ITINERARY
Where sustainable luxury, wild adventure and sea-sparkled serenity redefine what it means to travel well.
Where sustainable luxury, wild adventure and sea-sparkled serenity redefine what it means to travel well.
What's the craziest thing you've ordered at a cafe?
Kate Gazzard @kate_gazzard
If a regular croissant is a dainty Parisian ballerina, then the Croissant XL from Philippe Conticini in Paris is an absolute pastry sumo wrestler, and I absolutely loved it.
Social media lost its mind over this giant beauty a couple of years back, and being the Gen Z that I am, I simply had to check it out for myself. Yes, it cost me AU$55 and no, I don't want to talk about it.
Weighing in at 1.2 kilograms (what?!?!), this flaky beast was heavvy and could double as a pillow if the jetlag's out to get ya.
It’s got all the buttery, crispy, golden perfection of a normal croissant, just supersized for those who believe that more is always better (it's me, I'm one of those people).
Probably one of the more absurd things I've ever spent my money on, but hey, when in Paris, am I right?
Kate Bettes @katebettes
Definitely snails in a little place outside of Marseille, France. My mum always told me she used to collect them in buckets as a teenager living in Paris, cooking them with her friends, and for some reason, I was weirdly keen to recreate the experience.
I figured: how different could they really be from garlicky, buttery mushrooms? I was a hardened traveller who never shied away from new experiences, after all.
But then they arrived—brown, spiralled shells glistening with oil and herbs. I pulled one out, popped it in my mouth… and instantly regretted it.
I’ll never forget the feeling of those tiny, hard antennae scraping against my tongue as I bit down. It was this weird mix of rubber and, well, snail. Oh god, I can still feel it now in my mouth. A national delicacy? Sure. Will I ever try it again? Absolutely not.
The strangest snack I ever had that was also strangely delicious was something I discovered in a very funky little cafe in old Gion, Kyoto, years ago. The yellow, tarnished fluorescent lights and slapdash hand-painted signs drew me in, a stark contrast to the clean and pristine Japan that was everywhere else.
This super funky couple that I can only describe as Zombie Core Geisha caught my eye, and we struck up an intense conversation. They then introduced me to a little plate of tender tendrils that I couldn't get enough of.
"What is this?" I said with relish. "That? That is foreskin". I paused briefly before continuing happily with a shrug and no regrets.
I'm not sure the place has a name, but it's deep inside the Kyoto Shinkyogoku Shopping Street. Can't miss it.
Kate Gazzard @kate_gazzard
If a regular croissant is a dainty Parisian ballerina, then the Croissant XL from Philippe Conticini in Paris is an absolute pastry sumo wrestler, and I absolutely loved it.
Social media lost its mind over this giant beauty a couple of years back, and being the Gen Z that I am, I simply had to check it out for myself. Yes, it cost me AU$55 and no, I don't want to talk about it.
Weighing in at 1.2 kilograms (what?!?!), this flaky beast was heavvy and could double as a pillow if the jetlag's out to get ya.
It’s got all the buttery, crispy, golden perfection of a normal croissant, just supersized for those who believe that more is always better (it's me, I'm one of those people).
Probably one of the more absurd things I've ever spent my money on, but hey, when in Paris, am I right?
Kate Bettes @katebettes
Definitely snails in a little place outside of Marseille, France. My mum always told me she used to collect them in buckets as a teenager living in Paris, cooking them with her friends, and for some reason, I was weirdly keen to recreate the experience.
I figured: how different could they really be from garlicky, buttery mushrooms? I was a hardened traveller who never shied away from new experiences, after all.
But then they arrived - brown, spiralled shells glistening with oil and herbs. I pulled one out, popped it in my mouth… and instantly regretted it.
I’ll never forget the feeling of those tiny, hard antennae scraping against my tongue as I bit down. It was this weird mix of rubber and, well, snail. Oh god, I can still feel it now in my mouth. A national delicacy? Sure. Will I ever try it again? Absolutely not.
The strangest snack I ever had that was also strangely delicious was something I discovered in a very funky little cafe in old Gion, Kyoto, years ago. The yellow, tarnished fluorescent lights and slapdash hand-painted signs drew me in, a stark contrast to the clean and pristine Japan that was everywhere else.
This super funky couple that I can only describe as Zombie Core Geisha caught my eye, and we struck up an intense conversation. They then introduced me to a little plate of tender tendrils that I couldn't get enough of.
"What is this?" I said with relish. "That? That is foreskin". I paused briefly before continuing happily with a shrug and no regrets.
I'm not sure the place has a name, but it's deep inside the Kyoto Shinkyogoku Shopping Street. Can't miss it.
Harley Brown @harleyb.jpg
It was a few hours into a twelve-hour bus ride in Rajasthan, India but I was already eager to stretch my legs, so we pulled over.
I was eyeing off a snack that the locals were lining up for. “You want?” someone asked. With a mischievous smile under his ‘stache, he helped me order.
But nope, my stomach wasn’t prepared for this one. The dish was served: a crispy, fried potato bowl filled with veggies, rich paste, possibly some mystery meat, topped with crunchy sev. My eagerness even earned me a few handshakes from others (which worried me).
But the meal was pretty good. I think it was ‘aloo lachha tokri chaat,’ but in a grimmer fashion than Google will have you believe.
Unfortunately, it left me in the foetal position for the rest of the long ride. And I didn't earn any more handshakes on the following rest stops.
get in the know Thousands of Japanese men strip naked in public each year to secure fortune, with the biggest matsuri taking place in Okayama, where an estimated 9,000 men get down to their fundoshi.
