Strangers on a Train: Belmond Returns to Southeast Asia

I awoke in my state cabin that first morning aboard to see that Singapore and South Malaysia's urban sprawl had been replaced with the mist-shrouded mountaintops poking out of the Taman Negara, one of the world's oldest rainforests. We divvied up among jeeps for a tour of the park - curiously, the French lovebirds again took separate rides - and hiked among howling gibbons and giant squirrels on elevated walkways weaving through the canopy. On a trek guided by volunteers from Malaysia-based Save Wild Tigers, I learned that only 200 of the elusive Malayan tigers still roam these tenebrous jungles - their turf, in part, protected by donations from cash-flush benefactors rolling through on this very train. The only Malayan tigers I saw that day, though, were gleaming in gold, embedded on the E&O's carriages and dancing over the rims of fine China at breakfast.

All fine and good, but my favorite moments were the simplest ones, curled up on my cabin's sofa, watching teeny villages, glittering lakes and endless jungle whiz past my window in a blur. With the touch of a shiny brass button, I could summon my steward, the affable Vishnu, to deliver silver pots of oolong tea or arrange a massage at the on-board Dior Spa. And fortunately, my inner Poirot could take some time off. My suspects were all cleared. The only crime carried out that weekend was the caterwaul sing-along leaking from the Observation Car's karaoke kit.