France - Paris in the spring

Artists, designers and the effortlessly hip make their home in the neighbourhood of North Marias. Susi Cheshire finds out why. Pictures Paul Cooper

Paris’ hippest neighbourhood is the North Marais, the place to soak up some real Parisian culture and indulge in a spot of chic shopping. Home to artists, foodies, artisans, art galleries, young designers and literary types, it sits comfortably between the Musée Picasso, the Cirque d’Hiver at Filles du Calvaire metro station, a couple of quaint churches and the Rue de Bretagne food market.

The hub of this cartwheel formation of streets is where Rue de Turenne, Rue Vieille du Temple and Rue de Bretagne meet. Steeped in history, the former marshland (Marais means marsh) lay just outside the 1180 city wall. Home to the Knights Templars and country aristocrats who desired a town mansion before they lost everything in la Révolution, Le Marais became the favoured spot for artisans who created their workshops in the former mansion houses. Thanks to a preservation order, many mansions have now been restored into small museums and the area still retains its creative character.

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Zambia - Smoke on the water

How much excitement can one man cram into two days in Africa’s self-proclaimed Adventure Capital? Steve Davey finds out

Mosi-o-tunyi has competition. The “smoke that thunders” is being overshadowed by the smoke that drifts over from Zimbabwe, as Mugabe’s henchmen burn squatter camps in the town of Victoria Falls, just across the border. It is an object lesson as to why Livingstone is booming. The troubles in Zimbabwe have virtually wiped out its tourist industry, and it seems that everything has decamped to Zambia.

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Spain - The Golden Path

Olives may be the life-blood of Andalucía, but it is its traditional white towns and villages that are its beating heart.

On the slopes high above the town of Baena, brothers Don Paco and Don Felipe Núñez de Prado give me a grand tour of their olive groves. The pride they take in the organic cultivation of their trees is clear to see.

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Jordan - Desert smiles

The grins of the local people won Mari Nicholson over in no time, as did the fruit.

The smell of fresh figs, dates and pomegranates is an assault on the senses as I move among the shoppers in the marketplace of Amman. I bite into the nugget of juicy mango offered by the stallholder and accept a handful of saffron-flavoured pistachios and a sliced fig. He smiles a greeting. The smile is genuine, the welcome real, for the Jordanians’ warmth and traditional hospitality have not been corrupted by mass tourism.

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