Our sliver of a boat is wedged between two bushes midriver. The swift current creates the illusion of an armada of treetops gliding silently upriver. Between these islets dolphins play, tantalising us with glimpses of a glittering fin or a blunt prehistoric head. I can hear them breathe- Same like people, the captain says. It feels like some sort of initiation into the fast disappearing magic of creation...... There were other animals too, overland f but not really that much going on on the road less

What a roller coaster ride Cambodia is turning out to be! We soak up the wonders of sublime ancient workmanship and are on the receiving end of countless lively Khmer smiles- and almost simultaneously, we baulk at the horrors of recent history and at tales of desperate poverty and iron-fisted corruption….. The temple cities of Angkor outshone any expectations we might have had. Words just don’t do them justice (at least mine don’t). M’s camera does a better job With a little cyber help from Amsterdam, of all places,

“I tramp a perpetual journey My signs are a rain-proof coat, good shoes, and a staff cut from the woods......” (Walt Whitman, Song of Myself) We left Switzerland for SE Asia five days ago. It already feels a lot longer- and it feels just right. In other news- Incomparable Paul Theroux has a new book coming out and an impressive interview in the Wall Street Journal. I think I'll get myself the book for my birthday, (which is today by the way *hint hint*),

Leaving Portugal’s inspiring landscapes and homey comforts for busy booming Switzerland was *kinda* hard. I mean, who wants to leave a country where homemade soups and buttered toast fingers figure prominently on restaurant menus, and run-of-the-mill fields are home to exuberant displays of wild flowers and squadrons of pollen-drunk honey-bees… Not to mention the peaceful river beaches large and small that are scattered all across the country and along Portugal’s sparsely populated west coast and a capital city as elegantly laid-back as Lisbon. (Even M of the Wide Open Spaces didn’t

Wispy early morning air softened our arrival on bare, volcanic Lanzarote which a few hours later, I was secretly starting to call another ol’ heap of rocks.... My gaze skimmed indifferently over black ash fields, past tortured twisted lava badlands and up treeless conical mountains, yearning for forest green.... Were relentlessly dry blue skies clouding my view of an island famed for its artful landscapes? I badly needed César Manrique eyes! We were the very first visitors of the day, at Cesar Manrique's last home on the island. And because everything looks exactly

M worried when we arrived on Fuerteventura (for what was his, ummm, umpteenth time), that there might be just so many pictures of rocks, ocean and sky a person could take in one place. Well, he needn’t have worried Pull up a chair and see for yourself.... Fuerteventura's barebone beauty surprised us with a dusting of colour and a rich treasure trove of those magical moments, when nature is the painter- and the painting: Snail painting Earth painting Sand painting Cliff painting Wind painting Rock painting Sky painting Beach painting We painting M: art collector Flowers painting (Bye bye little

Nervous anticipation reached a new high.... ……then Boom! In the blink of an eye, two weeks with our tesoros on the road were over. And cutting them loose, again, still hadn’t become any easier….. Catching a ferry to Fuerteventura felt like an excellent move. Still a little adrift, I wandered out for a look at a new beach, on a new island. I sat in the sand, in the shelter of a sturdy black lavastone wall, and watched a patch of perky little

We smirked a bit at this one, (thinking Turismo de Gran Canarias  had probably come up with it)- Gran Canaria- Continente en Miniatura. Quite a grandios label to live up to we felt. But to our surprise, we really did find a big world- folded 3D into a small island: Mellow spring landscapes rugged valleys and glittering lakes- a fascinating array of spiky survival specialists and an ever-changing medley of perfectly adjusted plantlife all bordered by the ever-present Atlantic ocean. We’d wander across sand dunes clamber up arid slopes, meander across sunny meadows