Ladakh translates as ‘Land of the high passes’, which, on arrival, feels rather appropriate.
Whizzing through the skies and trekking through rainforests right now are travellers of every shape, size and background, passionate about everything from ancient Peruvian pottery to Germany’s underground rave scene. Somewhere out there is a person who shares your obsession with boutique Belgian beers, or that quirky urge to follow Bogie and Bergman’s footsteps in Casablanca.
We exist in a voyeuristic age. Our ‘friends’ number in the thousands, we like and poke, favourite and regram them, we collect morsels of their lives through crafted snapshots and communicate in rapid-fire messages of emoticons, abbreviations, acronyms, quick quips and comic banter. LOL YOLO FOMO WTF FML OMG #sorrynotsorry – what does it all even mean?
When choosing their next travel destination, most people begin with the scenery, or the culture or those unpronounceable ruins everyone says you have to see. But we believe that ‘friendliness’ should be high on the priority list. When you’re a million miles from home, and every street corner looks the same, and you’re hungry and lost and have limited phone reception, friendliness can be next to godliness.
You can plan an itinerary, but you can’t plan for people. And while we build the trips, it’s you guys that really write the stories.
Travel is life’s greatest friendship machine. New friends are forged within it, and existing friends go through it together, coming out that other side that much stronger (provided nobody leaves the passports in the hotel bar).
With close ties to Spain and Mexico from the fabled galleon trade, and enough pristine beaches, coral reefs and jungle-covered bluffs to overwhelm even the keenest island-hopper, the Philippines are the last frontier of Asian tourism.
In the sand sea of the Sahara, stars are life. Ancient nomads used them to navigate at night, trusting the celestial bodies to lead them safely through the dunes.
There are a lot of myths about sailing the high seas. Some people think you need to know the nautical names of every sheet (sorry, ropey thing) and smell of seaweed all day, others reckon you can only do it on a giant cruise ship with four cinemas and a pants-exploding buffet station.