Food on the move, Afghanistan
After an armed escort by bus through the Khyber Pass and a speeding taxi to Kabul on billiard table tarmac, we travelled west to Bamiyan on bumpy roads of rock and gravel. Here in the fertile valley I inadvertently led my girlfriend to the Unesco-listed Buddha Niches site through a partially cleared minefield, coached to safety by US military shouting, “Stay on the trail!” As we were hitching back to Kabul days later, a family offered us a ride. The patriarch prepared lunch by heating a pressure cooker on a kerosene burner in the back seat as we drove, simmering the stew right next to me. I was relieved when the car got a puncture, forcing our meal to be cooked in the fields, closer to health and safety standards I was comfortable with.
John H
Sixties road trip to Russia
Summer 1967, I drove from the UK to Moscow via Berlin and Warsaw, returning via Kiev and Prague, covering about 5,000 miles in two weeks. Travelled in a Vauxhall Cresta with three companions, and camped along the way. Every day was an adventure. Few people in eastern Europe had seen foreigners before, and wherever we stopped we were surrounded by curious but friendly locals. Once or twice we lost our way and passersby were happy to get in our car and navigate, or lead the way in theirs. The roads were surprisingly good, with little traffic outside the towns. An exhilarating experience, providing a glimpse of a way of life that has now disappeared.
Norman
Me and Boris Becker, Spain 1994
Backdrop of USA World Cup, soundtrack of Corona and Alex Party and A-levels aced (that still means borderline passed, right?), lads’ holiday to Roquetas de Mar. The opposite sex, sunburn, bars, fiestas, skinny-dipping, clubbing until dawn, jet skis, obscene amounts of Malibu (we didn’t know any better) and Fanta, beach footy, embarrassing public nudity and karaoke. Something that started as drunken BS one night escalated and for the next week I had to intermittently pretend I was Boris Becker. We looked quite similar and I knew GCSE German.
Antony T
Music and food road trip
Beginning with bluegrass and BBQ in Kentucky, through country & western and catfish in Nashville, catching rock’n’roll with southern fried chicken in Memphis we ended up, via the Natchez Trace Parkway, on the banks of the Mississippi with soul music and creole gumbo. Start a two-day trip on the Natchez Trace forest trail at the Loveless Cafe, on highway 100 just outside Nashville, for an outstanding breakfast, and stop off half-way with a trip to Elvis’ birthplace at Tupelo.
Ashley Tiffin
Biblical charms
Aged 20, I toured Israel with my college choir – no mobiles, no internet, the whole trip arranged by phone and letter. Using public buses, we crisscrossed the country. We sang in the Rose Chapel on the Via Dolorosa, in a music conservatoire for Russian emigrés in Dimona in the Negev desert, and in the Church of the Multiplication of the Loaves and Fishes. We danced in the bomb shelter disco of a kibbutz, rode camels, explored Jerusalem, climbed Masada at sunrise, floated in the Dead Sea, smoked Time cigarettes and got sunburned by the Sea of Galilee.
Michael
Spanish transit
When I was 14, my mum, stepdad, three younger siblings and I drove to Spain in a bright blue and purple transit van. We missed our ferry, wandered into a high security area of the port and set off the alarms, then reversed into a car as we tried to board. In Spain, we were almost savaged by a dog on the beach, my mum fell down some steps and badly bruised her hip, and we all got terribly sunburned. On the way back through France, our dirty washing, tied to the roof of the van, blew off, sending dirty pants and socks flying all over the road. We still laugh about it.
Donna Tracy
