The hail came first and then it turned to snow - the first time for decades that Erice, this walled medieval town in the west of Sicily, had been doused in white. I clung to door knockers, church gargoyles and crumbling stone walls. It was as though some trickster had polished the ancient cobbles with … Continue reading Sicily in the Snow
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Mourning Circle of Misse
A room overlooking furrowed fields, a swollen river and poplars bearing cluster bombs of mistletoe. Writers above me; writers beside me overlooking the garden and the abbey beyond. I cannot see Wayne, our writing mentor, and Catherine, a writer taking a break from the text. But I know where they are. They’re in the garden … Continue reading Mourning Circle of Misse
The House in the Wild – or a retreat with a difference
The coach climbs through thick forests towards Mont Tremblant. I glimpse stretches of water through the trees, surrounded by houses with gardens that go down to the water’s edge. Perfect for a summer vacation - a barbecue of elk, a moonlit dip. Ski slopes slice through the firs reminding me how snow and ice will … Continue reading The House in the Wild – or a retreat with a difference
Room with an Unexpected View
Sick, damn it. Sick. And my first time in Montreal too. Taxi straight from the train station to Hotel Le Roberval picked out at random on the internet, down some Advil and retreat under the sheets with the air conditioner on full blast. I try to sleep but people are chatting under my window, … Continue reading Room with an Unexpected View
So boring, so backward – a child migrant’s view of her adopted country
I sat beside her on the train, noticed her hands shaking like a sycamore leaf. Outstretched, sturdy but still shaking, clasping her paper cup of Starbucks coffee. The train was shaking too. A great, grey rattlesnake clanking its way through the Canadian countryside. “Does the landscape get more interesting?” I asked. “No,” she asserted. “It … Continue reading So boring, so backward – a child migrant’s view of her adopted country
A boarding pass to a new life at Bremerhaven Emigration Centre
I stroll along the quayside at Bremerhaven from where 7 million people left for the New World between 1830 and 1974. I am heading for the German Emigration Centre that won the European Museum of the Year Award in 2007. I enter a spacious modern building, framed in lattice wood. The receptionist hands me a … Continue reading A boarding pass to a new life at Bremerhaven Emigration Centre
A Warli Painter came to Stay
“Can you do a painting of my life,” I ask Ramesh. Ramesh Hengadi is a Warli painter from India, an artist-in-residence at the V&A Museum of Childhood and a guest in my home. I have always loved Warli painting – those spindly white figures painted in rice paste with a bamboo twig on a cow … Continue reading A Warli Painter came to Stay
An Easter remembered
About a decade ago I spent a few days in Murcia over Easter - candle lit processions with haunting gypsy voices piercing the dark; hooded fingers carrying wooden sculptures telling the Easter story. Then the joy of Easter Sunday, rebirth. Then the Spring Festival. Farmers paraded their animals and showed off their agricultural prowess; young … Continue reading An Easter remembered
Church bells yes but not the Muslim call to prayer
I walk past a bland housing estate and through a tidy shopping mall. There are no Turkish kebab shops or Indian curry houses; no Vietnamese mail parlours or black hair dressers. Why would an Immigration Museum be housed in this unremarkable part of Denmark? The town of Farum, a 30-minute train ride from Copenhagen, is … Continue reading Church bells yes but not the Muslim call to prayer
Travelling Vicariously – child migrant journeys
In the last few months I have travelled on an open sailing boat from Vietnam to Singapore, by jumbo jet from El Salvador to London and by foot, through the jungle, from Rwanda to the Congo. In my mind at least. The experiences of child migrants who have shared their stories with me have infiltrated … Continue reading Travelling Vicariously – child migrant journeys
Eithne Nightingale 