Hanging above a deep and seemingly endless black hole, the window cleaner’s basket in which I am standing jerks to life and begins to drop. After a nailbiting couple of minutes descending in the dark, we touch down. I am now inside a volcano.
Iceland is an incredible world of fire and ice, topped with creaking glaciers, bubbling mud pools, geysers and an astonishing country-length crack in the ground that marks the continental divide between Europe and the Americas.
But there is nothing more spectacular than this.
After clattering down a narrow chute, past sharp, spiked rock walls and a deep, red blowhole that mimics the jaws of hell, we have a gentle landing at the bottom of Thrihnukagigur volcano’s cavernous magma chamber, the only accessible one of its kind in the world.
Stepping out across the boulder-strewn floor, it is hard to stay upright as I stumble my way around, taking in a roof blotched with volcanic deposits that look like a modern art version of the Sistine Chapel, painted by a rather disturbed and angry artist.
The silence is eerie, the only noise comes from the continuous plop of water drops seeping through the earth, hitting the ground and echoing through the damp air. Coupled with the psychedelic views, the experience is mesmerising.
All too soon, it’s time to return to the surface. “You can stay down here if you want,” offers my guide, Bjorn, with a cheeky smile. “Take my radio and we’ll come back down and pick you up in 15 minutes or so. It’ll be fine.”
The chance to experience complete isolation from the world in this incredible place is tempting. But then I remember that we’re sitting right on top of the lava hotbed that caused Eyjafjallajökull to violently rumble to life in 2010 without warning, just 100 kilometres away. Erm, maybe next time…
I’m standing at the side of a gently sloping, snow-covered cobblestone street in the old centre of Zell am See in the Austrian Alps, along with several thousand of the town’s inhabitants.
Strings of fairy lights illuminate the quaint buildings, festooned with Christmas decorations. Families and friends chat and laugh, digging gloved hands deep into coat pockets to stay warm. It’s a cheery scene until silence suddenly sweeps over the crowd as the white snow at the top of the hill darkens and scores of terrifying-looking, fur-covered horned beasts brandishing whips and chains appear and descend en masse toward us. Fear replaces the smiles on the children’s faces.
An easy train ride from Vienna, Austria’s laid-back lakeside resort town of Zell am See is usually a sedate hamlet best known to foreign visitors as an affordable winter sports destination, thanks to its reliable early-season snow and great value accommodation. A ski lift in the centre of town whizzes people up to Schmittenhöhe Mountain in minutes and a low-key après-ski scene, offering little more than cosy bars and a delightful Christmas market, ensures most people focus their energy on the snow during daylight hours and chilling out in the evenings. Except for one evening of the season. My snowboarding husband and I have come to see what it’s all about.
Stroll around Zell am See most nights in early winter and things are quiet. Soon after the snow-sports enthusiasts have alighted from the last lifts and trudged back to their chalets and hotels with skies on their shoulders and snowboards under their arms, shopkeepers start to lock up and head to their local bar for something warming before heading home. Travellers like us, here for the early snow, head to the supermarket to pick up wine and cheese or to a pizzeria for an early dinner, while families take a stroll around the traffic-free streets, little ones on their shoulders, to admire the decorations.
Once the Christmas market opens groups of friends, families and couples, locals and tourists alike, do a lap of the dozen or so craft stalls in wooden cabins, browsing lavender sachets, wooden toys and woollen beanies, scarves and socks knitted by little old ladies. Afterwards, they line up for soothing cups of glühwein (mulled wine) and sizzling sausages served in soft rolls, taking their mittens off to warm their icy hands over open gas stoves in between sips and bites. It’s yuletide gaiety. Enter the demons.
It all begins fairly quietly on 5 December, the Eve of St Nicholas Day in Austria and other European alpine countries, where, it turns out, Saint Nic has a devilish sidekick called Krampus. It’s his night, Krampusnacht, and he’s about to appear and terrorise the town in a Krampus ‘run’ called Krampuslauf.
Krampus, I soon learn, means ‘claw’, and while Saint Nic’s beast-like mate appears in many incarnations he usually sports long, sharp claws, hooves, goat horns, a hairy brown or black coat and a long, lolling tongue that I’d rather he kept in his mouth. Unfortunately, there is more than one. While the Krampus characters traditionally represented different wild pagan spirits from Germanic folklore, these days they look more like guys from one of those Nordic heavy metal bands having a bad hair day. And while the Krampus creatures traditionally carried birch branches, nowadays they’re replaced with more menacing whips and more painful chains.
Either way, Krampus in no way resembles the rotund, rosy-cheeked, white-haired, sack-of-presents-carrying Father Christmas I wanted to cuddle and whose beard I dreamed of tugging as a child. Krampus is the anti-Santa, the devil incarnate, and when I see him – multiplied – for the first time, like a child I just want to get as far away as I can. Which is exactly what it seems the poor little kids of Zell am See want to do when, at 7pm at the top of that snow-dusted street, the terrifying monsters appear and commence their procession of terror through the town.
You see, in this part of Europe, if children have been nice during the year they’re destined to receive lovely presents from Saint Nicholas on 6 December. But if they’ve been naughty they instead get a nightmare-inducing scare if they’re little, a spanking if they’re a bit older, and if they’re a teenager they’re probably up for a beating from the demonic Krampus. It’s during the previous day the poor things figure out if they’ve been naughty or nice.
If the kids are lucky or have kind parents, mum or dad will conceal them, allowing them to watch from between their legs or beneath their coats. But if they’re not and a child is singled out by the Krampus, at best they can expect a swat with a birch branch, at worst a thorough whipping.
Energised by a morning on the snow and fuelled by an afternoon drinking the bitter herbal alcoholic spirit Jägermeister, I get the impression the sadistic monsters are enjoying their night of fancy dress a little too much. Nobody is safe. When my husband and I, legs and arms stinging despite our layers of winter woollies, agree we’ve had enough pain for a while – after all, the procession continues for two hours – we decide to temporarily escape the madness.
We retreat to a bar, rubbing the welts that are no doubt appearing on our legs and arms beneath our coats, and find the bartender shaking her head as the screams of terrified children follow us inside. “They’re idiots,” she says of the Krampus beasts, pouring us glasses of steaming mulled wine. “They run riot. They’re usually drunk by now and their sweaty suits stink,” she says, crinkling up her nose.
When we emerge 10 minutes later, a teenage boy is on the ground, obviously having been knocked out in the cold after a hiding and having slipped over on the ice. The ugly ogres continue to stream down the street, chasing teenage girls, flogging boys and hauling small children over their shoulders and running off with them down the street. We decide to stick to the back row for the rest of the show.
As the last of the Krampus monsters disappears in the direction of the main square, toward the towering Christmas tree glittering with glass baubles and shiny gifts, we make our way to an outdoor bar for some more glühwein.
Turn up the music, add another layer or three, grab a whip and fill your pockets with tiny bottles of Jägermeister, and it’s probably an interesting night out. But it sure as hell isn’t a very nice thing to do with little kids.
Rugby, dragons and places with weird names that defy all the normal rules of pronunciation… If you’ve never been to Wales they might your only points of reference for this small country hanging off England’s northwest.
But a visit – quick or otherwise – will no doubt surprise. Cardiff is the capital, although its size is eclipsed by many other cities in the UK. It is, however, a cool mix of innovative modernity and historical sites. Don’t miss Cardiff Castle in the centre of the city, then catch a show or an exhibition at the Wales Millennium Centre.
Most of the Welsh population lives in its southern reaches, so head north for some respite. Snowdonia National Park has it all, with lakes, peaks and tiny villages. Go walking through the mountains or along beaches, cycle trails or fish for wild trout in the Mawddach river. These more northern areas are also where you’re more likely to hear people speaking Welsh. Chances are you won’t understand any of this Celtic language, although it may be helpful to know that Iechyd da i chwi yn awr ac yn oesoedd is the traditional greeting and means “Good health to you now and forever”.
You might also want to visit the town with the longest name in the English-speaking world. Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch means “St Mary’s Church in the Hollow of the White Hazel near a Rapid Whirlpool and the Church of St Tysilio near the Red Cave”. Good luck asking for directions.
If there is any other country in the world that quite so magnificently straddles the eastern and western worlds we’d like to hear about it. Most travellers make the mistake of heading to Turkey with 10 days or so marked out in their itineraries and leave wishing they’d put aside a month to delve deeply into the landscapes, history and culture.
Bustling Istanbul, divided by the Bosphorus, deserves 10 days itself. By day, you’ll be astonished by the magnificence of the Aya Sofya, Topkapi Palace and Sultan Ahmed Mosque (known by most as the Blue Mosque), be stilled by the haunting call to prayer, have your body scrubbed raw at steamy bathhouses and battle against the crowds in the Grand Bazaar. At night, there are hip rooftop bars, sophisticated restaurants, and clubs and pubs to suit any occasion.
Aussies and Kiwis often set out on a sombre pilgrimage to Gallipoli, but, if you’re in the country for Anzac Day and don’t fancy the crowds, put it off till later in the trip (it’s still a haunting spot when ceremonies aren’t taking place) and instead head south. This is the beginning of the summer season, so you’ll discover the beaches near Fethiye and Oludinez blissfully deserted.
The white travertines of Pamukkale (the name means cotton castle) and the ruins of the spa city of Hierapolis are worth a visit. Take your time and check out the ancient theatre before taking a plunge in the Sacred Pool – complete with collapsed columns beneath the surface – of the Roman baths.
Another incredible landscape is Cappadocia, in the centre of the country. Everyone seems to do a balloon ride over the fairy chimneys and they all say it’s something not to miss.
There are plenty of of Roman ruins across the country, but some of the best can be found at Ephesus, a short drive from the beachside town of Kusadasi. Sure, it gets crowded, but even the hoards can’t detract from the sheer scale of the Library of Celcus, the theatre and the other monuments that survive here. The terraced houses, excavated complete with their fresco’d walls and mosaic floors, are a highlight.
Kusadasi itself is a pleasant base for exploring the western Aegean coast, although it can be slightly overrun by tourists on package holidays, who frequent its Irish bars and the cafes serving full English breakfasts. It’s pretty easy to get away from the crowds even here, though – take a boat trip to Izmir or just jump on one of the local buses and head to the beaches in Dilek National Park. Take a bottle of water and a few snacks, paddle in the water and lie in the sun.
There’s so much more to explore in this vast and diverse country. Just make sure you give yourself enough time.
Is this the most beautiful country in the world? In all likelihood, especially if sunshine, lush meadows and snowy peaks are your idea of postcard perfect.
And the chocolate! Oh, the chocolate. It alone makes a visit worthwhile.
There’s no doubt this is a nation that will bring out the outdoors in even the most committed homebody. Cruise across Lake Geneva, jump on two wheels to explore the country’s 20,000 kilometres of cycle trails, and paraglide over the magnificent mountainous landscape. Come winter, everyone heads to the snow for those quintessential alpine conditions. Switzerland has 57 peaks higher than 4000 metres (the most of any country in Europe), world-famous resorts and plenty of opportunities to partake in winter activities beyond downhill skiing. Try the cross-country variety, snowshoeing, airboarding (for the uninitiated, they’re like inflatable boogie boards) and tobogganing for a little diversity in your cold-climate adventure.
Each of its cities has its own personality. Bern revels in its old-world charms (part of the city is a UNESCO World Heritage site). There’s shopping aplenty in the six kilometres of arcades known as lauben, museums and galleries like Albert Einstein House and Centrum Paul Klee, and beautiful Bear Park (yes, it is home to a family of bears) with its elevated rose garden.
Don’t be put off by Zurich’s reputation as Switzerland’s financial centre because there’s plenty more on offer, including international design, a mass of art galleries and museums (more than 150 all together), hip nightlife and an idyllic setting where the Limmat River meets Lake Zurich.
Then there’s Geneva. With people from across the world living and working at its multitude of diplomatic organisations, including the United Nations and Red Cross, it fairly hums. Built along the shores of Lake Geneva, it offers cultural highlights, international cuisine and, at stores like Favarger and Teuscher, some of the finest chocolate you could possibly wrap your lips around.
The Swedes have a reputation; they’re Europe’s denizens of style. Wandering the streets of Stockholm everything looks as though it’s been ripped straight from the pages of either a fashion or lifestyle magazine. It doesn’t hurt that everyone seems to be tall, blonde and the picture of good health. But there’s another side to this Scandi nation, with its stretches of windswept coastline, cascading waterfalls and frigid expanses of the tundra high up in the Arctic Circle. (Fun fact: the world’s oldest living tree, a five-metre spruce called Old Tjikko, can be found in the Dalarna province in central Sweden. It’s thought to have sprouted about 9500 years ago during the last Ice Age.)
For the adventurer, there’s a bit of everything: ice yachting on frozen lakes, diving on wrecks in the Baltic Ocean and climbing frozen waterfalls in the Abisko canyon. Of course, there’s the famous stuff as well, but having seen a million photographs of the Icehotel, rebuilt each year when winter comes to the village of Jukkasjärvi, or the glowing aurora borealis doesn’t make them any less impressive when you finally experience them in real life.
On the other side of the coin, urbanistas should beat a path to the country’s south and the city of Malmö. Plotted around picturesque Gamla Staden (Old Town), the rest of the city is contemporary and dynamic, with a population formed from a huge range of nations (some 150 in all). Marvel at the Turning Torso, Santiago Calatrava’s 190-metre-tall building at Western Harbour. Gather with the locals at Lilla Torg, a popular city square, at the beginning of a night out. If you’re travelling solo, sign up for a guided tour for singles at the outstanding contemporary art gallery, Moderna Museet. This is a city worth more than a perfunctory overnight stay.
How can you go wrong in a country laden with sangria, paella and a never-ending onslaught of tapas?
The popularity of Spain as a destination can be attributed not just to its people’s reputation as sexy and passionate, but also its diverse regions. Barcelona is the ultimate beachside city, where you can promenade along Las Ramblas, eat pizza slices or seafood platters at La Boqueria Food Market, and clamber up the winding staircases at Gaudí’s almost-finished masterpiece, Sagrada Família. In Madrid you can run with hipster elite, have a cold beer at one of the bars around Plaza de la Cebada, hunt for treasure at Sunday’s El Rastro flea market or hang out with the masters at Museo Reina Sofía, where you can see Picasso’s famous Guernica.
Food lovers will want to book a stay on the Bay of Biscay, where San Sebastián has been anointed Europe’s – maybe even the world’s – best gourmet destination, with its full offering from simple pintxos bars to Michelin-starred restaurants.
Then there’s Granada with its palace and fort complex Alhambra, the Guggenheim in Bilbao and skiing in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. While you may party hard in Ibiza, there are other island beauties like Formossa, Santander and Majorca. Festivals such as La Tomatina in Buñol and Pamplona’s Running of the Bulls draw international partygoers. The truth is you could spend months in this beguiling country and never discover all its treasures.
If you want the best of Europe crammed into one destination, Slovenia is your country. Follow its borders and the landscape changes. Imagine yourself singing ‘The Sound of Music’ in the north, where the country butts up against Austria. Health retreats, mineral springs and rolling vineyards epitomise dreamy countryside near the Mura River, where Slovenia meets Hungary. And the sun-dappled coastline of the Adriatic, while not as lengthy as those of its next-door neighbours Croatia and Italy, is equally as impressive. Here, Piran, located on a picturesque peninsula and crowned by the baroque Cathedral of St George, shouldn’t be missed. At this town, as well as Izola and Koper, visitors marvel at the Venetian Gothic architectural stylings.
Slightly inland is karst country. Olive groves and orchards abound at ground level, but below it is a limestone world of caves and sink holes. There are more than 8000, and 20 have been adapted for tourism. In fact, Vilenca is the oldest tourist cave in Europe, and tours were conducted there as early as the beginning of the seventeenth century.
Lovers of a fine drop should head to the Vipava Valley. In season, gorge on freshly picked peaches and plums, sip the local varieties such as zelen and pinela (both crisp whites) produced by the more than 120 winemakers here, or head for Nanos, a craggy limestone plateau and popular destination for hikers, rock climbers and mountain bikers.
Slovenia’s capital, Ljubljana, located in the centre of the country, is a surprisingly leafy idyll. Much of its heart is car-free, the banks of the Ljubljanica River are lined with cafes in the warmer months, and the remainders of the Old Town are linked to the Centre district (rebuilt after a devastating earthquake in 1895) by the gorgeous town square Presernov Trg and Triple Bridge. Atop a hill, Ljubljana Castle watches over the city.
But perhaps the best-known of Slovenia’s landmarks is Lake Bled and its spectacular, cliff’s-edge eleventh-century castle complete with ramparts and towers jutting out of the forest. There’s a museum celebrating the history of the lake and its settlements within its walls, as well as a restaurant with an outdoor terrace, wine cellar and traditional print works.
If you’re eagerly searching culture, ruins and amazing food, you’d be well advised to add Slovakia to a European itinerary. Situated right in the centre of the continent and one half of the former Czechoslovakia, it’s a great place to start the grand tour while you decide whether to next go north, south, east or west.
Amazingly, for a country that’s not exactly huge, there are many attractions here you won’t find anywhere else. At Krasnohorska Cave, there’s a 34-metre-high stalagmite. There are nine UNESCO World Heritage-listed Carpathian wooden churches, including an articular Protestant church in Hronsek that was built without nails. If historical architecture is your bag, head north to the village of Čičmany where you’ll find a reservation of 130 traditional houses painted with white geometric patterns. Around the country there are also about 1300 sources of mineral water, and spa towns, like Smrdáky, not far from Bratislava, are popular with those who want to treat illness, skin conditions and all manner of ailments, as well as just relax.
The High Tatras in northern Slovakia is the perfect stop for hikers and photographers. The landscape of rugged mountains, waterfalls and dense pine forests is exquisite and there are 600 kilometres of marked trails to follow on self-guided walks lasting anywhere from 45 minutes to a week.
Bratislava is the small capital that is completely surrounded by nature. Enjoy the eighteenth-century architecture of the old town, head to the top of the crown tower at Bratislava Castle for the best new of the city or jump on a boat and cruise the Danube. Don’t forget to hire a bike while you’re there, so you can take a ride through the forest of the Small Carpathians just outside of town.
Beyond haggis and kilts, you’ll surely have pure dead brilliant time in Scotland. Providing you can understand the locals’ thick accents, they’ll befriend you at almost every corner. In the thriving commercial, cultural and creative hubs of Aberdeen, Edinburgh and Glasgow you won’t be able to miss the year-round festivities. This includes, of course, the Edinburgh Festival that manages to exceed its sizeable reputation.
Head to the extreme north and venture to places like the Shetland Islands – an archipelago of windswept outcrops – if you want experience being cut off from the world while surrounded by oh-so-green lochs, glens and steep hills. By day you can seek out Celtic castles on the horizon, while evenings are all about cosying up in a pub with single malt in hand.
Scotland is probably what the creator had in mind when conceiving the concept of self-drive and biking holidays – it is a perfect country to get your own wheels and see where the hurtling winds take you.
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