the ones who can fulfil our dreams and choose the right path.

Cuisine
What comes to your mind when someone mentions Chinese food? Perhaps, sweet and sour chicken or king prawn curry? Well, believe it or not, traditional Chinese food is completely different compared to the food offered at the Chinese take away in the United Kingdom.

As I’m the only British person on my course, I have many Chinese friends from my class who invite me over for lunch regularly, so I always get the chance to try new traditional recipes. One of the most popular dishes amongst Chinese students is the ‘hot pot’ which is a Chinese cooking method and involves laying out a range of raw foods on the table, then cooking the ingredients in the pot whilst sat at the table. The one food that I found rather unique was the lotus flower root which was crunchy and had a sweet-tangy flavour.

Another food that I tried was ‘Mooncake’ which is a traditional dessert and is a round pastry filled with different types of pastes. It also contains an egg yolk in the middle which symbolizes the moon and is associated with the Mid-Autumn Festival. My friend offered me the one that contained lotus seed paste and an egg, accompanied by wild rose tea. Although, this cake may sound absolutely bizarre, I found it rather tasty and it was much sweeter than some English desserts.

Back when I was in Beijing, I went to Wangfujing night market which had a lively atmosphere and was very hectic. What surprised me the most was the fact that they were selling spiders, starfish and fried scorpions on a stick. I didn’t eat any of these as they didn’t appeal to me, but I did try the pineapple steamed rice which was delicious!
 
Music
Two weeks ago, when I went back to my friend’s house and she began to listen to some Chinese zen music, some of my memories of China came flowing back.
I started imagining the waterfalls and scenic landscape of Sichuan created by the sound of the ‘Guzheng’- a Chinese zither where the performer plucks the strings, producing a lovely sound of ‘vibrato’. There was also the clarinet-like sound, produced by the ‘Hulusi’- a wind instrument which is made of bamboo pipes. This music is peaceful and if you’re wanting to relax after all those assignments or escape from exam stress, why not listen to some Chinese zen music?

By Tyler Leck, Travel Editor

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A Scandinavian Winter Adventure
 
Iceland
There’s no better place to embrace the beauty of winter than the land of “fire and ice”. Iceland is one of the most unique countries in the world and is full of natural wonders. The population is slightly larger than that of Newcastle and is known for its friendly natives and offers many beautiful places to explore.

Your first stop should definitely be the Blue Lagoon. After a long day of travelling, why not relax and embrace everything that the geothermal spa has to offer? The sensation of having a warm body and a cold head and shoulders is something that you definitely have to experience. Here, they also offer some iconic silica mud face masks to provide you with an authentic Icelandic experience.
 

 
 
Afterwards, why don’t you head down to the Mid-Atlantic Ridge? For all you geography enthusiasts out there, this the national park where the North American and Eurasian Plates are moving away from each other, leaving a huge canyon-like crack down the middle of the island. Here, the water is like nothing you've ever seen before and if you’re up for it, there is an opportunity to scuba dive in a crack between two tectonic plates. Thingvellir, the national park which is home to a large chunk of Iceland’s Mid-Atlantic ridge also boasts some of Iceland’s most scenic landscapes.
 
When you’re in Iceland, you don’t want to miss out on the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see the Northern Lights. You can view this spectacular phenomenon from anywhere in Iceland but travelling further North will increase your chances of seeing the light show of your life!
 
Iceland is not very far as it only takes 2-3 hours from most UK cities. What’s more, this country boasts some of Earth's most impressive landscapes with magnificent lakes, waterfalls, mountains and hot springs. Iceland is definitely a place that should be added to your travel bucket list.
 
 
Denmark
 
If the frosty Icelandic weather doesn’t appeal to you, then perhaps Denmark is your next choice for enjoying some Scandinavian culture.

This year, I visited Copenhagen for the first time and from that moment, I realised that I had truly fell in love with the city and the Danish way of life. Travelling to Denmark is much simpler than anyone could imagine as there are direct flights every day. I was even fortunate enough to bag a £15.99 return fare, clearly leaving me no choice other than to experience Denmark’s capital for myself.
 
I would highly recommend buying the Copenhagen Card which entitles you to free entry to historical highlights and you can enjoy a free ride on the buses, trains and metros around the city. The Church of Our Saviour is a must-see as it offers some of the best views of Copenhagen, with an outdoor staircase leading to the top of the spire, it is definitely not for the faint-hearted. Again, the views are absolutely unforgettable! Don’t forget to take a picture of the magnificent views from the top of the church all the way to Sweden!
Copenhagen is also home to Tivoli Gardens which inspired Walt Disney’s famous theme park, Disneyland. What’s more, Tivoli is a wonderful spot to listen to live music and to grab something tasty to eat!
 
Sweden
Thanks to the Oresund Bridge, it’s now incredibly easy to visit Denmark’s neighbours across the pond. You can have a quick visit to Malmö by catching a Flixbus and you can tick off even more Scandinavian countries in just one trip! Malmö is a charming city and not only is there plenty to see, but there are also lots of students as it home to one of the largest universities in Sweden.

 
 
So, it’s time to start dusting off those shiny Monzo cards and get some cash ahead of your trip. Whichever country you decide to visit, Scandinavia will be out-of-this-world! 

Elizabeth Tomlinson

​What’s typically associated with ‘Germany’? The capital city? Berlin is, without a doubt, a trendy and vibrant place for a city break. Perhaps, the Black Forest, with its endless stretches of ancient trees and picturesque villages. But who’s heard of a city called Bonn? 

This was where I went for a couple of days in late September. As a native German speaker, my view of cultural life in Germany is of course, different from most tourists. But being a tourist in your own country is an absolute breeze, leaving you time to discover a variety of beautiful places, especially in Germany which is known for its rich cultural history. 

Bonn probably isn’t your first choice when it comes to a weekend getaway, but it certainly does have its charm. Just like Durham, Bonn has a well-established university, which recently made it to the top list of best German universities. Here, the wonderful ambience made me feel at home, especially when strolling through the Hofgarten, a park near the university buildings or enjoying the lovely panoramic view of the river at the Alter Zoll, just like all those other students!

Like other modern German cities, Bonn is also characterised by its multiculturalism, which is often overlooked when thinking about Germany. Wandering through the city centre, I spotted Turkish fast food restaurants, found Russian and Polish snacks in the supermarkets and later in the evening, I went to the Irish pub for a night out. I was also able to explore cultural diversity in the Haus der Geschichte (House of History), one of the museums on the Museumsmeile, an impressive strip of five museums. This museum specialises in the history of post-war Germany to present-day Germany, I was certainly impressed by the fascinating exhibitions and the great attention to detail. I wandered through the section about the last days of the Second World War and its aftermath, which I found rather ‘‘chilling’’. Then, I listened to a debate which was recorded in the 1960’s in the Bundestag, before viewing the special exhibition on Brexit and British-German relations – a very controversial topic but I’d highly recommend it!

Bonn is situated in the Rhineland, a densely populated region of Western Germany which is perfect if you want to explore other places worth visiting, such as Cologne. I took the opportunity to visit the historic city of Cologne for a day, which is just a short train journey away. Cologne is famous for two things, such as the centuries-old cathedral which towers over one of the central city squares and the Carnival of Bonn. Sadly, I was unable to attend the carnival as I was there at the wrong moment. Nevertheless, I explored the magnificent cathedral with spires and arches which are built in a Gothic style, coloured by age with its distinctive dark colour and is probably one of the most notable types of German architecture. Before returning home, I also had the chance to explore the city centre of Cologne. Although it was a short trip, it was certainly enough to recommend this city to anyone with an interest in languages and cultures. Bonn is an underrated German destination, if you need ideas for new travel destinations– take a trip to Bonn!
 
Cristina Coellen