Wandered one day in January 2026 through Cardiff’s past, step by step. The most amazing moment was standing alone at the top of Cardiff Castle. There the wind brushed my face while thin sun rays cut through the clouds, I felt an unexpected clarity settle in. 

Entering a Spirit house in 1999 filled with so many unusual items was fascinating. It also called Haus Tambaran, and is a type of traditional ancestral worship. As an outsider, I knew I was only glimpsing a small part of something far deeper- and that made the moment even more powerful.

Hidden beneath jungle vines and red earth, the ruins of San Ignacio Mission tell a powerful story of faith, encounter, and fragile coexistence. Walking among these ancient stones in northern Argentina, I followed the footsteps of Jesuit missionaries and the Guaraní people, where belief, culture, and history once collided - and where their echoes still linger in the silence today.

Alaska hit me like a breath of cold, wild freedom in 1997. I had travelled far north, from Anchorage all the way to Kotzebue - a small city of just over 3000 people, sitting on the edge of the Arctic Ocean. It felt like arriving at the end of the world, where the wind carries old stories and the horizon never seems to end.

I sometimes think back to that day on the Sepik I Papua New Guinea and laugh. If I were a poker player, I would want the crocodile look. No emotion. No giveaways. Just that steady, unchanging curve that says nothing and suggests everything.

Before rock music, mental illness was something people whispered about - or didn’t mention at all. But rock changed that. It brought emotion out into the open. It showed that even the strongest, loudest, and most admired artists could feel broken inside. 

Travelling through the ancient heart of the Inca world changed how I see everything. I walked these sacred paths like a curious detective, trying to piece together clues left in the stones.