... goes out with the travellers we met in Chennek, but I’m all against the idea. When I greeted the German longhair, he was only in a hurry to ask what price we paid the room, just to announce jubilantly ...
... more interested in going on a longish 8-day trek, and finally a Japanese long-time traveller who was meant to leave on the trek this morning but was stranded when the car turned up full. He’s a bit tight ...
I don’t know to what higher power I owe my life. The minibus I was travelling on avoided an accident that might have been nasty. After a curve we were faced by the ominous silhouette of a lorry approaching ...
... faraway horizon in dim vagueness. From here the cableway drops into the chasm and gets lost in the distance, always travelling in the same straight line, until it reaches a white patch across the river ...
... the Orient Express, or another long-haul train of the past, when the journeys lasted days not hours and the passengers killed time by familiarising themselves with fellow travellers. It didn’t matter that ...
... of other travellers staying here.
The following day I go for a walk to the far end of the village, where I see a path cut in the mountain side at a certain height, possibly the connection to the next ...
... as good – or as nasty – as it was when I came the first time with clear weather. Only the mountain view was affected by a cloudy sky and a sunless day.
The big bus I’m travelling on does not stop at ...
... All they seem interested in getting through is a boring list of beautiful places they think they only have seen. It doesn’t take me long to realise that their words only aim at showing off travel savvy ...
... At the pass we honour the Buddhist ritual that provides for a short stop during which the Malay Chinese traveller in the bus tosses bunches of prayer leaflets in the air. He’d been turning a finger in ...