The Japanese seem to take pride in making everything look the best it possibly can; even the humble manhole cover is an opportunity for some decorative design. Each town or city has its own unique styles, and many are not only intricately moulded but also colourfully painted.
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The fashion editor Diana Vreeland once said, ‘Pink is the navy blue of India’ and in Rajasthan I certainly saw why she would say that. Everywhere we went the women were dressed in the most gorgeous shades of that colour. Among all the wonderful colours that I remember from our time there, it is pink – a shocking pink – that stands out.
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One person I did not expect to meet in North Korea was a monk. In this famously atheist country, where tourists are forbidden to disseminate religious texts and the prevailing religion might be said to be belief in the supremacy of the Dear Leaders and the Juche idea, true religious conviction is hard to find. And I am still unsure whether or not I found it here.
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Fadiouth is an island village, and a rather unique one. It is also known as Shell Island, and the reason for this is pretty obvious; it is built on layers and layers of shells. These have accumulated over the centuries as the locals subsisted on cockle fishing in the shallows of the mangrove lagoons and simply discarded the shells, or used them as building materials.
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Japanese gardens are not beautiful by accident. Every detail is carefully considered, every plant and rock precisely placed. And the result is often stunning. It was in Kyoto that I really came to appreciate the nuances of Japanese garden design.
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Salma is an Omani Bedouin. She lives part of the time in a tent on the fringes of the vast Wahiba Sands; and part of the time in a modern house in the nearby town of Bidiyyah. She wore the traditional Bedouin face mask, designed to protect from sandstorms and the elements in general, as she and her daughter in law served our lunch of traditional bread, rice, dhal, chicken, fish and salad.
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In a simple room in old Fort Kochi, Kerala, a young man is gradually transforming himself. In one hand he holds a small mirror; in the other the fine brush with which he applies paint to his face. An audience of tourists watches agog, cameras flashing, phones held aloft.
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Travel opens our eyes not only to the differences between various countries and cultures but also their similarities. One thing it seems that we all have in common is the desire to use our hands to craft beauty from simple objects. And what we create says much about our culture and heritage.
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Nikko’s Futarasan shrine is only five minutes’ or so walk from its more famous neighbour, Toshogu, but it seemed to us that we were in a different world. The crowds had dissipated, leaving just a handful of tourists and some local families. We strolled around in a much more leisurely way than had been possible at Toshogu, taking photos and soaking up the tranquil atmosphere and the rich colours of the leaves just starting to take on their autumn hues.
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There is something a little bit different about San Antonio Palopo, one of the smaller villages on Lake Atitlàn. Most of the villages in this part of Guatemala are Tz'utujil, where bright reds and embroidered flowers are the preferred shades for huipiles, the traditional embroidered blouses. But the people of this village are Cakchiquel Maya; and almost without exception every woman and girl wears the same lovely shades of blue in narrow vertical stripes.
