In this thoughtful, informative account of a journey from Ho Chi Minh City and the Mekong Delta to Hanoi and Halong Bay, Zoe Schramm-Evans delves behind the cliche-ridden images of Vietnam to discover a country poised on the brink of remarkable social and economic change.

The Pony Express has a hold on the American imagination wildly out of proportion to its actual contribution to the history and development of the West. It lasted less than eighteen months—about the amount of time it took author Scott Alumbaugh to plan and ride the route—and utterly failed by every measure of success attributed to it. The only reason it did not fade out of public consciousness, as did the far more successful Butterfield mail, is publicity. In the Pony’s case, a thirty-year campaign of publicity mounted by Buffalo Bill Cody, who mislead the public by claiming to have been a Pony Express rider, and lied outright by claiming to have made the longest Pony Express run. More than anyone, Buffalo Bill kept the legend alive by including a Pony Express segment throughout the run of his Wild West show. But while the Pony Express may be among the least significant developments of its era, it is the most iconic. One can’t really understand the Pony Express—what it stood for, what it accomplished, why it came about at all—without understanding the far more interesting historical milieu from which it grew: Three wars (Mexican, Utah, and Paiute); two gold rushes (California and Pike’s Peak); the overland emigration of hundreds of thousands to Oregon and California; the exodus of tens of thousands of Mormons to Utah. On the Pony Express Trail: One Man's Bikepacking Journey to Discover History from a Different Kind of Saddle recounts the author’s experience bikepacking the Pony Express Trail over five weeks during June and July 2021, and uses the trail as a prism through which to survey a wide spectrum of mid-1800s historical events. Sixty-two-year-old Alumbaugh rode the Pony Express Bikepacking Route from St. Joseph, MO to Salt Lake City, UT, over 1,400 miles, mostly off-road, sometimes through very remote territory. The narrative follows his day-to-day experiences and impressions: the challenges, the sites he visited, the country he rode through, and interactions with the people he met.

'Bags of fish for cats - 50 pence'. So it was written, on a chalkboard sign outside a fresh fishmonger's, under the arches of the raised promenade along the beachfront of England's newly super trendy and booming seaside City of Brighton and Hove. In Brighton Babylon, PK Heights is a Grade II listed maisonette flat in one of the City's up and coming Regency Squares that provides the elegant base for a series of interlocking true stories about the city's people and their lives. Newly relocated from London, Brighton resident Peter Jarrette combines and intertwines his stories, using a colourful palette that is one part Brokeback Beach and three parts seawater. He vividly portrays a selection of suspect characters and shocking episodes; much like the curious bits and pieces that might be on offer in one of those bags of fish for cats. To the author's consternation, the residents and visitors are a thoroughly peculiar and motley crew. This former string of south coast fishing villages with a royal and decadent past may now be a thoroughly cosmopolitan City and even aspire to being an international hub, but it has not yet lost its renowned and celebrated dark side, far from it. Brighton Babylon is populated by a cast of unsavoury hobos and bother boys; Yardie obsessed golden shower webmasters from nearby Crawley; mistakenly racist London hairdressers; strangely scripted market researchers; extemporised short-haul cabin crew; pushy airline First Officers; politically incorrect new food emporia; a vengeful, crumbling resort Pier and a locally obsessed, cat-mad press pack.

An ex-yacht chef uncovers the dark reality of life at sea. By the age of twenty-two, Melanie is ticking life's boxes as if filling in a routine survey. Good grades at school? Check. Reliable university degree? Check. Steady graduate job? Check. Her two feet are planted firmly on solid ground; her life to date perfectly mirrors society's expectations. That is until she finds herself plunged into the superyacht industry, like an ice cube thrown into a cut crystal glass of the finest whisky, having stepped foot on a boat just three times before. Not only is she required to learn how to run, sail, and race a multi-million-pound yacht on the job, she is forced to adapt to a wholly unnatural life afloat, largely confined to a bunk bed, crammed galley, and live-in colleagues. Oh, and to devise, develop, and deliver fine dining menus for some of the wealthiest people on the planet. No biggie. From the Mediterranean to the Caribbean to the Arctic she cruises, visiting places many can only dream of, orienting herself in an environment few have the opportunity to observe. But while her culinary knowledge evolves and her on-board responsibilities grow, the world as she knows it begins to close in. The depth of the ocean no longer phases her; it's the darkness inside which she fears. Behind Ocean Lines is a deeply personal account of a deterioration in mental health against a backdrop of opulence. It is, shockingly, not an anomaly in the industry. It is about time the public is told.

As Suid-Afrikaner wat in Engeland woon, het André Pretorius die geleentheid om plekke te besoek wat vir die meeste van ons net drome bly. Maar met sy uitstekende skryfwerk bring hy in hierdie boek talle van die eksotiese plekke naby sy lesers.

Hy laat ons deel in die soektog na ’n kelim in die mark van Marrakesj, in die nostalgie van Nobelpryswenner Orhan Pamuk se Istanboel, in die verhewe skoonheid van die St. Pieterskerk in Rome en in ’n bootrit op die magtige Irrawaddy-rivier in Birma gedurende die reënseisoen wanneer dit voel asof die waters van hemel en aarde versmelt.

Daar is ook vermaaklike oomblikke, soos wanneer hy aan ’n wynproe-cum-marathon in die Medoc-vallei deelneem (met voorspelbare gevolge) en wanneer hy met net ’n klein lappie as bedekking dit na ’n openbare bad in Boedapest waag.