Six stunning locations in Asia ... Six amazing ways to experience them

From a stormy morning in the Indian city of Jaipur to an evening with gentle orangutans in Indonesian Borneo, six Explore writers recount their most memorable day in Asia.

By Belinda Jackson

My auto-rickshaw tears in and out of Jaipur's traffic like it's possessed, the driver executing a daring turn against the oncoming traffic. "Rain is coming!" he shouts over his shoulder, yanking hard on the vehicle's throttle as we fly past the palace of the winds, Hawa Mahal, and away from the early-morning flower market where I'd been drinking chai, embraced by the scent of marigold, jasmine and rose.

There's a crazy energy in this city, hyped on the swinging barometric pressure as reluctant schoolchildren and market stalls are ushered speedily indoors. The driver drops me at my riotously colourful mansion-hotel, Samode Haveli, and speeds away. Within seconds, the streets are swept with gales of heavy rain, turning roads into rivers, rickshaws into rowboats. The streets swell with water, then the rain disappears as quickly as it comes, leaving only fat droplets splashing from verandas and banyan trees.

Venturing out again, to the beautifully decayed 15th-century pilgrimage temple of Galta Ji, I feel like I could be in a remote valley instead of on the fringe of a city of three million. Clambering around the temple and swimming in its holy jade-coloured pools of natural spring water are hundreds of rhesus macaques, who gorge themselves on pilgrims' offerings of fruit. One climbs on my shoulder; its soft, nimble fingers caressing my neck. As the priests who live here advise me, I keep my gaze lowered, I am demure, I am no threat.

In turn, I spend the late afternoon in Bapu Bazar, caressing kanthas - hand-stitched, hand-dyed cotton quilts. As I later learn, they stain everything cerise when you accidentally throw them in the wash with whites. The perfect souvenir from the Pink City.

HOW TO DO IT Jaipur's prices peak in winter (December to February) and halve during the monsoon season (June to September) and summer, when temps reach 40C (March to May). Samode Haveli is a glorious 225-year-old family-owned mansion. For day tours, the Pink Rickshaw Company employs women from disadvantaged backgrounds. samode.com; pinkcityrickshawcompany.com

The was a guest of Banyan Tours (banyantours.com)

By Michael Turtle

For the first eight years of his life, Fred Galdikas had a best friend called Apollo Bob. They both played all the time - it was almost like any childhood friendship ... except that Apollo Bob was an orangutan! Who better to be showing me around Camp Leakey than Fred.

Deep within Indonesian Borneo, we're at the remote orangutan conservation project established in 1971 by his mother, Dr Birute Galdikas. To reach it, my day has started with an early flight from Jakarta to the jungle, before boarding a wooden boat called a klotok for its engine sound. "Klok tok tok," it putters, as we cruise along waterways for several hours, birds squawking from overhead.

"Just remember, we are going into their world," Fred offers as we arrive at Camp Leakey. A few orangutans wander past huts, I notice one swinging between branches, while a large male sits guarding his stash of bananas. With no enclosures, the animals are free to come as they like. The aim of the camp is to provide support when they're hungry or injured, as deforestation destroys their habitat.

Over the afternoon, some stay in the surrounding trees, others come closer, almost reaching out to touch. To spend time with the orangutans in their world feels so special, but it's seeing the people trying to help them that makes this so heartwarming. An authentic wildlife experience is also a story about humanity.

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The day ends on the same wooden klotok, transportation now providing accommodation with outdoor bedding surrounded by nets. The hum of Borneo's wilderness soothes my sleep until sunrise when, glancing at the jetty, I see a lone orangutan watching us, waiting for another day to start.

HOW TO DO IT A short flight from Jakarta to Pangkalan Bun costs about $90. From there, an all-inclusive three-day tour with an operator, such as Orangutan Applause, costs between $250 and $700 per person, depending on group size. orangutanapplause.com

By Craig Tansley

The day before my best ever in Asia, Thailand's full-moon party island, Koh Phangan, claimed its latest sucker. I'm stripped of cash, credit cards and passport. I just want to go home. But my emergency passport won't be ready for days.

My companions suggest I bunker down in Koh Tao - a quieter island an hour north on the ferry. Thailand's renowned diving mecca holds little appeal to me (a non-diver) but I go anyway just to kill time.

A concrete road runs north to south up the length of Koh Tao. So I hire a scooter. Off it, I discover a labyrinth of dirt roads. Each one leads to a secret bay at the end of a steep trail. Turtles feed at some, at others I watch tiny blacktip sharks ply the shallows. At Shark Bay and Freedom Beach the water turns Fiji-blue. Coconut trees line the shore. I swim till my fingers wrinkle. There's no-one around.

I ride on, spirits lifting ... soaring even, and find an even steeper path along the quiet south-west coast. Sai Nuan Beach is hidden down here, within its own rocky bay. I order an ice-cold Singha lager in a rustic bar playing reggae music to no-one. I could stay all day.

But there's more. At Tanote Bay, on the east coast, I climb an enormous rock in the middle of a white-sand bay and leap into the Gulf of Thailand. Rays circle me, bright-coloured fish, too.

The sun never stops shining - I'm burnt to a crisp, but I'm oblivious. Is it only in Asia a traveller can go from abhorrence to the giddiest heights of wanderlust within a day? I don't want to go home ... ever. The sun's dropping now. Koh Tao's busiest beach, Sairee, guarantees a watery sunset. But I want a beach for myself. I find it at tiny, secluded June Juea Beach. At least, I think I'm alone, till an inquistive hawksbill turtle pops its head up to stare at me among the golden trail the setting sun leaves along the water.

HOW TO DO IT Fly to Koh Samui then take a 90-minute ferry to Koh Tao. Stay at Sairee Beach, where there are numerous accommodation, scooter, restaurant and bar options.

By Katrina Lobley

Treasuring a tiny towel might sound odd. Yet my purple cloth, emblazoned with a white heart and Japanese characters that was dispatched from a vending machine at Naoshima's public bath (both an onsen and art installation), remains a beloved strip of terry towelling.

This is what Japan's art islands do to you. They make you fall hopelessly in love with the strangest of things. Although the next full-blown art attack known as the Setouchi Triennale isn't until next year, you can easily visit the Seto Inland Sea's contemporary-art islands such as Naoshima (the most famous of them all) once you get a grip on ferry and bus timetables.

When I set off from my Takamatsu hotel to board the Naoshima-bound ferry, I have no idea the day would end with me stripping off to soak in a shallow onsen featuring erotic pictures on the bath tiles (there are separate baths for men and women). That's why I suddenly need a towel. Often in an onsen you don't know where to look but in this one-of-a-kind bathhouse we're all straining to spy the exotic images through the ripples.

By the time I'm soaking them up, I've already had the best day. We started by ticking off Yayoi Kusama's two polka-dot pumpkin installations (one yellow, one red), browsing a gift shop's dotty Kusama merch and spotting super-fans dressed in yellow and black in preparation for their pumpkin close-up. Although the island's beaches beckon in summer, it's best to push on. You really don't want to miss the Benesse House Museum, Lee Ufan Museum, Chichu Art Museum (grab lunch here), Ando Museum and the Art House projects.

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HOW TO DO IT From Osaka, catch the train to Okayama and transfer to Uno or Shikoku Island's Takamatsu - both run ferry services to Naoshima's Miyanoura Port. Catch a bus between art sites. benesse-artsite.jp; setouchi-artfest.jp

About half an hour after leaving the bustling streets of Tsim Sha Tsui, the taxi arrives in Sai Kung. Once a fishing village, the town has - in recent years - become popular with expats who prefer its languid pace. Its narrow streets hold boutiques and cafes, as well as a small market. Walls are covered by colourful murals. But a highlight is Sai Kung Cafe & Bakery. It's here I discover what may be the greatest morning tea of all time: a fluffy pineapple bun (there's no pineapple; the name comes from the pattern of the craquelin on top) and iced cappuccino. Forced to have it every day forever more, I'd be a happy camper.

Some people come to Sai Kung to eat at the popular spots like Chuen Kee Seafood Restaurant on the waterfront; others come to take advantage of the kaito (ferry) services. There are island-hopping tours or services to Sharp Island for swimming and hiking. Instead, we go to tiny Yim Tin Tsai. Once home to Hakka Catholics, this island is now almost deserted. Check out the old salt pans (yim tin in Cantonese) and the century-old St Joseph's Chapel. A walking trail leads to the highest point of the island. From up here, you can see the chapel, the surrounding islands and Sai Kung Peninsula in its green glory. As a day away from the city, it doesn't get much better.

HOW TO DO IT A taxi from Tsim Sha Tsui to Sai Kung costs about HK$210 ($40). Otherwise catch the MTR to Hang Hau and a green minibus to Sai Kung.

By Andrew Bain

Perfect days begin with perfect sunsets, and in the hour before dawn I'm walking through the dark streets of Seongsan, the easternmost town on the South Korean island of Jeju, as part of a human migration. Each of our footsteps is leading us to one place - the summit of Seongsan Ilchulbong, aka Sunrise Peak, a volcanic cone rising 180 metres out of the East China Sea.

Making the climb to Seongsan Ilchulbong's grandstand seats is a rite of travel passage for Koreans, and this morning I'm joined by a couple of hundred other people lined along the peak's jagged edge as the day's first rays appear over the horizon.

The star here is a literal one - the sun - but it's not the only one. On a starkly beautiful black-sand beach at Seongsan Ilchulbong's foot, Jeju's famed women divers, or haenyeo, share their remarkable trade with visitors, and it's where I find myself sourcing lunch. Though they are mostly now elderly women, the haenyeo free-dive up to 20 metres to source shellfish and other seafood. There are statues and museums honouring the haenyeo across Jeju, and to see them at work in Seongsan is a window onto a living cultural practice so enduring that UNESCO has placed the women on its Intangible Cultural Heritage list. Each day they fill tanks with their catch in a makeshift restaurant/market tucked into rocks on the beach. I grab my lunch and set out for the ferry to Udo.

The largest of Jeju's satellite island, Udo is named for a fanciful resemblance to a cow lying down. Its beaches are both black and white - basalt and coral rubble - and visitors zip around on quad bikes and motorbike buggies, but I've come on a bicycle. I will pedal here for a couple of days, but for this afternoon I'm content to head the short distance from the ferry port to Udo's longest and most beautiful beach, Sanho, where I sit on the coral sands and watch the sun end its day back in the sea.

HOW TO DO IT Seoul to Jeju City is one of the world's busiest air routes, with flights from as low as $13. Buses connect Jeju City to Seongsan in just over an hour.