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Flora Baker
1,557 followers -
Writer, volunteer and avid traveller.
Writer, volunteer and avid traveller.

1,557 followers
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It’s been almost a year since my dad died. I’m writing this in the living room at my boyfriend’s flat in Glasgow. His dog is snoring on the sofa with his paws resting on my knee; there’s half-empty boxes of Indian takeaway on the glass coffee table;…
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This is the house I was born in. It’s the only family home I’ve ever known. This is where my parents brought me as a baby in March 1988; to a house they’d decided to put a mortgage on when they realised they were about to become a family. They’d only been…
A Letter to My Family House
A Letter to My Family House
floratheexplorer.com
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You’ve got a month in Cuba. Where do you go? It’s a fantastic destination, but travelling solo in Cuba can be daunting. Here’s everything I learned about backpacking the island during my four weeks there. My visit to Cuba was something of a spontaneous…
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One morning in Mallorca, I am staring upside down at the Mediterranean sea. The calm voice of our yoga instructor tells us to step out of Downward Dog and into the next pose. As my body rights itself on the slowly rocking deck of the boat, I have to…
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“Shall I take a photo of you?” It’s a sun-soaked day in early June, and I’m walking through Shoreditch with a group of bloggers I’ve never met. In my hands I’m clutching the newest Huawei P20 phone; we’ve each been lent a handset for the day so we can…
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Have you ever gone urban exploring? One of those worldwide pursuits which stays relatively secretive for a few reasons, urban exploring (or ‘UrbEx’) is the activity of those who venture inside abandoned sites of all kinds, usually armed with a torch and a…
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It’s not easy losing both your parents in your twenties. And the grief? It’s a sucker punch to the gut. It’s like a sharp-toothed creature inside your chest. Like a waning chasm crawling up your throat. Like an animal barrelling through your ribcage.…
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“Mi-mi mi-mi mi-mi mi-mi-miiiiii!” A group of travel bloggers stand in a small library, facing a keyboard. On the Caribbean island of Antigua, in a stunning resort studded with pineapples and palm trees, they are practicing their vocal warm ups. “Ma-ma…
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My first view of Ronda was a row of cliffside houses. They teetered on the very edge of a sheer drop, as if there was nothing to prevent these small white buildings from falling into the canyon 120 metres below. In the early hours of a crisp January…
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In January, I came home to a broken boiler. After celebrating the New Year in Cuba, I’d spent two straight days flying from Havana to Toronto to London – and I was exhausted. Moreover, I was more than a little worried about how it would feel to be at home…
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