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The brass bowl of warm oil tips. A thin thread of liquid finds the centre of your forehead. It is 6:40 in the morning. Somewhere beyond the palm-thatch roof, a…

The stone is warm beneath my palm, though the morning air still carries the chill of the desert night. I am standing at the Western Wall in Jerusalem. Around me,…

The train from Chennai to Puducherry has no dining car, no Wi-Fi, and for long stretches, no signal at all. I noticed this the way you notice a missing tooth…

The shala floor is still cool at five in the morning. Bare feet find it before the sun does. Beyond the low wall, a rooster begins its argument with the…

The stone under my palm is warm, though the morning air still carries the bite of the Pyrenees. I have stopped on a switchback above Roncesvalles, one hand flat against…

The train from Kandy to Ella takes seven hours. The distance is barely a hundred miles. I know this because I have made the journey four times, and each time…

The gamelan is still playing when the rain arrives. It starts as a soft percussion on the alang-alang roof, then a steady wash that drowns out the metallophones and leaves…

The stone beneath my bare feet held the morning's chill long after sunrise. Ninety-eight steps to a small shrine above Kyoto. That is where I learned what no guidebook mentions:…

The train from Rishikesh to Haridwar was nearly empty at 5 a.m. Somewhere near the front carriage, a small brass bell was ringing. I had left my students behind for…

The stone floor of the Telesterion at Eleusis holds the cold of two thousand years. I knelt there on a November morning, palm flat against rock worn smooth by countless…