Brenna Holeman

We finally had our tickets in hand and entered the theatre through the front doors in time for the 7:30pm performance. There is nothing like the buzz in the air before a great show, of spectators finding their seats, of that magic that occurs when the lights dim and a hush falls over the crowd. Kasha and I certainly weren’t disappointed with our seats as we were front row centre. And then, the music started, the curtain lifted…

When I was invited to travel around the region of Basilicata, my first thought was, “Where’s Basilicata?” Even upon arriving at the airport in Bari, only a two-hour flight from London, I didn’t really know where I was or what to expect.

And while I’d visited Italy three times before, and seen most of the major cities, I didn’t expect to feel so immediately comfortable and welcome in the region. Each day, action-packed with cooking lessons and sailing and zip-lining and festival-going and eating and drinking (and eating and drinking some more), made me fall more and more in love with the region and its people.

The stigma of blogging has definitely subsided over the last decade, as so many people are online in some way, whether through blogging or social media. What used to be a strange phenomenon – writing and posting on the Internet for a bunch of strangers to read – is now quite common, and, in some cases, expected (for a business or magazine, for example). But I also realise that I feel differently about blogging than most, because my entire life is about blogging or writing in some way. Not everyone feels the same way that I do.

I have stayed in over 300 hostels in my life; the first one was over 17 years ago, in London. Since then, I’ve stayed in huge hostels and tiny hostels, one that are former prisons, ones that overlook beaches, ones with bedbugs, ones with the kind of atmosphere that encourages people to become best friends.

One of the very best hostels I’ve ever stayed in, however, is The Backpack in Cape Town, South Africa.

What I always go back to, though, time and time again, is travel writing. This makes a lot of sense, for very obvious reasons. Besides a personal interest in travel writing, I read it in order to become better at both my job (writing) and my degree (writing), as well as brush up on my favourite hobby (coin collecting. Hah! Just kidding. It’s writing). I certainly haven’t read every travel writer out there, and often disagree with those who are meant to be some of the best; I’m not a fan of Bruce Chatwin or Bill Bryson, for example.

Here, then, are some of my recommendations for the best travel books. Read them at home, read them on holiday, read them to feel inspired, read them to reminisce. Just read them.

The last time I saw you, you were standing under the bright lights of the big city. I only knew you for a few hours. You had a superhero name and crooked teeth and you had never tried an old fashioned until you met me.

These are the details I remember most. I can’t remember now if you have one sister or two, or what your job entails, or what you studied at university.

I met you by chance in one of the biggest cities in the world. Our chemistry was palpable. Within five minutes of meeting I knew where the night was headed. I watched you standing at the bar, waiting for our drinks, and you turned and looked at me just so. You knew it, too.