“Getting to the top of the Acropolis and seeing the Parthenon in a wheelchair thanks to the amazing disabled access lift.” That is Ann Jones’s response to my article last week about the minor miracles of travel. I wrote about having history to myself in Lebanon, the magic of self-service tower tourism in Germany and exploring the verdant maze on top of the university library in Warsaw. The last of these is open only from April to October, but well worth incorporating into your city break plans for 2026.
Hats off to the Greek authorities for working to allow access to one of the world’s wonders for travellers with limited mobility.
Also in Athens, Andrew Tovell reports another miracle for those of us reliant on public transport, which was conspicuous by its absence in the UK on 25 and 26 December. On Boxing Day, he said: “In Athens everything ran yesterday: trams, buses, and Metro. Same again today.”
Andy Dann regards an entire nation as miraculous: “Japan – fantastic people, fantastic culture, so much to see. What a country.”
“Well, we didn’t have attending the Golden Shears shearing and wool handling championship on our agenda when visiting New Zealand,” responds a reader identifying as Villa Mimarmel. “But some friendly locals we met in a little local museum told us about it and it was a great few hours.” I was unaware of this North Island tradition, which will take place as usual from 7am on 4 March to 10pm on 7 March in the town of Masterton. If you can’t make it this year, you can watch the livestream for NZ$10 (£4.30).
Some readers classified events that we should really be able to take for granted as miraculous. Ralph Hardwick reports: “The airline didn’t lose my baggage.” He adds, though: “That’s probably because I didn’t give them the chance to lose it.”
“Random Thoughts” says: “We got through Manchester airport fairly efficiently!” (I happened to spend the Tuesday and Wednesday before Christmas reporting from Terminal 2 at the airport, and all the passengers I talked to seemed happy.)
Meanwhile, reader Phil reports of an outbreak of bonhomie on the London Underground: “Spoke to someone in the Tube.” This was not, though, a recent event; the human interconnection took place in May.
“HardForWellies” describes a minor Russian miracle that I sense did not happen this year. He was in St Petersburg “unhappily confused and in the wrong place” with “neither phone nor local money”. Happily, he reports: “A young copper took pity on me. Paid for my Metro ticket.”
I know the feeling. The last year in which I was in Russia was 2018, for the highly successful World Cup. After watching future finalists Croatia defeat Nigeria in Kaliningrad, my friend Ian and I needed to check out for Poland – we were flying back that evening from Gdansk. Apparently, I had told Ian I would organise bus tickets, but promptly forgot to do so. They were predictably all sold out.
My cunning replacement plan involved taking a local train to the westernmost railway station in Russia, Mamonovo. After stopping at a series of stations with numbers, not names – 1298km and 1333km, for example – we were practically the only passengers left on at the end of the line.
A soldier demanded the papers of a dodgy-looking couple of westerners in an unexpected location. Then he asked how we proposed to cover the final 5km to the Polish border? After our collective shrug, he beckoned us to his private car and drove us there. “You cannot walk across, so you must hitchhike,” were his last words to us. Thumbs up – and, within minutes, a minibus of Croatia supporters with a couple of spare seats took us across.
Returning to Boxing Day 2025, I experienced probably the final minor miracle of the year. After some misinterpretation of bus schedules, the double-decker I needed drove past as I was strolling to the bus stop in the town of Windermere, Cumbria.
With an hour’s wait before the next departure to Ambleside, I resorted once again to hitchhiking. The location on the edge of town was prime turf, with slow traffic, good lines of sight and lots of room to stop safely. The first few dozen cars sped past, but then two vehicles stopped at once.
I chose the Jaguar.
Simon Calder, also known as The Man Who Pays His Way, has been writing about travel for The Independent since 1994. In his weekly opinion column, he explores a key travel issue – and what it means for you.
