SIMON CLAYS
Luxor’s West Bank. Parched from a morning chasing Queen Hatshepsut, I break at Howard Carter’s house for a local beer. The brew, coupled with King Tut nostalgia, sees me headed off on foot towards The Valley of the Kings. Half way across, I spy figures. Bedouin faces, eye me suspiciously, as do their rifles. Stoney faces. Stoney silence. Then, toothy grins as wide as the Nile and they let me pass!
ANWESHA SANYAL
Quite accurately, when we reached Oman, everything fell out of place—the call sheet, the story line, and in one occasion, our model India Woods (she fell into the infinity pool and we had a laugh later). I suppose, the learning I took from this is that the best equipment you can travel with, is your…
