Travel Writing Library

I arrived at Hua Lamphong station, in Bangkok, in good time to catch the 6.30am train to Nam Kok, stopping at Kwai station. Humidity was high, even at that early hour, and the station vendors were already out and about offering cooked fish and meats to early travellers.

“Mama mia, here I go again, my my how could I resist ya?” It was 2am on a Wednesday morning in June, I hadn’t slept for 19 hours and found myself singing accompanied by two Italian long-distance lorry drivers in the cab of their huge vehicle, carrying cows from France to Italy.

New Delhi was like nowhere I’d been before. Prior to this my only understanding of life in India had come from Slum Dog Millionaire. I was a naive girl on a business trip. I thought poverty would be hidden down back alleys or limited to slum neighborhoods. I was wrong.

‘You will be the butcher man’, at once everyone read my weak smile and laughed. I don’t mind killing a chicken, but a goat was a whole new ball game. My bravado had preceded me and now I was paying the price.