Today, I sit on my Mexican ranch with a warm sun overhead and a fresh breeze rustling the cornfields all around. My black labrador Jack rolls and yawns luxuriously. I'm reading a Macmillan lit collection called simply Travel Stories while fading in and out of a bliss coma. Sometimes, it's nice to sample classic journeys without committing to entire books.
This compilation joins Graham Greene in Mexico, Eric Newby in India, Ewan McGregor in Mongolia, Michael Palin in Tibet, Bill Bryson in Norway, and Robert Louis Stevenson on the Atlantic Ocean. Yet, one thing is odd. The selected authors are overwhelmingly British (and Bill Bryson is quite Brit-ish), but no mention is made of this attribute of the collection. I think that's a mistake. This feaure should be noted for 3 reasons.
