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It’s been a slow but steady decline of a once charming street - not even gentrification, just crapification. What was once a beautifully down-at-heel village of delis, vintage stores and labyrinthine bookshops is now a mind-numbing roll-call of high-street obviousness. And now, the final nail in the coffin - my favourite old Jewish diner is closing, taking its swirly bronze wallpaper with it.

I find it hard when an area I love evaporates into the ether. But is it just me being a hostage to nostalgia? Am I yearnng for a time the generation before me saw as vulgar and banal?

Today’s Johnny-come-lately is tomorrow’s neighbourhood icon. It just has to have that magic.

- Dee Dee Luxe

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One of my favourite things to do when I go to another country is go to the movies. Even if I can’t understand the language, seeing (or hearing) how people react to the movies can be entertainment in itself. And then there’s the movie houses - my favourites would have to be the floridly magnificent Tuschinski in Amsterdam (it’s nick-named the Dowager’s Bon-Bon Box), the faded powder-blue Deco elegance of Mumbai’s Apollo, and the lavish mish-mash of San Francisco’s Castro.

First on my wish list? The Ballerina Ballroom Cinema of Dreams, the Scottish festival dreamed up by Tilda Swinton and Mark Cousins - eclectic programming, a venue with a peerless pedigree (the Who and Pink Floyd played there) and an entry fee that can be waived for a tray of home-baked fairy cakes.

Food, of course, is an important element of any cinema experience. According to the Thorn Tree, the Ritz in Scranton, Pennsylvania ‘give you pickles from a big jar.’

Now that’s entertainment.

- Cherry Washington

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Call me ignorant, but Europe in June spells sunshine to me. It’s why we chose that month to escape Melbourne and the beginning of winter. Unfortunately, winter came with us. It rained everywhere we went, which in some places didn’t matter: Barcelona is just as beautiful in a downpour, Paris is arguably more romantic under an ominous grey sky, and London just wouldn’t be London without a shower or six.

But when it rained in Croatia I was mad. We’d skipped Budapest and Sarajevo to spend two weeks island hopping in the Adriatic where the sun would surely shine. It did not, not even on Hvar, which receives an incredible 2724 hours of sunshine a year. Our week on the island contributed three hours to the annual total.

It didn’t work out the way we’d planned, but in the end it didn’t matter. We slept in, had long lunches, discovered Croatia’s national parks and Tuscan-style regions, and got lost in Dubrovnik’s magical Old Town.

Our planned beach time was spent at the bar, and I lost count of the times I slipped on the polished stone of the Stradun. But the ice-cream tasted just as good.

And another unexpected bonus: the weather was so bad that every hotel offered us a discount and an apology because ‘it never rains here’.

How do you like the rain when you’re on the road?

- Gabrielle Nancarrow is an inhouse Content Producer at Lonely Planet

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It’s funny, the impressions a city will leave on you after you’ve gone. Take Paris. On my first visit in 2000, I fell madly in love with its abundant and much-feted charms, just like millions of tourists before me: the sublime architecture, the art, the Seine, the men (ooh la la!), le vin rouge, and the romantic glamour of it all. But one of my most enduring memories of that trip is something I’d never heard mentioned nor seen featured in any guidebook - and that was all the cool old Citroens everywhere.

The proud owner of a canary-yellow 2CV at the time, I went nuts, taking photos of my car’s continental cousins with the snap-happy abandon that seizes other travellers when they see the Eiffel Tower or Notre Dame. Vintage DSs, 2CVs, CXs - even this ancient van that looked uncannily like a corrugated-iron elephant (which I’ve since found out must’ve been an H Van) - gleaming against a picturesque Parisian backdrop…

But was it all a dream? Do we embellish our travel memories as the years pass? Because when I went back to Paris a few weeks ago, all I saw was one crappy, shabby 2CV!!

Believe me, I was on Citroen alert, having just bought my first digital camera and itching to immortalise the local four-wheeled population. But it seems that Minis (old and new) are the latest vehicle of choice on Paris streets these days. So I have to wonder: where did all those gorgeous old Citroens go? Have they gone to the great scrapheap in the sky, or has my unreliable travel memory simply exaggerated the true extent of their Parisian presence?

Hmph. At least the men were as handsome as I remembered them to be…

- Suzy Watusi

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It’s way too easy to get bogged down in the 9-to-5. Sometimes the routine can even infiltrate the precious weekend. Thing is, a solid recharge, a casting aside of the shackles, is often closer than you think. If you’re lucky you can switch environments from office blah to country aah without cracking the hour. Kind of obvious, sure, but it never ceases to be a revelation to me. Last weekend an old buddy and I hit the mountains for two days of fresh air, fresh scones, open fires and flannelette pyjamas. I came home recharged and chirpy and feeling like all was well in my world.

It’s smart to keep in mind that getting away is closer and easier than you may think - and hanging out with a B&B’s resident Labrador is balm for the jangled soul.

- Dee Dee Luxe

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As an Australian I’m a constant disappointment to other travellers.

I don’t follow AFL or cricket, have never been near a surfboard, and have a pathological fear of many things Australia is famous for - sharks, crocodiles, serial killers…

Worse still, I don’t watch Neighbours.

During a brief stint working as a teacher in Scotland, my students were appalled to learn I didn’t know who Natalie Imbruglia was (”but she was on Neighbours!”).

After a trip to the Northern Territory my American friend laughed when I told her my constant fear of croc attacks had interfered with my enjoyment of the great outdoors. Apparently I am meant to embrace all the ‘deadlies’ my homeland has to offer.

“You are sooo not Australian!” she said. “Australians love to boast about cheating death!”

My idea of an outdoor adventure is an afternoon in a beer garden; I keep good company with my closest Parisian friend who drinks neither wine nor coffee, and hates small dogs.

Are you letting your country down? Travelled with someone who is? Turn them in to us.

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I must admit I haven’t been to many weddings, but having just attended two in successive weekends - both requiring interstate travel - I feel enlightened. Obviously it’s something to do with being in your early 30s, but it seems quite a few of my oldest and best friends are tying the knot.

These two weddings were certainly less formal than I expected. The dress code for both was ‘cocktail’. One of the invitations stated: ‘Dress for a celebration! (No tie required)’ - something most of the guys ignored and left me looking considerably underdressed (grey suit, black shirt, no tie - very Underbelly).

They are, however, fantastic celebrations - and the best reunion you could possibly hope for, especially if you live far away from where you grew up.

Ever travelled far from home for a friend or family member’s big day? Would you recommend getting married in a foreign country? Share your happy wedding tales or horror stories!

Ash Deerfat

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I want to confess something… I’m a travel junky. I can’t live without the stuff.

I started young: the grand tour of Europe with my mum when I was seven. However, I quickly progressed to the harder stuff: backpacking, learning languages, living overseas… I even took to guidebook-writing to support my habit. But no matter how ‘tough’ and remote the destination, I could never shake the feeling that I was just a tourist. It all seemed too blithe. Too easy.

Then I had my epiphany. The problem was not the destination, it was the way I’d gotten there. Flying. Thanks to flight, there are few places you can’t reach in 24 hours. Thanks to flight, modern travel is instant gratification; the consummation of desire without the dance of courtship. So I began to formulate a dream: to travel a long way, over land and sea, without the help of flight.

I’m thinking it will be time-consuming, expensive, full of frustration, boredom, occasional panic and a little serendipity. And I’m pretty sure it will be one of the most memorable trips of my life - at least as memorable as that first tour of Europe.

I’m interested to hear from anyone else who’s shunned aeroplanes on a long-haul trip. When I Googled ‘flightless travel’, to my surprise the top-ranked site was that of my old mate and fellow Lonely Planet author Simon Sellars (love your work, Simon). Then I saw, quel coincidence, that Lonely Planet of all publishers has a new book due out next month: Flightless: Incredible journeys without leaving the ground.

So there you go peoples - I’m not very original, even around these parts. But am I at least part of a movement?

- Michael Day is a Lonely Planet author who is currently working inhouse

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When Australia had to take the capital out of the hands of feuding cities Melbourne and Sydney, it was the classic case of two petulant children fighting over something they both wanted.

And as often happens in this situation, neither got the reward.

Instead, Canberra was plucked out of sheep paddock obscurity, and bestowed the title of ‘capital’.

To paraphrase some of the criticism about Australia’s capital: Life is rarely seen on the symmetrical streets outside lunchtime hours. The tourist destinations have no true tourist appeal. It is a ‘cemetery with lights’.

This is all a little harsh on poor Canberra. Once you get used to the lack of people and realise that there is not a revival of the black plague, it’s actually quite refreshing to have so much space on your daily travels.

Not forgetting that this previously humble sheep farm is the cashmere knit of Australian artwork and historical artefacts. Its planned combinations of straight and curving streets boast the old and new Parliament Houses, the National Gallery and the National Museum of Australia.

Canberra treads the line between town and city, small yet urban - it lives up to its title of ‘the compromise city’.

Love Canberra? Tell us about it. Hate Canberra? You can still tell us about it.

- Eloise Johnstone is an intern from Monash University. She’s doing some work experience at Lonely Planet. She loves Canberra.

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