In our age of busy-ness and incessant movement, we forgetthat much before the age of tourism, those that ventured to distant lands were called the travellers. They did not ‘do’ country x in a week or three days; for them travel was a stretching of the imagination, imbibing something of ‘the other’, and above all, an adventure. Even boredom had its place for the traveller, accepted not just philosophically, but even with pleasure. Observed writer Mark Twain, a serial traveller: ‘Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness.’