He sits…he waits. A small piece of cloth houses his merchandise. People walk by, they stop and look at his makeshift shop, they barter they joke, they consider buying a small memento, but he can’t afford to lower his price and the can’t afford to care. He waits. The lure of the Tower is too strong. The intoxicating aroma of April in Paris overwhelms the senses. Lovers hold hands walking past him heading north to candlelight on...

This being my first blog from Uganda, I’ve been trying to find something relevant to talk about. Of course there is the usual travel crap, mishaps and new adventures which are undoubtedly interesting to the people who know me and are great for personal e-mails, but for the rest of you I wanted something slightly more substantial; and then the other day, walking down the dusty road trying my best to get back to where I’m staying without...