• It’s the last leg of my Africa rail trip – and I want to do it all again

Miss: Las Vegas

Las Vegas has had a terrible year, with hotel occupancy crashing to the lowest levels since Covid, layoffs on gambling floors as empty as cathedrals and one airline reporting ticket sales down 62 per cent. Sin City is poker-faced, blaming the slump on external factors: the grim economic outlook, the Canadian boycott and the risk of being snatched from the Strip by US Immigration and Customs Enforcement. But this losing streak is worse than that. For 60 years or more Las Vegas was a Disneyland for degenerates where every loser could be a high roller for a weekend. As long as that promise was kept they’d happily pay the price, in the belief that even though the house always won, they might be the exception. Then the corporations took over from the Mob, and as the price gouging went seismic, the glamour cracked. Poker went online and punters went elsewhere. Once, the idea that Las Vegas could go down like Gomorrah was poetic but unlikely. Now it’s worth a punt.

• Las Vegas is overpriced and out of touch. I’m not surprised people aren’t visiting

Claire Irvin, head of travel

Hit: Family travel

While 2025 has been suboptimal in many ways, it did at least deliver on travel — the common denominator for me being precious time with family. From Hogmanay at Gleneagles — our favourite place to wave off the old year and welcome in the new — and our first ever cruise to Alaska, to autumnal romps through the Cotswold countryside at Estelle Manor and a post-GCSE week with my daughter horse riding through the Okavango Delta at Macatoo Camp in Botswana, we’ve been lucky to top up our shared memory bank with some pretty incredible experiences. The most unforgettable for me, however, was a November overnighter in Norfolk with my 84-year-old dad. His travel wings have been clipped of late and to see his eyes shine on a blustery boat trip and then his cheeks glow as he nursed a fireside whisky overlooking the Wash from the beautiful Blakeney Hotel was the highlight of my year.

Miss: UK trains

The irony of covering some of the world’s most incredible rail journeys while dealing with the miserable daily dysfunctionality of Thameslink is never lost on me. And while the travel section is not the place for my commuter woes, our rail network’s inability to deliver a reliable service does have serious implications for travel. It is nigh on impossible to confidently book rail tickets in advance to reach an airport, port or onward rail connection, thus increasing the overall cost of a trip with overblown ticket prices on the day, or unnecessary taxi fares, and the stress of planning. If I can get around Europe by rail without a hold-up or missed connection, why can’t I get to Heathrow from north Hertfordshire?

Jenny Coad, associate editor

Hit: Off-season Peloponnese

My best trip this year by far was taking my young family to the Mani peninsula in the Peloponnese in mid-September, when it was still plenty hot enough but not roiling. We swam in the bay next to the former home of the travel writer Paddy Leigh Fermor and understood entirely why he fell in love with it. We couldn’t keep the kids out of the still-warm sea. I loved that golden light and the views from high mountain villages such as Tseria, where tiny green figs were still in fruit. My husband was delighted that eating out was so inexpensive.

Our other travel win this year was self-catering cottages in the grounds of hotels. They aren’t a new concept but they seem to be growing in number. I’ve stayed in two recently and they are a godsend when you have young children. You can dine early in the restaurant (cocktails! No washing-up!) and then remove your rabble, put them to bed and, rather than sit in the dark, have a glass of wine in front of a fire, watching a film in a sitting room that’s not strewn with toys. Bliss.

Miss: London by day

We recently took a week off to spend at home — having a breather — with the kids mostly in nursery. But on our day with them we decided to take a day trip to London. The Natural History Museum, we thought, would be manageable midweek. Not so. It was horribly heaving and my three-year-old daughter Lyra found the experience miserable (I don’t blame her, dinosaur bones don’t really do it for me either). The 18-month-old was thrilled by everything, especially the animatronics. But Lyra didn’t come round until I took her to the V&A shop — it is excellent. London is stuffed with museums, many of them less-visited than the South Ken biggies. The quieter Tate Britain would have pleased me more — the fantastic exhibition celebrating the photographer Lee Miller is on until February 15 and there’s a digital drawing area the kids will love.

Mike Atkins, senior commissioning editor

Hit: Amazing art down under

You don’t go to Australia for art, do you? Good wine, yes. Abysmal haircuts, yes. Competitive cricket, yes. (Actually, scrub that last one.) But art? Surely that’s like going to Dubai for good taste. Anyway it turns out that not only does Australia have “good art” but Tasmania might actually have the most fascinating modern art museum in the world. I recently took a ferry in Hobart, the island state’s capital, and landed at Mona, the Museum of Old and New Art, whereupon I lost nearly a whole day wandering around several levels of beautiful, subversive, subterranean nonsense. I saw a Porsche that had been made to look as though it had eaten too many pies; two mind-bending light installations by James Turrell; a collection of ceramic vulvas; and a performance by a harpist who had been living in an exhibition space for six weeks, composing a new piece every day. I also saw an installation that mechanically recreates the human digestive system, producing a fresh poo at 2pm each day. Fair dinkum.

Miss: Untidy mistakes of America

I knew Times Square would be a bit rubbish. Everybody knows Times Square is a bit rubbish. When you step off the plane at JFK, the first thing the goons at passport control do (after solemnly asking if you’re a terrorist) is tell you that Times Square is a bit rubbish. So on my first trip to New York, why was there a tiny bit of me that expected it not to be rubbish? Why was there a bit of me that wanted it to be something other than a dropped litter tray of fast food joints, shoddy high street stores and hundreds of tourists shuffling around looking as though they’d been sold a pup? Maybe it’s the name. It’s so evocative. Like Shibuya Crossing in Tokyo, or St Mark’s Square in Venice. I suppose the London equivalent is Leicester Square — great name, shame about the face. So look, you already know this, but just in case anyone was dozing at the back, let me make this very clear: Times Square is a bit rubbish.

Laura Jackson, deputy head of travel

Hit: Feeling the heat in Marrakesh

August in Marrakesh can mean temperatures of 45C. Friends said we were mad to go but they were wrong. My husband and I didn’t have time for a full summer getaway so we plumped for a three-night long weekend at the over-12s-only Capaldi Hotel and Spa, a 40-minute drive from the city. It was a few degrees cooler there, near Lake Takerkoust, and, my word, what a spot, with mountain views and a designer hotel that’s like a film set. We had the run of the place, went early to the horde-free medina and kept our poolside sessions to the early evening when the heat had waned to, heck, about 35C. The hotel, owned by Ed and Tara Lyle, has a tiny but brilliant spa and excellent French-Moroccan food. What a find.

• Read our full review of Capaldi Hotel and Spa

Miss: UK traffic jams

Wales is brilliant, isn’t it? Beaches for miles, Menai Strait mussels, Eryri (Snowdonia) National Park’s mountains. But getting there when the trains are up the spout is a Herculean task. I don’t know if you’ve ever spent eight hours in a Peugeot 208, mostly on the M6, but it’s a one-star review from me. The journey to Anglesey was supposed to take five hours but there was no time for me and my pal Jo to stop even for our planned lunch. We arrived significantly crumpled. Thank goodness for a cracking walk up Snowdon the next day. Though I’d do it all again in a heartbeat just for those views.

Huw Oliver, audience editor

Hit: Active holidays

For the past four months my legs have ached. I took up running in August and now I wobble around the office as though I’ve just completed a marathon (the reality: 4km, three days ago). But I get such a buzz out of lapping my local park that whenever I go away running has become part of the adventure — an obstacle course around tourists in central Florence; the gusty, harbourside routes of the Estonian capital Tallinn; an entire weekend planned around a 5k in the Forest of Dean. But the high point of my holiday fitness journey? A week’s cycling from Tallinn through city, fen and forest to Peipsi — Europe’s fifth-largest lake — which marks the EU’s eastern border. You couldn’t see Russia on the other side but the fish pancakes and samovar-brewed tea at the Kala-sibula restaurant — run by Old Believers, the descendants of religious dissenters exiled in the 1660s — in the village of Kolkja made it feel close. At the end of each day I collapsed into bed and had the best sleep of my life. I can’t wait to go on a trip like that again.

Miss: A sleeper train in Armenia

Sleep (or rather the lack of it) can break a holiday too. I took my first sleeper train, from the Georgian capital Tbilisi to the Armenian capital Yerevan, in April and I didn’t get more than 15 minutes of continuous kip all night. There was the drunk who mistakenly tried to get into our cabin multiple times; the couple blaring music from their phones next door; the bumpy Soviet-era track; and the stupidity of choosing the rickety, pull-down top bunk when I could have gone for the more stable bottom one. And then we arrived in Yerevan before 7am, when nothing was open, with hours to go before we were able to check in to our Airbnb. I loved the city’s laid-back vibe and café culture but next time I’ll take the bus.

Gemma Bowes, assistant editor

Hit: Surprise family gathering in the Algarve

Mexico hit the top spot for thrills and colourful culture this year but my winner was a family gathering in the Algarve. It was a surprise 60th birthday party for a dear family friend who looked after me and my sister as children and who remains, with the rest of her immediate family, closer than many of our blood relatives. How we all kept this shindig a secret for an entire year still amazes me. Even when urged to put on a nice dress for a spontaneous dinner at her favourite restaurant, Os Salgados, an excellent seafood place right on the beach near Gale, she was none the wiser. When she got there, dozens of her family and friends were waiting. Shock then tears ensued, before several days of partying with all her best-loved people staying nearby. We were at the W hotel, quite blingy and not my normal sort of place but very fun for the occasion — my kids loved the pools and the bar was well used.

• 22 best things to do in the Algarve

Miss: Noisy Mexican hotels

After a long taxi ride from Mexico City to Puebla, a city about 80 miles to the southeast, I was relieved to arrive at La Purificadora. The hotel was designed by the hot architect Ricardo Legorreta and is part of the Design Hotels collection, so expectations were high. Behind a high stone wall was an open courtyard where my children and I were given fizzy drinks as we sat on plump sofas. A set of stone steps rose to the upper level, designed to resemble some of the great pre-Aztec pyramids we would be visiting — there was even a trail of water dripping in a channel down the middle, like sacrificial human blood once would have at the ancient temples. All boded well. We relaxed and were taken up to our room: minimalist, grey, arty. Then the bellboy asked if we wanted the blinds open and to see the balcony: of course! He did the honours — revealing the entrance to a vast conference centre where hundreds of people were queueing as loudspeakers blasted music. It was like staying in the Excel centre in London. Then we found out that the pool was out of action, so we switched hotels the next day.

Alas, we fell foul of another extremely noisy hotel in Oaxaca, this time with a bar above our room and an open-air venue opposite hosting a through-the-night wedding disco — my kids tried to sleep with pillows over their heads as YMCA blasted away. I nodded off to the strains of the live mariachi band (better) who came on afterwards. We ditched that hotel after one night too. Despite that our Mexican adventure — Day of the Dead, Frida Kahlo and much amazing food, shopping and art — was a trip of the decade.

Cathy Adams, news features editor

Hit: Yet another family holiday in Dubai

This spring was my, ooh, maybe 19th visit to the Gulf’s love-to-hate-it city, and my five-year-old son’s fifth. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again — there is no better place for a family holiday. This time we checked into the new Jumeirah Marsa Al Arab hotel, which in true Dubai fashion is shaped like a superyacht; cooled off in the Wild Wadi Waterpark; and had dinner at a Bedouin camp in the desert. I get why Brits want to move there — it’s a frictionless novelty wonderland and easy family fun. My 20th visit is next month.

• Discover our full guide to Dubai

Miss: Rhodes airport queues

This tinpot Greek island airport was once known in the industry as being full of “tats and toddlers”. I’ll add another: turmoil. After a pleasant enough week-long half-term break we arrived at departures to find the passport control queue for the non-Schengen Area stretching through the terminal, with hundreds of people hotboxed in a chaotic zigzag waiting to be checked by two (two!) border officials. We got through — unlike others — just as our flight was on final call, with no option but to buy expensive sandwiches on board. What it’ll be like when the European entry/exit system finally kicks in I dread to think. Tats, toddlers, turmoil and thanks, but never again.

Claudia Rowan, commissioning editor

Hit: Off-season Matera

Excuse the soppiness, but seeing the sassi of Matera — Unesco-listed buildings carved into the rock — for the first time left me close to tears. There is nowhere else on earth quite like this Italian city of stone that’s barely changed in 10,000 years. The hilltop views from the cathedral square, layers of tangled limestone buildings illuminated against the night sky, were sublime. Better still, I went in November and there was barely another soul in sight. Trust me, if you haven’t been, go. The city’s newest and plushest cave hotel, Vetera Matera, is the place to stay if you feel like splashing the cash (B&B doubles from £223; veteramatera.com).

• This is Italy’s best-kept secret for an off-season city break

Miss: Overbooked flights

Airlines, please, I’m begging you: stop overbooking flights. Nothing ruins a holiday quite like a voice coming on the intercom to announce that the flight is full “and we’re looking for volunteers to disembark and ruin their flight for the benefit of others”, or something like that. It’s happened on four flights I’ve been on this year. On one, a flight from Tirana to London after my hen weekend in Albania, one of our 12-person group was told she’d been bumped off because the flight had been overbooked. In the end they let her on, probably taking pity on this stressed bride-to-be. On another, from Boracay to El Nido in the Philippines, I wasn’t so lucky. My husband and I, as well as — get this — 23 other passengers, were booted off just as we were about to board the plane. It was the only flight there for the next two days so we missed out on visiting the island. At least I’ve learnt a valuable lesson: check in online as early as you can, as a lot hinges on your sequence number.

• Why airlines overbook flights — and how to avoid it happening to you

Lizzie Frainier, associate editor

Hit: Long pool days on Formentera

I first went to Formentera, the laid-back Balearic island with knockout turquoise waters, in my early twenties, just for a day trip, taking the ferry across from Ibiza. I hired a bike and cycled around the island, stopping for swims in the sea. It felt like paradise (even, or maybe especially, given my hangover) but it wasn’t enough time. This summer, now in my thirties, I returned with my boyfriend for our first proper holiday together. We decided to splash out on a stay at Dunas de Formentera, a boutique hotel of 45 rooms and suites that blend into the dunes just behind the white sands of Migjorn Beach. We made no plans and spent our days reading by the infinity pool, dipping into the sea in front and ordering fish tacos and jamon Iberico from the hotel’s excellent restaurant.

Miss: Shabby not shabby chic in Montenegro

There were few accommodation options in a small beach resort town near Budva, in Montenegro, but finally I thought I’d found somewhere that worked for us. A small pool? Views of the sea? Breakfast included? Tick, tick, tick. But we arrived to find stains on the sofa in our loosely termed suite, a particularly unpleasant odour emanating from the bathroom and no hot water coming from the taps. Luckily a friend’s joyous wedding at a coastal villa with far-reaching views nearby (our reason for being there) more than made up for it, as did the couple of days we spent in the medieval and baroque town of Perast, perched on the edge of the country’s dramatic bay of Kotor.

Blossom Green, senior commissioning editor

Hit: August adventures in small-town Canada

The last time I visited Canada I was 17. We were staying at my friend’s family home in Collingwood — a couple of hours from Toronto — and the highlight of the trip was the novelty of the dollar store and getting giddy over Tim Hortons (the Canadian Starbucks). How things change. My friend and her family return there for a month each summer and finally, after five years of us trying to go together, the stars aligned. Over five sun-kissed days we flitted en famille from Collingwood — now all grown up with a Scandi spa, a vibrant farm-to-table food scene, banging coffee shops, modern-retro boutique hotels and cool concept stores led by young local entrepreneurs — to the likes of charming Nottawa with its stylish general store, Creemore for its interiors shops, wine bars and brewery, and Thornbury for lakeside lounging and brilliant picnics. A meal at Marilynne’s restaurant in Markdale might well have been my top for 2025 but the farm shops and pick-your-own flower spots were just as memorable, as was biking to enjoy lakeside sunsets most evenings. This might have to become an annual ritual …

• 50 of the world’s best spas

Miss: The ultimate high and low of British summer

Wednesday, July 16, was a perfect day. It was a musical pilgrimage of sorts, to one of Oasis’s homecoming gigs in Manchester: the sun was out, the bucket hats were on, the ciders were stocked and the nostalgia was high as 50,000 of us took the Gallagher Express out to Heaton Park. We sang, we screamed, we danced, we hugged and we left filled with adrenaline. Waking up the next morning I put my banging head and sore throat down to the above and set out to recover over lunch at Middleton Lodge, up in Yorkshire. The following morning, I came down with a case of full-blown Covid that saw me out of action and on antivirals for five days. Still, the gig was worth it.