The Mexican bus driver – the busero – pulled out of the parking lot. Immediately I noticed that the bottom half of the bus wasn’t attached to the top, nor was the steering connected. At least, that’s how it felt as it shook, rattled and rolled …

“Holy Sh*t I’m going to die!” are words that have crossed my mind many, many times on my last two bike rides from London to Cape Town via the Middle East and from Korea to Cape Town via the Axis of Evil. I got shot at in Afghanistan, knocked off my bicycle (lots) by taxi drivers in South Africa …

Writing a book is an adventure. To begin with, it is a toy and an amusement. Then it becomes a mistress, then it becomes a master, then it becomes a tyrant. The last phase is that just as you are about to be reconciled to your servitude, you kill the monster, and fling him to […]

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