Later, when I was a teenager, I’d tag along with some English schoolfriends going on summer hols with their families to the Lake District, or Wales, or even as far afield as the Dordogne. I remember thinking how strange it was for people to work so hard for 50 weeks of the year so they could have the perfect two weeks on holiday. And, of course, it never was perfect. I didn’t want to live my life like that. I wanted quality of life in the everyday, as well as on holiday.
But at university, and in my twenties, I went to most countries in Europe, as well as to India and the USA. I’d go somewhere different each time, sometimes on my own, sometimes with a friend. And I wanted to learn as much about a place as possible — reading about it and doing lots of sightseeing, so I’d really get a sense of the people and the culture. Mostly, I’d stay in cheap places and then I’d splash out on somewhere really nice for a few nights. Egypt was particularly thrilling; because I’d seen so many pictures of the pyramids at school, I almost couldn’t believe I was really seeing them. We also stayed by the Red Sea, then took trips to the desert — we even spent a night camping in this extraordinary moonscape.
Istanbul, too, was stunning. All those clichés about how east meets west really are true. I loved everything about it, and especially the souks. I hate shopping in England, but Istanbul, with its rugs and its jewellery, is a different matter.
After I graduated, I went to India with a friend for several months. As with the pyramids, I found that actually seeing the Taj Mahal is so astonishing it makes you catch your breath.
We did long overnight train journeys to Calcutta and Orissa, and what’s so fantastic about those train journeys is how you can see the whole Indian life cycle from the train: people getting up in the morning, washing, feeding their children, conducting their entire lives... It’s a complete sightseeing experience in itself.
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Later on, when I was married, my husband Simon and I would go to the Lake District, usually after we’d been to see my grandparents in Blackpool. Places like Ambleside can be very touristy, but I love the mountains and the purity of the air.
Just before Brick Lane was published, I wanted to go back to Bangladesh with my husband to see where I was born. But I couldn’t get a visa — it was a big blow at the time, but I’m still hoping that I’ll be able to some day. A two-week holiday in Cape Town was the consolation prize. I was very excited about going to Africa, but Cape Town didn’t really seem like Africa at all — more like an enormous theme park for white people, staffed entirely by black people. Of course, parts of America are like that, too. Cape Town is a place of extremes, of the very rich and the very poor, but the scenery is immensely awe-inspiring. We visited the Stellenbosch wine- producing area and drove the Garden Route, but, ultimately, I found it very difficult to relax there. I really wanted to find out how most people lived — those who, unlike us, weren’t staying in the white enclaves of the city or in luxury hotels — so we went on a trip to see the shanty towns of Lange. But then I found I was a tourist of poverty, which was a bizarre position to be in, and not one I was comfortable with.
Today, with two small children, my desire to go somewhere new and different is superseded by wanting to go somewhere where things are a bit easier. The success of Brick Lane has meant I’ve been able to buy a house in Portugal — in the Alentejo, which is rather like the Algarve used to be: very rural and unspoilt. It’s quiet, with lovely sandy beaches, cork-oak forests and low-intensity farming, and the pace of life is very slow.
In fact, there’s nothing to do there at all. We have some friends nearby, who have kids the same age as ours, and the children can walk straight down the track, because there’s no traffic. A shepherd brings his sheep twice a day to the bottom of our garden, and our children go and look at the lambs. Or we go to the beach, or the lake, and to local markets.
Now I’m quite happy tootling backwards and forwards to Portugal, but in no sense do we aim for the perfect two weeks of the year; we just hope for a slightly better quality of life.