A little over eight years ago, Claire and I left Cape Town for London. We planned to spend two years working and saving money, in between travelling. Now, as I sit writing this in Luang Prabang, northern Laos, we have yet to return home for more than a flying visit since leaving eight years ago.
Shuttling between three neighbouring hotels in Bangkok's Khao San area gave us a sense of travelling back in time in Thailand's capital city.
Claire and I arrived at the Sivananda Ashram at Neyyar Dam in southern India on a decrepit bus to begin our yoga vacation.
India has a surfeit of sacred places, but for its Hindu majority there is no place as magically divine as Varanasi, on the banks of Ganges River.
Recognised as the world's largest annual gathering of women, the Attukal Pongala Festival in Thiruvananthapuram, India, amasses almost three million women in honour of the deity Attukal Devi.
A single coin thrown into the Trevi Fountain, with your right hand, over your left shoulder, is said to ensure a return to Rome. Claire and I did our duty as tourists in Rome. We joined a jostling crowd, picked through our wallets for the smallest change, turned our backs on the fountain, and threw
A look into the dichotomous lives of the people who live in a country of unfamiliar strength, where development and culture seem inexorably juxtaposed.