Where to go, what to drink and what to expect: Moldova, Georgia, Transnistria, America and beyond.
Ever fancied becoming a movie star without the inconvenience of talent? Discover a holiday where you can drink Moldovan wine, battle zombie grandmothers and star in a horror film that Hollywood will desperately pretend doesn't exist.
Pairing wine with curry shouldn’t require a spice degree or a waiter with a flip chart. From creamy korma to vindaloo with theatrical ambitions, here’s how to find a bottle that gets along with your dinner.
Welcome to Nashik, where India swaps the chai for Chenin Blanc and “just a small tasting” develops into an afternoon with ambitions. Discover vineyards, Indian wines and why your tasting notes can safely remain “yes, more of that.”
Duck egg with lager? Crickets with a citrusy pale ale? Goat with something maltier? Here are playful beer matches for the Vietnam tour’s real menu—from familiar street-food favourites to optional bites with antennae.
New to Saigon craft beer? Start with a lager, explore a pale ale or IPA and ask the bartender what’s on tap. No hop diploma required; confident pointing is entirely acceptable.
Fresh bia hơi, sidewalk snacks and stools built for a very compact committee meeting. Here’s how to order, find a seat and enjoy Hanoi’s beer streets without blocking the pavement or losing a knee.
Steamed, fried or swimming in jhol, momos deserve a thoughtful beer companion. Here’s how to pair Nepalese dumplings with lager, bitterness or a little sweetness without appointing yourself Minister of Chutney.
From cold Nepalese beer to millet-based tongba and a well-earned cup of chiya, here’s what to sip between the momos without treating every local drink like a bravery challenge.
Temples, local food, Nepalese beer and mountains dramatic enough to make your camera nervous. Here’s what a Nepal beer tour could involve and why the Yeti’s tasting notes remain unavailable.
Sake can be served chilled, warm or at room temperature, so you’re free to retire the “always hot” assumption. Here’s a simple beginner’s guide to tasting it without turning your notes into a plum-scented thesis.
Sake is brewed from rice, Japanese whisky is distilled from grain and wine is fermented from grapes. Here’s how to tell what’s in your glass without inventing “hints of expensive woodland.”
An izakaya is a Japanese pub with shared plates, a big menu and the occasional appetizer you didn’t order. Here’s how to point, share and enjoy the evening.
A French mystery wine tour gives you the region, the dates and the promise of excellent wine—then keeps the exact itinerary under wraps. It’s a holiday with a plot, guided tastings and no geography exam.
Port and Douro wine come from the same valley, but one is fortified and the other is usually still. Here’s what to pour with lunch—and when to bring out the Port.
Malt, grain, pot still, cask and one very controversial “e”: here’s the beginner’s guide to Irish whiskey, minus the tasting exam and the fake oak expertise.
Start in Dublin with a whiskey tour, head west to Galway for pubs, music and craic, and leave time for food, wandering and the occasional sensible decision.
Destination secret? No problem. Pack comfortable shoes, layers, a waterproof and your essentials—not a suitcase prepared for every climate, wedding and surprise vineyard on Earth.
Expect local beers, pub characters, a round or two and a quiz answer you’re sure you knew. Here’s how to enjoy Britain’s pub culture without treating the crawl like an Olympic event.
Cask or keg? One is gently conditioned in a cask; the other is pushed from a pressurised keg. Here’s the pub debate explained without appointing a beer judge.
Armenian brandy has centuries of character but you don’t need to identify every spice or claim a personal relationship with the oak tree. Here’s how to taste it like yourself.
Explore Areni’s ancient wine cave, local red grapes and Noravank’s red-rock setting. Armenia’s wine country serves up history, views and seriously good reds—without a tasting exam.
New to Armenian wine? Start with Areni, try a glass of Voskehat, enjoy the mountain views and relax: there’s no pop quiz, just a very good chance you’ll find a new favourite.
Kakheti serves up qvevri wine, mountain views, excellent food and generous hospitality. Here’s what to expect beyond the phrase “I’ll just have one more”.
A Georgian supra is dinner with a tamada, heartfelt toasts, an avalanche of food and the sudden realisation that “I’ll just have a little” was not a binding contract.
Meet the giant Georgian clay pot buried underground making excellent wine while you struggle to keep a basil plant alive. Eight thousand years of winemaking wisdom. Still no app required.
Moldova in winter swaps sunny vineyard strolls for atmospheric city bars, hearty food and underground wine cellars that stay cool all year. Pack layers, grippy shoes and a coat with the confidence to lead the group.
Moldova has underground wine cellars so big they have roads. Your wine rack has three bottles and a gas bill behind it. Discover brilliant wines, generous food and why your next holiday deserves a better answer than “Tenerife again.”
Moldova’s National Wine Day is the school trip your teachers deliberately kept quiet about. Discover fabulous wines, meet the makers and learn why “we’ll meet near the wine” is a spectacularly useless plan. Your homework? Find a favourite.
Five hours ghost hunting in Eastbourne. We found mysterious voices, Michael Winner, paranormal bum heat and a ghost smelling of garlic. No actual ghosts, but by the end we were ready to join them.
I travelled to one of the best places on Earth to see the Northern Lights, spent eight freezing hours chasing them across Norway, took 50 photos of complete darkness and somehow still managed to miss them again in Iceland...and from an airplane. If there were an Olympic event for almost seeing the Aurora Borealis, I'd be bringing home gold.
Spent a week trying to fall in love with Vienna but somehow ended up dodging angry cyclists, eating schnitzel with the consistency of paving slabs, having an artificial tree land on my lunch and washing it all down with enough Carlsberg to make me question my life choices. Beautiful city? Absolutely. My favourite European city? Not even close.
Spent a week exploring India's famous Golden Triangle and somehow ended up being dragged around Old Delhi in a wooden cart, drinking 8% Kingfisher in a commission shop, driving a tuk-tuk through Jaipur traffic and being asked to tip a self-proclaimed champion rower before he'd even picked up an oar. India wasn't just a holiday, it was a full-blown sensory ambush, and I loved every gloriously bonkers minute of it.
What started as a trip to explore Cambodia's history quickly turned into a misadventure involving stolen trainers, a stranger hugging me by mistake, a tuk tuk driver called Bob and a roadside duck embryo that looked like it belonged in a science-fiction film. Along the way I visited the Killing Fields, drank beer overlooking the Mekong and discovered that finding replacement size 10 shoes in Phnom Penh is surprisingly difficult.
I flew from Britain to Brazil for just three days at Christmas, spent most of Copacabana Beach trying to hold my stomach in, accidentally joined a volleyball game despite not playing since childhood and discovered that Brazilian beer is served at temperatures usually reserved for organ transplants. It may not have been sensible but it was unforgettable
Saudi Arabia was one of the strangest places I've ever visited. I found the world's largest café with almost no customers, a giant bottle-opener skyscraper containing an Anne Summers shop, mystery buffet meat, endless royal portraits and enough Diet Pepsi to concern medical professionals. Somehow, the lack of alcohol ended up being the least unusual part of the trip.
I flew 3,500 miles to Siberia to discover local booze and see the world's largest Lenin head. By the end of the day I'd visited Buddhist monasteries, met a remarkably well-preserved 99-year-old monk, received news that COVID was shutting borders and escaped on a six-hour flight fuelled mainly by warm water and mild panic.
Most wine tastings take place in vineyards, cellars or hotels. Mine took place inside the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone after a day exploring abandoned cities and one of history's most famous disaster sites. Looking back, it remains the most unusual venue I've ever used and one of the best stories I've ever brought home.
I went to China expecting beer, baijiu and the occasional unusual drink. Instead, I found snake wine, mystery dishes, fascinating local traditions and several moments where curiosity clearly overruled common sense. As travel strategies go, it worked surprisingly well.
Most people visit North Korea for the history, politics or sheer curiosity. I went because I wanted to know what people were drinking. What followed involved local beer, unexpected meals and the realisation that even the world's most secretive country can surprise a wine merchant.
I've eaten in excellent restaurants around the world but some of my most memorable meals happened at Georgian kitchen tables. The food was incredible, the wine never stopped flowing and every grandmother seemed personally offended by the idea that I might already be full.
Tiraspol has giant Lenin statues, Soviet tanks, excellent brandy and enough Cold War atmosphere to make visitors check the date on their phone. After countless visits, I've realised it's not Europe's strangest capital. It's Europe's most fascinating surprise.
Transnistria has Lenin statues, Soviet mosaics, rope ferries, giant bottle collections and a currency recognised by almost nobody. After years of exploring the region, I've come to one conclusion: it's either Europe's strangest destination or its most entertaining. Possibly both.
Most people come to Moldova for the wine. I did too. What I didn't expect were giant Soviet mosaics, abandoned mega-hotels, underground wine cities and a breakaway republic that feels like a time machine. Welcome to Moldova's wonderfully weird side.
Christmas in Hawaii is deeply confusing. Santa arrives by surfboard, people spend Christmas Day on the beach and the biggest festive challenge is remembering to reapply sunscreen. After a week in paradise, I began to suspect snow might have been a marketing campaign.
Florida has world-class breweries, beautiful beaches and enough strange stories to keep newspaper editors employed indefinitely. After exploring the Sunshine State, I've reached one conclusion: Florida isn't a destination. It's a long-running experiment that somehow escaped the laboratory.
I arrived in America thinking I understood the country. Then I encountered breakfast portions the size of garden furniture, drinks filled with enough ice to preserve mammoths and breweries serving peanut butter stout. Several years later, I'm still confused. And that's exactly why I keep going back.
Most tour companies buy minibuses. I bought a 36-year-old Soviet Lada called Boris. Against all logic, he's become one of the most popular members of the Tipple Tours team. This is the story of how a questionable purchase turned into one of Moldova's most memorable wine adventures.
Moldova is what happens when 5,000 years of winemaking meets zero interest in moderation. Expect underground wine cities, unstoppable grandmothers and “just one glass” turning into a full-blown life event. 🍷
Honest, funny and genuinely useful guides to the places we travel. From Moldova's underground wine cities to Soviet Tiraspol, Georgian supras and America's strangest corners, these are the stories that help you decide where to go next and what to pack (spoiler: a corkscrew).
Stop reading about weird places. Start visiting them.
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