"Excuse me mam. Excuse me sir. Would it be possible for me to speak with you please"?A question of that nature, right or wrong, immediately launches Penny and myself into defensive autopilot. There's an almost intrinsic assumption that the enquirer wants to procure something from us we don't want to hand over. Ever the foreign the diplomat, I'll always suspiciously oblige; "Sure. What is it you want to talk about"?" Excuse me sir. I am a student and just wish to practice my English". That usually translates to one of two things;(A) He wants to practice his English via a sales pitch, or(B) He actually is a student wanting to practice his English. Waddya know, this fellow was from group B. In fact this most respectful and polite young man, along with his 14 likeminded cohorts ... read more

Third world status is slippery to define. There's probably an official line of thinking centred around GDP, literacy rates and costs of living v average incomes. But as a layperson I run off a few more overt though less tangible stats. My last visit to Kuala Lumpur was way back in 1994. In that era I had Malaysia firmly planted in the third World. Yet simultaneously it boasted enough green shoots to suggest life was on the up and up. Fast forward to today and I'm fuddled as to where I might pigeon hole contemporary Malaysia. There is plenty to suggest it has morphed beyond 3rd world but is still hungover with sufficient earthy telltales to remind us 1st world brotherhood remains at arm's length. Let's take a peek at some of my sketchy criteria: RATS: ... read more

There's nothing intimate about Indian cities. Surely it's here that that well worn cliche "assault on the senses" was spawned. Urban India is where the concept of a billion people in one nation resonates. The gamy odours of raw filth that overlay the spicy aromas of street cuisine. The incessant rhythmic honking of car horns. Mosque wake up calls (there may only be a 10% Muslim population here but that's still 100 million). Mainlining vegetarian curries. Cows knee deep in street rubbish somehow eking out an alternate food source to grass. It's dank, it's full throttle and maybe it's not the Indian romance of imaginations or from the pages of Rudyard Kipling, but the lurching excitement of Mysore, Bangalore and Hyderabad has left a thousand still-life images entrenched in the memory banks. No more so than ... read more

How many people present the one fingered salute out the window as their plane departs the Indian tarmac, vowing never to set foot on those shores again? Then what percentage of that group end up doing the exact opposite, finding themselves retracing footsteps despite those earlier promises? On our previous foray some eight years ago, barely 10 minutes into the streets of Mumbai and I already had a dot on the forehead, floral garlands around the neck and a bunch of "holy" men blessing me whilst demanding a payoff. I was ignorant that spiritual salvation came at a financial cost. A half hour later and following relentless harassment, all I wanted to do was kill Indians. India was simultaneously the most annoying, frustrating, debilitating yet fascinating nation on this planet. Love it or hate it, back ... read more

Tea, is served. And neither is it some sissy rose petal jasmine tinted version with a twist of ginger.The air of the mountains hangs heavy with the scent of your basic black hard core traditional Ceylon brew. Not that I'm any type of connoisseur but if the choice at breakfast is tea or coffee, the little black leaf gets the nod. Sri Lanka's Hill Country is tea central of the galaxy and travelling to and through the region is half the fun, where the journey itself becomes an essential ingredient of the travel recipe. Sure you could jump the bus but "the little red engine that huffed and puffed" is THE way to slip by the area. Leaving Colombo, urban sprawl quickly turns to rice paddies, then banana plantations before finally climbing up and settling amongst ... read more