Basho’s wife one day found herself with a serious travel bug. Soon Cesca convinced her husband to quit his day job to take an excursion to the East, partly inspired by his fascination with Eastern philosophies. The travelogue begins in Australia, but the nitty gritty starts in Laos, Cambodia, and Vietnam. The people they meet are mostly welcoming, especially the Laotians. The country is pockmarked with land mines from the war but (ironically) has become noteworthy for its prosthetic industry. The long-suffering Cambodians are gracious, and the couple finds all three countries beautiful, giving rise to some bittersweet reflections. They then make their way to India, where the first thing they’re hit with is the ghastly poverty, although the rich culture (they visit the Taj Mahal and other iconic attractions) makes the journey all the more poignant. They deal with numerous street people, including tuk-tuk drivers with their own agendas, along the lines of “No, that hotel [in your Lonely Planet guide] has burned down, but my cousin’s hotel is excellent for you.” Readers next get a smidgen of Tibet and Japan with its bullet trains and Zen monasteries. Along the way, the couple meet some fascinating people and kindred spirits. Basho describes one such person, the voluble Franco in Australia, as “an enigma wrapped in a monologue.” Basho is an excitable guide, with Cesca as a calming balance. Basho has mild arachnophobia, though, and sure enough, they have some terrifying moments in Australia, a continent with more lethal wildlife than probably any other place on earth. Much time and many words are spent on Eastern philosophy, the gist of which, as expounded by Basho, is to live in the present and to look not out to the world but inside oneself. Too often, however, readers are subjected to the cliched notion that the secret to life lies not in the destination but in the journey. Cesca’s black-and-white photographs are clear and evocative, capturing some impressively diverse points of interest along the way.