Sepuluh. The Boat and the Brothel
We unfolded the map for crossings into Thailand, spread it across the table in the center of the dorm and held up the guidebook to see how it would match.
Veintidós. To the Interior
I needed to venture beyond the safe confines of the Gringo trail. I had spent Christmas in Utila with an incongruous group of travelers and I was getting frustrated that the trip was turning more bar hop than adventure hop. A flamenco dancer from Amsterdam and a group of university students from Cork were my group then and we gathered nightly in the one or other of the two bars which had ‘Pirate’ in the name.
สอง. Rubies and Rucksacks
A well-dressed man in a formal gray suit came up to me to ask where I was from. I was standing in Sanam Luang park in front of the Grand Palace when he approached, and he had a generous smile, was fluent in English. It was my third day in Bangkok and up until then I had been alone.
Raffles Hotel, Singapore
Lapan. Escape to Singapore
I arrived in Singapore after being burnt in Jakarta. And I had been told how dangerous it was but after six months of travel through already dubious locations I had become complacent. The late-night bus from Bandung was just pulling into Kalideres. A short trip and I had the whole bench, rucksack above, daypack below. Normally I would have used the daypack as a pillow, but the bench was wooden and not cushioned. It could only seat two and it was not possible to lie across it. Still, this time I was not thinking.
وا حد. Uncle Vartan’s Carrots
Took the death plane from Heathrow, a numbing multi-stop ride, first Schipol then Sofia, which only a few of us survived, before we arrived, 2 o’clock in the morning. On each land the empty seats flopped forward, their backs pointing to the ceiling, crash position. Was that the best position to make it through?
Twenty-Six. The Language Divides
Washington DC was the murder capital of the US. The deaths peaked in 1991 when almost 500 died that year out of a population of 606,901. Lafayette Park, next to the White House, was unsafe at night. Needle Park, a few more blocks up was also not recommended. East of 14th, forget it. So when I drove to DC from North Carolina, I was terrified of making the wrong turn.
二十九. Hong Kong Handover
I'm hurrying down Gerrard Street, hunched shoulders, first stop, the Loon Fung supermarket. It’s to pick up the South China Morning Post, like I do on a weekly basis. The sounds and smells are the same as Hong Kong, the scent of street market, five spice and cinnamon. Only the air is cooler, not humid, nor is the air thick with sidewalk steam, nor is it 30 degrees, nor real feel 40.
Hai mươi tám. The Blind Rickshaw Driver
My rickshaw driver was unable to see clearly, was continually adjusting his ill fitting glasses, and with our near accidents on the traffic roundabouts, I suspected he was half blind. But every day he was there to pull me through dusty, noisy back alleys to the market for a breakfast of yellow mangoes. He was my go-to for all the sights around Saigon.
The Anaya tree house in Romblon
Life in Paradise Part 2
They came over together, grabbing another chair for our table, and then they sat down. And she looked pleased to see me, but her friend looked at me with contempt.
Rice paddies in Banaue
Life in Paradise Part 1
She looked over her shoulder as she walked away, then she stepped through the barriers and past a security guard. And in that instant her sea green eyes caught mine and glistened under the cold neon lights.