ancient

Forget scrambling for a quick look at Stonehenge down in Wiltshire and instead enjoy a relaxing trip to this Anglo-Viking settlement where you can step back into the past

For families that loves the great outdoors sprinkled with a touch of mystery, you can’t go wrong with a trip to the north of England.

The Yorkshire Dales in particular is a wonderful place to visit any time of the year with its big skies, sweeping green valleys and stone-built communities that feel frozen in time. One such village is Bursnall, which sits along a bend on the River Wharfe in Wharfedale. The big draw, of course, for visitors these days is Bursnall’s rare Viking and Anglo-Saxon carved stone circles, perched on a low ridge just beyond the village green. True, they’re not as famous as their larger cousins elsewhere in the country – but then again that’s half the magic.

You can wander right up to them – unlike Stonehenge, for example – without feeling you’ve stepped into a coach-load of loud tourists. Locals even say the stones line up perfectly with the sunrise at certain times of year. Whether that’s folklore or fact, you’ll get a cracking photo for the family album. Children love hopping from stone to stone and grown-ups can enjoy the wide-open views that stretch for miles.

Back in the village centre, Bursnall Beck is the spot for a gentle stroll. The path follows the water as it winds behind cottages with leaning chimneys and flower boxes bursting with colour. There’s a tiny wooden footbridge halfway along, ideal for an old-school game of Pooh sticks, which somehow never stops being competitive, no matter your age.

For a breather, head to The Spindle & Spoon, the village cafe smells of fresh bread, strong coffee and warm jam all at once. They do an excellent hot chocolate that arrives piled high with cream Their packed lunches are also a life-saver if you’re heading out on one of the way-marked family trails up towards Bursnall Edge.

While if you’re visiting at the weekend, the Bursnall Market is a must-see. It’s small but crammed with character, including hand-stitched toys, jars of honey from a local beekeeper and fragrant baked pies. Round off the day at the playing field, where there’s a brilliant new adventure frame and plenty of space for a family kickabout. On warm evenings the sunset spills across the hills in a blaze of orange and pink.

For a village that barely makes a blip on most maps, Bursnall feels like it packs in more fulfilment and things to do than places five times its size. It’s perfect for families or those that just fancy a wander in a quintessentially English village.

Diners fall silent as the haunting sound of the aulos – a double-piped wind instrument from ancient Greece – echoes through the vaulted breakfast room. The musician, Davide, wears a chiton (tunic), as do the guests; the mosaic floor, decorated vases and flicker of flames from the sconces add to the sense that we’ve stepped back in time.

This is Moyseion, a one-of-a-kind hotel-museum in the famous troglodyte city of Matera, in Basilicata, known for its sassi – cave dwellings carved into the limestone mountainside. Every detail has been carefully designed to transport visitors to Magna Graecia, as this area of southern Italy was known when it was ruled by the ancient Greeks from the 8th-6th century BC.

To watch “Trifole” is to fall in love with Langhe, a gorgeous section of the Piedmont region of northern Italy. Famed for its farming, cheeses and wine, this hilly, rural countryside feels cut off from modernity: an agrarian past perfectly preserved in an uncertain present. Among Langhe’s hallmarks is its rich tradition of truffle foraging, which becomes the centerpiece for director Gabriele Fabbro’s gentle drama about an aging truffle hunter, his restless granddaughter and a way of life vanishing before their eyes. Unfortunately, this heartfelt film resonates most strongly through those majestic landscapes, not via the story that unfolds.

Constructed with the elemental purity of a fable, “Trifole” introduces the viewer to Dalia (Ydalie Turk), who’s in her late 20s and visiting her grandfather Igor (Umberto Orsini). The trip is a reluctant one for Dalia. Prompted by her anxious mother Marta (Margherita Buy), she’s taking a break from her stalled life in London to check in on him due to Marta’s concern that his failing memory may require him to abandon his beloved crumbling cottage and enter a nursing home. When Igor initially mistakes Dalia for his daughter — Dalia’s mother — his confusion validates Marta’s worries.

Happy to live out the rest of his days in his remote paradise alongside his loyal dog Birba, who ably assists him in his truffle hunts, Igor is displeased that Dalia has rejected her family roots for the big city. Indeed, Dalia has trouble with her Italian, and when she offers to help him find truffles, he insists his granddaughter doesn’t have the instincts or the calloused hands necessary for the job. But Igor isn’t just adept at sniffing out truffles — he quickly deduces that she’s emotionally lost. (A writing career hasn’t materialized as she’d hoped.) Both of them are at a crossroads, neither sure what the future holds.

Turk and Fabbro, who co-wrote the screenplay, did extensive research on the region, incorporating locals’ stories into the narrative. No matter how fantastical “Trifole” eventually becomes, the filmmakers insist the plot points derive from tales they collected. (To that end, there actually is an Igor, Birba is a real truffle-hunting dog and there’s a 2020 documentary, “The Truffle Hunters,” that correlates with much of what we see.) Not surprisingly, this melancholy picture celebrates and mourns Langhe, a region imperiled by global warming and encroaching industrialization that threaten the once-fecund practice of truffle gathering. Igor’s fading memory proves to be an apt, albeit obvious metaphor for a vocation slowly losing its connection to its past as truffles have emerged as a hot gastronomic trend.

In its early stretches, “Trifole” is almost rudimentary in its storytelling, establishing a familiar generational conflict between Dalia and Igor, who live under the same roof but can’t see eye to eye. When she tries to compliment his picturesque farmland, he curtly responds, “It’s nothing like the soil I knew when I was young.” The tension only escalates once Dalia discovers he’s terribly behind on his mortgage, owing hundreds of thousands he doesn’t have. Igor’s only hope is to find an elusive (and valuable) white truffle that could save him from foreclosure. But he is now too frail to brave the deep woods. Dalia, guided by Birba, must take up the quest.

The film’s themes are simply drawn and easy to follow. Dalia may reside in cosmopolitan London but is, of course, miserable, with wise old Igor immediately diagnosing the cause of her malaise. “You don’t love anything,” he advises sagely. “This will end up hurting you a lot.” Consequently, Dalia’s journey to find the mythical white truffle will also be an opportunity to locate a sense of purpose, coming to appreciate her grandfather in a more profound way. Turk conceives her character as a collection of insecurities and hesitant expressions, making Dalia the perfect candidate to be metaphorically reborn through an unlikely forest adventure in which magical events will occur.

In his sophomore feature, Fabbro, who previously directed the 2021 romantic thriller “The Grand Bolero,” juxtaposes the quiet grace of Igor’s modest life with the cacophony and commercialism of contemporary truffle auctions. But Fabbro’s wistful salute to bygone traditions has significant limitations, especially noticeable in the reductive design of his diametrically opposed main characters. Now in his early 90s, Orsini (best known for Luchino Visconti’s 1969 drama “The Damned”) projects a fragile but resilient gravitas that’s quite affecting, but Igor is reduced to a noble symbol — a simplification that also undercuts Dalia, who is little more than a stand-in for a younger generation ignorant of its country’s history.

Only when Fabbro trains his camera on the Langhe skies, the land stretching off into the distance, does “Trifole” suggest the weight and majesty of a culture in danger of disappearing. You can almost touch the sacred soil of Igor’s youth, a world that he alone remembers.

The village of Merthyr Mawr, in the Vale of Glamorgan, Wales, is like stepping into a fairytale, with its thatched cottages, babbling brooks and stunning historical sites

Tucked away in the lush, rolling hills of Vale of Glamorgan, the quaint village of Merthyr Mawr is a real-life fairytale come to life. With its charming thatched cottages and awe-inspiring historical sites, it’s more akin to a Cotswolds hamlet than a location just a quick ten-minute drive from Bridgend.

Despite being home to a mere 300 residents and lacking a high street, this picture-perfect Welsh village has made its mark on the silver screen. Its nearby dunes were used as a filming location for the 1962 classic Lawrence of Arabia, according to Discover Britain. A gently babbling brook meanders through ancient woodland, while Shire horses graze in the verdant fields. And the best part? This hidden treasure is often devoid of crowds. The village’s name, Merthyr Mawr, originates from Merthyr Mymor or Myfor, a Welsh Saint believed to have met his end on these very grounds, reports Wales Online.

Archaeological research over the years has traced the village’s roots back thousands of years, even identifying it as a hub of prehistoric activity. Artefacts ranging from Stone Age flints to Bronze Age burial sites have been discovered here. Beyond the dark ages, visitors can marvel at Roman roads that sit alongside Victorian stonework. At the heart of the village lies the Merthyr Mawr Estate. This 19th-century mansion was constructed by landed gentry Sir John Nicholl.

To this day, it remains a private residence with the majority of the village and surrounding property owned by those who live there. This means that properties in the village are highly sought after as they seldom come up for sale and have often been in the family for generations. The best way to explore Merthyr Mawr is on foot – to fully appreciate the unique views and tranquil atmosphere. You can stroll past the village greens and the tennis club towards St Teilo’s Church.

Its graveyard is awash with vibrant flowers in the spring and summer months. During the day, sunlight streams through the intricate stained-glass windows. Believed to be built on the site of a structure that predates the 19th century, the church also houses a small collection of inscribed medieval stones from the 5th century. A ten-minute walk from the church will lead you to Ogmore Castle.

Nestled next to the Ewenny River, you can access its robust stone walls by stepping across ancient stepping stones used by the castle’s princess, who, according to legend, used them to meet her lover on a neighbouring bank of land. This 12th-century keep once protected the Norman-held lands of Glamorgan. Further along, you’ll find Candleston Castle, a later 14th-century manor house, fortified for the de Cantaloupe family.

If you’ve had your fill of culture and fancy some fun, there’s an outdoor sauna tucked away in the woods where you can unwind. This sauna is a traditional Lithuanian spot, meaning it uses a wood-fire to heat its hot tubs. Venture along the coastal path to the Merthyr Mawr Warren National Nature Reserve and you’ll discover something truly unique – a ‘Sahara Desert’ that featured in Lawrence of Arabia. After your enchanting adventure, if you’re feeling peckish, make your way to Ogmore village. Here, Cobbles Kitchen serves up a mouth-watering roast. To round off your day, pop into the Pelican Inn for a cosy pint by the fireside.

This picturesque island off of the coast of Northern Ireland stands out for its unique charm and natural beauty, as it sits completely isolated from the rest of the UK

Tucked away and untouched by mass tourism, this remote island provides the perfect retreat for anyone wanting to reconnect with nature and breathe in the crisp coastal air.

Rathlin Island boasts an incredible array of wildlife, making it an idyllic destination in Northern Ireland for birdwatching and walking, with a tranquillity that only a community of just 150 residents could provide. And yet, they share their home with tens of thousands of seabirds.

The Rathlin Seabird Centre provides a magnificent vantage point to watch the delightful antics of puffins, razorbills and kittiwakes in their natural surroundings. Additionally, seals are frequently spotted basking on the rocks, whilst Irish hares and mink can be seen wandering across the terrain.

One visitor shared their experience on TripAdvisor, saying: “The beautiful and peaceful place. Very little tourism, but it’s not needed; everything is basic, normal everyday life. It’s so simple just to walk the island.

“We have done this on several occasions and walk to each lighthouse. I recommend getting the bus to the bird sanctuary, as it’s quite a walk and very hilly. The scenery is like you will never have seen before.”, reports Belfast Live.

Thanks to the distinctive shape of this small island, it features three stunning lighthouses, each with its own character. Next to the seabird centre stands the West Lighthouse, renowned for being Ireland’s only upside-down lighthouse and an essential stop on any visit.

The East Lighthouse, Rathlin’s oldest, stands tall on the edge of a cave that is steeped in history. It’s said that this very cave was the refuge of Robert the Bruce in 1306 after his defeat in Scotland.

Legend tells us that while hiding away, he found inspiration from a spider to continue his fight for Scottish independence. This tale has forever linked him with the island, and many visitors come to pay their respects at the cave, gazing out towards Scotland from Rathlin.

One satisfied visitor said: “The scenery is mind-blowing, and taking the bus up to the lighthouse and bird sanctuary was fantastic. So much to see, and not just puffins. Lots of other nesting birds, plus the old upside-down lighthouse. Just very cool.”

Another tourist wrote: “A perfect day on an idyllic and unspoilt island. From start to finish… from the scenic crossing to the cold drink at McCuaig’s bar overlooking the swimmers and paddle boarders in Church Bay (at the end of a long walk on a sunny day), Rathlin has everything you could desire.”

However, the only way to reach Rathlin Island is by ferry from Ballycastle Harbour. You have two options: a passenger-only ferry that takes about 25-30 minutes, or a larger ferry that accommodates both people and cars, which takes up to 45 minutes.

The 16th-century monks of Évora knew life was short. As if to ram home the point, they decorated an entire chapel with bones dug up from the town’s overflowing cemeteries. The sign outside the Chapel of Bones roughly translates as “We bones in here wait for yours to join us”. Cheerful lot, those monks. Columns, walls, arches – all are covered in skulls, tibias, fibulas, clavicles. Rapt, I can’t stop staring, then start to chuckle when I see skulls curving round frilly frescoes of cherubim on vaulted ceilings, a whimsical touch of chintz among the ghoulishness.

Évora has me in its grip even before I come to the Chapel of Bones. This former royal city of Portuguese kings and capital of the Alentejo region has so many architectural and cultural treasures wedged within its historical centre that it’s often referred to as a living museum. But in a museum, you generally have to keep your voice down: here in Évora, there’s the buzz you get with 11,000 university students roaming round a Unesco world heritage site old town that’s encased within medieval walls.

I feel a pang of envy when I visit the 16th-century College of the Holy Spirit within the University of Évora, which is open to the public willing to pay €3 and take pot luck as to which of the ridiculously beautiful classrooms are free at that moment. My guide, Andre Birken, came to Évora from Germany as an Erasmus student years ago and decided to stay. Chilly northern Germany or laid-back southern Portugal, where even in late October it’s still 23C? Bit of a no-brainer, he tells me. He shows me classrooms decorated in the azulejo tiles for which Portugal is renowned, and where, if the lecture gets dull, you can lose yourself in bucolic blue-and-white scenes.

The ancient Romans, rather than the Greeks, left their mark on Évora in a more monumental style, including an enormous aqueduct that’s one of the first things visitors see as they approach the city. Rising in the centre of the old town are the 14 graceful Corinthian columns of the Roman temple built for emperor Augustus around the 1st century AD (and not, as is commonly assumed, dedicated to the goddess Diana). Surrounding it are buildings that typify most of the architecture here – low-slung, whitewashed, trimmed in ochre and usually sporting wrought-iron balconies. One of them is my hotel, a 15th-century former convent turned into the Pousada del Convento Évora. Every cobbled lane in the old town has this same style of architecture, and I find its uniformity immensely pleasing and harmonious – the white reflecting the sun, the mustardy ochre reminding me of the landscapes of the Alentejo around me, whose brownness is dotted with olive groves and cork forests.

And vineyards, of course, all of them blazing with autumnal colours. Alentejo is one of Portugal’s major wine regions, and its subregion of Baixo Alentejo will be 2026’s European Wine City. About 10 minutes’ drive from Évora is Fitapreta Winery, the brainchild of the innovative Portuguese winemaker António Maçanita and the British viticulturist David Booth. In 2015, Maçanita bought an old fortified manor house that had been in the same family since the 14th century, resurrecting ancient grape varieties, planting new vineyards and sticking to organic production. It’s an idyllic spot for a leisurely wine-tasting, followed by an even more leisurely lunch.

Within the modern winery (its facade clad in cork in a nod to Portugal’s millions of cork forests), André Alves leads me through a tasting of five of the winery’s 22 varieties – all indigenous. A deliciously bone-dry rosé (amusingly named Freshly Squeezed), a fresh-tasting orange-type wine that technically wasn’t an orange wine (A Laranja Mecânica) and the very elegant red Enxarrama all made me wish I had room to stash these in my luggage.

This is only the preamble. Sommelier Francisco Cunha of the winery’s A Cozinha do Paço restaurant then guides me into the part of the manor house that was originally the chapel, and whose galleried upper floor is one of the many atmospheric spots where they serve a seven-course lunch that deserves some serious Michelin attention. Braised fennel and a gorgeous sheep’s milk cheese sauce with turbot, and the famed black pig of the Alentejo paired with a cauliflower cream quenelle were exquisite.

In fact, excellent food is a given in Alentejo. At Enoteca Cartuxa near the Roman temple, they serve their own wines to go with plates of thin buttery slices of cured black pig and chorizo; not to mention the sublime Monte da Vinha sheep’s milk cheese that’s as gooey and as good as an Époisses. The venerable Restaurante Fialho comes out with classic Alentejo dishes done expertly: pigs’ cheeks braised in red wine melt in the mouth, and pork and clams unite in a piquant red peppery stew.

Évora’s food and wine alone make it a worthy holder of the 2027 European Capital of Culture title, even without its architectural marvels. Then again, Évora Cathedral is magnificent, with a typical mishmash of architectural styles, from romanesque and gothic to Renaissance and baroque. From here, it’s almost a rite of passage to walk down the narrow pedestrianised Rua Cinco de Outubro and its souvenir and craft shops wedged into white and yellow houses. Yes, it’s touristy, but delightful nonetheless, with cork handbags and ceramics actually made in Portugal.

This takes me to Évora’s historical heart, Praça do Giraldo, an expansive square filled with cafe terraces, arcaded shops, more of those lovely wrought-iron balconies and a huge 16th-century marble fountain that instantly grabs your attention. This is the spot for lazy and mild autumn mornings with a coffee and a pastel de nata custard tart or a cheesy tart called queijada de Évora, before heading off in search of more of the town’s oddities.

One in particular catches my eye: the row of very cute houses built under the 16th-century aqueduct Água de Prata, in the north-western part of the old town. I need more time here, yet I end up following the tourist trail out of Évora for a morning in the hilltop village of Monsaraz, right by the Spanish border. Here, in this all-white village, where craft boutiques and wine shops attract the tourists, it feels less real, more toytown. It’s all very pretty, and I even get a closer look at the beaches of Alqueva, western Europe’s largest artificial lake, just outside the village.

But I was missing Évora, which manages to hold on to its mellowness despite the growing number of tourists. I recall a chat with my guide, Andre, who mentioned the number of people who take day trips from Lisbon (only 90-odd minutes away) and tour groups who stop for a night or two. But they need four, five days, maybe a week, he says, to get the most out of it. I’m inclined to agree, as these too-short days fly by and I don’t get round to following the nature trails out of the town, or visiting all of the museums, or having another lazy coffee and eating a pastel de nata in the sunshine. Those monks were right: life really is too short.

The trip was provided by Kirker Holidays, which has three-night breaks at Pousada Convento Évora in November from £819pp, including breakfast, car hire and flights, although rail options are also available. Further information: visitalentejo.pt