Seymour Travels Small Group Tours

Returning Home ~ A Great Adventure Several months after starting out on our epic and life changing trip, we found ourselves once again in a cross channel ferry port awaiting embarkation... this time back to England. Our Afrique sign (used for 'thumbing' lifts as hitchhikers) was discarded long ago, because it had taken us across Europe into North Africa. A piece of cardboard that we had used to get us home...a simple Union flag painted onto it... had gotten us back to Le Havre. Much wiser and somehow, many years older, we patted each other on the back as we boarded for the crossing. We got into Portsmouth Harbour, very late at night, but being the hardened travellers that we had become, we were not phased by the prospect of sleeping in a bus shelter or perhaps in one of the fortress towers that encompass part of the town....all was good... we had after all just arrived home. We were both euphoric ! the feeling of accomplishment was immense, and I know that we had both cast off

Onward to Fes... And A Scuffle ! I'm sitting here, at this moment, drinking tea..... a nice cup of tea ! I'm English  and its what we do! On a fateful morning, many moons ago, we decide that we had to move on. And it was over a cup of sweet tea that we made our plans. We'd already spent several days languishing in Ouezzane....the people were wonderful and we'd been enjoying the food immensely... but our feet were itching and wanderlust was driving us onwards.  Our next destination was to be the medieval fortress city of Fes. You may ask why ? My simple answer is because its there and we wanted to see the place that gave its name to what is, a rather odd hat with a tassle. So off we went. The public bus was once again our main means of transport. Hiking across the mountains was not an option in those days. There was too much risk attached to it. Hitchhiking was 'improbable' because of the lack of roads with vehicles on them. So once again it was to be a beaten up

Afrique ! I’ve been asked to write a little more about my 'escape' from the British Isles, that took place many years ago. As I previously mentioned, I was a 17 year old who needed to get away from the 'woes' of my life. I had decided to embark on a backpacking and hitchhiking trip, across Europe and into North Africa. Now remember, this was in the days before mass tourism, and we were going to a place that was having trouble of its own. North Africa, namely, Morocco, and Algeria were in the throes of Civil wars, that we knew little about....but more on that in another blog. My friend and I (he is also a Rick Steves guide now) had agreed to meet on the outskirts of Bath, our hometown. It was a wet and very windy evening. It was also dark. We laughed at each other as we stood there with our military style backpacks and gear, our wind cheaters on and a bedraggled piece of cardboard in my hands. That piece of cardboard was our secret weapon ! On it was written the one word

My Itchy Feet I was 17 years of age when I first realised that travel was life changing.  Until then I had taken the family vacations to camp sites and holiday camps all over Britain. I had enjoyed traveling to farms, cider presses, and mountain trails with my grandfather in his caravan. I’d spent 6 weeks every year in London with my grandparents. and I always learnt from my vacations and the people around me...   but life changing... No ! At the age of 17....nearly 18, I had already lost both of my parents and a sister, in very close succession. I’d fallen in and out of love... as you do at that age. ..and my spirits were low. My best friend asked me if I’d like to go on a bit of a trip with him. I asked him ‘where to ?’ He said that it was going to actually be a big trip ! I agreed to his plan and we got prepared to hitchhike across Europe and into North Africa !…a trip that was scheduled to last 6 months.! Our preparation involved cutting up 4/5 sheets of cardb

The Roman and Georgian City of Bath Why is Bath such a popular destination for tourists today ? What is so intriguing about this small city that sits amongst 7 hills in the heart of Somerset, in England.? As a boy, I grew up in and around Bath. It was a dirty city. It’s buildings were caked in coal tar and the 1960s style shopping centre was terribly ugly and rundown...even by the 1970s! However, I enjoyed Bath because as a rugby player, I was recruited into the ranks of the most powerful rugby club in the world at the time, Bath Rugby Football Club... a huge honour for a young 16 year old. And as a teen I was able to enjoy the wonders of Baths nightlife. It’s subterranean pubs and clubs were a huge draw to the youth of the area as it still is today. In the 1980s a programme of architectural ‘cleansing’ was put into place, and plans to tear down the 1960s shopping centre and to start cleaning every stone surface in the city, were put into place. Slowly the city, began to at