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Best beach in the world with 'whitest sand' is 'paradise' for travellers

Best beach in the world with 'whitest sand' is 'paradise' for travellers

Daily Mirror10 hours ago
It has been named the best beach in the world for those looking to enjoy the warm weather and relax on the white sands, according to a new study
Many Brits love to escape the dreary weather for a day by the sea. Perhaps it's the golden sand, crystal clear water or simply the warmer climate that draws you in. Well, Luxury holiday company CV Villas has conducted research to find out which beaches boast the whitest sand in the world. Let's be honest, nothing screams 'perfect beach' more than pristine white sand.

The study analysed Google Maps images of approximately 200 beaches, examining the colour of each shoreline to determine the results. Unsurprisingly, the beach with the whitest sand is nowhere near the UK, but it's certainly worth the flight time, reports the Express.

Tulum Beach in Mexico was crowned as having the whitest sand in the world, as it had the least deviation from pure white.

Tulum Beach sits on the Yucatan coast of Mexico at the country's southeastern tip, looking out to the turquoise waters of the Caribbean Sea.
Tulum is a huge tourist destination known for its beaches and well-preserved ruins of an ancient Mayan port city.

The main building is a large stone structure called El Castillo which sits atop a rocky cliff looking down across the white sand beach and turquoise sea.
Given its tourist draw, there are plenty of hotels, restaurants and bars situated throughout the long narrow stretch of town.
However, some visitors on Tripadvisor do note that prices can be high for amenities such as parking.

Having visited in July 2024, an American tourist left a Tripadvisor review saying the area had both "good and bad" points. They described the beach, however, as a "paradise".
Coming in second place was Anse Source D'Argent in the Seychelles, which had a variation of 4.3, and Marmari Beach in Greece took third place with a variation of 6.5.

Here are the top 20 beaches with the whitest sand:
1. Tulum Beach, Mexico
2. Anse Source D'Argent, Seychelles
3. Marmari Beach, Greece

4. Tropea Beach, Italy and Platja de Muro, Spain
6. Cala Pluma, Spain
7. Plage de Valras, France

8. Cala Brandinchi, Italy
9. Stocking Island Beach, Bahamas and Taylor Bay Beach, Turks and Caicos
11. Varadero Beach, Cuba

12. Punta Prosciutto, Italy
13. Maya Bay Beach, Thailand
14. Carmel Beach, USA

15. Bamboo Island Beach, Thailand
16. Siesta Key Beach, USA
17. Spiaggia La Pelosa, Italy

18. Flamenco Beach, Puerto Rico and Luskentyre Beach, Scotland
20. Grace Bay, Turks and Caicos
Eight of the top 10 destinations are in Europe.
If you're after a beach closer to home, Scotland's Luskentyre Beach shares the eighteenth spot with Flamenco Beach in Puerto Rico.
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One of UK's 'best wild swimming spots' has beautiful waterfalls and clear waters
One of UK's 'best wild swimming spots' has beautiful waterfalls and clear waters

Daily Mirror

time36 minutes ago

  • Daily Mirror

One of UK's 'best wild swimming spots' has beautiful waterfalls and clear waters

There are plenty of beautiful wild swimming spots in the UK but there's one breathtaking spot that's worth having on your radar if you like to avoid the crowds Brits looking for a dose of staycation inspiration may want to consider a trip to Eryri National Park (Snowdonia), as its breathtaking landscapes are home to one storybook-worthy spot. ‌ Those who don their hiking boots and head towards Mount Snowdon along the Watkin Path will want to leave time to explore the woodlands, and keep an eye out for the Watkins Path Waterfall. ‌ This beautiful spot boasts a series of ethereal falls cascading down the mountainside, down to postcard-worthy pools with crystal-clear waters that wouldn't be out of place in a fairytale. (In fact, they've actually been dubbed as the 'Fairy Falls' by locals for exactly that reason). Of course if you are heading to the national park, you may want to heed one hiker's warning after he got to the top of Mount Snowdon only to be floored by what he found. ‌ The waterfall hotspot has an ideal mix of being easy to reach because of its location on the popular hiking route, but still being secluded enough that you don't need to fight off crowds of tourists if you want to check it out for yourself. It's therefore no surprise that they're regularly tipped to be among the best wild swimming spots in the UK, although the waters boast an average temperature of 14C so if you are going to brave a dip, you may want to pack a wetsuit into your hiking gear. Still, even if you don't want to take a dip they're well worth visiting, if only for the gorgeous scenery. Visitors who've made the trek haven't been left disappointed. "A lovely little walk on a hot day," one happy holidaymaker wrote on Tripadvisor. "This took around 30 minutes and was worth seeing. There are lots of walks in this area. There was lots of parking, public lavatories and access to the river." ‌ Another added: "A beautiful hidden waterfall, it's quiet there. We had nobody there, you have to take stairs down it's quite steep but the waterfall is nice." While it is on hiking route, it's easily accessible so more seasoned hikers may want to look at alternative routes if they're looking for a challenging trek before heading to the falls. One person explained: "Beautiful but much shorter walk than we expected. Up a steep hill to reach the falls but a great bench for watching the fall." ‌ If you're planning to climb to the top of Mount Snowdon however, then you may want to prepare for long queues to get to the top. In recent months, visitors have been left shocked as they've arrived and found queues of up to an hour long just to reach the summit, even during the early hours of the morning. It's also worth checking the weather; one woman was left disappointed after enjoying a long hike and waiting her turn to reach the top, only to then realise she couldn't see very much because of the fog. Taking to TikTok to share a clip of her hike, she quipped in the caption: "POV: You get mostly clear skies hiking Snowdon then it does you dirty at the summit."

Globetrotting Chef Launches American-Style Diner and Sports Bar in Mid Wales
Globetrotting Chef Launches American-Style Diner and Sports Bar in Mid Wales

Business News Wales

time3 hours ago

  • Business News Wales

Globetrotting Chef Launches American-Style Diner and Sports Bar in Mid Wales

Globetrotting chef Jamie Tully has put down his roots in Llandrindod Wells where he has launched a new American-style dining experience. Jamie has swapped cooking on superyachts to launch Tully's Sports Diner at the Hampton Hotel. Open from Wednesday to Sunday, the restaurant serves a range of burgers, 'big dogs', chicken wings, quesadillas, Cubanos, meatballs, garlic chicken skewers, sticky lamb ribs, nachos and skirt steak, together with a range of sides and desserts. 'The food is flavour obsessed, ingredient led and cooked with passion,' said Jamie. 'We offer an elegant yet casual restaurant emphasising natural, sustainable food and craft exquisite dishes using the best British produce from dedicated farmers and producers.' The 100-seater restaurant is available for exclusive hire, with tailored menus and drinks packages created for group bookings. To raise awareness of Tully's Sports Diner, Jamie has joined MWT Cymru, the independent organisation representing more than 600 tourism and hospitality businesses across Powys, Ceredigion and Southern Eryri (Snowdonia). He has also opted to feature the diner in MWT Cymru's Bedroom Browser next year, which is distributed to over 6,000 accommodation rooms across Mid Wales and has taken up a new social media package for members. MWT Cymru will run a dedicated campaign for Jamie aimed at attracting more visitors to Tully's Sports Diner. 'We are obviously trying to attract as many people as possible to the restaurant, so joining MWT Cymru is an obvious way to extend our outreach,' added Jamie. 'They are very supportive.' Zoe Hawkins, MWT Cymru's chief executive, said she was delighted to welcome Tully's Sports Diner into membership. 'We are constantly developing ways to drive more traffic to support places to eat across Mid Wales,' she explained. 'We are also reintroducing a menu exchange initiative, which will allow accommodation businesses to easily access and share menus from local providers. This encourages greater business-to-business co-operation and helps visitors discover fantastic places to eat nearby, benefiting both the accommodation providers and the restaurants.' Jamie has developed the American-style diner and sports bar concept, having identified a gap in the Mid Wales market. 'The biggest thing I missed from my travels and work in the USA was a proper, food-led, bar and a place where you can watch all the American and global sports events on TV,' he said. Having previously held executive chef roles at Caer Beris Manor, Builth Wells and Chartists 1770 at The Trewythen, Llanidloes since returning form his culinary travels, Jamie was keen to launch his own venture. He employs three full and three part-time staff and would like to expand his businesses in the future by possibly opening another American style diner and sports bar and even a pop-up restaurant. 'With all the current pressure on the hospitality industry, people may think that I couldn't have picked a worse time to open a new restaurant,' added Jamie. 'But we are very busy. 'People will know my fine dining background which raises their expectations. However, a lot of people can't afford to spend £150 on a fine dining meal but can afford to spend £20 per person on a quality main meal and side. 'That's why I launched my reasonably priced American diner concept which suits people whether they want to go out for a special occasion or just a quick meal. 'It has been a big learning curve for me to come from a fine dining kitchen to the much faster pace of a busy diner which is something I hadn't experienced for a while. 'I am delighted that positive Tripadvisor reviews have elevated the restaurant to number two in the area within a month of opening.' Jamie also runs a private dining service for customers across England and Wales and supplies ready-made meals for customers in a 20-mile radius from Tully's Unit 13 in Llandrindod Wells.

Berlin's dark past and me
Berlin's dark past and me

New Statesman​

time6 hours ago

  • New Statesman​

Berlin's dark past and me

The platform was empty. It was a serene scene: the rain had stopped and the air smelled green, the trees showering droplets each time the wind blew. My mother and I carefully stepped around the puddles as we read the plaques on the very edge of the platform. 18.10.1941 / 1251 Juden / Berlin – Lodz. 29.11.1942 / 1000 Juden / Berlin – Auschwitz. 2.2.1945 / 88 Juden / Berlin – Theresienstadt. The Gleis 17 (Platform 17) memorial at Grunewald station on the western outskirts of Berlin commemorates the 50,000 Jews who were deported from the city to concentration camps by the Nazis. There are 186 steel plaques in total, in chronological order, each detailing the number of deportees and where they went. Vegetation has been left to grow around the platform and over the train tracks, 'a symbol that no train will ever leave the station at this track again', according to the official Berlin tourist website. Were we tourists? I wasn't sure. I paused at one plaque in particular: 5.9.1942 / 790 Juden / Berlin – Riga. My great-grandmother, Ryfka, was one of the 790 Jews deported to Riga on 5 September 1942. She was murdered three days later. Her husband, Max, had been arrested and taken as a labourer to the Siedlce ghetto the previous year. In 1942 he was shot and thrown into a mass grave. When I told people we were taking a family trip to Berlin, many brought up Jesse Eisenberg's 2024 film A Real Pain (released January 2025 in the UK), in which Eisenberg and Kieran Culkin play mismatched cousins on a tour of Poland, confronting the inherited trauma of their grandmother's Holocaust survival story. But when we first started planning our trip six years ago, that wasn't the idea at all. It wasn't supposed to be about Max and Ryfka. It was about their daughter, my grandmother, Mirjam, and my grandfather, Ali, whom we called Opa. Opa's ancestry enabled us to claim German citizenship. My mother, sister and I started this process in 2017 without really thinking about it. The UK had voted to leave the EU, and Brits with relatives from all over were looking for ways to retain an EU passport. The Global Citizenship Observatory estimates that 90,000 Brits have acquired a second passport from an EU country since 2016, not counting those eligible for Irish citizenship. Article 116(2) of the German Constitution states: 'Persons who surrendered, lost or were denied German citizenship between 30 January 1933 and 8 May 1945 due to persecution on political, racial or religious grounds are entitled to naturalisation.' The same applies to their descendants. Mirjam died in 1990, before I was born, and Opa in 2003 – both British and only British citizens. But we had his voided German passport, his birth certificate, the notice of statelessness he'd received when he came to England in 1936. It took two years, but on 3 June 2019, the three of us attended the embassy in Belgravia and were solemnly dubbed citizens of Germany. We received our passports a few weeks later. Subscribe to The New Statesman today from only £8.99 per month Subscribe My mother wanted to celebrate with a trip to Berlin – the city where her parents grew up, and which my sister and I had never visited. Five years later than planned, thanks to Covid travel bans, we made it, honouring Opa by sweeping through immigration on the passports he had posthumously gifted us. I was prepared for the attempts at schoolgirl German, the arguments over bus timetables, itineraries and whether or not it was acceptable to fare-dodge on the U-Bahn. What I wasn't prepared for was being struck down by tears on a suburban street, faced with the reality of how exactly I had come to be there and what my presence meant. Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, Berlin. Photo by Jon Arnold Images Ltd My grandfather's family made it out of Nazi Germany. So did my grandmother and her siblings. Her parents did not. Max and Ryfka were typical middle-class Berliners, owners of a profitable cigarette factory. They had three children: Fanny, Mirjam and Harry. The family lived in a five-storey apartment block with a dramatic art nouveau facade – an open-mouthed deity staring down as residents came and went – on Thomasiusstrasse, on the edge of the Tiergarten city park. Around the corner, in the same affluent neighbourhood, lived the boy who would become my grandfather, Ali. They used to play together as children. Two decades, multiple emigrations and an internment in Canada later, Ali married Mirjam. My mother was born two years later. I know all this thanks to her, her sister and their cousins. A few years before the Brexit vote, they had set out to consolidate everything we know about the family – sifting through documents, photos and letters, sharing recollections of their parents, writing down everything so the story would not be forgotten. I know, for example, that the basement of the house in Thomasiusstrasse was used for meetings of their Zionist youth movement long before emigration became an urgent issue. I know when and how the siblings fled Berlin to what was then British-occupied Palestine: Fanny going first to Denmark in July 1937, then to Palestine in February 1939, where she worked at the first haute couture fashion house in Israel. Mirjam left in April 1936 via a boat from Italy. She studied horticulture before eventually marrying Ali in 1951 and moving to England. Harry arrived in Palestine on 1 September 1937, his 16th birthday. And I know, from the letters we have, how often and how seriously all three urged their parents to sell the cigarette factory and leave Berlin, before it was too late. On the pavement outside the apartment block on Thomasiusstrasse, set into the cobblestones, gleamed the Stolpersteine. Any visitor to Berlin will find the streets scattered with these 'stumbling stones', small brass plates, each one a memorial to a victim of the Nazis who lived at that address: their name, year of birth, where and when they were killed. The commemorative art project, begun in 1992 by artist Gunter Demnig, has spread across Europe: there now are more than 116,000 stones, in 31 countries. The Stolpersteine for Max and Ryfka were laid in August 2014. My mother and her family attended; a clarinettist played klezmer music. There are eight stones for that single apartment block. The day before we visited, my mother had booked us on a tour of the Jewish quarter. Our guide told us that the aim of the Stolpersteine initiative was to compel confrontation and reflection, causing passers-by to stumble, both figuratively and physically, over this dark period of European history. Berlin is forthright about confronting its past – using art and architecture in innovative ways to do so. At the Holocaust memorial by the Brandenburg Gate, visitors get lost in an unnerving maze of concrete slabs. At the entrance to the Jewish Museum, the floors slope and the walls are set at odd angles, making the space difficult to navigate with confidence. The 'Garden of Exile' just outside the museum, designed by the Polish-American architect Daniel Libeskind to capture the disorientation of the refugee experience, is similarly slanted and boxed in by columns. The day we visited, it was raining again, the uneven cobbles slick and treacherous. The garden was empty. I slipped – and through my perhaps disproportionate tears realised there was a lot more to my new German passport than I had imagined. Everyone knows about the Holocaust. Six million Jews, more than a quarter of a million Gypsies, millions more Poles, Soviets, homosexuals and people with disabilities, systematically exterminated at death camps. I had always known that my family was in some way linked to it all, that the Holocaust was why we were in Britain in the first place, that I wouldn't be here were it not for my maternal grandparents being 'denied German citizenship… due to persecution on political, racial or religious grounds'. Hundreds of thousands of Jews fled the Nazis. Every Jewish family I know has a story: of how their ancestors escaped, and what happened to the ones who didn't. I knew long before I visited Berlin that there is nothing special about my family's history. But I had always seen it as just that: history. The Jewish Museum's core exhibition charts the history of Jews in Germany from medieval times to the present day. The final section looks at descendants of Holocaust victims and refugees who chose to restore their German citizenship – and why they made that decision. Why had I done it? To get an EU passport after Brexit. To make it easier to work abroad one day. To give my future children the option to live anywhere in Europe. To skip the queues at immigration. All valid reasons. And all, suddenly, entirely inconsequential Staring at the memorial plaques on Platform 17, sitting on the steps of the apartment block on Thomasiusstrasse, losing my footing in the Garden of Exile, I felt myself slot into the narrative, the next chapter of a story that is both unfathomable and at the same time utterly unexceptional. Opa died when I was 12. He was so proud of being British. I never asked him how he would feel about us using the trauma of his past to become German for the sake of convenience. I'd always thought he'd like the idea of us reclaiming his rightful heritage, but in Berlin it seemed less clear. But I do think he would have liked the fact that we were all there in Berlin, on the streets where he and his wife grew up, laughing and crying together, realising our mother-and-daughters getaway had ended up a lot like Eisenberg's A Real Pain after all. The three of us lost in reverie outside the apartment block, picturing my grandmother coming and going. A sign by the door was engraved in looping gothic script. It looked like a memorial plaque. We struggled to decipher first the letters, then the German. Eventually we resorted to Google Translate, and discovered in lieu of the profound message we had expected, a polite request for guests to please wipe their feet. [See also: Rachel Reeves' 'impossible trilemma'] Related

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