Just off the northeast coast of Peninsular Malaysia lies the idyllic tropical island of Redang. The ultimate paradise, this unspoilt isle is blessed with palm tree lined white sandy beaches and crystal clear waters. And since it’s part of a protected marine park, the area boasts spectacular snorkeling and scuba diving.

How to get there

The quickest and easiest way to get to Redang Island is to fly to its tiny airport (RDN) from either Kuala Lumpur or Singapore. Berjaya Air is the only airline operating seasonal direct flights (approximately one hour) from these two cities. Alternatively, some resorts provide complimentary ferry transfers included with their vacation packages from Merang and Kuala Terengganu, Malaysia.

Where to stay

There are a dozen hotels on Redang, but the top property on the island is The Taaras Beach & Spa Resort. Located on the northern tip of Redang, this luxury resort is nestled on its own picturesque secluded bay, making it an ideal destination for discerning travelers wanting to get away from it all.

The resort is a quick five-minute drive from the airport and provides complimentary shuttle service. Upon arrival, check-in is a breeze as you’re greeted with delicious welcome drinks and refreshing cold towels.

There are a variety of lodging options available on this beautiful property including ocean front suites, hillside rooms with soaker tubs and lush rainforest views, and even an exclusive clifftop villa with stunning sea views complete with a personal butler at your beck and call.

Animal lovers can enjoy daily visits from monkeys on your room’s patio. Ensure you don’t leave any personal belongings outside because these little visitors have an affinity for tossing items off balconies trying to find any remnants of tasty room service orders.

Pro Tip: If you book online directly through the resort’s website, then you gain access to exclusive package deals that include accommodation and meals.

Where to eat

Dine on fresh seafood at the Beach Brasserie, sip cocktails on the sprawling chill out deck, explore the complex flavors of authentic Malaysian cuisine and taste an array of international dishes at Asean Terrace Lounge.

To celebrate a special occasion, you can book customized dining experiences. Ocean highlights include an intimate meal on a private yacht at sunset or lunch on a floating pontoon in the middle of the calm sea. Beach lovers can partake in a Robinson Crusoe ‘castaway’ for two, enjoy a traditional feast under the stars, or take pleasure in a bespoke candlelit dinner on the water’s edge.

Your holiday is not complete without drinking fresh coconuts on the beach with sand between your toes. These hydrating beverages are ordered from Bayu Bar for a few ringgits, but if you ask the groundskeepers, they’ll harvest some coconuts from the palm trees right on the beach and open them for you free of charge.

Additionally, there are a couple shops and small open air eateries located just before the entrance of the property. They offer quick meals, snacks and cold drinks for a fraction of the resort’s prices.

What to do

From relaxing and sunbathing to enjoying water and land sports, there is something for everyone on this ultimate tropical island. Spend a leisurely day on the beach swaying in a hammock and take respite from the equatorial sunshine by lounging on cushioned sunbeds in thatched cabanas. You’re guaranteed peace and quiet since the property is on a private cove (Teluk Dalam Kecil) and only resort guests have access to this beach.

Feel like getting active? This beach is excellent for swimming as the sheltered bay always has calm waters. Pick up a game of beach volleyball, play some tennis, or visit the fully equipped marine center to book diving excursions. Adventure seekers can trek into the jungle towards Teluk Dalam Besar beach, equally as pretty and often deserted.

Pro Tip: Rise before dawn and you’ll be mesmerized by the spectacular sunrises the island has to offer.

When to visit

Book your trip between March and October when Redang is blessed with sunshine and blue skies. It is advisable to avoid monsoon season during the months of November through February.

Redang Island is the perfect destination for a honeymoon vacation, romantic getaway or to celebrate a special anniversary. If you’re looking for a luxury holiday on an exclusive white sand beach with crystal clear water, then this is the ideal paradise for you.

Have you ever experienced unparalleled and encouraging expedition which even cut through the boundaries of the expected? If – “NO”- then this is the time to plunge into the colors of Indian luxury aboard India’s first heritage luxury tourist train, Palace on Wheels. The train was introduced in the year 1982 by Rajasthan Tourism Development Corporation (RTDC) along with Indian Railways to promote tourism in Rajasthan. Just after a few years of – its inception the luxurious Palace on Wheels got PATA Gold Award and also caught the attention of major world media organizations including MTV, BBC, MDR of Germany, National Geographic and several others.

Palace on Wheels Exterior

Unmatched hospitality and impeccable service makes the experience all the more rewarding. Journeys on the train are insight into India’s overwhelming history and vibrant culture. The Royal Forts & Palaces, the adventurous field, beautiful lakes surrounded by hills, vivacious Bazaars, traditional Rajasthani dinner offered during the train journey makes it the first choice of travelers in search of majestic experience in India. The train, which is an epitome of luxury blended with mesmerizing and charming beauty of Rajasthan justify, its title of 4th best luxury train in the World.

This is undoubtedly the exceptional rail ride that one can enjoy in India; but what makes this train stand at India’s No. 1 heritage luxury train? Let us have glimpse of some of the aspects of the train:

Cabins: With impeccable hospitality measures, the Palace on Wheels comes equipped with avant-garde amenities like central air conditioning, channel music, en-suite bathrooms with running hot & cold water, comfortable beds, writing desk and a chair to sit. Carpeted walls, royal furnished facilities, use of rich fabric & colorful paintings are most lucrative features of the deluxe abode onboard.

Palace on Wheels Cabins

Facilities on board: Dining car, bar, Rejuvenation spa, lounge, khidmatgar (Personal Attendant), indoor games, newspaper/magazine, off train cultural events & onboard events compels every traveler to enjoy this ride of a lifetime. For on board amusement, guests can enjoy different indoor games like chess, cards, carom board and crossword puzzle in the lavishly appointed lounge car. Luxuriously appointed and gracefully adorned, train has a total of 14 fully air-conditioned sedans which can accommodate up to 88 passengers in a single journey.

Dining Car, Palace on Wheels

Bar, Palace on Wheels

Journey: The Itinerary in itself is a magic box which opens up new surprises day by day over 7 nights & 8 days of journey. During the journey the train chugs through some of the precisely chosen locales of Rajasthan and Uttar Pradesh including Delhi, Jaipur, Sawai Madhopur, Chittorgarh, Udaipur, Jaisalmer, Jodhpur, Bharatpur and Agra. Along with a stroll to the history lane of Rajasthan, guests aboard the train get a chance to explore its natural treasure trove with adventurous jungle safaris to Ranthambore and Keoladeo Chana National Park in Rajasthan.

Taj Mahal, Agra

Jeep Safari

Palace on wheels is synonym to “Grand Luxury Voyage on Iron Wheels” It has left no stones unturned to relieve the pomp and pageantry of the bygone era when the Rajputs used to be the undefeated rulers of Rajasthan, the cultural heartland of India.

Swanky bars are all well and good, but nothing says “cool” like a buzzing rooftop bar. The feeling of being outdoors in the open air, enjoying the breeze high above a busy metropolis somehow adds extra ‘oomph’ to an evening. Perhaps it’s the altitude, or simply the stunning skyline that surrounds; either way a cocktail somehow tastes better when supped 60 floors up.

Here’s our picks for a delicious rooftop drink in Saigon:

Chill

Perched on the 27^th floor of the AB Tower in District 1, Chill has been open for just over a year and attracts the sleek, sexy and well-dressed upper echelons of Saigon’s elite as well as foreign travelers seeking the best views of the city for their holiday snaps. Chill is the place to be seen splashing the cash in Saigon. Our tip – be sure to dress appropriately or risk the wrath of the maître d’ and an embarrassing U-turn!

Broma

Broma is certainly the ‘new kid on the block’ in Saigon. Having been open just a few months, it’s currently the ‘fresh’ new venue in HCMC and has got tongues wagging with its faux-medieval decor and a three-meter-long fish tank built into the roof dividing Broma’s two levels, making it visible from both. Broma’s location in the center of the city is prime, in the shadows of the Bitexco Tower. The alfresco area on the second floor overlooks Nguyen Hue Street and the Saigon River and feels akin to a secret lair or tree house, where you can enjoy the breeze, some subtle lighting and the carefully crafted selection of Euro treats, beers and wines on the menu.

Saigon Saigon Bar

At ‘only’ nine floors up, Saigon Saigon Bar is a low-rise rooftop option, but still provides beautiful panoramic views of HCMC. Built in the 1950’s, like Rooftop Garden, this dusk-time drinking destination has a rich history and was one of the bars that journalists used to frequent during the Vietnam War, often using the bar as a viewpoint for spotting planes and aerial assaults going on around the city. Well…that was their excuse for being there every day anyway! HCMC is much more sedate now of course, but Saigon Saigon Bar still oozes history from all its nooks and crannies.

Shri Restaurant & Lounge

Crowning the 23^rd floor of the Centec Tower in downtown Saigon, Shri’s modern European menu and bountiful list of imported wines aren’t for those traveling on a budget. As is the case so often in life though; you get what you pay for! Love-struck couples are a common sight here given the laid back romantic atmosphere Shri provides, especially during sunsets. So if you’re looking for a place to impress your ‘special someone’, this could be it!

Bang Pa-In is a small town around 50km north of Bangkok, and 20km south of the ancient capital of Ayutthaya. The town was established in the early 1630’s by King Prasat Thong of Ayutthaya as a second home for him and his family members during the summer months.

After the sacking of Ayutthaya by the Burmese army in 1767, the royal palace was left abandoned and unused while the new capital of Bangkok was being established.

Not until the reign of King Mongkut (King Rama IV), was the Summer Palace re-occupied and renovated. This work was continued by his son, the Great King Chulalongkorn (King Rama V), and it is his version of the Royal Palace that you can see today. Continue Reading

Hang on to your hats, one way round no bumping…here we go. This is a whistle stop food tour for the serious food lover around the magical jungle city of Chiang Mai, Thailand. Not for the faint hearted.    

Our day starts early with fresh brewed local coffee at my good friend Khun Sonthaya’s Coffee House. Now this might not sound too impressive, but good coffee is not that easy to find in a city strangely obsessed with instant Nescafe and condensed milk. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a big “condensed milk with everything” fan but first thing in the morning it doesn’t really cut the mustard, does it. Not for the likes of you or I anyway.

Khun Sonthaya only buys top class local coffee beans from a small company called HillKoff who grow their coffee on the humid mountain sides just outside of Chiang Mai. You can, as a special treat, ask Khun Sonthaya for the special Civet Poo Coffee that is now being locally produced by a small organic organisation up in the mountains. Let me explain.

At night wild Civets (a notoriously shy and illusive cat like mammal) emerge from their day time hidy holes to creep through the jungle feeding on whatever they can find…notably the freshest and ripest coffee beans which they are most partial to (apparently). As the coffee bean passes through their gut, acids remove the outer layer of the bean which gives the coffee a strong but smooth taste (I did say not for the faint hearted). In the morning a small team of poo hunters comb the mountain side for Civet poo in order to process it into tiny amounts of rare tasting coffee. The price as you can imagine is horrendous. In America it sells for between $35 and $50 dollars per cup.

After coffee, Khun Sonthaya will join us for the rest of our food tour. We’re all off to Ching Choo Chai breakfast restaurant on the outskirts of Chiang Mai. Don’t try to find it by yourself…you won’t. It’s out of town and in an odd location off the ring road. It’s a real “locals only” place frequented by everyone from traffic cops to bank managers. There’s no menu, no hanging about and no disappointment; it serves the best breakfast you will find anywhere in the world (and God knows I’ve looked hard). You have a choice of 3 things; pork and rice, pork ball soup and rice porridge with (you guessed it) pork. I’m going to treat you to pork and rice (Cow Ca Moo). The pork is braised for hours and is so tender it does actually feel like it melts in your mouth. The rice is local jasmine rice that is served with the cooking juices of the pork. To off set the smoothness of the pork it is served with a spoonful of home made pickled cabbage and wonderfully hot spicy red chilli sauce.

Apart from serving the best breakfast in the world Ching Choo Chai’s prices are fairly competitive. To eat breakfast here with me and Sonthaya it will set you back less than the price of a Mars Bar in the 7 Eleven. So, breakfasts on me. I am the last of the big spenders!

Okay, ready for lunch? We’ll warm up by stopping off at the side of the road to buy a massive bunch of fresh Lychees. We’ll munch our way through as we speed off in my old diesel truck to a lunch restaurant called “that Northern Thai chicken place next to the moat”. Every lunch time they roast hundreds of chickens on big outdoor grills made from old oil drums. We’ll order a couple of plump golden good’uns and some hot and sweet red chilli dipping sauce. As a special treat…just because you’re with us today I’ll treat you to what is literally translated as a “Pork Shower”. Great name isn’t it. It is a type of ground pork salad mined with spicy chillies and freshened with chopped coriander and mint. It’s a great accompaniment to anything. We’ll wash all of this down with iced lemon tea and some of their home made coconut ice cream.

Now then, lets have a walk along the tree lined moat to work up a proper appetite…the leafyness and coolness of which always, and rather romantically, reminds me of  Paris (sorry but it really does). To take our minds of Paris I’ll treat you to some mango and sticky rice as we walk along.

Finally, as the day is drawing to an end and the sun is slipping behind the ever present Suthep Mountain we’ll set off, back out of town to my favourite fish and sea food restaurant locally known as “That fish and sea food restaurant out of town”. It’s a big operation and incredibly popular with Thai families. It starts to fill up from 5pm onwards and is staffed by an incredibly efficient army of waiting staff. We’ll get a table over the big central pond near the fountain so the afternoon air is cool and fresh. Our smiling waitress won’t leave until we have ordered everything we want, so nobody gets left behind. We’ll let Khun Sonthaya order as it’ll be quicker. I’ll put in a request for both of us, what about; a whole Pomfret fish steamed with ginger, shallots and lime, stir fried spinney crab, a few oyster omelettes (just because they are so good), some rice and a spicy papaya salad, all washed down with a big iced jug of beer.

We’ll sit out late under the stars in the moonlit shadow of the mountains listening to the distant and strange whirring noise of the Nightjars watching the owls swoop down from the forests and the bats flitting about the street lights. We’ll relax and talk about food, maybe order a couple of Thai whiskies and think about where we should eat tomorrow. Or shall we just do it all the same again.?

You may think the idea of having 5 different types of bananas to choose from is entirely normal. But, I can assure you that if you had grown up on the outskirts of London in the 1970s were it was unusual to buy fruit at all (unless someone was ill) you would also share my amazement. 

When we were kids a sign of extravagance was to have a bowl of fruit on the sideboard. At Christmas it was joined by a small bowl of walnuts. There were only ever 3 kinds of fruit in the bowl, apples, oranges and bananas. The apples were soft, the oranges bitter but the bananas were at least a bland non offensive alternative. They usually disappeared first, then the apples and the oranges were sometimes left untouched and alarmingly none the worse for several years.

How can it be that you can get to 40 something years old and not realize there are varieties of banana. You would think that someone might tell you along the way, in the same way that you get to realize that the moon is not really made from cheese or the school nurse tells every boy their eyesight is so good they could be a fighter pilot (I was eighteen when an optician nearly killed himself laughing).

When I moved to Chiang Mai I basically thought that bananas were bananas. I had some vague idea that I had seen tiny, miniature bananas in Harrods or somewhere posh like that, which cost about a million pounds, but just assumed they were some weird affectation of the rich and famous (“Jeeves….make my bananas smaller!”). It is therefore with childlike delight that I can walk down the road any time and peruse several varieties of banana in my local market.

At the moment the market looks like a banana festival on Planet Banana. There are tables full of bananas of every shape, size and hue of yellow. I love the tiny finger sized ones that come in enormous bunches of up to 20 fruit. What I particularly like is the fact that you get so much for only 20 Thai Baht and when you eat them you feel like a giant. The flesh of these tiny fun sized bananas is a pleasing dark yellow. As different to the white anemic tasteless things we grew up eating as you could possibly get.

The fact that they are so wonderfully small and good to eat really does get me. Imagine being able to eat little water melons or growing tiny little juicy apples on little fairy trees. Moving to Thailand must be as close as you can get to moving to a different universe.

Although the tiny bananas are a knock out they do not have as good a taste as the big traditional looking fellows. My Thai friend told me that the literal translation for this type of banana is “good smell” which is certainly well placed. When you peel them they are beautifully fragrant which makes them irresistible. Although the flesh is whiter than the small ones they are creamier in taste and not as grainy and seem to command much higher prices.

In between these 2 extremes there are what I call “everyday bananas”. I get the feeling that people don’t really like them, that they are a bit common, which suits me fine. They are certainly the cheapest, I can get a big bunch for just 10 Baht or even 5 Baht if they won’t keep too long. They tend to be fairly straight and modest in size. The last bunch that I bought had hard black seeds inside like lead shot. It was the first ever time I’ve eaten a banana that has got pips. Will the wonders of Thailand never cease?

I have a strange affliction whereby I will almost certainly cycle down to the market this evening completely certain that I don’t need to buy any more bananas only to return with another huge bunch feeling strangely proud. My children are beginning to develop a pale yellow tinge although luckily for me the novelty of banana sandwiches has yet to wear thin. Perhaps I’ll buy just one more bunch.

The little-known story of an intrepid Second World War rescue operation out of Burma by a British tea-planter dubbed ‘The Elephant Man’ recently made international headlines

The life-saving elephant trek (by Gyles Mackrell)

Visitors to Southeast Asia often go trekking on elephantback—notably in the Golden Triangle region, straddling the Northern Thai, Myanmar and Laotian borders. Such outings often take in visits to hill-tribe refugee camps before participants make their return-leg ride back to base-camp via a raft or oversized inflatable inner tube. This kind of organized tourist jungle jaunt is so consistently popular it has become an established backpacker rite of passage. Most punters are unaware, however, that such expeditions have a venerable, historic heritage.

“It’s a remarkable story of courage, spirit and ingenuity,” said Dr. Annamaria Motrescu of Cambridge University Centre of South Asian Studies. Moreover, the escapade “took place at a time when no one was sure what the consequences of the war in the Far East would be.”

The mission in question was executed back in 1942 by a British tea-planter named Gyles Mackrell—dubbed by the press of the time as “The Elephant Man.” It saw the colonial-era trader braving torrential monsoon floods on elephantback in order to rescue hundreds of refugees from starvation. The episode played out amid the chaotic British retreat from Burma, while Japanese forces plundered a brutal advance in South and Southeast Asia.

Researchers are piecing together the unlikely tale of derring-do via Mackrell’s personal cache of letters, diaries and amateur films shot during the expedition, bequeathed to the Centre of South Asian Studies by Mackrell’s niece.

“The story is a sort of Far Eastern Dunkirk, but it has largely been forgotten since the war,” said Dr. Kevin Greenbank, archivist at the centre. “Without the help of Mackrell and others like him, hundreds of people fleeing the Japanese advance would quite simply never have made it.”

Born in 1889, Gyles Mackrell had spent most of his life in the northeastern Indian state of Assam, where he was an area supervisor for tea exporters, Steel Brothers. He was 53 when the Japanese mounted an initially devastating assault on British-held Burma in January 1942. By March, the Burmese capital of Rangoon was evacuating; in April, the army was beating a full retreat.

Tens of thousands of people—many of whom were wounded, sick and starving—fled on foot, trekking hundreds of miles through thick jungle towards the safety of the Indian border. Those who did not die en route and made it to the border in May then faced flooded narrow river passes dividing the two countries. Some groups of refugees consequently forced to camp out on the riverbanks stayed alive on food supplies airdropped by the British Royal Air Force (RAF). Other, less fortunate exiles had to subsist on fern fronds.

Mackrell knew the jungle and fluently spoke the dialects of local hill-tribes. Crucially, his work also granted him access to pachyderms—apparently the only reliable means of crossing the monsoon-flooded rivers.

“I promised to collect some elephants and move off as quickly as I could,” he wrote in his diary, after receiving an S.O.S. on June 4 from a group of refugees who had managed to cross the Dapha River by making a human chain.

In a series of epic forced marches, Mackrell reached the Dapha by June 9. He sighted a group of 68 soldiers

Route taken by Mackerell (hardly the better-known "Elephant Man")

trapped on an island mid-river. The films Mackrell shot show elephants tusk-deep in torrential rapids, struggling to make progress downriver. But when the waters fell briefly in the early morning hours, a window opened in which the soldiers were evacuated.

In the following weeks, Mackrell and his colleagues set up camp on the Dapha to help across a stream of refugees. His rescue party were themselves frequently short of supplies and fever-stricken; at one stage Mackrell himself had to go back to Assam to recuperate, before returning to the Dapha upon his recovery.

The dramatic operations had saved around 200 people by the time they ceased in September 1942. Mackrell even rescued the final group of refugees against the orders of the British government, who, acting on faulty intelligence, had ordered his party to relocate.

The archive features a note by Sir R. E. Knox, from the Treasury’s Honours Committee in London, noting the risk of death Mackrell faced during the evacuation “could be put, very roughly, at George Medal: 50% to 80%.” Indeed, Mackrell eventually received the George Medal. He was briefly celebrated as “The Elephant Man” in the British press in 1942—though “Mackrell was embarrassed by the attention he received,” according to Dr. Motrescu.

However, as the war progressed, his exploits became a forgotten historical footnote. He died in retirement in Suffolk in 1959. A short film chronicling the epic rescue mission using Mackrell’s footage is online at Cambridge University’s YouTube channel.

Phuket’s famous festival is drawing ever-closer, but other than a bloody spectacle, what does it all mean?

I am in the pretty grounds of Jui Tui Shrine, a Taoist temple in Phuket Town. Around me Thais of all ages sit chatting and snacking. We could be at a picnic—if not for the succession of men emerging from the temple rapidly shaking their heads while whooping madly, as if in the grip of some face-wobbling reverie.

Jui Tui Taoist Temple, Phuket, Thailand

This is base camp for the Southern Thai edition of the Nine Emperor Gods Festival, more commonly known as the Chinese Vegetarian Festival. The odd devotees of this annual spirit-rousing, luck-harvesting celebration are the mah song  (entranced horses): locals offering themselves as vessels for godly possession before ridding of the streets of evil.

Chinese immigrants observe this nine-day holy carnival across Southeast Asia, though not actually in China. It begins on the ninth month of the Chinese lunar calendar (usually in October on the Gregorian equivalent). In Thailand, the festival focuses in Phuket, where about 40 percent of the population claim Chinese origins.

If honest, I am unconvinced by the displays of supposedly spellbound gibbering. The symptoms of entrancement seem standardized; practically generic. Then a teenage Thai girl sitting nearby suddenly starts convulsing violently. Seconds later she is thrashing spasmodically with her eyes closed, alternately mewling and howling. Tears stream down her face.

It is shocking, like witnessing a real-life version of The Exorcist. According to cultural primer Very Thai, “A purported 80 percent of Thai believe in the supernatural.” This girl’s peers seem more embarrassed than worried. A few hoist her up and carry her horizontally out of the walled complex. They return moments later, still sheepishly lugging their frozen-stiff companion like a rolled-up carpet.

Firecracker terrorism (by Electrostatico via Flickr Creative Commons License)

I wonder why, but a glance outside reveals even stranger scenes. A procession of mah song parades through billowing smoke, as hundreds of firecrackers discharge to the backbeat of drumming. Even from a distance, the unholy din is painful. Observers are tossing bangers directly into the human convoy. Those stripped to the waist and walking barefoot display fresh welts from the fireworks yet seem oblivious. And it just gets weirder…

Staggering, strutting or leering from floats, many mah song have speared their faces with all manner of implements: from swords to motorcycle exhaust pipes. Those heaving larger protrusions, like café parasols, require standard-bearers on either side to prevent the objects ripping their carriers’ jaws off. Despite their precarious balancing acts, they taunt the audience repeatedly.

A woman—there are female mah song, too—clad in a flowing white smock, her face pierced with crossover needles, pauses to pose for a photo. Presently, a hooting male disciple scampers over to press something into my hand. I gingerly open my palm to reveal…a boiled candy! (These, and the pieces of orange cloth being distributed, are supposed to bring good luck, I learn later.)

Mah song must be unmarried, either doomed with bad karma and looking to extend their earthly lives or moralists selected by the benevolent gods of the Chinese pantheon. The masochists purportedly magnetize evil from the community onto themselves, cleansing the locale of suspect supernatural vibes. The drums and firecrackers help these Sino-Thai ghostbusters drive ghoulish spirits away.

Face the pain: 'Mah Song' devotees

Thought to originate in India, the Phuket festival edition began in 1825 when members of a transient Hokkien Chinese opera group perished to a malaria epidemic. Survivors adopted a vegetarian diet until the plague ceased, and ever since Phuket abstains for an annual spell—from alcohol and pleasures of the flesh.

A man wanders by sawing at his lower jaw with a machete, reducing his lips and tongue to a dripping pulp. Mah song also fire-walk, which quite a few seemed nervous about, bathe in hot oil and climb ladders with bladed rungs (I missed the latter two spectacles). Despite the apparent posturing, “this is not a macho thing,” 46-year-old mah song Chai told The Fortean Times in 2005. “The piercing is like a sacrifice.”

It is also not for the benefit of gawping foreigners. As you can imagine, the Tourism Authority of Thailand does not make huge efforts to promote this grotesque self-mutilating ritual. However, outsiders are welcome to observe, buy white T-shirts, chuck fireworks and join the parade. Visitors can also chow on vegetarian festival cuisine at street stalls marked by yellow flags with red characters (although it should really be prepared in a temple to be sacred).

The festival ends with merit-making ceremonies at Phuket’s six participating temples, and a deafening fireworks send-off for the gods on the final night. But my ears have had enough. As I am driven to Phuket airport on my way back to Bangkok—where a Thai of royal lineage later regales me with conspiracy theories, about fire-retardant potions being pre-lacquered onto the soles of fire-walkers’ feet—I notice a lone mah song knocking on someone’s door.

An enormous plaster covers one side of his face.

Reports are flooding in that the purchase of legendary Liverpool Football Club by a Chinese business tycoon, Kenny Huang, is imminent

By Joel Quenby

Anfield: home to Liverpool F.C, subject of a takeover bid from Kenny Huang (main photo by Nigel Wilson via Flickr Creative Commons License)

The head of Hong Kong–based investment firm QSL Sports Ltd made waves in 2009 by bidding for the Cleveland Cavaliers NBA team (the Americans didn’t play ball). This time, Huang is reportedly on the brink of a US$559-million deal for the most successful club in the history of English football.

Is this Phase One of China’s Impending World Takeover kicking off? Only kidding—Huang is after a global, “one-man-created sports empire,” according to China Sports Today blog editor, Maggie Rauch. Liverpool’s (non-Asian) fans might be jittery at the prospect, though. When it comes to running Premier League teams, Asian bosses have a distinctly unpredictable (if highly limited) record…

Russian oligarchs, American high-flyers, even Icelandic bankers, have owned Britain’s best football clubs. By comparison, back in May 2007, BBC Online thought it “surprising that it has taken so long for Asian wealth to make itself felt in the Premiership.”

Asia’s brands were investing, with South Korea’s Samsung sponsoring Chelsea, while Malaysia’s AirAsia got cozy with Manchester United. The subcontinent’s players—like South Korea’s Ji-Sung Park at Man. U—started to become regulars in Premiership lineups. However, off the pitch, potential Asian overseers of Premier League clubs remained in the shadows.

“Perhaps they have been more risk averse and slower to react than US investors,” Harry Philp, from Hermes Sports Partners, told the BBC. “It is more of a first step for many Asian investors.”

The absence likewise puzzled those soccer pundits with in-taxi experience of Southeast Asia, where the passion-cum-obsession for English football is especially strident. Then in June of 2007, a certain Thai mover-and-shaker—famed for both his snappy reactions and love of risk-taking—got involved.

"Buy! Sell" Dr. Thaksin keeps up with current affairs from Maine Road in 2007, accompanied by daughter Pintongtha; and courting archrivals Man Utd earlier (inset)

He had already had a sniff at both Liverpool and Fulham, while serving as prime minster. Being deposed and fleeing to Britain evidently freed up more of Dr. Thaksin Shinawatra’s time for football. The billionaire sealed a $126-million buyout of Manchester City, becoming the first Asian owner of a Premier League club.

His foes howled that the whole game was just a face-gaining mission. Thaksin, meanwhile, maintained his formidable track-record of “making things happen.” His first post-PM public appearance saw Thaksin take center stage—hosting a Thai concert/buffet attended by thousands of cheering fans in Manchester’s main city square (even closing the event with a rousing Karaoke version of the team’s anthem, “Blue Moon”).

Thaksin continued causing an early splash. The Maine Road faithful even took him into their hearts, for a spell—after his policies briefly spun magic at Maine Road.

Hiring much-loved ex-England coach Sven-Goran Eriksson, pumping millions into the club’s coffers (and endorsing a spending spree), then witnessing his new team win their first game under his tenure, all helped Thaksin’s standing on the terraces tremendously.

However, all things must pass – and sooner rather than later, in Thaksin’s case, when his reputation back home soured. Little wonder that Thaksin sold Manchester City to investors from Abu Dhabi in September 2008, about 15 months after he bought the club. (By then the team’s patchy form was underlined by backroom infighting; it seems Thaksin’s strong-arm tactics did not prove popular in the boardroom of a Premier League club.)

A few months later, political pressure saw him banned from re-entering Britain. We can only speculate that the estimated $150-million profit Thaksin made on the sale of the club may have compensated for the indignity.

None of this is to suggest that Mr. Huang has a comparable record to his controversial club-owning predecessor, of course. These words are meant to form an indulgent glance back at a rather farcical (hopefully unrepeatable) episode, rather than any cautionary tale. Hong Kong’s Carson Yeung has been presiding over Birmingham City since Thaksin’s time, anyway.

However, by (reportedly) offering to pay off Liverpool’s (alleged) $556-million debt, (apparently) fund their transfer kitty, and then (rumor has it) build the club a brand new stadium—in return for total control of the team—Kenny Huang certainly looks like he means business.

Whether that business ultimately proves risky on Merseyside, only time will tell…

In past decades, Southeast Asia has often been a magnet for hippies in search of something they couldn’t find back home. Peace of mind. Fulfilment. Happiness. The list goes on. A recent, but not entirely unsurprising trend is emerging in Kuala Lumpur.

Seeing the Light(works): a new age arrives in KL

At Lightworks, a bright two-storey converted shop house at the centre of the city, an array of therapies and healing modalities are offered by a rotating selection of healers who come from around the world.

Among them is an English man offering I-Ching consultations, a bearded pony tailed American by the name of John who guides clients on their third eye activation as well as a former BBC producer who now specialises in Goddess divinations using specially created essential oils. Such therapies don’t come cheap, ranging in price from RM150 – RM350 (approximately US$44 – $103). Reiki as well as martial arts and yoga classes are offered as are regular workshops offering opportunities for self-healing and empowerment.

Yes, the new age has dawned on Kuala Lumpur in quite a big way. Business at Lightworks is booming. In a striking reversal of roles, these former travellers and seekers from the West, wizened and transformed in the past decade or two, have found an eager clientele in many of the city’s stressed out residents – people who are on the lookout for something beyond merely hanging out at shopping malls on weekends. Or, could it be that Eastern mysticism becomes even more compelling when wrapped in a double-layer of exoticism?

Jalan Mesui where Lightworks is situated is an intriguing locale in itself. Next door, there is a jazz bar called No Black Tie, while on the opposite side of the road is an Italian eatery, Delucca, which on some nights, also features a band. A five-minute walk up the road is Changkat Bukit Bintang, a great mix of bars and restaurants, where one might presumably head to for happy hour drinks after a bliss-filled yoga class.