Often I read travel articles and blogs which make an attempt at informed analysis about a place from which the writer has just returned.  And it’s hardly surprising: most of us at some level attempt to make sense of what we see and experience, usually by framing it in the context of our knowledge of our home environments. In the course of a week we may come face to face with a few dozen people, more perhaps, depending on our plans, our comfort at opening up to others, and simple serendipity. How can we hope to form an informed opinion of a country in such a short time, with such minimal exposure? Yet that’s what so many writers are tempted to do. To declare a place as friendly, to say that people love their government, that they’re hard-working, easy-going, fiercely independent… the list goes on.

There’s a natural desire to try and make sense out of chaos – to reach conclusions from whatever information we’re given. And yet it’s often a dangerous, foolish or at the very least a naïve path to follow. It was brought home to me on our recent travels in Indonesia. We spent a month there – a long time for casual tourists like us, but by no stretch long enough to form a sensible view on the stories behind the stories. Perhaps more than in many countries, the multiple murky layers of Indonesian politics appear to have an impact on almost every place we visited. I couldn’t have hoped to understand these complexities in such a short time – it was enough to know that they exist, and any attempt at an amateur drive-by analysis would leave me looking silly.

But the temptation is often there – to make sense of what we see, however inadequate our information may be. On our two recent trips to Japan I was keen to try and explain those aspects of Japanese behaviour which appear quirky to western outsiders. But what could I say of any value – other than merely relay my own experiences? And in Micronesia, a region about which I had no insight of cultural or political nuance – what could I offer to explain away the islands’ dependence on foreign aid or their all-too-visible social problems?

So as a writer I’m aware of often consciously suppress the urge to give what passes as an expert analysis opinion, which would stand out as uninformed at the very least to anyone who lives in a place and is familiar with its contradictions and subtleties. So what does this mean? What should I write and what should I resist the temptation to mention? Does being cautious result inevitably in bland nothingness?

Let’s say for example I encounter half a dozen people who are kind and hospitable – should  I describe the whole nation as friendly? Ok, that’s an easy one.

What about if I get into a conversation with a local who talks about his government’s corruption and how he regularly has to pay bribes to go about his everyday business – can I draw out any sensible conclusions about the country or its people?

More typical still, if I have a great time exploring a country which has a dubious record when it comes to democracy, human rights, dealing with protests – should I attempt to address these issues in a general travel article? Does it destroy any meaningful analysis of that country, and in the process damage my own credibility as a writer, if I choose to ignore them entirely? Or is the insight about the politics of a country which I gain from a trip so narrow that any mention is meaningless?

On most trips, describing personal experiences with the right detail and eloquence will by itself paint a vivid picture to a reader. As for personal reflections and attempts at wider analysis, perhaps these are best presented as being exactly what they are: the thoughts of one short-term visitor who has seen only what they happen to have seen; and no more.

The perils of trying to making sense out of nonsense is a post from: 501 Places

Good intentions and all that…

This time last year I wrote a post which, foolishly as it turns out, explained what I thought I’d do with this blog in 2014. “Posts on almost daily basis”, I promised. After an early flourish I’ve barely managed one a month. So what’s happened?

For a start, I’ve had a busy year. Working on various projects has meant a lot less free time than in my first five years of freelancing. The opportunity and the inclination to write on my blog has suffered as a result. Secondly I’ve had a better time of late with pitching stories for the trips which we’ve taken. Not wishing to put stuff up on here before it appears in the publication which is paying me, I’ve delayed posting about almost every trip until I’ve got to the point where the details and the experiences seem too far away to trudge up for a blog post.

Similarly Sam’s photos, which I thought I’d share on here on a regular basis, have happily appeared in various online and print publications this year. The photos she takes on a trip are, quite rightly, pitched first to editors and only later added to her blog or onto here.

Despite the freedom to write what I want about any topic that takes my fancy, I’ve been pickier than ever about what I do publish. This piece about the rights and wrongs of whale hunting in the Faroe Islands was one which I enjoyed writing; it’s something which I knew would have no success in any commercial outlet, but which I was keen to write.

So what’s the point of keeping up this blog, and will it serve any purpose for me in 2015 and beyond?

For a start I don’t want to just pack up and go while the site is getting a steady flow of traffic. Despite doing almost nothing with it, this blog still attracts around 9,000 monthly visitors, who view around 30,000 pages; the advantage I guess of being around for a few years.

I’ll certainly keep 501 Places alive and will add posts as and when I find a suitable topic. Another trip to SE Asia beckons, and while I’ll be covering some of the costs by writing posts for at least two other sites, I hope I’ll get to share a few on here too. I’m as enthusiastic as ever about the idea of having my own place on which to write what I want, and despite my obvious neglect in the past year, I don’t intend to give it up.

As for making any grand plans for the year ahead, given my wild predictions last year, it’s something that’s probably best avoided.

A quiet year on 501 Places is a post from: 501 Places

In November St Albans will host its inaugural Literary Festival and as part of the four-day event I’m delighted to be organising the Travel Writing Workshop on Saturday, 8th November at the Cross Street Centre on Upper Dagnall Street. What I’m particularly thrilled about is the opportunity to introduce the visitors to the St Albans LitFest to some of my favourite travel writers.

Five top-notch writers from the travel world (along with me) will be reading one of their published travel stories and there will be time for the audience to ask the writers about the adventures behind each of the stories.

Here are writers who will be presenting at the LitFest (here in alphabetical order):

Amy Guttman – CBS News, Al Jazeera, The Atlantic, NPR, Monocle

Yom Kippur in Iran: Observing the Day of Atonement with Tehran’s Jewish Community

Andy Jarosz – National Geographic Traveller, Coast, Journeys, BBC Travel and CNN Travel

To Central Asia with a box of soil: Travelling through Uzbekistan to deliver a very special gift

Steve Keenan – Travelperspective.co.uk, previously online travel editor for Sunday Times, deputy travel editor of the Times

The Worst Rail Journey Ever: Recalling a less than perfect train ride from Venice to Belgrade

Ben Lerwill – National Geographic Traveller, The Independent, Rough Guides, Wanderlust, Time Out

Cities in the Clouds: A 9-day journey on foot through the Peruvian Andes, following one of the alternative Inca trails to Machu Picchu

Matthew Teller – BBC, CNN, the Times, the Independent, the Telegraph, High Life, Jazeera, Wanderlust, National Geographic Traveller, Rough Guides

Journey to the Mountain: How marking a historic anniversary at Jordan’s ancient city of Petra turned personal

Gillian Thornton – French Entrée, France Magazine, Living France, Voyage, Woman’s Weekly, The People’s Friend, Hertfordshire Life

France at my Feet: Exploring a lesser-known corner of Europe’s most popular holiday destination

As if that wasn’t enough, after a short break we’ll have a open and hopefully lively panel session moderated by Steven Keenan, where the writers will talk about the realities of travel writing and what is involved in making a living while getting those stories. Some people might think that the job of a travel writer involves little more than a procession of paid holidays.

This session will allow the audience to quiz the panel about the business of being a travel writer and to decide for themselves whether it really is the perfect job.

If you’d like to come along to the session you can reserve your tickets here. Spaces are limited so book now and avoid crushing disappointment.

Travel Writing Tales at St Albans Literary Festival is a post from: 501 Places

Given the discussion generated by the previous post I thought it timely to share my experience of writing for editors, along with the benefits and inevitable frustrations. After this I will get back to writing about actual travel, I promise.

One of the main criticisms levelled at blogging is in its unedited nature. The freedom to hit the Publish button without a second pair of eyes checking your work is either one of the joys of writing a blog, or is its main limitation, depending on your perspective. I’m not going to start another debate on the relative value of edited work – managing the comments on the previous post was far too much like hard work.

When I started this blog I hadn’t had anything published, at least not in any travel publications. It’s fair to say that I wrote mostly garbage for the first year. I was prolific, but I do cringe when I look back at some of the fluff that passed as a blog post. I’m certainly not claiming to be immune to writing rubbish now, but I’ve become a lot more fussy about what I decide to put on here.

Writing for publications that pay you involves that crucial element of having someone look at your work; someone with the power to reject it or, worse still, change it out of all recognition. In most cases the editor’s first role and the biggest hurdle, as far as the writer is concerned, is to commission/reject/ignore an idea for a story. As I’ve become familiar with a few editors my success rate with pitches has improved and I’ve learned to try and come up with something that’s a viable story beyond merely suggesting a destination.

Putting together a decent pitch takes time and involves digging around and getting an angle which you can succinctly sell to the editor. I’ve tried to apply that same approach to 501 Places and this, added to the fact that most ideas from my trips are going to editors in the first instance, has meant that I’ve been left with far fewer things to write about on here.

As for the editing part of the process, I had quite a naive view of this before I got into this lark. Sending my work to an editor has resulted in a number of follow-up actions, some of which have come as a surprise. I’ve heard absolutely nothing for several days/weeks/months and then seen my article online or in print, perhaps with some minor tweaks; I’ve been asked to rewrite all or part of a piece; I’ve had feedback telling me my first submission had too little descriptive detail, too much descriptive detail, that it was not written in a way that would get web clicks, that it was too personal and not personal enough (there are others).

This is all valuable criticism and it’s this critique that makes me value writing for editors. Even when I disagree with them (and I often do) the end result of their meddling is usually a more polished article that works for that particular publication. It’s up to me then to refine the next piece I send in and make that editor’s life that bit easier; that way I figure that they’ll be more inclined to commission me again.

This discipline is a sharp contrast from the freedom and independence attached to blogging. I do enjoy being able to write my own stuff on here without somebody sending me a list of inane questions asking me what something I’ve mentioned is (when it’s actually a country), or whether I can use a different quote from the farmer I interviewed because the words he spoke didn’t fit the style of the publication.

But despite the uncertainty and these occasional frustrations of being subjected to different editing approaches, I’m convinced that working with multiple editors has forced me to sharpen the way in which I write and be more critical about the topics I choose to cover, whether that’s for a paid publication or on 501 Places.

Editing – what is it good for? is a post from: 501 Places

With a small handful of worthy exceptions I rarely read travel blogs any more. Why? PR and marketing folks have firmly identified blogs as great places for them to promote their brands and their clients’ products. When writers (on any platform) get 5-star and Michelin-star carrots dangled before them, then the inevitable result is more writing that is shaped by their sponsors’ commercial objectives and less that is sparked by personal curiosity and strong opinion.

People taking free stuff doesn’t bother me – but when I see writing that’s blatantly written with more than half an eye on pleasing the sponsor (they’re often referred to as clients) without disclosing the relationship I quickly lose interest. I’m only one potential reader but I doubt I’m alone. And it’s certainly not restricted to blogging – if anything it’s more blatant in mainstream media and the disclosure more opaque (or absent). My disappointment with the state of travel blogging is that it has the potential to offer something different.

Is the world of PR responsible for turning so much of travel blogging into a tool for promoting others’ commercial interests? It’s certainly offered the bait, but I suspect they have merely exploited the fact that in eager travel bloggers they’ve found a medium through which they can show some impressive numbers to their clients for relatively little cost.

Ah yes, those numbers. This is something I really struggle with. Take this blog for example. According to the great G, in the last month I’ve had 32,000 page views from 10,000 visitors. Not world-beating statistics, but modestly respectable. I’ve been told several times I’m wasting an opportunity to cash in and make some money from the site.

But what do those numbers actually mean? Are 10,000 people really looking at my posts each month? I don’t believe it for a minute. If 100 people have any awareness of this site (beyond family, friends and fellow writers) I’d be surprised. If 20 people checked in regularly to see what I’d written (not much these days, I admit) I’d be shocked. I suspect this blog, along with many with similar traffic, has about as much influence as a tea bag in the Atlantic Ocean.

And yet the offers keep coming. I’ve had offers of free trips to 6 continents in the last year (501 Places is sadly not big enough to attract a couple of berths to Antarctica). I’ve politely declined in each case, but do wonder what the sponsors are getting from sharing their company profits with a random selection of travel-hungry strangers. Yes, they’ll get some impressive numbers – but what are they REALLY getting? I don’t know, but my scepticism grows by the day.

As for Twitter, my heart sinks whenever I see yet another promotional hashtag doing the rounds, whether it’s for a press/blog trip, a competition or just a PR-invented way of pushing their client’s wares. Just as with writing, when people are clearly tweeting with an eye on pleasing their sponsors it’s hardly surprising that the average observer will lose interest.

Anyhow, what do I know? I’ll carry on wasting the chance to make money from this site and let others take those offers of amazing trips and once-in-a-lifetime experiences in return for a pocketful of hashtags. If their readers (or fans as I see them referred to on bloggers’ forums without a shred of irony) are happy, then who am I to rain on their parade. 

When did blogging lose its soul? is a post from: 501 Places

2013 was a quiet year on 501 Places. I barely published 30 posts in the whole year and anyone who was paying attention and cared would be forgiven for thinking that the site was in terminal decline. Wednesday marks a new year and with it, an excuse to start afresh with new enthusiasm for this site.

So why the sudden motivation to make another effort?

I want to add more, shorter posts on an almost daily basis. My wife Sameena has far more talent with a camera than I have with a keyboard and it seems to make sense to combine our efforts in a single website rather than trying to work on two separate sites. So now that there are two names behind 501 Places, you can expect to see a regular series of photo posts, usually accompanied by a short anecdote or two. While I’m still behind the tedious technical controls of the blog, the input will very much be a joint effort.

I’m also opening up the comments again on this site – please bear with me if there’s a slight delay in seeing your comments appear as I’ll be moderating every one. I want to make sure I only include those with something useful to add, rather than the spammy types who tend to try and litter most blogs with their links to branded fake handbags, dodgy watches or Himalayan adventure holidays.

There’s another reason behind this change. While trying to secure assistance with flights or accommodation for trips relating to commissioned work, I’ve been asked a few times whether I’d write a piece on my blog. I’m going to be a little less dogmatic about this in the future and I will start including stories that have come from trips where I’ve been supported in some way. But they will be stories such as this one from Barra where I discover something that I think is a genuinely interesting story and that I want to share; I don’t plan to start reviewing hotels or restaurants anytime soon. Any support relating to the trip from which I pick up a story will always be disclosed.

So what won’t change about 501 Places? For a start it will remain strictly free of all advertising; there will be no paid links, guest posts, sponsored posts. I’m grateful to everyone who stops by to read this blog and have no intention of trying to make money from you by subjecting you to the junk that you can very easily find elsewhere online.

After a sluggish year, I’m ready to share more words and pictures from our travels on here and I’m sure you’ll enjoy the variety and quality of Sam’s photos. Have a Happy New Year and please stop by and say hello in the comments – it will be good to know that there’s still someone out there!

A new look for 501 Places in 2014 is a post from: 501 Places

I’m forever fascinated by the crowds that gather at popular tourist places and the combined obsession with taking thousands of photos of pretty much the same thing. Was it really like this back in the days of film, when 2 rolls of 36 photos would last for a fortnight’s holiday and even allow a token photo of the cat when we got home? What is the point of so many photos of the same view? Pretty it may be, but when it appears on your computer screensaver six months later you’ll have no idea where in the world you saw that green valley, blue sky and old stone bridge.

Some of the photographers at these busy places are busy snapping shots of family and friends: funny poses, serious poses, solos, couples, groups. These are the photos that bring a smile years later to those in the picture and transport them back to that time and place; but apart from those in the photo and their nearest and dearest, no one else will really care.

Then there are the serious photographers, who look around and try to find a photo that does more than simply record the mere presence of the scene. They look for the local people for whom the site is more than just a tourist attraction; they find the unusual angle from which the view takes on a very different appearance; or perhaps they sit in the shadows and capture the behaviour of others as they experience.

And so it is with writing too. In many (perhaps most) instances, the description of a city or a tourist attraction might have easily been written by someone who had never set foot anywhere near the place in question. Research on Wikipedia and from other people’s accounts can get you far these days, at least in providing the hard facts on what you can see and do in a particular place.

For others, the main purpose of writing is to record their personal experiences, what they did with their family and friends while travelling and their personal impressions on each place they visit. Having recently re-read my own travel diaries that I scribbled as an innocent teenage backpacker I can vouch for the pleasure it brings to do this and would encourage everyone setting off on their travels to record their experiences – even if the number of people who care about your musings is very small.

For those who want to create a memorable account of their visit, regardless of whether it’s for a newspaper, a magazine or their own blog (or even their old-fashioned notebook) a simple description, devoid of human interference, doesn’t even tell half a story. While the clever adjectives, similes and metaphors can paint a little of the background, it is the interaction with the people who are living, working or just visiting the scene that will add the necessary detail to make a compelling story and make it undeniably clear to the reader that the author was actually there.

Why am I writing this? If for no other reason then to remind myself of this very simple advice when I’m setting off to research a story that I hope will not only satisfy my editor, but also make an impression on those who happen to read it. As you were.

Painting a picture with a thousand words is a post from: 501 Places

It’s not every day you address the person sitting across the table from you as Mr President. Neither is it every day that you interview a man for whose freedom you marched as a teenager. Whether or not these are sufficient reasons to explain my bumbling questioning of Lech Wałęsa, Poland’s first democratically-elected president after the fall of communism, they are all I can offer in my defence.

I had landed at Lech Wałęsa International Airport in Gdańsk, with little idea that I would be sitting in front of the man himself less than 24 hours later. I was in Gdańsk to research a short feature about the city for an airline magazine and had arranged to meet Margaret, a lady who runs her own tour business in the city. We’d connected online and I had asked her to show me the sites of Gdańsk that relate to the Lech Wałęsa story. A high-profile biopic movie about his role in the peaceful overthrow of communism in Poland was about to be released and my story was timed to coincide with the film’s expected release.

Margaret had hinted by email that she would try and secure an interview with Wałęsa but I had never expected anything to come of it; so much so that I’d already booked an onward train the next morning and had no clothes with me that were remotely suited for meeting a former Head of State. I had woefully underestimated Margaret’s connections and ability to deliver the impossible.

That night I practised my introduction and drew up a list of questions – about the film, about his current work, about his favourite spots in Gdańsk, even about his meeting the previous week with the Dalai Lama. I would conduct the interview in Polish and while it’s the first language I spoke as a child, the vocabulary you pick up in your early years has limited value when you’re interviewing ex-presidents.

My late-night preparation was blown away within seconds of the start of the interview. Here’s the transcript of my woeful opening:

Me: So I’d like to begin by giving a brief introduction…
LW: No, first question

Me: Ok, the first question (I fumble around a bit)
LW: Are you prepared for this?

Me: Yes, yes. (More flustered fumbling). So I’m writing an article about the film…
LW: First question (I listen now and still hear the impatience in his voice)

Me: Ok, first question. (Nervous pause before finally getting started).

For the next 20 minutes I stumbled through my questions with Margaret offering Mr Wałęsa valuable translations of my broken Polish along the way. I finished without any further alarms, but I didn’t want to leave with the impression that this was just another in a daily grind of interviews, so pulled out what I thought was my trump card. I passed him a photo of me marching through the streets of Nottingham with my brothers carrying a Solidarność banner that we had made, in support of the union that Mr Wałęsa had started. This at least produced a wry smile, before it was time for the official photo (above) and a prompt exit.

While my Gdańsk article duly appeared in the Wizz Air magazine, I was unable to place the Lech Wałęsa interview as I had hoped. My efforts were not helped by the fact that the film is still awaiting its release, 16 months after my interview. While his feelings about the upcoming film might still apply, his thoughts on the Euro 2012 tournament are probably not of interest any more.

My encounter with the Polish ex-President and Nobel Prize winner proved a baptism of fire in terms of interviewing famous people. If I’m put in that position again I hope I’m able to perform with a lot more conviction. In the meantime I’ll look out for the film and see if I recognise something of the man I met on that nervous morning in Gdańsk.

Oh, and if you happen to be in Gdańsk and want a good tour guide to show you around, please get in touch with Margaret – she’s helpful, knows that city and surrounding region very well, and can arrange the seemingly impossible.

Erm, erm, erm… Mr President is a post from: 501 Places

Engagement. It’s all about engaging your readers (or, if you use the lingo of the day, your fans). That’s what the brands want too; they’re looking for travel blogs that have a strong relationship and level of trust with their audience. The story goes that if a blogger shares their experience of a marvellous new product with their audience, everybody wins.

I know I’m doing it wrong. While others who started their blogs at the same time as me have cracked the formula and create blog posts that regularly attract over a hundred comments, I might get half a dozen genuine contributions in a good week. I’m probably writing about the wrong topics and then compounding my mistake by not making enough effort to promote my posts. Sure, I get 10-20 people every day submitting half-arsed barely intelligible comments with no aim other than the inclusion of a dodgy link. It’s tiresome and I’d like to think it’s been a long time since I let one of those through the net, but it recently got to the point where I decided to remove the comment facility from this site.

I look at other bloggers with admiration when they reveal facts about their audience – I certainly don’t know anything about the people who read this site, and I have to confess that this lack of familiarity doesn’t keep me awake at night. Sure, Google Analytics tells me that around 15,000 people visit this site each month. I’m highly dubious of this and of its stats in general – apart from my wife (whose formidable proof-reading skills have kept the typos down to a respectable level) and my mother (who reads and critiques all my posts), I’d be surprised if more than a handful of people actually read my efforts (thank you if you do). Of course there are some who arrive here by accident having searched for something on Google, but I don’t expect them to become devoted readers.

I’ve heard that around 95% of blogs are eventually abandoned. This should really have been one of those. In the early days of 501 Places I bumbled my way from one model to the next, eventually settling on the least profitable approach; one of saying no to pretty much everything. I discovered that I enjoy travelling far more when I’m in charge of how I travel and where I go, and when I’m paying for it myself (yes, it’s true), than when someone else is footing the bill and making the arrangements; I suspect I’m not alone in this. I don’t have a strong opinion or want to pass any judgement on those whose travels are funded by others in exchange for coverage on their blogs; it’s just not a model that works for me. A quick look through my posts from my recent trip to Micronesia and you can see that few if any sponsors would be interested in attaching their name to the type of topics I enjoy writing about.

No ads, no links, no brand engagement, no comment, no regular schedule, no interest in traffic; surely there’s no point in carrying on with such a disorganised, haphazard blog? And yet, having shaken off all those concerns I’m enjoying writing on here more than ever and for exactly the reason I started with four years ago. It’s a place when I can work on becoming more articulate in penning my thoughts and a place to sharpen my own limited writing skills. If others get pleasure from reading any of my musings that I produce as a result, that to me is a hugely rewarding bonus.

(While there is no comment box below, if you want to comment about any of the topics on my site I’d be very happy to chat on Twitter or Facebook – you can even send me an email)

No comment – switching off the conversation on 501 Places is a post from: 501 Places

I’m sure many writers will identify with this. Your story gets published and while you might be pleased with the finished article there’s something that the readers will never know: that what you’ve shared with the reader is only half of the story. Indeed the untold back story to an article is often more illuminating than the article itself.

So it was with my recently published article on the BBC Travel site about Jewish Krakow (pdf here for UK folks). I thought I’d use this blog to share my experiences researching this story in Krakow as the experience taught me a lot about the work that can be involved in securing a commissioned story.

First of all, a bit of background. I had a commission to write a feature on Krakow for the National Geographic Traveller magazine (in the current March 2013 issue). As freelancers will appreciate an overseas journey for one story alone is not the most efficient use of time, so I pitched two other ideas. One was immediately accepted (Microbrewing in Poland – pdf) while my rather vague pitch for an article about Jewish Krakow was pushed back to me; I needed to come up with a more focussed angle and I knew I’d have to find it while I was out in Poland.

I flew out to Krakow for two days. On the first afternoon I rushed around collecting the information I needed for my city guide (thankfully I am already familiar with Krakow so I had an advantage here) and the evening was taken up with the arduous task of touring the city’s ale houses.

I had the entire second day to search for an angle for my Jewish Krakow story. My first port of call was the Oscar Schindler factory – an excellent museum telling the tragic story of Krakow during the war years. I was here for 90 minutes and could have easily spent half a day watching the videos and absorbing the testimonies of those who lived through the city’s darkest period. But I didn’t find a real hook on which to build my story.

I then wandered around the streets of Podgorze, the area of the city the Nazis set aside as the Jewish ghetto – it’s a down-at-heel district of Krakow, with a few haunting memorials to the atrocities that took place here; but still nothing stood out for me in terms of a story.

By lunchtime I was back in Kazimierz, known as the Jewish quarter but on the surface resembling an open-air museum of Jewish heritage.  I had heard of some recent immigrants from Israel who had come here to re-establish a Jewish community in the city; I was keen to meet them and was now convinced that this was my hook.

Finding them proved to be easier said than done. I visited the Jewish Cultural Centre and while the staff were cheery and welcoming they couldn’t shed much light on any recent arrivals. They did point me towards a newly opened restaurant and when I arrived there the waiter did indeed confirm that the owner had recently arrived from Israel. Sadly however he was out of town. Could I return tomorrow? I walked away and tended to my hunger with a plate of pierogi, slowly accepting that my quest might draw a blank.

Re-energised by my hearty lunch I set off and soon cast off my inhibitions about walking into any business that appeared to have a Jewish connection. My task was made harder by the fact that it’s apparently cool to look Jewish in Kazimierz and places with no Jewish links are prone to use a bit of Hebrew writing.

After drawing a few more blanks I finally stumbled into the Galeria Szalom, where the owner’s warm welcome suggested she was happy to have someone relieve the boredom of a quiet Thursday afternoon. I explained my mission and she smiled and immediately called up her friend, a lady Rabbi who came to Krakow from Israel to lead the city’s progressive Jewish community. Rabbi Tanya had only just returned home from a trip away and after a quick chat she kindly offered to put off her unpacking to come to the gallery and speak with me. And so after several hours plodding the streets and many doors pushed with no success, I knew I finally had my story.

The experience taught me several lessons that I have tried to take on board in my efforts at staying afloat as a freelance writer. I learned the value of targeting a pitch so that an editor can see clearly that there’s a good story to be told; I saw the importance of stacking up the commissions for a trip to provide the best return on the time spent away from home; but most importantly I saw that if you keep trying, sheer persistence in hunting for a good story will usually bring its rewards.

Knocking on doors in search of a good story is a post from: 501 Places