Standing in front of a gargantuan stage, I’m chiding myself for having forgotten my earplugs – as usual. Heavy bass vibrations surge up through my body, rattling my teeth and propelling me into motion.
I’m surrounded by about 2000 people, some dancing blissfully with their eyes closed, others transfixed on the evening’s entertainment. Jamaican reggae and dancehall superstar Anthony B is up on the stage, belting out his hit song ‘Real Warriors’ as he struts back and forth. He moves to centre stage and pauses, beaming out at the crowd.
“Exercise time,” he announces, with a playful grin. “We call this dancehall aerobics,” he continues, rallying the crowd to follow his lead as he pumps both hands in the air to the beat of the music.
“Hands up! Hands up!” he instructs, as he breaks into a dance variation of a star jump. The crowd cheers him on, although he’s clearly not done.
“Sit on your bicycle seat and pedal, pedal, pedal,” he sings out, prompting the most enthusiastic (or, more likely, inhibition-free) fans to hunch over make-believe cycles as if they are mimes on their own Tour de France.
But this isn’t some sort of mega Zumba class. Anthony B is the headlining act of Goa Sunsplash, India’s largest reggae festival. On one hand, it’s like most other reggae festivals on earth. While there’s plenty of home-grown talent here, the bulk of the performers are international, with the likes of the UK’s Channel One Sound System and Australian beatboxer and bass producer Dub FX on the bill. There are also dance workshops, yoga classes and even panel discussions led by Donisha Prendergast, Bob Marley’s granddaughter.
However, in many ways, Goa Sunsplash is anything but your typical reggae festival. First of all, it’s in Goa, a tiny seaside state known for its mix of sandy beaches and lush jungles superimposed with centuries-old Portuguese forts and churches, vegan cafes and a seemingly endless number of booze shops. Goa is also the birthplace of psychedelic trance, high-BPM electronic music that can run the gamut from uplifting to mind-fucking – basically the antithesis of laidback roots reggae.
Perhaps even more striking is that unlike most music festivals, Sunsplash is neither in a big club nor a big field. Instead, the event is staged at Riva Beach Resort, one of a handful of high-end hotels in the northernmost reaches of Goa, an area otherwise dominated by cheap backpacker guesthouses and roadside stalls selling healing crystals. More curious still is that for the duration of the festival, the resort continues to operate as normal, so people who just happen to have booked a stay at Riva during Sunsplash weekend end up as de facto festival guests.
Yet nobody here seems out of place. Sure, there’s no shortage of usual suspects in attendance. A quick glance into the crowd reveals plenty of dreadlocks, bare feet and Lion of Judah t-shirts, not to mention the occasional awkwardly unaware youngster garbed in a Native American war bonnet. But there are also plenty of day-drinking pensioners among the crowd, along with young families towing toddlers.
Like most events in Goa, the crowd is decidedly global. While it’s clear plenty of people have come from around the world to attend Sunsplash, many are from elsewhere in India, particularly from urban hubs such as Delhi, Mumbai and Hyderabad where reggae in its many forms has a strong and solid fan base.
But this hasn’t always been the case.
When I first moved to India in the mid-noughties, the most reggae you’d hear was ‘No Woman, No Cry’ occasionally blasting over the speakers in a smoky backpacker cafe. The scene began to take off at the end of the 2010s, when bands, DJs and collectives influenced by the sounds of Jamaica began gaining prominence across India. At the forefront of the movement was New Delhi’s Reggae Rajahs, a sound-system crew who, in the course of a few short years, went from throwing low-key reggae and dancehall nights in South Delhi – where I first got acquainted with them – to opening for the likes of Major Lazer and Snoop Dogg. In 2016, the Rajahs took their efforts to the next level, launching Goa Sunsplash as a one-day event headlined by Britain’s General Levy, before extending it to two days the following year.
At one point during this year’s festivities, I find myself drawn to a huge throng of people swarming around a side stage, their howling cheers nearly drowning out the heavy basslines of an upbeat dancehall riddim thumping through the speakers. As I get closer, I realise that the star attraction isn’t the DJ but a dancer, a 20-something Indian woman who’s effortlessly switching from fast-paced footwork to perfectly timed gyrations, known in the dancehall culture as whining, as the crowd cheers her on. Impressed, I pull out my phone and begin livestreaming her performance, too captivated by her talent to notice that an old friend from Delhi, who has been involved in this scene from the beginning, has sidled up to me.
“We definitely wouldn’t have seen this a decade ago,” he shouts over the din. Though my eyes remain on the stage, I can hear an unmistakable note of joy in his voice. I assume he’s talking about her sensual dancing, which, even today, could raise eyebrows in socially conservative India.
I nod then second-guess myself, thinking back on the many nights I spent with him and our little circle of reggae-loving friends, bouncing about on makeshift dancefloors in tiny South Delhi bars. It occurs to me that his comment is not in reference to the dancing, or at least not alone. He’s talking about the entire tableau before us – the three stages, the world-famous performers, the 2500-odd jubilant fans, many of whom have flown halfway around the world to be here.
“Who would have thought?” I concur, realising I’ve been spending so much time capturing photos and videos that I haven’t given myself enough time to simply experience it. I put my phone away. Then we both begin to dance.
On the south coast of Pulau Tiga, an island situated just off the west coastof Sabah, sits a luxurious hideaway resort. Thirteen villas dot an untouched stretch of coral-floored sea, with the Borneo jungle just metres away. A choice of three villa types – pool, coral and spa – each offers its own little slice of luxury. At the resort’s restaurant, Eagles Nest, a farm-to-table philosophy carries the menu offering both Asian and western-inspired dishes.
A treatment from the luxurious Echo Wellness Spa will help you melt into the slow pace of your surrounds, or a more adventurous approach will see you on a jungle trek, snorkel or kayak. It’s the kind of luxury we could certainly get used to.
Come face to face with Japan’s oldest living trees. The UNESCO World Heritage-listed forests of Yakushima are inhabited by flourishing yakusugi (Japanese cedar), some which are believed to be more than 7000 years old. To ensure the natural growth of these magnificent trees remains undisturbed – they’re also the habitat of many animals including red-bottomed macaque monkeys and white sika deer – trails have been created to wind around the tangled roots and mossy stones.
With miles of terrain to cover, you have every chance of getting a glimpse of these local creatures in this magical place. For adventurous visitors who want more than a day trip, there are cabins available within the forest that can be used overnight by hikers and campers.
The Muhammad Ali of the hotel world, this Maldivian property is practically peerless and packs a mean punch. Settled on a remote atoll strung in the middle of a UNESCO World Biosphere Reserve, Anantara Kihavah is not only paradise incarnate – hello, white sand and Tiffany Blue seas – it also brims with every possible excess. There are villa hosts, personal wine fridges, pillow menus and even glass-bottomed bathtubs, acoustic guitars and painting easels in some rooms.
There are 80 suites altogether. Some are strung along a looping overwater boardwalk, while others are perched on the beach, although they each have a private pool if you’d prefer not to wrangle with the ocean.
Of course, you’re probably going to want to slip into the clear waters at some point. There are sea turtles to meet, as well as manta rays during their season (from May to September). Otherwise join a sunset cruise or head to the observatory after dinner for some stargazing.
The real scene-stealer, though, is Anantara’s aptly named Sea restaurant. It boasts the world’s first underwater wine cellar and is one of only a few underwater restaurants in the world. Dine on a seven-course set menu while staring straight out at tomorrow’s catch of the day.
Moments from the white sands and blue barrels of Arugam Bay, Sri Lanka’s latest eco-luxury address is one you’ll want to put on the map.
Just 20 rustic cabanas dot the coastline, but these aren’t just any old beach shacks. The cabanas’ exteriors – crafted from local wood, iluk grass and woven palm leaves and topped with a thatched roof – belie the simple yet modern design and comforts within.
There’s a large bed, lounge area and both indoor and outdoor showers, plus thoughtful amenities like beach bag with sunscreen, bottled water and binoculars to catch surfers in action, whether you’re hanging out at the beach or on the lounger on your outdoor deck. An open-air restaurant, infinity pool and 24-hour room service round out Jetwing Surf’s resume. This is one place you’ll be happy to call your holiday home.
Arriving at Shinta Mani Wild via a 400-metre zip line over the rushing Tmor Rung River is just the beginning. This luxury glamping site combines world-class design by Bill Bensley, impressive hospitality and excellent conservation chops to create a luxurious private sanctuary situated at the confluence of three Cambodian national parks: Kirirom, Boko and Cardamom.
Some of the 15 glamorous tents – they have outdoor decks with slipper bathtubs – hang right out over the river and overlook waterfalls to create a truly unique jungle experience. All of them are set on stilts so as not to upset the migratory patterns of the wildlife.
The on-site bar and restaurant serves Khmer-inspired food created from locally sourced produce, while a spa offers services to help you unwind.
The sanctuary works with various organisations to protect the neighbouring 350 hectares of private nature reserve from poaching, mining and logging. You can even jump on the back of a motorbike with one of the rangers while they check for poachers and clear snares.
Food: it’s an important part of China’s culture. In Beijing, there is an array of flavours waiting to be discovered, so it would be shame to find yourself dining at a touristy run-of-the-mill restaurant. Instead, pile into your guided Lost Plate tuk-tuk, stocked with an endless supply of beer and soft drink for the night, and careen through the city’s busy streets and down hutongs (alleyways), all home to the kind of blink-and-you’ll-miss-it, family-run restaurants where locals meet for a hearty meal.
Sample barbecued meat and veg, discover the traditional cooking techniques behind Beijing’s famed pancakes and have a swig of baiju, a popular and potent grain-based spirit. Cap off the evening with a pint of craft beer at a secret microbrewery.
Enter the maelstrom of India’s wildest rafting adventure in one of the world’s most inaccessible regions. Fair warning: for the faint of heart this ain’t. From Delhi, you’ll spend a couple of days overlanding through villages and tropical cloud rainforest to Purang, a region alongside the border of India and Nepal. Here you’ll prep your gear (and your mind) for negotiating rapids from classes three to six.
Now, all that’s left is to take the plunge. Tumble down the foaming torrents that have carved out the centuries-old rock of remote hillsides, fringed by tribal settlements and abundant rainforest, and bob through vast gorges like Marmong, which can only be accessed by raft. Laze away the evenings at your riverside camp, lulled to sleep by the babbling waters you’ve just plunged down.
A referee who dresses like a Shinto priest officiates proceedings, as a shrine hangs over the ring. Two enormous half-naked men clap their hands to summon the gods, sip sacred water and throw purifying salt into the ring before they grab, grapple and throw each other to the mat. Any guesses? Yes, this is sumo wrestling and no trip to Japan would be complete without checking it out.
The Japanese national sport of sumo wrestling has remained virtually unchanged for 2000 years. Originating in the Edo period and steeped in Shinto tradition, it first emerged as entertainment for the gods to honour the spirits and ensure a bountiful harvest. The traditions, culture and etiquette were shaped by travelling samurai mercenaries, known as ronin, who competed for a bounty. By the early 1600s, official sumo rules were introduced as were the first professional sumo wrestlers. Not much has changed today, including the ‘boys only’ rule – sumo still only allows men to compete and the dohyo (ring) is considered a sacred place.
There are no weight restrictions for competitors, which means someone like Mr Bean could be wrestling someone like Andre the Giant. As a result, gaining weight plays a significant part in a winning strategy. Wrestlers bulk up on a diet of chankonable, a stew made up of a protein (chicken, beef, fish or tofu), vegetables (potatoes, cabbage, bok choy, mushrooms and radishes) and broth. The average competitor’s weight in the top makuuchi division of professional sumo is 160kg. Currently, the heaviest sumo wrestler still active is Kenho Mitsuo who weighs in at a modest 250 kilograms and is only 180 centimetres tall. Ouch!
In keeping with tradition, sumo wrestlers (known as rikishi) must always wear traditional dress even when out in public, and style their hair into a symbolic chrysanthemum shape, the symbol of the Emperor in Tokyo. And don’t be surprised if you see a sumo wrestler munching on a chicken wing or two on the train or taking a taxi – they’re forbidden to drive a car.
If you want to really know Macao, let your stomach lead the way. Just a stone’s throw from Hong Kong, Macao has a rich and varied history that reflects in its tasty food. Yes, you’ll get dim sum and stir-fried Chinese vegetables but you’ll also get a whole lot of Portuguese cuisine, thanks to a period of settlement by the Europeans from the mid-sixteenth century.
Head to Lord Stow’s Bakery, set up by Englishman Andrew Stow in 1989, to tuck into a few of the egg tarts for which the bakery is famous. Up the cobblestone streets of historic Taipa village you’ll find Antonio’s, headed by Antonio Coelho. Antonio serves up sautéed clams with garlic and white wine sauce, alongside stuffed crab and homemade Portuguese sausage. With its colourful tiles and paintings inside, you’ll have to remind yourself you’re in Asia.
There are loads of other places to eat in Taipa Village, originally a fishing hamlet that’s hung on to its heritage architecture. O Manel is in high demand, along with Litoral, much sought after for its Macanese dishes such as African chicken, cod cakes and minchi (steamed rice and fried mince meat with egg on top).
Step back into the 1960s at Old Macao’s Lung Wah Tea House, with its retro furniture and huge windows overlooking Red Market. If you want to eat like a local, small street-side eateries serve up claypot and hot-pot meals alongside barbecued skewers.
For something truly special, investigate one of the 19 Michelin-star restaurants in Macao. Dim sum (yum cha) at The 8 Restaurant(within the Grand Lisboa), Wing Lei Palace (Wynn Palace Cotai) and Wing lei (Wynn Macau) will leave you wanting more.
With Macao having been designated a UNESCO Creative City for gastronomy, this is the place to let your taste buds go wild.
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