Music vs Militarism

The pottery grounds, Chibana tells me, were formerly a bomb disposal yard. At once, my body tenses. I begin to step gingerly, looking at where I place my feet. The floor is simply earth though — dusty red clay. The potters are young, bandanas on their heads; their bare feet are clay red too…

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How to Move a Tree

Early one morning in a park in Taiwan I came across a man who had stopped off on his way home from the market to harness himself to a tree…

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Forgetting, Remembering

JAPAN-BRAZIL
BY TERRY CAESAR
 
Few countries appear to have less in common with each other than Japan and Brazil. Consider only the woman in which each country is personified…

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Along the Silk Road Today

We sat in the little space, ringed by snowcaps, under a pulsing moon, 10,000 feet above the sea, and many hours from what the Eagles might consider civilization, and we tried to jolly into being all their songs of hard women in Los Angeles, the dangers of cocaine.

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A Minute and 100 Metres

I arrived via train, 40 hours and just under 4000km in a hard-seat, from Beijing, where rumours were circulating about the extent of the military presence, needle attacks, Uighur and Han street gangs…

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Pico Iyer is Lost

Pico Iyer is lost. It’s a condition he uses to great effect in his increasingly internalised travel books as we find him on the road to somewhere he’s not sure of.

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Dogs Barking at the Full Moon

Comrade John is a mild-mannered person. I didn’t feel threatened or scared at all. In fact, I welcomed this encounter. It had been over a decade since I last spoke to them…

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The Barber

My goatee and shaved head perplex many Vietnamese because in their country beards are for venerable old men like Uncle Ho and bald heads for monks, and I am neither.

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