Cruise south east Asia: Up close and personal

Between a sprawling city of millions and a hilly village comprising a handful of families, I have looked into the eyes of hundreds of people. In 17 days I have shared food, conversation and opinions with and been photographed, danced for, laughed at and moved to tears by strangers in foreign places. But these riches of travel didn't come, in this case, from backpacking, hitch-hiking or living aboard a working fishing boat, but as a cruise passenger travelling the Malay Archipelago aboard a luxurious expedition ship. Because it's not always about how you travel, but what you do with it.

After departing Manila, MS Caledonian Sky delivered us almost daily to locations of cultural interest and natural beauty through the Philippines, Malaysia and Indonesia. At every populated port, each of us had the opportunity to step from the safe social folds of supported group travel and connect with the locals if we wished.

Unintentionally comical pronunciation of typical phrases in unfamiliar languages is, I find, a great icebreaker for conversation with complete strangers. Standing on the dock at Coron waiting for a water taxi to Kayangan Lake, I greet a line of young police officers in Tagalog, the Philippine national language. All I say is "hello", but it's enough to dissolve their composure and we chat until the boat arrives.

In Sandakan, Malaysian Borneo, we're let loose at the Central Market because there's time on the way back to the ship after Sepilok Orangutan and Sun Bear Rehab Centre. The market is relatively small, understated and there's little English spoken. In the fresh seafood section, teenagers kiss together colourful fish when I take my camera out, and a younger boy insists his father hold up their unsold shark jaws so he can pose with his face ringed by triangular teeth. At a spice stall, a baby and a toddler both howl at the sight of my face. Out on the street, girls taking a break at the rear of a shop shriek with excitement when I casually greet them in Malay.

The following day we have a scheduled visit to Malaysia's largest indoor market, Tawau Tanjung. Although Tawau has a population of more than 100,000, and the first British merchant ship arrived way back in 1893, we somehow seem to be a novelty. Passengers walk the few hot blocks from the dock and, as we approach the welcome shade of the fish market, smoking mongers stand and crane and hold up phones in photographic anticipation.

The multistorey market is extensive, with a whole other section dedicated exclusively to dried seafood products. I wander around, buying a few bits and pieces, happy to chat with the locals. In the backblocks of the clothing section I fall into affable debate with someone as easily as picking up a conversation left off the previous week with a good friend. Much is translated between us by the woman's teenage son, while her nine-year-old watches on with big eyes, as we all eat the food I bought earlier and she and I discuss our mutually unresolved sentiments on the Bali Nine.

For me, walking a market solo is preferable to a group or a couple. I feel far more free to be myself and sound as ridiculous as necessary to communicate.