For years, I had a dream: to welcome the New Year not wrapped in wool and sipping mulled wine, but barefoot in a bikini under the palm trees. There was just one catch—I’m a Christmas-at-home kind of woman. So, that left exactly eight days to jet off somewhere warm during my daughter’s winter break. The rule? It had to be sunny, not too touristy, and no more than six hours away by plane.
Enter: The Gambia. Read more