"the last time i saw you"

On our third day in Yangon, my friend Kerri and I decided to join our new friends Uros and Jerome for a ride on the Circle Train. We had all heard that it was a great way to spend a few hours, a great way to see some of the sights of the city for ourselves. I couldn’t wait – to see a country through the window of a train is one of my favourite ways to sightsee. The train is so named because it literally circles the city of Yangon; the whole journey takes approximately three hours, and a train comes every hour.

The plan had been fairly straightforward: we were to arrive by train in Bucharest, the capital of Romania, around 8pm. We had already booked a hostel in the city, but we wanted to purchase our train tickets for Varna, Bulgaria, while we were still at the train station.

We had just spent a week in Transylvania, the famous home of Dracula, and so had arrived in Bucharest from the small town of Brasov. The week had fulfilled our every expectation and then some, with green landscapes, cobblestoned towns, and plenty of castles perched ominously on hilltops, perfect for sleeping all day and drinking blood all night. Why we had come to Romania at all was an impromptu decision, a three-week holiday booked between two friends who wanted to see an unusual part of the world. We had looked at a map and chosen a place we knew nothing about.

A few weeks ago, I was contacted by Katrina from Eating London about joining one of their tours. If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you may have noticed that I haven’t accepted many tours or trips; it’s just a personal thing. After reading Tom’s post about the same tour, though, and when I realised that the tour would take place in my neighbourhood, East London, I became very, very intrigued. Since moving to London I’ve decided that I’d like to do a bit more “backyard blogging”, which is writing about the place in which you live. As I live in the best city on earth, and in the best neighbourhood in the best city on earth, this means writing a lot more about East London and how much this part of town has to offer.

This place was sacred. Bodies burned day and night on the ghats, the steps leading to the Ganges; it was not uncommon to find bits of ash in your hair or on your skin. I balked at the chance to drink tea with the holy men after I learned that the Ganges was the source of the water, even though, as my guide told me, “It will make you closer to India.” I watched each morning as men and women bathed in the river, washed their faces in the river, drank from the river. Hindus and Jains came here to die, the Ganges serving as the divine cosmic road to salvation. Tourist boats rode up and down the water, the people on them snapping photos of cremations.

Street art is a great love of mine. When we think of street art, we think of Melbourne, London, Valparaiso, Berlin, New York, Buenos Aires. I hadn’t given much thought to what would be on the walls of Colombia, but I was overjoyed to find an entire alley in Cartagena’s district of Getsemeni devoted to beautiful, powerful, politically-driven art. I took dozens of photos, including a couple which were signed, seemingly absent-mindedly, by one name: Guillermo.

  Clockwise from top left: Rio de Janiero, Brazil; Bocas del Toro, Panama; Cali, Colombia; Machu Picchu, Peru; Uyuni Salt Flats, Bolivia; Winnipeg, Canada; Buenos Aires, Argentina; Flying Over Belize; middle photo,…