Durian is something that I get rather excited about. Every year I am tempted by the presence of these spiky fruits in the Chinese supermarkets. Take a stroll down Chinatown in London during the summer months and you will smell the unmistakable aroma of durian. I have always resisted buying them in the UK. From previous experiences I have come to realise that the fruits are picked from the tree far too early and frozen during transportation, resulting in a watery tasteless durian.
What I love about being back in Asia is the wonderful warmth that clings to you when you step out into the night air. There is no need to fuss about bringing a cardigan or worry about the threat of rain. Rain is a welcome relief. It makes me think about my childhood in Rangoon. It was a treat to stroll around a bustling market after supper for a late-night snack; an indulgent dessert of faluda (paluda) or a bowl of noodles in slippery garlic oil and soy sauce (si chet khaut swe).