DESERT Tales from the
Through sharing their traditions and stories of survival with a small number of visitors, the drought-ravaged desert communities of Namibia’s remote north-west have found new ways to help preserve their cultures and this wild landscape in a changing world
Words and photographs
Karen Edwards
Clutching his walking pole with both hands behind his neck like a pensive snooker player, my guide Stanley Kasaona stopped to scan the ochrecoloured dunes of the Namib Desert.
“It’s as though we are on another planet, isn’t it?” he mused softly while staring off into the distance. The sands were speckled with occasional tufts of bushman grass and stretched for kilometres. Across the horizon, the setting sun had turned a cloudless blue sky into a hazy pastel pink. Everything was silent apart from the light whistle of the wind as it gently rearranged the golden granules around our feet.
Beneath us, on the banks of Namibia’s Kunene River, Serra Cafema – a Wilderness-owned, solar-powered luxury tented camp – glistened like a mirage under the waning light. Surrounded by wild tamarix ferns, emerald acacias and yellow-flowering nara bushes, it emerged like an oasis, shimmering beneath the Cafema mountains.
Retraining his deep-brown eyes to the steep descent in front of us, Stanley turned and offered me his hand: “Come on; this way.”
Within seconds, we were gliding at speed, our hands tightly clasped. My walking boots
sliced through the powdery sand, even as I sank calf-deep into the dune with every step. We stopped to catch our breath at the base, laughing at the thrill of playfully slipping and skidding down this mammoth dune.
“Now we are friends,” Stanley exclaimed with a big smile.
WHEN THE RAINS STOPPED
It was August and I had come to the Namib Desert, just a few kilometres from the Namibia-Angola border, for more than its dunes. Few make it to this far north-western corner of the country, which is home to a tapestry of communities living in an increasingly transforming and harsh environment. I wanted to see whether tourism was helping the region’s remotest villages to conserve this ancient land, despite the toughest of conditions.
The Namib Desert sprawls for more than 80,000 sq km, stretching the Atlantic coastline from southern Angola to north-western South Africa, and it is one of the oldest deserts on Earth. With an estimated annual rainfall of less than 10mm, it is also thought to be among the driest. As a result, life in this region relies on water from the perennial Kunene River, which slithers the foothills of the Cafema mountains, creating a natural border between Namibia and Angola.
Not a raindrop in sight (left–right) Stanley leads the way through the sands of the ancient Namib Desert, where some areas may date back as far as 80 million years; Hupize [right], one of Crocodile’s daughters, and her child; (previous spread) parts of the Namib Desert are among the driest places on Earth, which means the current droughts are making life even tougher for its communities
When the walls came tumbling down
As Italy’s Gorizia and Slovenia’s Nova Gorica become the first cross-border Capitals of Culture, we visit an area still coming to terms with its divided past
Words Debbie Ward
Roaming around us as we chatted, Mauro Leban’s golden retriever unknowingly recreated a famous picture. Back in 1947, a cow belonging to the retired farmer’s family was photographed in their yard. It stood astride a freshly painted white line, its front legs inYugoslavia (now Slovenia), its back legs in Italy.
The image came to represent the absurdity of a border drawn up in Paris by the Allies in the aftermath of the SecondWorldWar. In the newly Italian city of Gorizia, 45km north of Trieste, the line divided property and relatives overnight. As the Cold War went on, it was reinforced with barbed-wire fences patrolled by guards. Mauro had to show a special passport just to access half of his fields.
Since Slovenia joined Italy in the EU in 2004, and then the Schengen area in 2007, the border has been essentially invisible.This
year, at the latter’s invitation, Gorizia and its modern Slovenian counterpart Nova Gorica become the first joint-nation European Capitals of Culture. It’s a momentous occasion given the 20th-century history of the two cities, though one that few outside this region would recognise. I wanted to learn more about two neighbours still trying to make sense of the situation that divided them.
ACROSS THE DIVIDE
The Berlin-style division is just one aspect of the area’s complex heritage. Gorizia began the 20th century as a multicultural corner of the Austro-Hungarian Empire in which four languages – Friulian,Venetian, German and Slovene – were in daily use. During the First WorldWar, the city was taken by Italy; in the SecondWorldWar, it fell into German hands; then, after the war,Yugoslavia took over. At each turn, parts of its population endured
suppression. By the time the infamous line handed most of Gorizia to Italy in 1947, it had been ruled by Mussolini, Hitler andTito. Piazza dellaVittoria, the de facto centre of Gorizia, betrays layers of this complicated past.The square is edged with Austro-Hungarian-era pastel buildings and a Baroquestyle church with onion-domed bell towers. Café terraces cluster around the shrapnel-pocked Neptune fountain and everything is overlooked by a rebuilt hilltop castle containing a museum on the FirstWorldWar. I wandered over to Gorizia’s cathedral, another reconstruction.Thankfully, its old chapel remains intact, retaining its 15th-century frescoes. Elsewhere, another survivor of the city’s torrid history is the 18th-century synagogue, now home to a museum.The town’s Jewish community weren’t so fortunate: two Jewish teenagers were Gorizia’s sole survivors of Germany’s SecondWorldWar
Debbie Ward; Maja Murenc; Photo Studio Altran from Gorizia Contesa: Fotografie dello Studio Altran 1944–1954 by Antonella Gallarotti
Dancing across the divide (this page; above) The opening Capitals of Culture ceremony is going to be held on the Piazza della Transalpina/Trg Evrope, a square shared by both Gorizia and Nova Gorica that was once divided by a barbed-wire fence; (opposite page; clockwise from far left) the infamous photo from 1947 that shows the newly drawn border splitting the yard (and an oblivious cow) of Mauro Leban’s family between two countries; modern-day Mauro and his golden retriever in the same yard; the Go! Borderless festivities see events and exhibitions pondering the legacy of a divide that scarred these regions for generations
Lines
on a
The three Guianas of Guyane, Suriname and Guyana reveal a unique corner of South America where the past and present intersect and borders fade into shared legacies
& photographs
Words
George Kipouros
This was, without a doubt, the most mesmerising landing I had ever experienced.The vast expanse of the Atlantic’s deep blues suddenly gave way to a seemingly infinite sea of emerald green, stretching unbroken to the horizon. Only the sinuous rivers, shimmering like molten silver in the sunlight, disrupted the dense, untamed jungle. For 30 breathtaking minutes, the canopy below showcased nature’s great secret, untouched and eternal. As the plane descended to Cayenne, I felt as though we were being swallowed whole by the beating heart of the Amazon rainforest. And yet, paradoxically, this wild, remote corner of the world was officially European Union territory. A good ten hours earlier, I had departed Paris on what was technically an ‘internal’ flight, a notion that felt entirely surreal as we touched down in French Guyane amid the lush and untamed wilderness.
I was embarking on a two-week journey through the three Guianas – Guyane (French Guiana), Suriname and Guyana – a trio of nations forming one of the least-visited corners of South America. For most travellers who venture here, the allure lies in the unparalleled wildlife of the Amazon basin: vibrant birds, elusive cats and acrobatic primates. But I sought more than the jungle’s famed inhabitants; I came to uncover the stories of the diverse people who call this region home, exploring a tapestry of cultures and histories unlike anywhere else on Earth.
THE AMAZON’S FRENCH CORNER
Cayenne, Guyane’s miniature capital, welcomed me with its sleepy charm and the humid embrace of the tropics. At its heart is the Place des Palmistes, lined with towering
royal palms.This was a hub of life: families lingered on benches while children chased each other in the shadows of pastel-coloured colonial-era Creole houses with intricate wrought-iron balconies.
Gwen, my encyclopaedic local guide, was quick to take me to the city’s “highlight”: the bustling central market, where the aromas of cinnamon and pepper filled the air. Here, vendors from the Hmong community (originally from former French Indochina colonies) sold vegetables cultivated on fertile plots just outside the city, while Amerindians, Brazilians, Chinese, Surinamese and French locals bartered in a mix of languages.
wealthiest corners. Gwen shared with me the town’s layered history, pointing out its Indigenous roots, its foundation as a French penal colony and its modern identity as both Amazonian and French.
“We are a mix of migrations... many forced and some voluntary”
The city’s cultural mosaic truly took shape during the 1970s economic boom, spurred on by the construction of the Guyane Space Centre. Migrants, including Hmong farmers and Chinese labourers from Canton, were brought in to support the growth.
“We are a mix of migrations,” Gwen noted, “many forced and some voluntary.”
Cayenne’s cultural tapestry reflects its long history of migration,from 19th-century indentured workers to more recent arrivals seeking opportunities in one of South America’s
As we wandered, I asked Gwen what had happened to the people who were here before the Europeans. Her expression grew heavier and more thoughtful. “Alas, only six of the original 22 Indigenous Amerindian groups remain in Guyane,” she replied, her words
providing a stark reminder of the patterned devastation that colonisation left in its wake.
Nearby, Gwen gestured towards the Governor’s Palace, the oldest building in Cayenne, which was constructed in 1729 and now serves as the seat of the French prefecture.
“A bit ironic, isn’t it?” she remarked with sadness, pointing out how this symbol of colonial authority had endured while so many Indigenous communities had not. Her words hung in the air as we prepared to explore the deeper layers of the region’s colonial past.
ISLANDS OF NO SALVATION
My journey soon took me to Kourou, a modern town built to support Europe’s space programme. But it wasn’t the promise of rockets that drew me here. Offshore lay my true destination: the Îles du Salut.
These ‘Islands of Salvation’ are as haunting as their name is evocative. Once home to Indigenous peoples, they later became notorious as a penal colony. In the late 1960s, this infamy entered the global imagination through the extraordinary tale of Papillon, the famous memoir by Henri Charrière, who chronicled his harrowing experiences as a prisoner on the islands.
“His story is incredible,” admitted Gwen, “but it’s also the story of countless others who didn’t escape.”
Charrière, who claimed to have been falsely convicted of murder and was eventually pardoned in 1970, was sentenced to hard labour on these islands in 1933. His memoir recounts years of brutal conditions, constant attempts at escape and unimaginable resilience in the face of despair. Charrière was not
alone. Between 1852 and 1953, over 67,000 convicts passed through these shores.
And yet the islands are a paradox: an Edenic beauty of lush vegetation and unimaginably pristine beaches quite at odds with their history of despair. As we strolled Île Royale, the largest and most developed of the three (Devil’s Island itself is not open to visitors), the size of the penal colony became evident.We started with the prison ruins, where Gwen led me to a small cell, its narrow space barely enough to sit up or lie down.
“This is what freedom fighters and petty thieves alike endured,” she explained.
“Many never left these walls.”
Île Saint-Joseph was the most feared. Its crumbling ruins still evoke an eerie atmosphere. “Once sent here, prisoners were often lost to the world,” Gwen explained.
A difficult past (this page; clockwise from top left) Creole houses in Cayenne’s Place du Coq; the golden sands of Île Saint-Joseph belie the island’s dark past; a local man cycles past Cayenne City Hall; a capuchin monkey on Île Royale; one of many vendors of Hmong descent in Cayenne Market; (opposite page; clockwise from top left) a glimpse of the Amazon upon landing in Guyane; Cayenne as seen from Fort Cépérou; the largest building in the Île Royale penal colony is the military hospital, which was built for personnel stationed on the island rather than prisoners; (previous spread) Kaieteur Falls is more than four times higher than Niagara
The Great Gatsby In search of the
It has been 100 years since F Scott Fitzgerald’s Jazz Age masterpiece The Great Gatsby was first published, yet the ‘Gold Coast’ mansions of New York State that inspired it have lost none of their lustre
Words Jacqui Agate
Northport Bay shone like a slab of marble, the water’s surface veined with gold from a melting evening sun.The sky was raked with clouds and every boat in the harbour appeared twice: once in its solid form and a second time as a sparkling reflection. On the horizon, gargantuan homes cast their own images in the bay. I imagined that any one of them could have a green light burning at the end of its dock – one that a lovelorn Jay Gatsby might reach out for in vain.
I was in the small waterfront village of Northport, on Long Island’s North Shore, a region whose extravagant displays of wealth have earned it the nickname the ‘Gold Coast’. The area, with its twinkling early 20th-century mansions, storybook towns and heartstopping Long Island Sound views, is known as the inspiration for F Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby, which will celebrate 100 years since its first publication in April 2025.
For me, the journey to New York State in search of the novel’s real-life locations was something close to a pilgrimage. I first read The Great Gatsby when I was a teenager and have returned to it almost every year since, hungrily scanning the pages for nuggets of wisdom, like a prospector panning for gold. My copy, whose cover features a doe-eyed Daisy Buchanan, is faded and dog-eared.
entered the public domain and a flurry of adaptations, from graphic novels to theatre plays, followed (succeeding Baz Luhrmann’s flamboyant 2013 movie). Right now, The Great Gatsby is the most sought-after ticket on New York City’s Broadway, while sites across the state are making plans for special centenary celebrations.
It’s no wonder that the novel has such universal appeal. As it follows Jay Gatsby’s quest to win back the heart of affluent socialite Daisy Buchanan, the book takes a scalpel to the human condition. Love, hope and idealism clash with gross excess, egotism and the hollowness of the privileged classes. It holds a cracked mirror to American society, and its comments on class, racism and the fragility of the American Dream feel as precise today as they must have back then.
“There’s no doubt that the sparkling lives of Long Island’s elite served as a muse for the book”
I’m not alone in my love for this classic novel, either.Today, Gatsby fever has reached a crescendo. In 2021, the book
The Great Gatsby is equally a novel about a specific place and moment within an era, and the RoaringTwenties glitter and rumble on the page. It is set in 1922, a time period sandwiched between two World Wars, in which the USA cemented its status as a global superpower, bolstered by booming manufacturing industries and the exploitation of natural resources such as coal and timber. It was also a time when prohibition laws failed to quell the flow of illegal liquor. As Fitzgerald wrote: ‘The parties were bigger, the pace was faster, the buildings were higher, the morals looser.’
EGG HUNT
The fictional Long Island peninsulas of ‘East Egg’ and ‘West Egg’ – likely based on real-life communities – drive the novel’s plot.The former is the domain of the old-money elite, such as the characters Tom and Daisy Buchanan, while the nouveau riche, including Gatsby himself, live on the adjacentWest Egg.
Fitzgerald wrote: ‘Twenty miles from the city a pair of enormous eggs, identical in contour and separated only by a courtesy bay, jut out into the most domesticated body of salt water in theWestern hemisphere, the great wet barnyard of Long Island Sound.’
Pore over a map of Long Island’s Gold Coast and you’ll make out a pair of peninsulas that fit Fitzgerald’s description. Divided by the Manhasset Bay, the misshapen spits of land known as Great Neck and Cow Neck are widely considered to be the reallifeWest Egg and East Egg. Even today, the novel is still a key driver of tourism to this mansion-stitched region.
Fitzgerald and his wife Zelda lived in Great Neck (‘the less fashionable of the two’) from 1922 to 1924. And while it’s not clear which, if any, of the remaining Gold Coast mansions the Fitzgeralds frequented, there’s no doubt that the sparkling lives of Long Island’s elite (a set that the Fitzgeralds were newly part of) served as a fertile muse for the book.
Leaving behind the boutique shops and seafood restaurants of my Northport base, I began by driving around Great Neck.The home the Fitzgeralds lived in – an elegant Mediterranean-style property – is privately owned and therefore not available ⊲
All that glitters (opposite page; clockwise from top) The iconic cover of the original 1925 first edition of The Great Gatsby was painted by the Spanish artist Francis Cugat; the historical buildings of Northport; Manhasset Bay separates the two Long Island peninsulas of Great Neck and Cow Neck, thought to be the inspirations for Fitzgerald’s West Egg and East Egg; (this page) Northport Bay is part of Long Island’s so-called ‘Gold Coast’, whose mansions recall a time when this was the playground of the USA’s wealthiest capitalists; (previous spread) Oheka Castle is still the largest private home in New York State
GREAT GOOD The and the
A network of newly designated marine protected areas within the Great Bear Sea is now safeguarding Northern British Columbia’s wildlife-filled waters – and First Nations voices are leading the charge
Words Claire Dodd
Protecting the sea (left–right) In 2022, research by the World Wildlife Federation showed that almost 90% of shipping routes in the Great Bear Sea — tankers, ferries, cruise ships and other commercial vessels — travelled through critical whale habitats, making the monitoring of their speeds and waste vitally important to the survival of endangered species such as humpbacks (pictured); the Douglas Channel is one of the most diverse ecosystems within British Columbia, known in particular for its abundant marine wildlife, including humpbacks, orcas, seals and sea lions; (previous spread) a grizzly bear forages on mussels in Knight Inlet
The silence felt loud as I leant over the bow and greedily scanned the waters. Now that the boat’s engines were dead, all that was left was the gentle lapping of the sea.
My eyes were fixed firmly on the water when, suddenly, I heard a “hffffffttttttt” sound. With a breathy gulp that sounded like a wave breaking on the shore, the huge jaws of a humpback broke the surface, scooping up wriggling fish caught in a carefully made net of bubbles.
My guide Rob Bryce, owner and operator of Northern BC Jet Boat Tours, was beaming, even though he’d probably glimpsed this scene on a million occasions. “Lots of times, they just look like a log with barnacles on, then boom: they just go up in the air!” he said.
The air still carried the whiff of salt and slightly putrid fish as I, remaining bolt upright, body coursing with adrenaline, looked out across the landscape.
“This time of year, humpbacks are solitary. It’s just the younger ones that are still here,” explained Rob. It was a rich reward for a trip that had more than delivered on its promise.
That morning, I’d boarded Rob’s boat in Kitimat in Northern British Columbia, a two-hour flight from Vancouver.This town of just 9,000 people lies in traditional Haisla First Nation territory and offers an easy access point for some of the most isolated sections of the Great Bear Rainforest. It was the perfect starting point for a daytripper like me.
The narrow walls of the fjord had opened into wide vistas as we turned down a smaller arm of the Douglas Channel, an artery of ocean that fords 140km into British Columbia’s mainland, all the way to Kitimat.Visitors usually travel to this remote Canadian coastline to spot bears, staying deep in the forest in isolated wilderness lodges only accessible by boat or float plane.
This part of British Columbia is home to the largest population of grizzly (brown) bears in Canada.You can even spot them from the water. I saw giant, shaggy, solitary grizzlies sitting chewing sedge grass, bulking up as best they could before the salmon returned. As Rob positioned the boat, I was close enough to hear them chew and to see the steam rising from their damp fur beneath errant sunbeams.
Rob took me deep into the Douglas Channel. In its most striking spots, waterfall after waterfall appeared in ladders tumbling down from looming glaciers, cutting the rock like knives. A mother seal and nursing baby jumped into the water as our wake covered their rock.To warm up from the rain, we soaked our muscles in an isolated hot spring decorated with mementos – flags
of sports teams mainly – from others who had made it this far out.
I wasn’t here just to see wildlife, though. These waters form one section of a vast, newly designated network of Marine Protected Areas (MPAs) within the Great Bear Sea (AKA the Northern Shelf Bioregion). It has been years in the making, and I’d just witnessed part of what makes it special. But as the days went by, I discovered that it holds the key to more than just marine conservation.
THE FIRST OF ITS KIND
Study any map of British Columbia (BC) and you’ll see a vast scattering of intricate isles, inlets, fjords and meandering waterways that cut deep into the interior like veins in a piece of marble. More than 40,000 islands
like a spine, catching the warm, wet air that smashes in from the ocean.
In 2016, 85% of the rainforest was declared off-limits to loggers, including 70% of its old-growth forests.Yet this Galápagos of the north would be nothing without the ocean and tidal estuaries. Now these waters are finally receiving similar protections to the rainforest, and central to this change has been the work of the coastal First Nations, who have preserved the land and sea here for millennia. Twenty-six distinct First Nations still call it home.
A network of protected areas has been created across 30% of the Great Bear Sea, a vast stretch of water that spans two-thirds of the coast of British Columbia, reaching down from the Canada-Alaska border to the northern tip of Vancouver Island. Home to kelp
“A network of protected areas is being created across 30% of the Great Bear Sea”
fringe the coast, sodden and searing.This region is a place of intense beauty and brutal weather. It’s also home to the largest remaining coastal temperate rainforest in the world.
The Great Bear Rainforest stretches more than 400km along the northern and central coast of the province, from the Alaskan border to Knight Inlet. Roughly the size of Ireland, it represents a quarter of all remaining coastal temperate rainforests left on the planet. Here, 1,000-year-old trees can tower over 50m high, and a fringe of coastal mountains topped by glaciers runs the mainland
forests, rare corals, expansive sponge beds, eelgrass meadows, fin whales, humpbacks, orcas, salmon, herring, sea otters, dolphins and sea birds, the sea’s 10 million hectares include some of the most ecologically productive cold-water marine regions in the world.
Just as importantly, the Great Bear Sea MPA network differs from other conservation areas in that it puts First Nations stewardship at its core. It is the first scheme of its kind in Canada, and it has recently been boosted by a partnership that includes 17 coastal First Nations, the Government of
The to List 2025
The 2025 Good to Go List represents the most exciting moments that travel can offer the intrepid and responsible Wanderlust traveller this year. Each destination was chosen not only for its incredible experiences but for the unique stories unfolding there in 2025. From milestone anniversaries to groundbreaking cultural events, this list reminds us that travel keeps us connected to the world and to each other. It’s about engaging with places in a way that celebrates their heritage, supports their communities and brings their stories to life. When we explore places thoughtfully, we can experience their beauty and culture while also contributing to their growth and resilience. By visiting these 25 Good to Go destinations, you have a unique chance to be part of something meaningful!
Writers: George Kipouros, Jacqui Agate, Gareth Clark, Emma Gregg, Lyn Hughes & Ulrike Lemmin-Woolfrey
Abu Dhabi, UAE
GOOD FOR: World-class culture and a brand-new Guggenheim museum
Nearly 20 years ago, sketches for the Frank Gehry-designed Guggenheim art museum on Abu Dhabi’s Saadiyat Island were first unveiled as part of the emirate’s plan to become the cultural yin to neighbouring Dubai’s flashier yang. A year later, the Zayed National Museum joined it on the list of eye-catching buildings that would form the island’s Cultural District – including the Louvre Abu Dhabi that opened in 2017. Now, after much delay, both will finally open their doors by the end of the year – and we can’t wait.
Until then, the emirate’s first Public Art Biennale continues to turn Abu Dhabi and Al Ain into one gigantic gallery, as
70 artists descend on its public spaces (until 30 April), cementing the region’s growing reputation as the Gulf’s new cultural pacesetter.
Our tip: The 2024 opening on Saadiyat Island of the Bassam Freiha Art Foundation, which showcases little-seen works from private collections, received far less international attention than its neighbours Alamy; AWL
Back in action (clockwise from this) After wildfires ripped through Alberta’s Jasper and the surrounding area in 2024, it is now firmly back in business; Abu Dhabi’s Zayed National Museum is on track to open in 2025
Alberta, Canada
GOOD FOR:
A post-wildfire return to Jasper
In July 2024, a wildfire ripped through the Alberta town of Jasper, the popular winter sports hub and gateway to Jasper National Park, destroying 30% of its homes and businesses. Six months on, this idyllic mountain bolthole is once again open and welcoming visitors.
The national park’s turquoise lakes, waterfalls and Athabasca Glacier have certainly been much missed. Most of it was unaffected by the fires, though parts still remain closed at the time of writing – check the Parks Canada site for future updates.
Locals have refused to be cowed by the wildfires, though, and some 90% of the town’s stays are now accepting reservations once more. We particularly love the Fairmont Jasper Park Lodge (fairmont.com), which began accepting guests again in October. Keep an eye on Jasper’s tourism site (jasper.travel/welcome-back) for details of other reopenings and help support a town that is now back on its feet once more.
Our tip: Alberta is among Canada’s largest provinces, so there’s more to explore besides Jasper. Set your sights on the Métis Crossing, an Indigenous cultural centre and lodge whose accommodation now includes glamping domes set up for star-gazing. A new spa is in the works too.
Azerbaijan
GOOD FOR: Gurgling mud volcanoes and plenty of Silk Road treasures
With the recent COP29 taking place in Baku and an armada of flights now connecting Azerbaijan to the UK, the country is riding high. It was especially interesting that tourism was added to the COP’s agenda this year for the first time, just as Azerbaijan embraces its own sustainable gifts. Slow Food is a big deal here, particularly in traditional communities and cultures. Agritourism stays and workshops in the Germanic vineyards of Shamkir, the Udi villages of the north and the apiaries of the Molokan community of Ivanovka offer visitors a very different experience to that found in Baku.
Elsewhere, a flurry of hotels and attractions have also arrived in the COP’s wake, with the new Mud Volcanoes Tourism Complex in Gobustan drawing the eye in particular for its spectacular muddy eruptions and flaming natural gas fires. Our tip: Some attractions are timeless, and no visit here should ignore the relics of Azerbaijan’s Silk Road era, particularly the historical caravanserai and the Khan’s beautiful winter palace in Sheki.
Colombia
GOOD FOR: A good dose of magical realism
Colombia’s cultural spotlight shines brighter than ever in 2025. Netflix’s adaptation of Gabriel García Márquez’s One Hundred Years of Solitude promises to bring the fictional town of Macondo to life, immersing viewers in the country’s magical realism roots. Colombia’s hospitality scene is also stepping into the limelight, with a luxurious Four Seasons hotel set to open in theWorld Heritage-listed coastal city of Cartagena.
Older than you think (this page; clockwise from top) Bermuda’s St Peter’s church is reputedly the oldest surviving Anglican church outside the UK; megadiverse Colombia hosts close to 10% of the planet’s biodiversity; check out the new Mud Volcanoes Tourism Complex in Azerbaijan
Bermuda
GOOD FOR: A more cultured take on this overlooked British Overseas Territory
There is a certain travel snobbery when it comes to Bermuda, which is often seen as a place to brush up on your golf swing or lounge on pink-sand beaches. Few realise its depth of history and architecture. This year marks the 25th anniversary since the Bermudian town of St George, one of the first permanent English settlements in the ‘New World’, gained UNESCO status. Founded in 1612, it is the site of a number of historic buildings, including St Peter’s, the oldest surviving Anglican church outside the UK.This was rebuilt in stone in the 18th century, though you can still see its original 1660 pulpit. It is just one of 800 heritage properties found across the island, with many having been turned into galleries (Bridge House) or museums (Globe Museum,Verdmont) that tell Bermuda’s fascinating story. Our tip: Look out for the Bermuda National Trust’s annual ‘Walkabout’, which opens up a number of historical buildings in St George to the public in December.
Elsewhere, Cali recently hosted COP16, highlighting Colombia’s sustainability efforts and biodiversity. Known as one of the world’s most megadiverse countries, it continues to lead the charge in conservation and eco-tourism in the region. From the lush Amazon to the Andean peaks, its landscapes are as diverse as its stories, and with new cultural milestones and luxury experiences on the horizon, 2025 is the year to visit. Our tip: Don’t miss Cartagena’s Afro-Caribbean festivals or a guided tour ofAracataca, the birthplace of Márquez, to feel the essence of magical realism firsthand.
Mississippi, USA
GOOD FOR: The sounds of the South and the return of a classic rail route
Tuneful Mississippi has produced some of the world’s music heavyweights, including bluesman BB King and legendary rock-and-roller Elvis Presley. Both would have been celebrating major birthdays in 2025, and the state will be honouring these late, great musicians throughout the year.
Celebrations for Elvis’s 90th focus on Tupelo, the small, music-soaked town in north-eastern Mississippi where Presley was born in 1935. His birthplace, a simple ‘shotgun house’ (a single-storey home with rooms arranged in a straight line), remains open to the public and should be the first port of call for fans wanting to pay their respects. Although his birthday is in early January, the year’s festivities will continue at theTupelo Elvis Festival (4–8 June), an annual jamboree featuring concerts and lookalikes.
In the juke-joint-dotted Mississippi Delta, another of the state’s famous sons is honoured this year. BB King was born in Berclair 100 years ago, on 16 September 1925, and the BB King Museum and Delta Interpretive Center in nearby Indianola will be marking the day with a host of special events. Our tip: A new train journey provides yet another reason to head south in 2025. Bookended by New Orleans (Louisiana) and Mobile (Alabama), the new Gulf Coast Amtrak route will join up the coastal Mississippi towns of Bay St Louis, Gulfport, Biloxi and Pascagoula. It’s reportedly due to return this spring, running for the first time in 20 years.
The sound of silence (this page; top to bottom) Sunset in the Namib Desert, one of the quietest places on Earth; 2025 marks 100 years since the iconic bluesman BB King was born in Mississippi
Namibia
GOOD FOR:
Desert walking safaris and Africa’s first ‘Quiet Park’
Namibia is a glorious place to stretch your legs, retune your ears and soothe your restless soul. Among the ochreand-tan folds of the NamibRand Nature Reserve, for example, there’s ample serenity to be found. It’s so remote that man-made noises are rarely heard. Instead, there’s only a gentle soundscape of breezes and barking geckos.
In June 2024, this section of the Namib Desert became the first wilderness reserve in Africa to be awarded ‘Quiet Park’ status by Quiet Parks International, which aims to record and preserve the world’s most peaceful environments. To enjoy its dunescapes and starry skies, stay at Wolwedans (wolwedans.com) or Kwessi Dunes (naturalselection.travel), or take a cross-desert hike with Tok Tokkie Trails (toktokkietrails.com).
Elsewhere, the redesigned Desert Rhino Camp (wildernessdestinations.com), a rustic-chic solar-powered stay, offers the chance to track black rhinos on foot in the Palmwag Concession with local experts from the Save the Rhino Trust. Look out, too, for another new walking safari base, Onguma Trails Camp (onguma.com), which opens in April on the edge of Etosha, a region that is packed with desert-adapted wildlife. Our tip: Chart a course to the south-western town of Lüderitz for the new Namibia Maritime Museum, the largest of its kind in Africa. ⊲
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