I used this recent trip through Albania as an opportunity to slow down and approach portraiture in a more observational, honest way, focusing less on scenes and more on individual presence. Working with a vintage-inspired Fujifilm X-Pro1 and a compact TTArtisan 28mm f/2.0, I chose to shoot entirely in black and white to strip away the distraction of colour and emphasise expression, texture, and atmosphere. Albania offered a rich variety of character, from quiet café moments to weathered faces in busy streets. Monochrome felt like a natural language for its raw humanity and quiet resilience. This series brings together ten portraits, each suggesting a wider story beyond the frame.

Annie and I traveled to Stockholm in February 2025, eager to explore beyond the usual tourist trail. After wandering the city and visiting the ABBA Museum, we headed to Saltsjöbaden, a quiet coastal village in the Stockholm Archipelago. There, we experienced a true Nordic ritual: alternating between a hot sauna and plunging into near-freezing water, just above 1°C. The cold shocked the body, yet left us exhilarated, alive, and oddly peaceful. Standing on the pontoon, the still, glassy inlets of the archipelago stretched before us a serene, quiet world far from the city’s noise, unforgettable and utterly magical.

Japan had always felt inevitable. From the neon overload of Tokyo to the quiet reflection of Hiroshima, it’s a country that overwhelms and grounds you in equal measure. Arriving straight into Tokyo’s sensory chaos, there’s no gentle introduction - just bright lights, bullet trains, and a culture that moves at its own perfectly ordered pace. Travelling independently by Shinkansen made the journey part of the experience, revealing cities rich in history, food, and quiet respect. Whether sharing skewers in smoky alleyways, singing karaoke with locals, or watching Mount Fuji emerge from the clouds, Japan doesn’t just meet expectations - it quietly rewrites them.

Lake Garda has a way of easing you in gently, then completely stealing your heart before you realise what’s happened. Our base was a small bed and breakfast high above the lake, where cool mornings and a bottle of Prosecco set the tone for an unforgettable trip. Days unfolded in spirals - winding roads, tiny cliffside cafés, and endless photo stops. We wandered through Lazise and Sirmione, soaking in lemon-scented streets and cliffside views, toasting with Aperol spritzes as the sun dipped low. The golden light over vineyards and the laughter shared beneath it made every moment feel timeless.

Winding through misty mountains between Đà Nẵng and Huế, the Hải Vân Pass has long captured the imagination of road-trippers worldwide. Its dramatic cliffs, dense jungle, and sweeping ocean views were made famous after featuring in Top Gear’s Vietnam Special, earning its reputation as one of the world’s greatest coastal roads. After years of watching that episode, finally riding the pass felt like turning a long-held dream into reality. On a hired motorbike we climbed higher, traffic slowly falling away as the road opened up to unforgettable panoramas and the pure sense of freedom that only travelling on two wheels can bring.

In Hanoi’s bustling streets, history waits in unexpected corners. One quiet lake holds the rusted remains of a U.S. Air Force B-52 bomber shot down in 1972, its jagged metal still rising from the water as a stark reminder of the city’s turbulent past. Nearby, locals gather on low plastic stools at street-side bars, sharing cold beers and conversation amid the hum of scooters and laughter. Wandering between war relics, museums, and lively evening scenes, we found a city that carries its history openly, blending memory and modern life in a way that feels both honest and deeply human.

Our Asia trip had taken us many places, but nothing compared to The Road to Sapa. After a surreal overnight train from Hanoi to Lao Cai, we picked up a motorbike and began the climb into northern Vietnam’s misty mountains. Rain-soaked roads and landslides turned the journey into a raw adventure, yet each challenge seemed to heighten the sense of anticipation. Riding through slick bends and rocky tracks, we felt both small and alive against the vast landscape. When dawn broke over tiered rice terraces and drifting clouds, we knew the struggle was worth every moment.

During a private day trip to Cambodia’s Tonle Sap Lake, the author and his partner first encountered a raw, bustling local market where fish, frogs, and even snakes were sold amid chaotic scenes of daily life. Along the way they saw crocodile heads for sale - a stark glimpse into local farming practices. A scrappy, retrofitted boat carried them out onto the lake where floating vendors sold coconuts and bananas. Touring the floating village of Kompong Phluk revealed homes on tall stilts, children playing in the water, and life shaped by the lake’s seasonal rhythms - an unforgettable, eye-opening experience.