Visiting great big portals carved out of entire hills in the middle of nowhere.
One of our group reveals herself to be a concert pianist and gives an impromptu performance.
“Lauren? She’s over there in that portal. What do you mean she just vanished?"
Doing absolutely nothing on a picturesque hill., gazing at an old village, listening to sheep.
Some come to walk among gods, and inevitably become gods.
A walk to megaliths via the tall flowers.
Inevitably the energy of sacred sites gets to someone.
When this is the mode of transportation, getting up at dawn is a doddle.
If the old church has no bells we create our own music.
Meditating and drinking the water of a holy well that’s been there for thousands of years.
After-lunch discussion in the shade by the Nile? Absolutely.
Just for fun we crawl into secret chambers and enter a parallel reality.
Because we’re a romantic bunch, people often serenade us by the side of the road.
When you go to a site that's 8000 years old you bring a picnic, even in the rain.
The sacred site is amazing, and the road that takes you there even more so.
Action-packed peace and quiet.
Tourists rush. Pilgrims take their time and inhale what's around them.
“I said ‘norse’, not ‘horse.”
Guided meditation sometimes has its drawbacks.
What good is meditation without a private 600-ton megalith?
Subtle energies, walking up hills to ancient temples, stopping for tea.
Sometimes we walk all the way up a hill just to walk back down again. Because there are dragons there.
There are no mass-produced meals, everything is made from scratch, including the oven.
Ten years later, these perfect strangers are still speaking to each other. And me!
When this is the preferred mode of transport, getting up before dawn is... oh you know the drill.
Amazing the souvenirs some people try to squeeze into their luggage.
What good is a pyramid unless you have it to yourself for yoga?
Pas de toilet door? Pas de probleme, monsieur.
Sometimes, just for fun, we have dinner inside a 4th century room and drink and talk and drink and...
Personal time inside a sacred cave with the tide coming in? If it was good for Merlin, it’s good for us.
Climbed mountain, entered Templar castle, saw sacred chamber, walked down, drank Templar wine.
After three glasses of Templar wine some are capable of moving a mountain.
Having coped with the sacred site, we still had to cope with the scenery.
Sometimes, just for fun, we let people meditate in ritual chambers.
And just for fun, we come back a year later and wake them up.
Getting to the island and the Gothic cathedral is easy, once you negotiate the quicksand.
Reaching the Gothic cathedral is easy, once you navigate the incoming tide.
Quicksand, tide, Why are these people still smiling?
These poor wretches, after a full day of sacred sites, forced to sit in the street for their meal.
Discovering humility through sacred space? Easy.
Returning unspoiled? Difficult.
Even today there are temples you can have to yourself, if you know a guide who’s done his homework.
Some tours take you to a loud restaurant for a finale. Here, dinner can wait.
The spirit of nature called.
We dialled right back.
When they're built by an advanced civilization, staring at rocks is rational.
Yet another outdoor dinner in a humdrum restaurant in a boring village.
You don’t need to make sacrifices to be on these tours, but if you’re willing, we have the table.
The quiet solitude of an ancient holy well.
Not a bad way to spend an afternoon.
Sometimes the spirit of place requires a hardy trek into a gorge.
Some people take ayahuasca.
We actually see amazing stuff for real.
To keep costs down I prefer to take the train.
Even if it requires two days in the waiting room.
To set the tone, we began with a cozy meal at The House of Rats. The menu?
If the gods smile upon us we get to meditate inside Stonehenge. We smile in return.
Punctuality is maintained by a severe regimen of corrective behaviour.
Deep meditation beneath megaliths.
You don’t get this in Detroit.
“Are there snakes inside this hermit’s cell?”
Nah…crocodiles ate them."
At 14,000 ft along the mountain road there’s a Peruvian woman knitting a rug. No, really.
Went to the high Andes to see who was crazy enough to live there.
The locals came out to find out the same.
Sometimes, just for fun, I invite the Holy Inquisition to join the group. Demo not pictured.
Stopping by an old cathedral on a temple of Isis, having a crepe and a cognac. One tough day.
Another tough day. One of many, many such excruciating moments on my tours.
We planned lunch. Tthen this outdoor market appeared. Plans changed. Damn.
I always insist on a high standard of wardrobe, after all, if the temples look good, you should too.
It’s not the scale or size of the temple that matters, it’s the… oh, never mind...
It’s old, musty, the fireplace is bigger than the dining room, menu is in French. We eat here.
“No, I’m not jet-lagged!"
“But your eating on a plate that's upside down."
What will your story be?