Our private tour guide collected us from the port with an enthusiasm. As we left the port, I spotted something interesting: Morocco’s traffic stop signs read in Arabic script, rather than using the English “STOP” typical in so many other places, which I thought was pretty cool.

Where Two Oceans Meet

Cap Spartel, located approximately 14 kilometres west of Tangier, juts out 326 metres above sea level, a promontory that marks not only the meeting point of the Mediterranean Sea and the Atlantic Ocean, but also the northwestern edge of the African continent. The lighthouse standing sentinel on this rocky point was constructed by Sultan Muhammad IV in 1864, making it one of Morocco’s oldest lighthouses.

Near the lighthouse, a simple sign warned us not to feed the wild boars. The warning carried more historical weight than might first appear. The Barbary wild boar subspecies (Sus scrofa algira) inhabits the forested regions of North Africa, from Morocco through Algeria and Tunisia. An ironic thing is that Islam is the largest religion in Morocco, and they don’t eat pork, so whenever a boar is caught, they may be exported for sale elsewhere.

First Time Riding A Camel

Next, our guide arranged a camel ride on the beach as part of the day’s itinerary. While none of us explicitly asked for it, the camel ride was included in the tour package. The experience proved physically uncomfortable in ways I hadn’t anticipated. The animals had no traditional saddles, leaving my legs to dangle awkwardly while the camel’s gait sent jolts through my body with each step. At one point, the camel began walking the wrong way, and the handler slapped it on the head to correct its behaviour. This moment made me think about how these camels might not be treated well, and how we should avoid supporting such tourist activities next time.

The ride lasted approximately twenty minutes, though it felt considerably longer. The animal moved in jerky, unpredictable motions that kept me gripping tightly to avoid slipping sideways. When the time came to dismount, the camel lowered its head first, extending its front legs flat against the sand before tucking in its rear legs – a movement that made me feel as though we might flip forward over the animal’s neck. The whole experience left me tired despite sitting and with mixed feelings about the ethics of animal treatment in these settings.​

A Cave Made of Legends

The Hercules Caves hold a peculiar place between geology, mythology, and human labour. According to Greek legend, Hercules himself rested within these caves during the eleventh of his twelve labours, and some stories claim that he split the rock to create the Strait of Gibraltar. The cave’s opening to the sea has been carved into the unmistakable silhouette of the African continent, a feature believed to have been shaped by the Phoenicians in ancient times.

Yet the full story of the caves involves human hands as much as it does myth. Berber people quarried stone from the cave walls to craft millstones, and evidence of Neolithic occupation has been discovered within.

Obligatory Arranged Shopping Trip

Our guide’s next destinations were shopping stops, presented with an assurance that we weren’t obligated to purchase anything. Yet the dynamic felt awkward nonetheless. First came a rug shop, where a sales representative explained that hand-made rugs represented an investment, increasing in value over time with use. The pitch was not aggressive, but persistent. We remained sceptical – not only did we lack knowledge to evaluate what makes a rug worthy of its asking price, but the traditional designs on display clashed entirely with our home’s existing décor. It’s also not financially responsible to make a decision on a four-digit purchase within 15 minutes. We left empty-handed. The next destination though, a spice shop, proved more appealing.

The air hung with the mingled aromas of cumin, cinnamon, turmeric, and dozens of other powders and seeds. The vendor offered argan oil, a product for which Morocco is renowned. Argan trees grow nowhere else on Earth, thriving only in the arid and semi-arid regions of southwestern Morocco. We did end up selecting a few spice mixes and bottles of Argan oil to take home.

The Medina and Its Contradictions

Our guide seemed to possess a social network spanning the entire city. As we navigated the historical medina – that dense quarter of narrow alleyways where markets had operated for centuries – people would recognize him, calling out greetings. He’d pause to chat with shopkeepers and acquaintances, his connections evident in every interaction. The medina itself, however, told a different story about time and commerce. Once the true market of Tangier, it remains a marketplace physically, with shops lining the maze of streets. Yet the merchandise had largely shifted: where artisans once crafted goods by hand, now seems less likely.

The architecture retained its character – whitewashed walls, narrow passages designed for foot traffic, the occasional glimpse of a private courtyard, but the economic reality had transformed entirely. Another observation is that, despite French being an official language of Morocco, I heard it seldomly spoken. People spoke to each other in Arabic, and then English to the tourists. I didn’t even need to speak French at all, despite being comfortable enough in it to navigate around.

Meal Expectations Unfulfilled

Our guide led us to a Moroccan restaurant that catered entirely to cruise ship passengers and tourists, which assured us of safety in food hygiene, but a sign that the food wouldn’t be very good. As we sat down, we scanned the dining room and observed an absolute absence of locals. The meal opened with bread and mezze – a selection of eggplant, peppers, and tomatoes prepared simply but flavourfully. The first course confounded us: a puff pastry topped with powdered sugar and cinnamon arrived before the main dishes. This, we learned, was pastilla, a Moroccan speciality. Pastilla represents the sweet-savory fusion at the heart of Moroccan cuisine. It contained some meat wrapped in dough, but curiously topped with powdered sugar and cinnamon, creating a flavour profile we associated with dessert.

The main course consisted of chicken skewers with couscous, alongside beef stew and chicken stew (likely from a tagine, the traditional conical cooking vessel that permeates Moroccan cuisine). However, the dishes lacked adequate seasoning. The meat was tender enough, but without sufficient salt to draw out the spices’ potential, the meal felt somewhat muted.

The mint tea that concluded the meal redeemed the experience somewhat – hot, refreshing, infused with fresh mint leaves that had clearly come from somewhere nearby.

Returning Across the Strait

The ferry crossing back to Tarifa marked a transition from Morocco to Spain, from the medina’s complexity to European order.

Once we’d settled into our accommodation in Tarifa, we ventured to the hotel’s restaurant for seafood paella – a dish brimming with the flavours that a proper stock can provide, the broth enriched by the essence of shrimp, mussels, and fish. After a day navigating tours, negotiations, and sensory overload, the simple pleasure of excellent seafood felt like a proper ending, though ironically not a Moroccan meal.

Our time in Tangier offered cool highlights – the lighthouse, the legendary caves, and the medina’s winding streets. But the day also presented contradictions that made it memorable in unexpected ways. The camel ride proved far more uncomfortable than expected. The shopping stops tested our patience and skepticism. The restaurant catered so entirely to tourists that locals seemed relegated to a different Tangier altogether. Yet we’d glimpsed not merely the postcard version of a destination, but some of the friction inherent in modern tourism – the tension between preservation and commerce, between authentic space and commercialized experience.

You can view the photo album here

Three-Course Meal at the Airport Lounge and Flight Experience

Stepping into the Air Canada Signature lounge, we immediately noticed it bore little resemblance to typical airport lounges. Rather than the sparse buffet tables and limited offerings we’d encountered elsewhere, this space offered full meal service – a complete three-course dining experience with attendants who actually served courses, paired with a selection of beverages.Beyond the seated service, a small buffet stood available for those who wanted seconds or something different. When our flight was delayed, we had no complaints – it meant more time in this pocket of calm before the journey ahead. We were comfortable, well-fed, and far removed from the chaos of the terminal.

I finally got to sit in seat 1A. All the time I flew, the seat would be something like 22F or something. Not this time. I got first seat on the plane, positioned at the absolute front. Settling into a lie-flat bed on an overnight flight, I enjoyed the solitude and space that seat 1A afforded, soundly falling asleep and waking up on the other side in the morning.

Arrival and Immediate Pleasures

We touched down in Málaga, Spain (a coastal city in the Andalusia region, known for its beaches and proximity to numerous white villages) in the early evening. Rather than heading directly to our accommodation, we sought out something to satiate our hunger. We found a Georgian restaurant and ordered their grilled prawns – the proteins had developed a charred exterior from high-heat cooking that added a complex, smoky layer to their natural sweetness. The meat remained tender inside whilst the exterior had taken on deep caramelised notes.

We also tried khinkali, which appeared enormous compared to what we expected. These Georgian dumplings are traditionally filled with spiced meat and wrapped in dough, but what makes khinkali special is the broth sealed inside. We ate them by hand as tradition dictates, and when we bit through the thin dough, the warm, savoury liquid inside spilled out. The meat filling was generous. We endearingly referred to them as “dalongbao” (a reference to their size compared to their Asian dumpling cousins).

Morning Light of Málaga and the Drive South

The next morning we walked along Málaga’s beachfront, where the Mediterranean stretched to the horizon under clear skies. After grabbing brunch at a seaside café, we headed south, driving towards our next destination: Tarifa.

Driving in Spain quickly proved to be an unenjoyable experience. The roads are peppered with roundabouts, which require constant attention and adjustment. Speed limits switch suddenly – from 60 km/h to 100 km/h and then down to 80 km/h within a short span of 30 seconds. This made it tricky on highways where some drivers slow excessively to keep within limits, while others try to accelerate but are thwarted by the frequent changes. It felt like an exercise in patience. It went on like this pretty much all the way from Málaga to Tarifa.

The Windswept Town at Spain’s Southern Edge

Tarifa sits at the southernmost tip of continental Spain, positioned precisely where the Mediterranean Sea meets the Atlantic Ocean. This narrow geographic point creates something unique: the Strait of Gibraltar (the 14-kilometre-wide waterway separating Spain from Morocco) acts as a natural funnel for wind. When pressure systems align on either side of the strait, the air accelerates through this bottleneck with a phenomenon called the Venturi effect – wind speeds intensify dramatically as the air is forced through increasingly narrow space. On good days, wind speeds exceed 30 knots, which is precisely why Tarifa has become a destination for windsurfing, kitesurfing, and other wind-dependent water sports.

Our hotel embraced Moroccan design throughout its interiors. Ornate metal lanterns cast filtered light across the room, and swirling geometric patterns decorated walls and archways. The hotel even stocked the minibar complimentarily, an unexpected gesture that meant we could enjoy local beers, wines, and snacks without additional charges. This thoughtful detail transformed what could have been a standard hotel stay into something that felt genuinely hospitable and welcoming.

The town itself carries centuries of strategic importance. During AD 710, a Moorish officer named Tarif ibn Malik led an expeditionary force here, and the town was renamed in his honour, becoming the first Moorish settlement on the Iberian Peninsula. The most impressive remnant of this period is the Castillo de Guzman el Bueno, a Moorish fortress originally constructed in AD 960 on orders from Caliph Abderraman III of Córdoba to defend against raids from Africa. Its trapezoidal shape follows the contours of the hillside on which it stands. The castle’s name comes from Alonso Perez de Guzman, who famously defended it during a 1294 siege by the Marinids (North African invaders) in an act so selfless it became legendary. The castle now operates as a museum, and from its ramparts, visitors can see across the Strait to the Rif Mountains of Morocco.

We spent time walking through Tarifa’s old town, where narrow streets wind between whitewashed buildings. The historic centre still carries the imprint of its Moorish past in its layout and architecture.

One distinctive structure caught my eye: a tower by the waterfront resembling Lisbon’s Tower of Belém. Although visually similar, this tower is actually the Castillo de Santa Catalina. Its location offered strategic views over the Strait of Gibraltar and surrounding seas, serving various military and meteorological purposes through the decades. Beneath and around the castle, 20th-century bunkers and coastal defences are visible, highlighting the area’s long-standing importance in maritime security.

Beyond the town itself lies a remarkable feature: a man-made causeway connects Tarifa to the Isla de las Palomas (also called the Isle of Tarifa), a small island at the continent’s southernmost point. What makes this connection extraordinary is that on one side of the island, waves roll in from the Atlantic, whilst on the other side, they arrive from the Mediterranean. Walking across that bridge puts you at the official dividing line between two ocean basins.

Final Thoughts

The hotel stood out for its combination of good food and warm hospitality, making our stay comfortable and inviting. As for Tarifa itself, beyond the wind sports that define its character, I didn’t get a sense of a vast array of activities. The town serves largely as a launching point for those heading across the Strait to Tangier, Morocco, making it a practical gateway more than a standalone destination for exploration.

Photo albums here: Málaga, and Tarifa

Troy: Where Legend Meets Archaeological Reality

Standing before the ancient walls of Troy, we grappled with questions that have fascinated scholars and visitors for centuries.

Troy, designated as a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1998, sits on the mound of Hisarlık in northwestern Turkey, approximately 4.8 kilometres from the Dardanelles. This ancient city served as a crucial bridge between Anatolia and the Mediterranean world for over 4,000 years.

The Oral Tradition Question

One of the most intriguing aspects we discovered was the relationship between Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey and historical fact. These epic poems weren’t initially written documents but rather oral traditions passed down through generations of travelling bards called aoidoi. Archaeological evidence suggests these stories (like the story of the Trojan Horse) were orally composed and performed, likely accompanied by a lyre, sometime in the 8th century BCE before being transcribed.

The poems contain significant embellishment, they’re not non-fiction in the modern sense, but rather traditional tales that wove together historical events, cultural memories, and mythological elements. Modern scholars believe these oral traditions preserved genuine Bronze Age details, including descriptions of weapons, architectural features, and place names that had disappeared by Homer’s time.

The Trojan Horse: Myth or Memory?

While no direct archaeological evidence proves the existence of a wooden horse, the story likely preserves memories of actual siege tactics. Ancient armies did use various deception strategies, and the horse story may represent a folk memory of how Troy ultimately fell, whether through trickery, betrayal, or siege engineering.

The Nine Layers of Time

Troy’s archaeological complexity becomes apparent when examining its nine distinct settlement layers, designated Troy I through IX. Each represents a different period of occupation spanning over 4,000 years, from around 3600 BCE to 500 CE. These layers weren’t built simultaneously but rather represent successive cities constructed atop their predecessors’ ruins.

Troy I, the earliest settlement (3000-2550 BCE), featured massive limestone fortifications. Troy II (2500-2300 BCE) showed remarkable wealth and sophisticated urban planning. Troy VI (1750-1300 BCE) and Troy VIIa (1300-1180 BCE) correspond most closely to the period when the legendary Trojan War would have occurred, showing evidence of violent destruction that aligns with Homer’s narrative.

Construction Mysteries Revealed

The ancient builders demonstrated remarkable engineering skills. They chiselled limestone blocks using bronze tools and wooden wedges, creating walls that incorporated a distinctive “sawtooth” pattern common in Mycenaean architecture. The fortifications reached heights of over 9 metres, with wooden and mudbrick superstructures atop limestone foundations.

Regarding lead pipes, archaeological evidence suggests lead was indeed used in joints and connections of water systems, though the full extent of its use in Troy’s infrastructure remains under investigation. The builders had access to advanced metallurgy, including bronze working and sophisticated water management systems.

Environmental Changes Over Time

Troy’s decline wasn’t solely due to warfare. The ancient city’s strategic position near water sources gradually changed due to natural sedimentation. The coastline shifted over millennia, and what was once a major harbour became landlocked. Climate changes and the silting up of waterways contributed to the city’s eventual abandonment as a major trade centre. The land where the water used to be is now farmland.

We found seashells embedded in the excavated soil, evidence of Troy’s ancient connection to the sea and the geological processes that have reshaped this landscape over thousands of years.

The Troy Museum Experience

Our visit to the recently opened Troy Museum in nearby Tevfikiye village provided essential context for understanding the archaeological site. Tevfikiye, a small village in Çanakkale Province, houses this award-winning museum that opened in 2018 and contains over 2,000 artifacts spanning Troy’s entire history. The striking cube-shaped building, clad in weathering steel, was designed to echo the archaeological excavation process, its height matches the depth of Troy’s excavation layers.

The museum’s interactive displays helped us visualize how the ancient city would have appeared at its height, complete with digital reconstructions of the citadel and lower town. Particularly impressive was the replica of Schliemann’s famous “Treasure of Priam,” the original of which remains in Moscow’s Pushkin Museum.

Ayvalik: A Minor Stop with Major Impact

After the history lesson at Troy, Ayvalik served as a more relaxed interlude in our journey. We made a visit to çöp(m)adam, a social enterprise that demonstrates how traditional communities can embrace innovative solutions to modern challenges. The name itself contains a clever Turkish pun: “çöp” means “garbage” or “trash” in Turkish, while “madam” adopts the French word for “female.” Together, “çöp(m)adam” literally translates to “garbage ladies”, a playful yet meaningful reference to the project’s mission of transforming waste into fashionable accessories.

Founded by American social entrepreneur Tara Chantal Hopkins, çöp(m)adam addresses women’s employment challenges in a country where female workforce participation historically faced cultural barriers. The project employs local women who create unique handbags, accessories, and home goods from recycled materials, including fabric waste from local manufacturers. It provides women with their first salaried employment opportunities, enabling financial independence in a traditionally male-dominated economic environment.

See more photos of Troy here

Arriving in the Galápagos

Baltra’s arid, utilitarian appearance and developed municipal infrastructure contrasted with our mental image of a remote, untouched natural paradise. We would soon learn that while large portions of the archipelago are protected reserves, people actually live on some of the islands. Once we left the urban areas, we began to see the pristine nature of the islands.

The Galápagos has strict biosecurity protocols in place to preserve its delicate ecosystem. Visitors are not permitted to bring raw items like fresh fruit from the mainland, a necessary precaution to avoid introducing non-native species that could disrupt the islands’ fragile balance. In addition, all visitors must register with the Ecuadorian government prior to arrival and pay a park entry fee (included with the cruise), a process designed to regulate tourism and support conservation efforts. After passing through inspection, we boarded a bus that took us from the airport to a nearby pier. From there, we transferred to a zodiac – a rigid inflatable boat – which ferried us across to our cruise ship waiting offshore.

Life Onboard the Ship

Our ship, the Santa Cruz II, carried about 80 passengers. We were joining a group that had already been on board as part of a longer itinerary. Compared to our past experiences on Seabourn, this ship was a lot more modest. But as the expedition leader reminded us, the point of a Galápagos voyage is to spend as much time as possible off the ship, exploring.

There were no locks on our stateroom doors. We simply closed them behind us whenever we left. In an environment like this, where isolation and shared purpose define the experience, security concerns seem almost out of place. Each of us also received a waterproof backpack and a reusable bottle made from reclaimed ocean-bound plastic – a thoughtful gesture in line with the region’s conservation ethos.

We also began to meet our fellow passengers, many of whom came from the UK, Australia, and Canada. The demographic leaned older, with many retirees onboard, and we found ourselves among the youngest people on the ship. Everyone was friendly and curious, and conversations often revolved around past travels, conservation, and natural history. Dining onboard was communal by default – assigned seating was not the norm – so we rarely had a chance to eat on our own. This format naturally led to many interactions and opportunities to hear stories from all walks of life.

The Big 15 of the Galápagos

After spending the first few hours on the ship getting acquainted with it and going through the safety lectures, the expedition crew introduced us to the Galápagos Big 15 – a list of the most iconic and unique wildlife species in the islands. These include creatures such as the blue-footed booby, Galápagos albatross, and marine iguana. Some, like the Galápagos tortoise and flightless cormorant, exist nowhere else on Earth.

First Landing: Las Bachas, Santa Cruz Island

That same afternoon, we prepared for our first excursion: a wet landing at Las Bachas beach on Santa Cruz Island. A wet landing involves disembarking directly into the water about knee deep and wading up to the shore – a practical approach given the lack of deepwater docks in the Galápagos. The sand here was strikingly white and soft, composed largely of decomposed coral that had been broken down by wave action, fish, and natural erosion over time – a common process in tropical marine environments where coral reefs dominate the coastal ecosystem.

The terrain transitioned quickly from beach to rocky outcrops, with jagged volcanic rock underfoot. These islands were formed by a volcanic hotspot beneath the Nazca Plate, and the evidence of their fiery origins is everywhere – from the black basalt fields to the jagged cliffs that define much of the coast.

First Wildife Encounters

Our first encounter with Galápagos Big 15 came quickly: marine iguanas. Unique among lizards, these reptiles forage for algae underwater and can remain submerged for several minutes at a time. Their flattened tails help them swim, and they often warm themselves on the rocks after a dive. As they expel excess salt through specialised nasal glands, white crystalline patches form around their mouths – a distinctive trait that gives them a crusted appearance. Their dark colouring provides camouflage against the lava, though it also makes spotting them more challenging.

They are the only sea-foraging lizards in the world, and they use their strong, clawed feet to cling to rocks on the seafloor while feeding. Their sharp claws help them grip submerged volcanic surfaces as they graze on marine algae, even amid ocean swells and currents. This adaptation allows them to dive and walk along the bottom rather than swim continuously, conserving energy as they feed on algae growing on submerged rocks and reefs along the Galápagos coast.

Great frigatebirds soared above, using rising columns of warm air known as thermals to gain altitude with barely a wingbeat. The males of this species are known for their red throat pouch, which they inflate during mating displays.

As we moved along the beach and volcanic rock, we came a great blue heron standing on the black basalt. – it’s one of the largest wading birds in the archipelago. With its long neck and dagger-like bill, the heron watched the shallows for any movement. These birds hunt by remaining still for extended periods before striking quickly at fish or crustaceans in the intertidal zone.

The lava gull is endemic to the Galápagos and is considered one of the rarest gulls in the world. It has a dark head, sooty brown body, and a sharp bill, and it often scavenges or opportunistically steals food from other birds and even humans.

This small, dark heron is frequently seen stalking the shallows with deliberate steps, as shown here on an algae-covered rock. They blend in well with the coastal environment and are skilled fishers, often remaining perfectly still before darting at prey.

This brightly coloured songbird stands out starkly against the dark volcanic rock. Male yellow warblers are especially easy to spot due to their vivid plumage and are often heard before they are seen, thanks to their high-pitched, melodic calls.

Vivid Sally Lightfoot crabs clung to the stones, with their red and orange shells flashing brightly against the dark rock. In the past some local communities and visiting sailors did eat these crabs, though they were not a staple food source due to their small size and challenging preparation.

Dotted along the sand were small, round holes were their burrows. They crabs dig into the soft coral sand to create sheltered retreats where they can hide from predators and the heat of the sun. At the first sign of movement, they scuttled quickly back into these holes, disappearing with remarkable speed.

Lava lizards darted between rocks. These reptiles are sexually dimorphic, with males often displaying more vibrant colours and performing push-up displays to assert dominance or attract mates. They play an important role in the island ecosystem, helping to control insect populations and contributing to seed dispersal through occasional plant consumption. This makes them both predator and passive participant in the island’s delicate ecological balance.

Though we didn’t see any sea turtles, we came across their tracks, which nest on Las Bachas. The beach gets its name from the remnants of American military barges abandoned here after World War II. Though the rusting metal is long gone, the name “Las Bachas”—a corruption of “barges” – remains.

After our walk, we had a chance to swim. We brought our own goggles and explored just below the surface. Though we hadn’t been issued our full snorkelling gear yet, the visibility was decent. We managed to spot a curious eel weaving through the rocks and a shy pufferfish hovering near the seabed.

Night-Time Hunters Beneath the Hull

That evening, we mistakenly ended up at the German-language briefing for the next day’s excursion. I had listened to the German announcement, thinking that was where we were supposed to go and in my mind I didn’t even realize I was mixing up the langauges. We got a laugh out of the mix-up later.

We were told by other travelers that at night, we may get to see animals following the light of the boat. We took a peek and got to see some pelicans lingering near the stern, using the artificial glow to spot fish drawn to the illumination. Below them, we caught glimpses of reef sharks weaving in and out of the light, using the same opportunity to hunt more efficiently.

Unlike most cruises where the first day is reserved for settling in, we dove straight into exploration. From the very first landing, the Galápagos began unfolding its natural complexity, offering glimpses into an ecosystem both ancient and finely balanced.

See the full photo album from our first day in the Galápagos here.

Palaver Point: A Frigid Visit to a Chinstrap Penguin Colony

Palaver Point was our first destination, home to a colony of chinstrap penguins.

Unlike the gentoos and Adélies we had seen on previous days, these penguins seemed to stay close to their nesting areas, seemingly reluctant to venture far in the harsh conditions.

The harsh weather conditions may have contributed to this behaviour, as the penguins sought shelter from the intensifying Antarctic elements.

Despite their limited movement, the colony was surprisingly vocal. The penguins communicated with loud, persistent calls that echoed across the few colonies present. This vocalization might have been related to the weather conditions, or serving as a way for penguin families to maintain contact during limited visibility.

Our hike around Palaver Point proved more challenging than previous excursions. The combination of extremely dry air and intense cold caused my facial skin to dry out and crack. Without a balaclava for protection, my face remained numb throughout the entire expedition on land.

The Antarctic continent is technically classified as a desert due to its minimal precipitation, and the air contains almost no moisture, particularly in these coastal areas where temperatures can fluctuate dramatically. Riding the zodiac only intensified the cold, as the wind cut through every layer, making it hard to focus on anything other than staying warm.

Harry Island: A Zodiac Tour in Whiteout Conditions

In the afternoon, we joined the scheduled zodiac tour around Harry Island, despite the worsening weather conditions. The fear of missing out on a potential wildlife sighting or spectacular ice formation motivated our decision. As we set out, the visibility quickly deteriorated. Heavy snowfall and dense fog obscured the landscape, making it difficult to see much beyond the boat. The ride itself was far from smooth – the zodiac bounced over the rough waters rather than gliding through them, creating a jarring and prolonged exposure to the elements. The splashing got us all wet, making it us all even colder. We passed by a few seals lounging on ice floes, but it was difficult to even pay them any mind.

With the snow reducing visibility, the highlights of the tour were limited to a rock tower emerging from the water and a small grotto. While these geological formations were interesting, the extreme conditions made it difficult to appreciate them fully. It didn’t help either when our zodiac driver was an older fellow who droned on about Antarctic poetry – of all things – while the wind whipped across the open water. Poetry and subzero temperatures are not a great combination. In retrospect, skipping this tour might have been the better choice, and we later learned that many others had opted to stay on the ship instead of braving the cold.

Nature Always Has the Upper Hand

The sixth day of our Antarctic journey provided a valuable lesson in respecting the continent’s unpredictable and extreme environment. They remind us that we are visitors in one of Earth’s most extreme environments, where conditions can change rapidly and where nature always maintains the upper hand.

We landed late in the day in Auckland, and at that time many restaurants were already closed. We managed to get to Beast & Butterflies fifteen minutes before the kitchen closed. We indulged in two standout dishes: the first was a lamb rump from Hawke’s Bay, a region in the North Island famous for its quality meats, and the second was a whole yellow belly flounder, a fish native to New Zealand waters. The lamb was cooked to perfection and was accompanied by sweet mini peppers, and briny olives. The flounder had a satisfying char on the exterior and was dressed with confit lemon, adding a subtle citrus note, and scattered with capers and parsley for bursts of salt and freshness.

After our countryside adventures, we returned to Auckland for the final leg of our trip. By the time we arrived, dusk had already settled over the city. A thick blanket of fog obscured much of the harbour. The true culinary gem of our Auckland experience was Ahi, a restaurant that takes pride in sourcing ingredients from across New Zealand. The menu even lists the local origin of the main component for each dish.

Each dish showcased a different region of the country. We began with a unique appetizer from the Hunter Hills in the South Island: wallaby tartare served on a chip made from puffed wagyu beef tendon. Tartare, being a preparation of finely chopped raw meat, offers a pure, unadulterated taste of the protein. In this case, the wallaby tartare presented a lean, mild gamey flavour profile with a subtle sweetness. As for the crispy chip underneath, while it was good, I wouldn’t have known it was a wagyu beef tendon without being told.

Next, we savoured a Te Matuku oyster from Waiheke Island, located in the Hauraki Gulf near Auckland. The oyster was accompanied by apple marigold and a morning cider sauce, which added a subtle sweetness and acidity that complemented the briny freshness of the oyster.

From Akaroa Harbour on the Banks Peninsula, we enjoyed vodka-cured Akaroa salmon. The dish featured a bloody mary dressing, confit green tomatoes (essentially tomatoes slowcooked into a paste), and dill crème fraîche. The rich, silky texture of the salmon was perfectly offset by the tangy dressing.

Our main course featured Provenance lamb rump (a cut from the back of the lamb near the loin) from Ranfurly in Central Otago. The lamb was served with brussels sprouts, sheep’s labneh (a Middle Eastern-style yogurt cheese), kyoho grapes, and smoked kohlrabi (a type of German cabbage). The lamb rump itself had a crisp layer on the outside with a tender inside.

We also tried the butterfish, a species found in the coastal waters around New Zealand. It was served with celeriac pappardelle, scampi velouté (French-style sauce), mushrooms from Ora’s Farm, and a sunflower seed gremolata (an herb sauce). The delicate flavour of the butterfish was elevated by the earthy mushrooms and the rich, creamy velouté.

To conclude our meal, we indulged in a Kapiti honey cake, accompanied by rhubarb and cardamom sorbet and orange mascarpone. The dessert was a perfect balance of sweet and tart flavours, with the aromatic cardamom adding depth to the refreshing sorbet.

Throughout our meal, the waiter was exceptionally knowledgeable, providing us with fascinating details about each dish and its origin. This added an educational element to our dining experience. While our time in Auckland was brief, these culinary experiences left us with a newfound appreciation for New Zealand’s food scene.

See more of Auckland here

Circular Quay

The Sydney Opera House, with its distinctive sail-like design, is not just an architectural marvel but also a UNESCO World Heritage site. Completed in 1973, this masterpiece by Danish architect Jørn Utzon has become synonymous with Sydney’s skyline. Its unique expressionist modern design features a series of precast concrete “shells” that form the roof structure, creating a striking silhouette against the harbour waters.

Adjacent to the Opera House stands the equally impressive Sydney Harbour Bridge. This steel bridge opened in 1932 and remains the world’s largest steel arch bridge. There is a tourist attraction there where people can walk along the arch of the steel beams (people are tethered for safety).

Souvenir shops lined the waterfront selling stereotypical Australian souvenirs like kangaroo and koala plushies. They also sell a lot of hats, which I recalled that those are also very stereotypically Australian thanks to people like Steve Irwin, the Crocodile Hunter.

The Royal Botanic Garden

Established in 1816, this green oasis in the heart of Sydney is Australia’s oldest scientific institution. The gardens showcase a diverse collection of native and exotic plants, especially ones that are not present where I live. One of the standout flora was the Bird of Paradise plant, native to South Africa but thriving in Sydney’s climate. Its vibrant orange and blue flowers, resembles an exotic bird in flight.

I also encountered a variety of birds that I don’t usually see (I’m told some of them are garbage birds though). One amusing incident involved birds in the trees nearly missing some oblivious bystanders with their droppings (and oblivious even after the fact).

The Royal Botanic Garden proved to be more than just a green space; it was a living museum of biodiversity, a sanctuary for urban wildlife, and a peaceful retreat from the city’s bustling energy.

Barangaroo

We also took a walk through a nearby neighbourhood called Barangaroo. This area, named after an influential Aboriginal woman from the early colonial period, has undergone a remarkable transformation from a disused container terminal to a vibrant waterfront precinct with a mix of parklands, cultural spaces, and modern architecture.

Walking through Barangaroo, with its urban renewal, reminded me of strolling through Yaletown and Olympic Village in Vancouver, offering harbour views and an urban atmosphere.

Manly Beach

People also associate beaches with Australia. Close by to Sydney is Manly Beach. This popular stretch of golden sand is renowned for its excellent surfing conditions and laid-back atmosphere, and it also has an amusing name. According to Capt. Arthur Phillip, who named the beach, wrote of the indigenous people living there, “their confidence and manly behaviour made me give the name of Manly Cove to this place”

Birds also hang out in the nearby trees, chirping so loudly, they sounded like bats. It almost makes it scary to even approach the tree even though I know they’re just birds.

Manly Beach encapsulates the quintessential Australian beach culture – a perfect blend of natural beauty, outdoor activities, and relaxed coastal living.

Culinary Adventures

Sydney’s culinary scene proved to be quite delightful and exotic. In the spirit of trying local specialities, I sampled grilled kangaroo at The Meat and Wine Co. This lean meat, similar in texture to beef, offered a milder flavour with a subtle gamey note. It’s a unique protein that reflects Australia’s distinctive fauna and culinary traditions.

Another local delicacy at The Meat and Wine Co I had the pleasure of tasting was barramundi, also known as Asian sea bass. This white-fleshed fish is prized for its sweet, buttery flavour and firm, moist texture. When cooked, barramundi offers a delicate taste that’s less “fishy” than many other species.

Dinner with friends I know in Sydney at Bar Totti’s was another culinary delight. This pasta place came highly recommended, and it did not disappoint. Luckily, we had a reservation because by the time we arrived, there was a crowd of people waiting at the door. This trendy eatery has earned a reputation for its exceptional pasta dishes cooked al dente with flavourful sauces that complement rather than overwhelm the pasta itself. It’s also renowned for its baked bread, a signature item on their menu. The bread is served fresh out of the oven, airy and fluffy on the inside with a perfectly crisp crust. It’s also accompanied by a variety of dips and spreads.

I also found myself developing a newfound appreciation for salads, discovering that they can be far more than just a boring mix of greens. The city’s cafes showcased salads bursting with variety – multiple types of leafy greens, complex carbohydrates, diverse proteins, and flavourful dressings that elevated the humble salad to a satisfying meal.

Overall, I was quite impressed by Sydney’s food scene.

See more of Sydney here