LatestHow we run Tripchron (the boring bit, made slightly less boring)
Readers keep asking how a blog this small has its own address, ads and a shade of blue nobody else has. Here's the whole set-up.
June writes. Teo takes the photos, and used to make sound effects for radio plays (breaking bones? Snapped celery). Pip, 2, is in charge. Slow trips from Bristol.
LatestReaders keep asking how a blog this small has its own address, ads and a shade of blue nobody else has. Here's the whole set-up.
The list we wish we'd had: what earned its place in the bag over three weeks, and the eleven things that came home unused.

What the whole trip cost, what we'd change, and the flight home, during which Pip was perfect and I was not.
White sand, clear water, no cars and no shops, forty minutes by boat from Vigo, and you need the government's permission to go. It is worth the paperwork.

Pilgrims walk for a month to get here. We drove for four hours with a toddler and felt we had earned it more.

Two and a half hours from Porto to Pinhão, along a river so beautiful the train seems to slow down out of respect.

Teo left Porto when he was nine. He came back with a wife, a daughter, and the strong belief that everything was smaller.

A fairytale palace on top of a mountain, reached by a bus that drives like it is being chased by one.

Lisbon is built on seven hills, and our flat was at the top of the steepest one. A love letter, with complaints.

Twenty-three nights, five beds, three trains, one hire car and a person who is 89 centimetres tall and has opinions about all of it.

We went to Hiroshima for the history and stayed for the people, the island and the best pancake in Japan.

On day six I went into a Kyoto pharmacy for something for a headache and came out with something else entirely.

We'd put off Japan for years because it seemed too big, too far and too clever for us. It was all three. It was also the easiest country we've ever travelled in.

Teo carried a ring across Europe in a sock for six days. On the seventh he dropped it in a piazza. Then he asked.

Four days in a city that eats standing up, shouts in affection and has never once in two thousand years been on time.

Bristol to Palermo without a plane: three days, four trains, one boat, and a train that drives onto the boat.
