As the Nepali night takes on the texture of velvet, the party naturally divides. The men sway in a circle, singing plaintively. The women surround an elderly lady who smokes tobacco rolled in writing paper. And I settle into swapping stories with the girls. Alina and her younger cousins Miching and Blinka may be draped in the silks and heavy jewellery of the Indigenous Aath Pahariya Rai community, but they’re as keen to talk love and travel as any young women. “I’m too independent to get married until I’m very old,” declares 21-year-old Alina. “When I graduate, I want to go to Paris – and then come home to Sipting. Life’s peaceful here and the air is clear.”
I’m in the little-visited Dhankuta region of eastern Nepal on a trip hosted by Community Homestay Network (CHN). This social enterprise is working with governmental organisations and non-profits such as Human and Social Development Centre (Husadec) to support women – including Alina’s mother, Prem Maya – to open their homes to travellers. Since launching with just one homestay in Panauti, south-east of Kathmandu, in 2012, CHN has grown to more than 362 families across 40 communities. This is the first in the country’s rural east.
The writer stayed with Prem and her daughter Alina
As rising temperatures, seasonal flooding and erratic monsoons force droves of Dhankuta’s subsistence farmers over the border into India, this remote region is turning to international tourism for the first time. Empowering women to earn without having to leave their villages, and working on sustainable rainwater-harvesting solutions, is central to this vision.
While tourism contributed about $2.2bn (£1.64bn) to Nepal’s GDP in 2024, it remains concentrated around Khatmandu, trekking routes such as Everest and the Annapurna Circuit, the second city Pokhara and Chitwan national park. The result is overloaded infrastructure, traffic jams at key viewpoints and the economic benefits of the industry concentrated into just a few hands. Schemes such as CHN hope to spread the tourist dollar and offer visitors a memorable experience away from the crowds.
The orange-painted buildings of Dhankuta
After a 40-minute flight from Kathmandu and a two-hour-plus bus journey along a road that winds upwards like a series of sickle moons, our first stop is the town of Dhankuta. It served as the region’s administrative hub until the 1960s, when it sank into a slumber. At first, it appears the government’s new tourism policy might not have registered with local residents. As I wander past the orange-painted buildings, the sewing machine in a tailor’s shop stills as its owner looks up at me in astonishment; a shopper wearing a shirt emblazoned with the words “Mama’s little man” drops his bags to stare; and a woman freezes in her doorway, oblivious to the dal dripping from the wooden spoon she’s holding.
“In the last few decades this neighbourhood was so empty that jackals roamed the streets,” explains our guide, Kalpana Bhattarai. “Locals painted it to celebrate their history as orange growers before climate change – and in the hope of appealing to visitors. It seems they’re a little surprised to see it actually working.” She flashes a winning smile, and they all beam back.
A view on the hike through the hill forest to Khambela
Bringing as many local people as possible into the tourism supply chain is central to CHN’s ethos, which is why it also runs programmes to train youngsters as guides. After a night in the comfortable Hotel Murchunga International in Dhankuta we meet one of the programme’s first two graduates, Nabin Rai of the Aath Pahariya Rai community. This morning, he’ll be leading the 7½-mile forest hike to his home village of Khambela for the first time and, given my incessant questions, I suspect this is a baptism of fire.
As we walk, he talks about his life as the only young man remaining in the village – staying behind partly to care for his disabled father and partly out of love for this place. “When I come to the forest, it feels like my own house,” he says, leading the way along a path studded with silver silica particles that gleam like the Tamor River below. “You can feel the gods here.”
As we enter Khambela through trees woven with jasmine, Nabin points out the rainwater storage tanks installed by the International Centre for Integrated Mountain Development (ICIMOD), which help to supplement the unreliable supply from the government pipeline two hours away by foot.
One of the village elders in Khambela
The hike ends with vegetable curry in a courtyard owned by a woman in her 60s who tells us to call her Didi (big sister), and observes our fascination with her home with quiet amusement. As we prepare to leave, she presses a veena into my hand: a hand-carved instrument that hums grudgingly when I blow through it and tug its string with clumsy enthusiasm.
After another night at our hotel, we wander round Dhankuta’s haat (bazaar), where Rais, Magars, Limbus and people from several Hindu castes haggle for everything from buffalo-skin stools to cucumbers as fat as a child’s leg. Then we take the bus to Sipting to meet the Aath Pahariya Rai family, our hosts for the next few days.
Prem leads the way up a dirt staircase hewn from the mountain to her home, the highest in the village. From its squat toilet to three bedrooms haunted by a kitten called Nimki, it’s impeccably clean and has arresting views over the valley’s forested floor.
She shyly points out the water and fresh soap by my bed. “I’m not sure where you’re from and haven’t seen many people who look like you, but I am very glad you’re here,” she says. A towel folded in the shape of a butterfly and the light left on – a gesture that always reminds me of my parents – suggest that this couldn’t be more true.
Over the next few days, I adjust to the rhythms of life in Prem’s house: the scent of cow dung and woodsmoke as I learn to fold large leaves that will be used as dishes; the way the valley appears almost flat beneath the midday heat, and becomes soft and deep in the afternoons; Alina recalling that when she was little and her father, Ram, carried her to bed, she fancied the stars were walking with them.
“I can’t read or write beyond my name and have never earned my own money before. Now I’m a businesswoman,” says Prem, watching with approval as I demolish a millet pancake bursting with potato curry.
By day, Kalpana leads us on intriguing outings. At Dhoje Dada, we climb through a mogul cemetery in a cloud that echoes with the calls of cuckoos, only for it to clear in rapid, smoke-like wisps to reveal the sunrise. As darkness swallows the mountains at Kachide, we harvest sour tree tomatoes and learn local recipes from a woman who is using the income to fund her daughters’ university educations.
The road winds through dripping rhododendron forests and mountain villages where I sense that we are the first westerners local people have ever seen.
At Cholung Park, most visitors seem more interested in watching me receive a blessing from a Mundhum samba (a figure in charge of rituals for the Limbu people, who flicks a leaf on to my throat that clings like a damp butterfly’s wing) than browsing the museum’s collection of sacred Limbu artefacts. Given the queues that now form at the peak of Everest and on Annapurna’s trails, getting such an unfiltered glimpse of Nepali life feels like an enormous privilege.
For my final breakfast in Sipting, Ram watches through the window while Alina and Prem fill my pockets with freshly picked passion fruit and tuck a sprig of mugwort behind my ear to ward off evil spirits on the road to Janakpur. Prem patiently attempts to braid a lacha dori (a colourful thread adorned with beads) of Alina’s into my slippery bob. “We’re so sad to see you leave,” she says. “Come back whenever you like – this is your home now.”
The trip was provided byCommunity Homestay Network;its eight-day Eastern Nepal: The Road Less Taken adventure blends nature, Indigenous culture, homestays and hikes and costs US$2,359 for a single traveller, $2,657 for two or $3,597 for a group of four, including a local guide, ground transport, accommodation and most meals. Many shorter personalised trips and packages are also available. Responsible tourism in Dhankuta is being implemented through the HI-GRID Project, supported by the Australian government and led by ICIMOD. For more information on travel to Nepal, visitntb.gov.np
Carlo Acutis, a digital pioneer, used his computer skills to spread Catholic teaching globally.
Published On 7 Sep 20257 Sep 2025
A London-born Italian teenager, known as “God’s influencer”, who was an early adopter of the internet to spread Catholic teachings, has been made the church’s first millennial saint at a ceremony led by Pope Leo XIV at the Vatican.
Leo canonised Carlo Acutis, who died in 2006 aged 15, in a ceremony attended by thousands on Sunday in St Peter’s Square. At the Mass, the pontiff also canonised Pier Giorgio Frassati, who died in 1924 but was widely recognised for his charitable work.
During a speech at the event, Leo credited Acutis and Frassati for making “masterpieces” out of their lives, warning congregants that the “greatest risk in life is to waste it outside of God’s plan”.
Often seen photographed in his casual outfits, with scruffy hair, T-shirts and sunglasses, Acutis cuts a different figure from the church’s saints of the past who were often depicted in solemn paintings. This has built a global following for Acutis, with the church intending him to be a more relatable saint for digitally-focused young people today.
Leo said Acutis and Frassati’s lives are an “invitation to all of us, especially young people, not to squander our lives, but to direct them upwards and make them masterpieces”.
Acutis was born in London in 1991 but moved early on in his life to the northern Italian city of Milan with his family, where he lived until he died of leukaemia in 2006.
As a teenager, Acutis taught himself coding and programming, using the skills he had acquired to document recognised church miracles to spread Catholic teaching globally. His pioneering digital efforts took place at a time when literacy around those subjects was not widespread.
He was also believed to have regularly attended church services, been kind to the homeless and children who suffered bullying, which endeared him to Catholic youth globally.
Shortly after he died, Antonia Salzano, Acutis’s mother, began advocating globally for her son to be recognised as a saint, which requires that he carry out miracles during his life.
Pope Francis, whose death in April this year led to a delay in the saint-making ceremony for Acutis, said the teenager carried out two miracles during his life. According to the Catholic News Agency, Acutis healed a boy who had a birth defect affecting his pancreas and a girl who sustained an injury in Costa Rica.
In a 2019 letter to Catholics, Pope Francis acknowledged Acutis’s efforts, saying, “It is true that the digital world can expose you to the risk of self-absorption, isolation and empty pleasure.” He added, “But don’t forget that there are young people even there who show creativity and even genius. That was the case with the Venerable Carlo Acutis.”
Acutis’s body, encased in wax, lies in a glass tomb in Assisi, a medieval town in central Italy, which is a pilgrimage site visited by hundreds of thousands of people annually. Our Lady of Dolours Church in London, where he was baptised, has also attracted growing numbers of visitors. A part of his heart has been removed from his body as a relic and has been displayed at churches globally.
I enjoyed midsummer at a rented beachside cottage in the Skåne village of Bjärred, north of Malmö,with Swedish friends. We ventured to the local church to enjoy the dancing round a midsummer pole decorated with vibrant blue and red flowers, with many local residents adorned in intricately decorated flower crowns. After taking a dip in the Öresund strait along the long jetty with its bathhouse, we towelled off to indulge in deliciously sweet strawberries and sip Briska ciders into the late hours of daylight. Caitlin
A party on Denmark’s northern shores
A sand dune-lined beach in North Jutland. Photograph: Konstantin Kalishko/Alamy
We spent the afternoon paddling with one foot in the Baltic and the other in the North Sea at the top of Grenen, North Jutland, Denmark. Then, we headed southwards along the beaches and through the sand dunes to Skagen to enjoy the midsummer celebration at Vippyfyret, where many hundreds gathered, having travelled mostly on foot or by bicycle to experience an evening of music with songs and recital. Artists, composers and poets were among the throng round a great bonfire which was a sight to behold. Mal Jones
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Pink light at midnight near Stockholm
A ferry leaving Vaxholm harbor in Sweden. Photograph: Alexandre Patchine/Alamy
For an easy midsummer escape from Stockholm, Vaxholm is unbeatable. A fast ferry gets you to the archipelago’s capital in under an hour. My tip is to spend the afternoon exploring the town, with its classic Falu-red wooden houses and gardens overflowing with flowers. But don’t take the last ferry back. Instead, find a spot by the water and watch as the midsummer sun refuses to set, bathing the islands in golden, pink light for hours. It’s a simple, accessible way to experience the magic of Sweden’s endless daylight without straying far from the city. Pamela
Food, friendship and fire in Valencia
People around the bonfire on the beach for the festival of San Juan. Photograph: Ruben Olmo Morales/Alamy
Last summer, while having a break in Valencia, I found out Spanish people mark 23 June as the beginning of summer by celebrating the festival of San Juan. For a few nights around the actual date of San Juan, bonfires, wine and music on the beaches seemed to go on until dawn. The local family I was staying with invited me to choose some old furniture to burn on a beach bonfire and helped me throw it on before we danced round the fire holding hands and singing songs to pagan gods to burn the evil of the previous year! We barbecued anchovies and sausages we had bought at Valencia’s marvellous Mercado Central at midnight before throwing ourselves into the Med at 2am – a feelgood way to celebrate midsummer, full of food, friendship and fire! April
Cycle to the sun … or just Edinburgh
Cramond beach sunrise, as cyclists on Ride to the Sun arrive.
I’ve really enjoyed Ride to the Sun – a 100-mile overnight bike ride from Carlisle to Edinburgh held on 21 June. It’s inclusive, joyous, community-filled and fabulous. From the Moffat chippy queue to the midnight rave to the toasting of the sunrise on Cramond beach, it’s the best way to spend the shortest night. Vicky
Red wine and cola on the beach in Asturias
The harbour at Cudillero. Photograph: kavram/Getty Images
We stumbled upon the midsummer Noche de San Juan in Cudillero in Asturias. Religious processions gave way to paganistic bonfires where people tossed mementoes of their year to forget. Next up were fireworks and a Brazilian samba troupe. Locals explained that the mayor could justify the expense because it was a prerequisite of getting re-elected. After midnight we headed to the beach for a party fuelled by calimocho (red wine and cola, don’t ask). We retired at 8am for a breakfast of chorizo and fried eggs just as a live DJ started up. Kieran
A nightingale in song. Photograph: Biosphoto/Alamy
Our midsummer stay in Le Pin, a hamlet in southern France between Bordeaux and Toulouse was rich with natural wonders, not always seen but very much heard. From shrieking swifts diving through the 19th-century market hall in nearby Auvillar to a turtle dove purring beside a rural road, it was this bird lover’s idyll. We heard nightingale melodies throughout the day as well as after dark, and caught the calls of cirl buntings, hoopoes and black redstarts. And it wasn’t just birds. One night, crickets and frogs provided a chirruping and croaking medley – a memorable midsummer nocturne. Sharon Pinner
Bands on every corner, Paris
A band playing in Ménilmontant, Paris, during the Fête de la Musique. Photograph: Hemis/Alamy
Hiring a bike and exploring Paris for Fête de la Musique was a brilliant way to spend an urban solstice. Every year on 21 June, the city turns into one big free festival, with stages of all sizes springing up outside famous landmarks and local neighbourhood bars. Beginning in the heart of the city to catch some psychedelic guitar outside the Centre Georges Pompidou, we then pedalled past brass ensembles outside jazz bars near Jardin du Luxembourg, classic French techno along the banks of the Seine and scuzzy metal bands in squares of the 13th arrondissement. Lizzy C
The golden light in Italy’s Piedmont
The vineyards of Serralunga d’Alba. Photograph: Alamy
In the golden light of midsummer, Serralunga d’Alba’s rolling vineyards (about 35 miles south-east of Turin) come alive. Staying at Cascina Meriame, a working winery with panoramic views, I savoured barolo and barbaresco wines during intimate tastings led by passionate hosts. Evenings were spent watching the sun set over the Langhe Hills, a Unesco world heritage site, while enjoying local cheeses and nebbiolo wines. The nearby medieval castle added a touch of history to the serene landscape. For a tranquil midsummer retreat blending culture, cuisine and nature, this Piedmont gem is unparalleled. Mr Ifan Morgan ap Dafydd
Winning tip: a fine place for a picnic, northern Iceland
Grímsey is an island that straddles the Arctic Circle line. Photograph: Oleg Senkov/Alamy
We travelled to Grímsey from Akureyri for the island’s summer solstice festival. Arriving early, we hiked to the marker sign and received official certificates to confirm we had crossed the Arctic Circle. Celebrations began at Krian, the only restaurant on the island, and continued well into the night at the schoolhouse. The drink flowed and there was a treasure hunt, dancing, traditional songs and homemade food. Families came together for picnics on the wildflower-covered hillsides, outdoor chess tournaments were played at midnight and, local or stranger, all were welcomed. It was truly magical. Elizabeth
Bexhill-on-Sea in East Sussex has been given the nickname “God’s waiting room” because more than a third of its population are over 65, but Londoners are still moving there
Richard Ashmore and Milo Boyd Digital Travel Editor and Commercial Content Lead
10:11, 05 May 2025
Bexhill-on-Sea is changing its reputation (Image: larigan – Patricia Hamilton via Getty Images)
A sleepy seaside town affectionately known as ‘God’s waiting room’ is catching the eye of more and more day trippers.
City dwellers eyeing a change of scenery are flocking to a picturesque seaside town on the south coast, where 34% of the inhabitants are aged 65 and above. Despite this nickname, an influx of younger professionals from the Big Smoke are not just choosing to visit Bexhill-on-Sea in East Sussex, but are selecting it as their new home.
One of the top draws for both locals and tourists is the picturesque Bexhill Beach, perfect for invigorating strolls along its shores. Stretching about two miles from Galley Hill in the west to the Polegrove recreation ground in the east, the beach provides stunning views over the English Channel and is a favourite spot for swimmers. It’s no wonder that Bexhill Beach ranks as one of the top local attractions on Tripadvisor.
The seaside town is growing in popularity (Image: (Image: Getty ))
Bexhill-on-Sea, along with neighbouring Eastbourne and Hastings, basks in more sunshine than much of the UK, enjoying an average of 1,892 hours of sun annually – nearly 500 hours above the British average.
Discover Bexhill, the local tourism guide website, proudly proclaims: “Bexhill-on-Sea is the birthplace of British motor racing, home of the De La Warr Pavilion and Guinness World Record breaker for the largest Charleston dance. Bexhill is a charming seaside town located at the heart of 1066 Country. It is a popular tourist destination, known for its scenic coastal views, historic architecture, and cultural heritage. Our town has a long history, dating back to the Norman conquest, and is home to several historic buildings and landmarks, such as the De La Warr Pavilion, a modernist building that serves as a centre for arts and culture.”
Its beaches became the first in the UK to offer mixed bathing, which was a rather bold and scandalous move at the time, and the town is officially recognised as the ‘birthplace of British Motor Racing’.
Despite its many claims to fame, the town had been somewhat neglected since its glory days – and was branded as being ‘left behind’ by the previous government. In 2023, it was announced Bexhill-on-Sea would be one of the 55 recipients of the Long-Term Plan for Towns scheme, providing it with a sizeable £20 million in endowment funds over 10 years. The initiative aimed to ’empower communities’ to ‘take control of their future’ by making long-term decisions to benefit locals. This includes reviving high streets, tackling anti-social behaviour, improving transport, and growing the local economy.
Right now there are plenty of fairly affordable homes there. Prices in Bexhill-on-Sea hover between £345,000 according to Rightmove, and £354,000 as listed on Zoopla. While this isn’t nothing, it is a fair deal cheaper than you’d find in London or nearby Brighton.
A report from the now-renamed Ministry of Housing, Communities and Local Government has cited a 3% population bump in the town from 2011 to 2021. Those considering the London-to-Bexhill move would be in distinguished company, with past notable residents including television inventor John Logie Baird, culinary icon Fanny Cradock, legendary comedian and writer Spike Milligan, as well as Desmond Llewelyn, famed for his role as Q in the James Bond film series.
The quaint town of Bexhill-on-Sea boasts an impressive musical heritage, with none other than Bob Marley having played his first UK gig at the De La Warr Pavilion back in July 1972. The town is also steeped in motoring history; in 1902, the 8th Earl de la Warr offered up his seafront estate for the UK’s inaugural International Motor Race Meeting, held in partnership with the Automobile Club of Britain and Ireland (which later evolved into the RAC).
