While travelling around Sri Lanka we used just about every mode of transport except a bullock cart. The prize for the most uncomfortable goes to the no. 27 bus from Wellawaya to Unawatuna.  It was the only way to get from the tea-producing hill country down to the coast without hiring a car and driver.  The start of the journey was fine, we were taken by tuk-tuk from our guest house in Haputale to the local bus station and escorted onto a spacious local bus to Welawaya down in the foothills.  Within a few minutes of arriving in Welawaya we were hot, stressed and hassled by lots of locals wanting a piece of us and giving confusing information about where and when the buses for the coast left.  I've finally learned something that Sue has known for years about these situations, which is don't get infected with other people's sense of urgency - if you're feeling hassled just stop and say "no thank you", find a cafe if possible and sit down and have a drink.  ...

One of the first things to strike me about Sri Lanka was the sheer number of tuk-tuks, the tiny three-wheeled taxis which are such a familiar sight in most of Asia.  As we roamed the island we found even the smallest towns and villages would have droves of them, mostly parked, often with the driver taking a nap inside or passing the time of day with his fellow drivers.  I suspect they provide a sense of purpose to men who would otherwise be unemployed.  They are the bottom end of the transit market, moving people and goods to the spots inaccessible to trucks and cars as they wheedle their way through the tightest traffic jam and the narrowest alley, guided by a cheap and ever chirruping mobile phone. For the tuk-tuk driver it's always open season on tourists.  They will peremptorily ditch an existing passenger or errand and do a suicidal u-turn across a busy main road just to get a tourist on their rear bench, because tourists equal serious cash.  Even when y...

I'm a sucker for old harbours like Galle.  Mainly built by the Dutch then taken over by the British, it is a wonderful mixture of european architecture and asian culture.  We visited several times while staying at Unawatuna beach, five kilometres down the coast.  The old town is walled in by Dutch fortifications and inside is a grid of narrow streets filled with the kind of buildings you would see in a traditional English or Dutch market town, including churches, eighteenth century shops and townhouses and a few art deco gems.  The place is being tarted-up rapidly and renovation work is going on everywhere to create more and more boutique hotels and craft shops.  Of an evening locals and tourists alike spill out onto the ramparts to stroll and watch magnificent blood-red sunsets.  They are accompanied by hundreds of crows, who line the walls and stare indifferently at the pearl-coloured sea. Despite the gentrification, there remains a large indigenous,...

For the last week of our trip to Sri Lanka we have been staying in a smart guesthouse in the southern beach resort of Unawatuna.  It's a tasteful spot after the some of the more basic places we have been in - a kind of camp and tropical St John's Wood.  But the chief glory is the garden, which has been designed with great care as a habitat for the guesthouse's dogs and the local wildlife.  Every morning we linger over breakfast with the other guests with our cameras at the ready and have rarely been disappointed. Most dramatic are the monkeys, which you can hear crashing through the nearby woodland as they approach the garden for mangos and papaya left out especially for them and the other visitors. Staying here has at least taught me that you can have too many photos of monkeys, but that it's almost impossible to stop taking them anyway. There's also a small breed of local squirrel which is especially attractive.  Fast moving with a stripe up it...

Today, while taking a morning stroll along the lakeside in Kandy, Sue and I were approached by a German tourist. “Excuse me. I have a recommendation for you. You must go and see the British Garrison Cemetery. It is not far and the light right now is fantastic.” He seemed very moved and to have need to share what he had seen, so we thanked him and followed his directions. We took a path uphill, not far from the Temple of the Tooth and found the cemetery in a secluded spot behind a set of wrought iron gates. It comprises one or two acres and looks like an idealised version of an English country churchyard. The graves and paths are immaculately maintained and the only other people there were two workers armed with brooms and wheelbarrows. Although near the centre of this crowded and noisy city it’s a peaceful spot on a hillside surrounded by woodland. On the slope above, the white dome of a Buddhist temple can be seen. From time to time the silence is broken by the cry ...

This is a photo of Sue and Jenifer, one of the teachers she works with.  It's a great picture of her I think and quite special when you know the circumstances in which it was taken. The photographer is a little lad with learning difficulties.  He's in a regular class where the other children look out for him, but where he doesn't make much conventional progress.  One day Sue gave him her camera and the affinity between him and the device was instinctual and immediate.  He took several photos of Sue and the teachers, each time waiting with intense concentration until the right moment to depress the button. Most of the time, I guess, we try to take photos that are a window on the world, in which the subjects are not too self-conscious of the person with the lens.  But all too often we end up recording dull and stilted poses for posterity.  In this picture something quite different is going on.  The subjects are very aware that a photograph is bein...

"They all look the same to me."  How many times have I heard that remark spoken by a racist or xenophobe?  So often it is used to imply that an ethnic group are somehow less individual, less important and somehow less human than the speaker and their chosen audience.  And yet, I have to admit to a practical cognitive difficulty.  When I first arrived in Sarawak I felt myself to be in a sea of Chinese and asian faces and I found it very hard to tell people apart.  To a degree people did "look the same to me".  When I started teaching I used name labels for the first three weeks even in classes of three or four students to be sure I didn't make a mistake.  After this initial period I was still paranoid about getting a name wrong and left little notes to myself in the files for some classes like "'X' has glasses" to make sure I didn't confuse her with 'Y'. Then the strangest thing happened.  A phenomena familiar I'm sure to ...