hotels articles

It may be known locally as Makunufushi, but this little island in the South Male Atoll looks set to become known internationally as Coco Island, the Indian Ocean’s most exclusive resort. While 2003 may see Thomson promising to make the Maldives more affordable by offering charter-flight access, this is not something that is going to affect Coco Island. Already dubbed the new Parrot Cay (the one island resort in the Caribbean favoured by the film and fashion set), the retreat on this private island features 36 exquisitely dressed rooms (think southern Indian fabrics and colonial furnishings) including contemporary timber “water villas” sculpted like traditional Maldivian boats, overlooking the water. And if you can bear to leave your room, the island comes complete with its own holistic spa offering a range of treatments from daily meditation and yoga courses, to Asian massage and healing therapies. If sea-salt wraps and algae scrubs, all administered in simple wooden beach huts, don’t appeal then try the full programme of hiking, scuba and sailing activities. At least then you’ll have an excuse to head for the restaurant, presided over by Australian chef Stana Johnson serving celestial seafood focused Indian and Sri Lankan dishes.

Child prostitution is a cottage industry in Southeast Asia. Gi as boys — some as young as 8 — are being abducted by brothel agents and, in some cases, sold by parents into sexual slavery.

Anastasia Santos last saw her daughter Veronica a year ago, before her child was traded to a brothel for $500 by a woman who lured the girl to the city with a vague promise of work. Veronica can’t leave the brothel in Manila until she earns the $500 the owner paid the brothel agent. That day may never come. She services an average of 10 men a day at $4 per customer, but $3 of the $4 are deducted for room, food and cosmetics; she also must pay the brothel owner for clothes. Today, she is in debt beyond the original $500 to a pimp and has been infected with HIV. Veronica’s life has ended, and she is not yet 12 years old.

Veronica is just one of more than a million young victims lured, sold or forced into prostitution worldwide every year, according to a recent Norwegian government report to the U.N. Working Group on Slavery. “Selling a 14-year-old girl has become so commonplace, it is banal,” laments Wassyla Tamzali, director of UNESCO’s women’s rights department. In Bogota, Colombia, the number of prostitutes under 13 has quintupled since 1987. Brazil now has more than 250,000 child prostitutes; Moscow, more than 1,000.

In Asia, child chattel has reached epidemic proportions. In Thailand, a country of 56 million people, relief agencies estimate that there are now 2 million prostitutes — up to 800,000 of them children under 16. Studies suggest there are at least 300,000 child prostitutes in India. In the Philippines, the Institute for the Protection of Children reports that 9 percent of prostitutes were less than 10 years old when they were sold to a pimp. And researchers in Sri Lanka believe that the island has at least 10,000 boy prostitutes, each receiving as little as $1 per day for fulfilling the whims of pedophiles, many of them Westerners directed by gray market guidebooks and pedophile newsletters such as Spartacus International Gay Guide, published in Germany in several languages.

Even as AIDS sweeps through Asia, a recent survey suggests that 420,000 Thai men visit a prostitute every day. Taiwanese men still arrive by the bus-load at the Mona Lisa massage parlor on Bangkok’s Petchaburi Road, and charter sex tours from Germany, Japan and Korea continue to bring lustful tourists to Thailand and the Philippines by the planeload. Customers, fearful of AIDS, are turning to younger and younger prostitutes, and virgins are increasingly in demand. As a result, the prostitution of children in Asian countries has skyrocketed in recent years. “A whole generation of young girls (and boys) is being turned into commerce by Westerners lured by governments hungry for tourist dollars,” claims Ron O’Grady, international coordinator for End Child Prostitution in Asian Tourism, or ECPAT, and author of the book The Child and the Tourist: The Story Behind the Escalation of Child Prostitution in Asia.

Affluence born of Southeast Asia’s economic boom is fueling the prepubescent sex trade on a scale never seen before. “Every-day you see buses full of men from Singapore coming into our southern cities,” says Thai child-rights worker Sanphasit Koompraphant. “There is no tourist business there, no industry Only lumber plantations and sex services.”

Ever since the 1960s, when American soldiers in Vietnam took their leave on Asia’s beaches, visitors have flocked to Manila, Bangkok and Pattani, Thailand, for sex. It is unclear exactly how many come looking for love. More than 70 percent of the 5 million tourists who visit Thailand each year are male, and 20 percent are day-trippers from nearby Malaysia and Singapore. More than 85 percent of Pattani’s visitors are single men who have heard that this erstwhile small fishing village on the Gulf of Siam is a beachside brothel full of lithe, olive-skinned girls with sloe eyes and bewitching demeanors. “We estimate three-quarters of the 200, German visitors each year are men, and three-quarters will have come for sex,” says Koompraphant.

Package holidays to the red-light districts of Southeast Asia, first offered in the early 1980s, are now an established part of the child-sex business. Most originate in Germany and Japan (the Japan Travel Agency is held by many to have been the first), where local operators promote heavily. In the Philippines, five-star hotels such as the Ramada in central Manila block off whole floors for the exclusive use of Japanese sex tourists. More than 20 prostitution hotels in Manila cater exclusively to Japanese tourists.

Americans, true to their individualistic spirit, travel alone to have sex. “Promoting sex tours in the United States is risky business,” says 56-year-old Gunter Frenz, owner of Miami-based G&F Tours, which operates a 12-day “Love Tour of Bangkok.” “Sure, we sell sex,” says Frenz, “but we have to refrain from mentioning it in our brochure. If we sold sex directly, we’d be selling prostitution, and that’s illegal in Thailand as well as America.” Frenz’s potential customers receive copies of articles written for men’s magazines by past customers, replete with photos of sex action and a brochure showing Frenz in a bar with a seminaked young girl perched on his lap, clutching her teddy bear.

SRINAGAR, India — The lines to take cable-car rides to a Himalayan snow field are long. Every viewpoint on the forested mountain roads is full of camera-clicking picnickers. And resorts, hotels and houseboats are overbooked with visitors.

The tourists have come back to Kashmir.

For the first time since an Islamic insurgency erupted here in 1989, thousands of Indian tourists — encouraged by recent peace overtures between India and Pakistan — are leaving the sweltering summer plains to enjoy vacations in this picture-perfect place. Nearly 100,000 tourists, including 3,000 foreigners, have visited Kashmir since January — compared to just over 10,000 during the same period last year, Shazia Khan of the Jammu-Kashmir State Tourism Corp. told The Associated Press.

“Our expectations are high this year. We hope that many more will continue to arrive,” Khan said as she prepared to receive a new batch of tourists disembarking from air-conditioned coaches at the Tourist Reception Center in Srinagar, the state’s summer capital.

Set in the Himalayas at 5,600 feet above sea level, Kashmir is a green, saucer-shaped valley full of fruit orchards and surrounded by snowy mountain ranges. About 100 lakes dot its highlands and plains. Glacier-fed streams flow through the forests, hillsides and over grasslands covered with wildflowers. The tourist season lasts until late October.

“I can’t describe what it feels like to lie down on the houseboat deck and count the stars on a clear night,” said Pawan Kumar, a computer professional from the steaming southern Indian city of Secunderabad, enjoying Kashmir’s coolness.

A short distance away, on the promenade along Srinagar’s famous Dal Lake, Akhtar Hussain, a 30-year-old boatman, invited strolling tourists for a ride in his brightly colored gondola, called a “shikara.”

“I painted my boat and got new upholstery for the seats. I was a boy when so many tourists used to come here,” said Hussain. He describes the new arrivals as “God’s mercy.”

Kashmir was once one of Asia’s most popular tourist destinations, particularly with trekkers and honeymooners, drawing 800,000 tourists every year — about 40 percent of them foreigners. Tourism accounted for nearly 20 percent of the economy of the Indian-controlled state. Then in 1989, the explosions and gun battles began. The crowds trickled to less than 25,000 per year, after repeated travel warnings by Western governments, fears of war and extensive media coverage of the separatist violence.

Kashmir, at India’s northern tip, is divided, with Pakistan controlling one-third of the Himalayan region. Both countries claim all of it and have fought two wars over it since 1947. Relations between the two countries are improving, and most countries, such as the United States, have withdrawn their warnings against travel to India. But they continue to advise against visits to Jammu-Kashmir, although Latin American and Southeast Asian nations never issued such advisories, and their tourists outnumber Westerners.

Mohammed Ashraf, director general of tourism in Jammu-Kashmir, the state’s official name, said he is fighting to bridge what he calls a “communication gap” with the international media, to counter the negative image of the Kashmir Valley portrayed to potential tourists.

“Our efforts are bearing fruit. . . . We are getting back on the rails,” said Ashraf.

Yet a first-time visitor being driven through Srinagar to his idyllic houseboat can’t help but notice the soldiers patrolling with loaded rifles, some in trucks with their guns pointed at cars on the road. Sandbagged bunkers dot the roads around the mirror-like lake.

“It’s a war zone,” said shocked New Delhi resident Vijay Long, on his first visit to Kashmir in mid-June.

Although he reveled in the cool, clean air, the peaceful shikara rides on Dal Lake and the chance to stand on a snow-covered hill, it was the guns and soldiers he told his friends about back in New Delhi.

He also described the extensive searches required to board the flight out of Kashmir and the attempt by a policeman at the airport to confiscate his bird-watching binoculars under the guise of security precautions. “He said he couldn’t see through them so he would have to keep them,” Long said, relating an experience other travelers have also encountered.

Travelers to and from Kashmir cannot take any batteries, soap or liquids in their carry-on bags and are frequently separated from their valuables — such as cameras and other equipment — during the security checking process.

Some tourists also complain that Kashmir’s travel industry has become greedy, and hoteliers and boatmen fleece customers due to the long years of uncertainty.

“We feel bad about it and assure tourists that it is an anomaly. But we also realize that the long strife has made us anxious. . . . What if tourists don’t return?” said Hussain, the boatman. “Fourteen years of idleness can make some people unscrupulous. But we still try to maintain our credo of goodwill and honesty.”

THE Moors called it al Gharb - the Western lands - and it was one of their favourite places for more than 500 years.

These days the thousands of northern Europeans who have settled here feel much the same way about the Algarve, Portugal’s sunny southern coast.

You can’t go wrong if you follow their ex-pat lifestyle…a leisurely coffee in a cafe, followed by a spot of shopping or perhaps a round of golf. And dining out isn’t a problem with a three-course meal costing pounds 8 and a bottle of wine around pounds 2.

The Algarve is the kind of laid-back place where you can take it easy. There are no hidden hassles for the unwary traveller. Just relax on the beach, take advantage of what is arguably the best seafood in Europe and enjoy the good-natured hospitality of your Portuguese hosts.

Thousands of football fans will be heading to the Algarve next summer for the European Championships. Many key matches will be played in Faro’s impressive stadium, the new home ground of Farense.

But why wait until summer? The Algarve has one of the best climates in Europe. By February the almond blossom is flowering, the days are lengthening and prices are cheap. If you strike it lucky it will be warm enough for sunbathing, but at the very least you should be able to enjoy lunch outdoors.

Early winter or spring are good times to explore the countryside. Visitors who do will discover hills, woods, castles and villages where life has not changed that much since the Moors left.

BEST RESORTS

TAVIRA to the east is a charming little town on the river Gilao. It is very relaxed, and fast becoming a trendy place for a quiet holiday.

There’s no beach in town - instead, take a ferry to one of the sandy offshore islands, or stay in Santa Luzia (the octopus capital of the Algarve) or Cabanas just along the coast.

Explore the Serra de Alcaria do Cume just inland - hill country where rock roses, lavender and other wild flowers run rampant.

Albufeira, the Algarve’s largest and busiest resort, is right in the centre of the province. Everything is within day-trip range, from the wild western coastline to the Spanish border in the east at the Guadiana river.

Nightlife is lively with plenty of buzzing clubs and bars. The resort is the base for Zebra Safaris - four wheel drive tours into the interior over terrain most cars can’t handle.

Lagos in the west is a stylish resort that attracts young surfers from all over Europe in summer and has oodles of history any time of the year.

It was from here that Henry the Navigator sent his fleets to explore the globe in the 15th Century. The Portuguese were the first Europeans to cross the equator, navigate around Africa and reach India by sea.

They “discovered” South America, landed in Australia 200 years before Captain Cook and were the first to trade with China and Japan.

BEST EATS

DO as the Portuguese do and eat grilled sardines at the cluster of little restaurants by the bridge in Portimao.

TRY some of the local specialities: caldeirada (a hearty fish and potato stew); cataplana (named for the copper wok-like cooking pot, it’s a delicious stew of fish, clams and chorizo sausage) and chicken piri piri (grilled chicken marinated in a spicy chilli-based sauce).

HAVE lunch by the harbour at Olhao - the seafood from here is transported all over Portugal.

LEAVE some space for sweets and pastries. You’ll find them at a cafe or pastelaria (cake shop) rather than a restaurant. Some that you may like to try include morgado de figo (fig cake), doces de amendoa (marzipan fancies), bolos de mel (honey cakes), tarte de natas (rich cream sponge) and pasteis de nata (custard tarts).

IF you’re not a fish fan, the local lamb and pork is better than beef. Try some presunto (air dried ham) from Monchique - the pigs graze on acorns in the oak woods.

HEAD off to the local market rather than a supermarket if you are self-catering. The fruit and veg are all fantastic.

BACK TO NATURE

MOST people’s first view of the Algarve is the panorama of salt flats, barrier islands, lagoons and marshes as their plane approaches Faro Airport. This huge nature reserve is one of the most important wetland areas in Europe and home to many rare birds.

Head for the Ria Formosa information centre between Faro and Tavira and you can go on walks past Roman remains. There are also well-stocked marine aquariums and a water dog breeding centre. These gorgeous rough-coated dogs are one of the oldest breeds in the world and were bred by fishermen. They have webbed feet and used to drive fish into the nets or pass messages between boats before the days of mobiles, as well as guarding the catch.

There’s another nature reserve in the far west, and here Horizonte, a tour company based in Salema, west of Lagos, run four- wheel drive tours. The west coast beaches are magnificent and much favoured by surfers riding the Atlantic rollers. Three of the best are Praia do Martinhal near Sagres, Praia do Amado, Carrapateira, and Praia de Monte Clerigo.

Peace and cricket, that’s what’s done it.” Niaz Maharoot manages Helga’s Folly, in Kandy, a hotel whose eccentricities speak volumes for the confidence growing within Sri Lanka’s tourist industry. Let’s hope he is proved right in his prediction that this year will be one of the best seasons ever for Sri Lanka’s hoteliers.

Early in November, I found them poised to receive not only devotees of the imminent test cricket series against England, but an army of visitors. “Bookings for 2004 are up 30 to 40 per cent over last year’s” reckoned Sarath Wickremasinghe, the manager of the chic Saman Villas at Bentota - a figure echoed by the Taj Group.

Nearly two years after the signing of a formal ceasefire between the government and the separatist Tamil Tigers, international tourism seems at last to be prepared to overlook Sri Lanka’s political troubles and allow the country to step into the upmarket gap left by the Bali bombing. Two big highways are under construction; Sri Lankan Airlines is opening several new internal flights and international hotel groups are making heavy investments. Angsana Resorts and Spas, a sister brand to Banyan Tree, has taken over the delightful Deer Park near Polonnaruwa. Tea country guest houses and historic seaside villas are being expensively converted.

On 5 November, the day I left the island, all certainties wobbled once again. In her Prime Minister’s absence abroad, President Kumaratunga, widely believed to feel that too many concessions were being made to the Tigers, suspended parliament, dismissed three members of the cabinet and declared a state of emergency. But this was lifted two days later and, two months on, the blip appears to have had little effect on the projected boom in tourism.

Which is all to the good: Sri Lanka packs in a bigger share of sheer gorgeousness - more dazzling archaeological sites, more lavish scenery and ravishing beaches, more elephants, more leopards, more almost everything - than any small island (it’s about the size of Ireland) has a right to claim.

More interesting hotels, too. The recent building spree has resulted in high levels of comfort and considerable contemporary style. Overlooking the sea at Bentota, Saman Villas has the champagne- on-arrival, the open- air bathrooms and the frangipani-on-the-pillow considered de rigueur in contemporary Serendipityland. “Too much effing good taste,” grumped one of my travelling companions, a celebrated photographer, confronted with the lazily revolving fans, the old Dutch furniture interspersed with witty contemporary takes, the designer fabrics and bathroom fixtures which grace the Sun House and the 18th-century Dutch House. I could see what he meant but, hey, I’m not proud: lead me to it.

It’s inland Sri Lanka, however, that has my heart. “India designed by the Swiss” observed the photographer. Here is the same green profligacy that you find in Kerala, only more so. Cathedral-sized bubbles of rock swell up from a lavishly clothed landscape, its trees noisy with birds; its waterways stalked by pelicans and herons. Butterflies flop like silk hankies through air scented with incense, wet tea, gardenias and ripe- to-bursting fruit.

What’s missing is the hassle. Compared with India, Sri Lankan roads are miracles of sobriety, their most dashing drivers pilot motorised rickshaws sporting rackety names: Strange Boys, Innocent Bird or All That Glitters. Beggars are fewer and eventually leave you alone; the same, glory be, goes for the salesmen.

“Give me your hand, Madam,” said an idler at Sigiriya: “You are a heavy person”. I’m a what? The tone was of spurious concern, the message ill calculated to appeal to one who reaches neurotically for the Weight Watchers cookbook the minute the scales creep over 8 stone. Only my heart felt heavy; it was already doing the lumbering somersaults which only the vertiginous endure.

For, ahead loomed a cheesewire-sliced precipice, 590ft (180m) high and studded with metal ladderways, some of them connected by superannuated London Underground spiral stairs. Citadel of a 5th century playboy king, whose good-time girls still frisk across the rock face, as fresh as the day they were painted, Sigiriya occupies star position in the cluster of World Heritage sites at the centre of the island.

At Polonnaruwa, a group of schoolgirls, looking good as gold in their white dresses, drifted barefoot through the ruined temples and pavilions of the old capital. Their teacher, the Rev Beragama Anananata Thero, a Buddhist monk, asked me to take a class photograph. “If people want to know about Enlightenment”, said my guide, Gamini Mendis, “this is where I bring them.” We contemplated three colossal stone statues of the Buddha, their serenity enhanced by the rippled effect of layered granite and not at all disturbed by the crowds of irreverent monkeys.

The same sense of tranquillity reigns at the cave temples of Dambulla, where the roofs billow softly as canvas, decorated with a thousand Buddahs, looking down from the biggest rock painting in the world. “These people are lazy” said Gamini, severely, when I asked him to translate some of the prayers written on the rags hanging from the nearby bodhi tree: “They think a tree can remove their troubles without any effort of their own”.

you could win a free Dragoman adventure holiday in India. This three- week overland tour for two people will set off from Bombay and travel down through Goa and Cochin to Madras (excludes flights). To enter you need to attend one of the free adventure travel talks to held at the Camping and Outdoors shops in Cardiff (24 November), Edinburgh (26 November) or London Victoria (1 December). The evening will consist of a talk and slideshow on all aspects of travel from choosing a destination to what gear to take, but you must book in advance.

pounds 108 per person you can take a pre-Christmas break to the medieval city of Norwich. The 13th century Maids Head Hotel, located in the shadow of the Norman Anglican Cathedral is offering a two night weekend package which includes a set menu dinner and bed and breakfast. The four-star hotel has two restaurants which also offer a-la-carte menus on request. The offer runs until March 1999. Norwich Area Tourism Agency (tel: 01603 763 062) pounds 264 per person you can spend two weeks in Praia da Rocha in the Algarve. The flight leaves Manchester on 29 November and accommodation is in the three-star apartments at the Club Praia da Rocha on a half board basis, based on two people sharing. As well as the beach, the club has three swimming pools and provides daytime and evening entertainment. Call your local Lunn Poly branch to book. pounds 350 per person active travellers can discover the wilderness of New Zealand’s South Island on a Western Adventure and Nature Safari. The 10-day tour involves daily hikes - wading across rivers and negotiating swing bridges - plus wild camping. The tour departs weekly and included in the price are camping equipment (excluding sleeping bag), mini-bus transport, national park fees and the services of an experienced guide/driver. A kitty system applies for food. Flights from the UK to Nelson are not included. Connections for 18-35s (tel: 0181-742 8612) pounds 549 you can escape from Christmas shopping on a two-week break to Cuba. Available until 9 December the price includes three nights in four-star accommodation in Havana, followed by 10 nights at a three- star, all-inclusive (meals, drinks and sports) beach resort. You may choose between the beach resorts of St Lucia and Guardalavaca and either a Manchester or Gatwick departure. Flights on Cubana, transfers and UK airport taxes are part of the package and the accommodation is in air-conditioned rooms. The Holiday Place (tel: 0171-431 0670) pounds 745 per person you can spend New Year in Jordan. Departing on 28 December this comprehensive seven-day tour takes in Petra, Amman, Jerash, Umm, Quais, Mount Nebo, Wadi Rum, Kerak and Aqaba. The trip includes a stay at the restored, five-star Jordanian Taybet Zaman Village. Return flights, transfers, b&b accommodation and comprehensive sightseeing (including entry fees) with a local guide are included in the price. Bales (01306 885 991) pounds 795 serious divers can spend five days scuba diving on the island of Layang Layang, a tiny atoll off the coast of Borneo. The deal includes flights on Malaysian Airlines, one night stopover in five- star accommodation in Borneo and full-board accommodation in a purpose built resort in twin rooms with air-conditioning and en suite bathroom. The package allows for three boat dives a day, including tanks and weight belts (all other equipment is available for hire). The quoted price applies throughout 1999, with supplements for Christmas, New Year, July and August. Jebsens (tel: 0171-932 0108) pounds 949 per person you can go on walkabout in Thailand. The package includes two nights room-only accommodation in the three-star Bangkok Asia Hotel and a 16-day Northern Thailand Adventure, which includes a four-day hill tribe trek, a visit to Chiang Mai and a night on the River Kwai in a bamboo rafthouse. It also includes flights with Royal Brunei. You can extend your stay if you wish. Extra nights at the Bangkok Asia cost pounds 12. The offer is open until 24 March. Bridge the World (tel: 0171-911 0900) pounds 1,180 up to fifteen people (pounds 79 per person) can have a seven-night house party in Herefordshire. The Old Rectory in the tiny hamlet of Stretford has six bedrooms and three bathrooms and offers an indoor swimming pool. The gardens include a hard tennis court and leads on to farmland, making this the perfect setting for a family or group of friends. This price does not apply at Christmas, New Year or Easter and excludes a security deposit of pounds 200. Prices for shorter breaks are available on request.

There is no surer way to put a Portuguese back up than to make light of the distinction between the two great historical rivals who share the Iberian peninsula. Portugal has existed within borders virtually unchanged for 800 years. Its 10 million people speak their own language and follow their own singular cultural traditions. Two archipelagos, Madeira and the Azores, are also part of the Portuguese state.

The great majority of visitors come for the Algarve’s beach life. Twice daily, the Atlantic tide sweeps in, washing the beaches and creating a palpable sense of being at the edge of a continent. The water tends to be cooler here than around the Mediterranean, but the beaches, sandy coves and rocky outcrops are unmatched anywhere in Europe.

Add to this 19 golf courses - including the renowned Penina and San Lorenzo - and the vibrant nightlife at resorts such as Albufeira and Praia da Rocha, and you’ve got the formula for attracting hundreds of thousands of tourists a year.

CAN I FIND QUIETER CORNERS OF THE ALGARVE?

Certainly. Slice the south coast into three roughly equal pieces and you have three quite distinct Algarves: the wild, sea-surged west; the picturesque flatlands to the east; and the middle section between Faro and Praia de Luz, which throngs with sun-worshipping tourists.

Eastwards, beyond Faro, the coastline dissolves into marshy wetlands, salt flats and sandy islands. Snowy-white egrets, grey herons and waders which winter in West Africa, find their way here in huge numbers. Human visitors - mostly nature lovers - are few. The small fishing town of Tavira on the Gilao estuary is one of the real delights of Portugal. A string of elegant 18th-century facades, built on the proceeds of tuna fishing, line the riverfront. There are open- air cafes on cobbled squares shaded by palm trees, the romantic remains of a Moorish castle, and more than 20 churches in which fishermen still pray for safety at sea and a bountiful catch.

At the other end of the Algarve, the coast becomes increasingly remote the farther west you go, culminating in the bare, windswept bluffs around Sagres. At Cape St Vincent, the furthest promontory, the sheer, grey cliffs drop several hundred feet into the sea below. Take a right turn and you are on Portugal’s windswept west coast. Plains unfurl, dotted with scrub and crouching fig trees. Dirt tracks lead into what looks like desert towards expanses of sand the size of athletics stadiums. Waves come crashing in and the tide washes round in great sweeps. It is all fittingly dramatic for the very corner of a continent.

WHAT ABOUT EXPLORING SOME OTHER REGIONS?

Hiring a car and touring is the most practical way to get around. Point your exhaust at the Algarve’s beaches and golf links and, within a couple of hours, you are in the wilds of the Alentejo, where birds of prey soar over plains of cork forest. A backbone of mountains forms a natural border with Spain, dotted with castles and medieval villages. Streams and lakes break up a landscape that erupts into a riot of spring flowers before turning brown in the long, roasting summer.

Don’t miss Evora, a town which is almost a museum of Portuguese art and architecture, enclosed within sturdy 14th-century walls. Estremoz and Elvas feel sleepier, belying their architectural treasures and pivotal roles in Portuguese history. Other than a scattering of superb pousadas - a chain of state-owned inns akin to Spanish paradores - such as the converted national monuments in Evora and Estremoz, good-standard accommodation is scarce.

The Minho, the northwest corner of the country between Oporto and the Spanish border, forms a stark contrast to the south: a lush counterpane of wooded hills and valleys kept green by rain. When your car gets stuck behind a creaking wooden bullock cart laden with maize on the narrow, winding lanes, think of it as an opportunity to pull over and explore. You might come across a spicy-smelling eucalyptus wood, or a track along a stream to an old stone water mill. Or you might wander past a ramshackle farmhouse and admire the craftsmanship of the espigueiros - grain stores raised on stilts to prevent rodents getting in, usually topped with stone crosses. Braga, the “Portuguese Rome”, has 80 churches, most of them Baroque. Nearby Guimaraes was the first capital of the kingdom of “Portucale”, proclaimed nearly 900 years ago in the now-ruined castle perched dramatically on a rocky hill.

As an alternative to the pousadas, there are private homes - often termed “manor houses” - to stay at under the Turismo de Habitacao scheme. As guests, you may be welcomed to join the family for lusty home cooking.

SO THIS IS ABOUT AS OFFBEAT AS IT GETS IN PORTUGAL?

No. Parts of Portugal remain among the least-discovered pockets of western Europe. Start with the craggy Serra da Estrela northeast of Lisbon, the country’s highest mountain range and National Park, whose crowning peak, the Torre, reaches nearly 2,000m. Despite its spectacular scenery, few foreign tourists have even heard of it. In winter, the upper reaches of the range pack with snow, and wolves can be heard howling at night. In spring, a few lonesome hikers are to be found, and in autumn, you might pass the occasional hunter dangling a hare or partridge. In summer, the streams dry up and the verdant valleys turn brown and inhospitable.

With its freakishly post-modern skyline, dominated by the 88- storey twin Petronas Towers, Kuala Lum-pur (or KL, as it is invariably known) is young, brash and image-conscious, the bright kid from the family made good, on the brink of adulthood.

In the city’s “Golden Triangle”, the heart of the commercial district, big names in global youth culture - Planet Hollywood, Hard Rock Cafe, McDonald’s - battle for prominence. But the wealth which KL wears on its sleeve belies the fact that commerce in Malaysia is still hurting like hell, in the wake of the 1997 collapse of south- east Asia’s “tiger economies”. The new airport may have opened on time, but many of the prestige engineering projects, designed to announce Malaysia’s “New Asian” ambitions, such as the PRT metro system, have ground to a halt. The weak ringgit, however, is still good for tourists with hard currency in their pockets.

As for the “exotic East”, well, it’s still there in places. Under the noses of skyscrapers, you’ll find Chinatown, little India and touches of a Somerset Maugham-esque colonial heritage. KL is the perfect spot either to kick off a holiday elsewhere in Malaysia or to break the journey to or from Australia, with a couple of days’ stopover.

When to go

As far as climate is concerned, it doesn’t matter much; it is hot, humid and sticky all year round with the possibility of tropical downpours - usually in the afternoons, and seldom for long.

“Colours of Malaysia” comes to KL at the end of May, bringing a month- long celebration of traditional cultures and arts, and some great street parades. The Genting Highlands hill-station in Pahang, about 100km north of KL, hosts the National Lion Dancing Championship from 7-9 July.

Chinese New Year, in late January or early February, is great fun but can be a hard time of year to find a room, as people flock to the city for a weekend of lion-dancing and general partying in Chinatown.

To witness the country’s most sacred Hindu festival, Thaipusam, you must be in KL on 21 January. Thousands of devotees follow the silver chariot of Sri Mahamariamman to the Batu caves, amid drumming, chanting, the smashing of thousands of fresh coconuts and the liberal sprinkling of holy water.

How to get there

Kuala Lumpur International Airport (KLIA) opened in early 1999 and is one of the most hi-tech and extravagant airports in the world. It feels distinctly 21st-century, with acres of plate glass and noiseless monorails and bubble lifts whisking you between aircraft, lounges and shopping malls.

Malaysia Airlines (tel: 020-7341 2020) and British Airways (tel: 0345 222111) fly non-stop from Heathrow to KL (Malaysia Airlines also flies from Manchester). Some of the seats on Malaysia Airlines are marketed through Virgin Atlantic (tel: 01293 747747). For the best fares, go through a discount flight specialist; expect to pay around pounds 500 return, or pounds 100 less if you travel on an indirect routing. Best of all, though, take advantage of the cheap tickets to Australia and New Zealand recently announced by Malaysia Airlines: under pounds 600 return, with free stops in KL and the possibility of free trips elsewhere in Malaysia, through discount agents such as Quest Worldwide (tel: 020-8547 3322).

Getting into the city, about 30 miles away, costs 25 ringgit (pounds 5) on a bus which will drop you at your hotel; these buses leave from the multi- storey car park opposite the main entrance, and take an hour or so if traffic isn’t too awful. A taxi will be slightly quicker, and costs around 65 ringgit (pounds 13).

Getting around

Work on what was to have been one of Asia’s most efficient urban transport systems, the monorail People-mover Rapid Transport (PRT), came to an abrupt end in 1997 with the economic collapse. However, an efficient and frequent Light Rail Transit (LRT) runs on a few routes.

Taxis are ubiquitous, metered and very cheap. A typical journey in the city costs about 12 ringgit (pounds 2).

What to see and do

Explore KL’s ethnic districts on foot. Start with Chinatown, whose hub is the 1920s art deco Central Market - previously the city’s main produce market, now a huge air-conditioned arts, crafts, jewellery and antiques emporium along with other shops, stalls and restaurants.

The main “wet” (fresh produce) markets are in the thronging streets outside. Let the powerful scents of fruit, herbs and raw fish lead you by the nose to stalls were sacks of live crabs are for sale, or perhaps to a shady recess where an old man in a lampshade hat is doing something terrible to a dead snake. The busiest street is Jalan Petaling, once home to dens of vice, now the place to have your fortune told, visit a traditional Chinese physician, or buy from a staggering variety of fake designer labels. Salesmen will proudly insist that their watches are “genuine fake Rolexes”.

The gaudy See Shu Yuen Taoist temple at the end of Jalan Petaling is usually packed with worshippers and lighters of joss-sticks. Curiously, one of KL’s principal Hindu temples, Sri Mahamariamman, is also in the heart of Chinatown. Its ornate, multicoloured, stepped tower rises over Jalan Tun HS Lee; the silver chariot inside is used in an annual Thaipusam procession to the Batu Caves.

Helicopter over Reunion, and you’ll see an exotic beast of an island thrusting out of the Indian Ocean: three huge craters filled with tropical forest, mountain meadows, villages perched amid jagged ravines and vertiginous waterfalls, the moon-like slopes of the Piton de la Fournaise, the biggest volcano in the region and still highly active, coral sand lapped by transparent ripples and foam-flecked basalt outcrops.

Emerge from the airport, however, and you’re in provincial France: boulangeries, Champion supermarkets, Elf filling stations and tabacs.

The N1, south of the capital St-Denis, is a four-lane traffic jam. When built, this was the most expensive road in the world. Carved out of towering volcanic cliffs beside the sea, it is festooned with huge sheets of giant’s chain-mail, former anti-submarine nets protecting the new Peugeots and Citroens from falling rocks.

The French government built the road and subsidises the gendarmes on their BMW motorcycles, the smart yellow buses, the schools and hospitals. Four hundred miles from impoverished Madagascar, Reunion’s French nationality brings it a standard of living only dreamed of in the rest of Africa.

No wonder the Reunionais independence movement is minuscule, and the graffito Zoreils Dehors - foreigners out - so rare. Zoreil comes from oreille, or ear. It might have been a mocking reference to non- Creole speakers’ hand-to-ear sign language as they strained to understand, or the Africans’ nickname for the French hunters of escaped slaves, who cut the ears off their prey to claim bounty.

Reunion was uninhabited when discovered by the Portuguese in 1500. By the mid-17th-century, a few dozen convicts and settlers had been installed by the Compagnie des Indes Orientales, and the island was claimed by the French Crown. Waves of new arrivals - slaves from Madagascar, marrying women from Portugal and the Malabar coast of India, indentured labourers from China, English pirates - led to tremendous interbreeding.

Brilliantly coloured Tamil and Chinese temples and mosques intersperse the concrete Catholic churches, wood-tiled hotels de villes, and estates of neat villas. Since Reunion became a French departement in 1946, civil servants, the military and teachers from le metropole, as they call mainland France, have settled in considerable numbers, attracted by the climate and overseas-salary increments.

The majority live in St-Denis, a pleasant town of 120,000 inhabitants, which slopes gently down to an ocean-front garden and promenade. The dock installations and subsidised workers’ apartment blocks are five miles down the coast at Le Port.

The colonial grid centre of St-Denis has a grand 19th-century prefecture, a university and plenty of statues. The banks, restaurants and shops remind one of, say, Montauban or Orange, though the old prison with its barbed- wire and barred cell windows, and the few Madagascan prostitutes in miniskirts and extravagant wigs on the rue de Nice add an exotic touch. Pretty tumbledown colonial wooden villas moulder behind ornate railings and mango trees: just as in mainland France, the middle classes prefer their real estate practical and modern.

Reunion’s traditional sources of revenue - coffee, sugar cane, geranium and vetiver essences for perfumery - have been heavily augmented since the 1980s by tourism, but the tourists are 90 per cent French or local. This means they expect excellent food and lodgings. This is a tropical island almost devoid of all-inclusive mega-resorts, but supplied instead with well-run little two and three- star hotels and sensible family restaurants with brilliant FFr100 (pounds 10) menus. And they all holiday in August - even on the St- Gilles beach drag, the Cote d’Azur of Reunion, the white-sand beaches and acacia groves are sparsely populated, outside the frenetic summer season.

If Reunion abounds in bourgeois French comforts, it also attracts craggy individualists. Halfway between St-Gilles and Cap Mechant, the long slope of the great escarpment reaches out to a rocky promontory, marked on the map as Pointe de Bretagne, or Pointe de Sel. Beside the ocean stretch shallow, square concrete-banked basins and a small collection of ramshackle buildings. This is the sea-salt refinery of the Gely family, Bretons from the renowned salt village of Guerande.

On holiday about six years ago, they discovered a semi-ruined saline facility at Pointe de Bretagne, sold up their Brittany business and persuaded the Reunion Conseil Generale to back them in restarting the island’s salt production. The Gelys, wild-haired and tanned, run a little shop behind their house. If they like the look of you, they’ll join you for a beer, and if they really like the look of you, Philippe Gely will bring out a bottle of rum and cut slices of green mango picked in the garden to dip into fresh fleur de sel, and tell you how to smell the wind to forecast sun or rain.

Further south, on the forested slopes below Piton de la Fournaise, is the “Spice & Perfume Garden” of Patrick Fontaine. The son of a vanilla and lychee farmer, Fontaine did 15 years in the Marines before finding his true vocation - turning the family home into a reserve for Reunion’s indigenous plants.

Antarctica When you sail south from Hobart, Tasmania, you have 1,000 miles of empty sea ahead of you before reaching Antarctica, the most desolate continent on Earth. Ten of us went on the Spirit of Sydney, a retired, round-the- world racing yacht which is available for charter to the more adventurous. The landfall is at Commonwealth Bay, where world-record wind speeds in excess of 200mph have been recorded, a fine place you might think for a sailing holiday. Our aim was to sail there, land if possible, and sail back via the Magnetic South Pole, an imaginary entity which roams the seas off the coast of Antarctica as unpredictably as the albatrosses that live there. It can only be located by satellite navigation; compasses just don’t work.
We left before the yacht was ready. Holes appeared in the soft aluminium of the hull, eaten by electrolytic corrosion, so the boat would fill with water. Even I, who have climbed Everest, was unprepared for the savagery of the sea. Unimpeded by land, waves roll around the world in the roaring Forties and the furious Fifties, built up by winds of hurricane speeds and Antarctic temperatures.