A small-town Botswana butcher is quite a eyebrow-raising sight. We stopped to buy some steaks at a small shack with no door and no fridge. What he did have was a glass display cabinet piled high with cow hearts, enormous cow tongues, and some assorted steaks.
Kuta, the party beach on the island of Bali, might be the worst place I’ve travelled to. Aggressive touts stalk people down the street, souvenir shops sell sexist and homophobic slurs on bumper stickers, and Balinese culture as a whole has been twisted into a sleazy, cheap, tourist-pleasing circus.
The banana pancake trail: a nickname given to the popular tourist routes through South East Asia, where foreign influence has shaped that place to cater for foreign taste (ie. banana pancakes for breakfast in Asia!).
The houses in Hoi An ancient town were all painted in yellow, a washed, pale yellow. Rich, dark wooden beams and old sun-bleached timber planks built the shade, the support, the doorframes, the carved and ornate balcony railings. It was beautiful here.
