So you step on to the endless travelator that is international air travel.  You queue up, check in, walk on, sit down and belt up.  Food appears [ingest], you avoid watching a film intended offend no-one and you sleep fitfully. 

More foods appears [ingest], and after 11 hours aloft you disembark to face the unsmiling man in immigration and eventually step, blinking, in Joburg, into the light of Africa

The girl at the Avis desk is charming and soon you are hacking along the freeway at 120kph in an air-conditioned cocoon.  The hotel clerk is welcoming, the waitress attentive, the food fantastic and the bill no more than £25 for a meal for two including drinks and a tip.

After 2 weeks, simply read backwards from the word 'cocoon' above and you find yourself back at Hearthrow International Arrivals.

It's been great, relaxing, the best holiday I've had for years.  I just have this nagging thought - should it all be this easy?  Isn't it all a bit too stress-free?  Shouldn't travel involve just a little more effort on the traveller's part?