Some have asked us why we leave our wonderful city, our lovely home and thriving business to strap on old, grubby backpacks and old, grubby clothes and go stomping off to countries that require a bit of fortitute and a completely open mind. How can we eat bugs? How can we sleep on beds that are like marble slabs, and that may or may not have coverings that may or may not be clean? How can we get where we want to go without local language or knowledge of customs, when humour must be maintained when sweaty, tired and frustrated?

The essence of life and living - survival - is tangible in places like this. Cooling one's arm at night by blowing on it, quenching one's thirst with a roadside coconut that has had its top lopped off with a machete and a makeshift bamboo straw inserted, feeling uncommonly used muscles with deep squats in local toilets and climbing trails up jungle mountains and wrapping legs around elephants to prevent falling off.

During three months we swam in waterfalls and lagoons and rivers and swimming pools and seas. We rode elephants and motorbikes and longtail boats and trains and tuk-tuks and planes. We cooked with villagers and chefs. We climbed mountains and ancient ruins. We ate roadside bad and beachside superb (and vice versa). We discussed economics with backpackers, politics with dropouts, cultures with nationals, and philosophy with illiterates, receiving insights, if not wisdom, from all.

We heard exquisite birdsong and horrendous karaoke, saw fluttering dragonflies and apsara dancers, touched velvety foliage and prickly flowers.

A bit of this wonder of the world is lost at home. Perfumes to stimulate our senses are here produced by nature rather than by companies, the colours of food here are authentic without chemical assistance, foods are easy to cook without being processed, and stress is released with conversation and time. Life is purposeful here: Lao villagers wake up every morning and do what they have always done for generations. Despite so many of the finer things in life we have at home, a lot of time is spend trying to recreate life as it is here.

The appreciation of time may be the biggest benefit of travel. It takes time to wash clothes in a river, time to mend a fishing net needed to catch tomorrow's dinner, time to travel to the next village in a rickety bus in order to sell at market, time to grow rice and care for pigs. Time is needed to (try to) communicate in a foreign tongue, to find out how to get from a to b and then to go there by whatever means are available, to find a place to sleep and food to eat. Time is a grounding force, often forgotten by us in our daily lives of commuting in cars and rapid transit, eating food prepared by others, and shopping in malls.

We thought we'd be travelling to three third world countries and a developing one - we were so wrong! But then so were all the guide books no matter how recently published. Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos are all emerging markets now - a huge change in just a few years - and we expect there will be more changes to come thick and fast, particularly in Vietnam and Cambodia where the populace is that much bigger, the recent history that much more something to work away from, and the work ethic that much greater. Vietnamese rice farmers can get three crops of rice out of their land in a year - in Laos it's just the one. Oddly enough, the country that seems to be dealing with the most bumps right now is the more westernized Thailand. Maybe having developed so much earlier means it's moving into the arena of "developed world" and so has to prove itself worthy of that moniker by sorting out holdover corruptions and rights issues and political issues- the sorts of things that are buried under the surface of basic food and shelter issues that the other three, emerging, countries must deal with first.

Like a serpent shedding its skin while maintaining its essence underneath in a newer, shinier form, we dumped all our filthy, patched clothes and shoes before boarding the plane home. Our memories have been expanded as have our viewpoints. We were lucky - unscathed. Our only casualties included one earring (lost when taking a snorkel mask off) and a watch (corroded by years of sweat and humidity). We are grateful not to have fallen ill (although an ear infection prevented prime swimming and snorkelling).

Travel answers questions and poses new ones. Some are bigger than others. The big questions are more obvious perhaps, but the small ones are no less compelling. Why, for example, is everyone in southeast Asia inordinately fond of spot welding? We saw it everywhere, almost daily. On the street, in shops, over our heads, near water, near children, near fuel. We had to step over it, around it and through it - spot welding was like the answer to every's one's spare five minutes.

We feel a little bit closer to humanity from this trip, as we do after all others. Appreciative of the generosity of those who can ill afford to be generous to strangers. Of the genuine interest shown in where we are from, what our lives are like and if we are happy in their country - are we so engaging to travellers in our own country? People are people everywhere - with the same needs and wants, the same family and financial stresses, the same wonder and pride placed in avenues that may be misguided to an outsider - are we any different?

Thanks to everyone who read the blog, posted comments and sent emails. You, our family and friends, are the reasons why we enjoy coming back home again nearly as much as travelling.