The Trials and Tribulations of a Travelling Giant 

The Accidental Giant: Tales from Thailand & India

For those who read my previous blog you’ll know I stand at a rather towering 6’10”. Travel has a way of showing us new cultures, traditions, and perspectives—but when you happen to be nearly seven feet tall in countries where it’s rare to see someone over six foot, it also shows you just how much of a spectacle you can become.

These are some of my tales of life as the accidental giant abroad.

✈️ Thailand – Where 6’10” is Ludicrous

My adventure in Thailand started long before I set foot in the north—it began at Bangkok airport.

At check-in, I politely asked about my extra legroom request. The European attendant glanced at my booking, started to giggle, and then explained the situation:

“So, there’s a note here about your height… originally marked as 6’10”. But one of our Thai staff corrected it to 5’10”, because—according to them—being 6’10” was ludicrous.”

Apparently, I had been edited down to a more “reasonable” size.

The fun didn’t stop there. When we landed in Mae Hong Son, the terminal ceiling was well below what is considered normal for a doorway. Which, for me, meant walking through the airport hunched like a giraffe sneaking under a doorway.

And it turned out my height wasn’t just a source of amusement for airline staff—it fascinated the locals. In northern Thailand, I found myself constantly being rubbed. Arms mostly. Random women would come up, smile, and casually rub my arm. Now, before you get the wrong idea—we weren’t in those districts.

Eventually, curiosity got the better of me. Our tour guide asked one of the women what on earth was going on. The answer? Local belief says if you rub someone, your future children will inherit a bit of their essence. These women weren’t flirting… they were investing in taller kids!

Thailand was full of wonder, colour, and culture—but in a land where six feet is considered towering, I was basically Bigfoot on holiday.

🇮🇳 India – Adventures of the Giant Englishman

Let me start by saying this: India is incredible. The people we met were warm, kind, and endlessly helpful. But being a walking skyscraper did lead to some unique experiences…

Near Mumbai, we visited awe-inspiring Hindu temples, carved directly into the rock face. Some of them stood 100 feet high and took three generations to complete. While I marvelled at the stonework, I noticed something odd—a man filming me. Not the temples, not the carvings… just me.

This was the early 2000s, so it wasn’t a sneaky smartphone—he had a full camcorder aimed at me. At first, I thought I was imagining it, but after

15 minutes even my friend agreed: the guy was definitely recording me.

When I confronted him, he blushed and scuttled off. Ten minutes later, he returned… with his entire family. His daughter, who spoke excellent English, explained:

“My father is sorry if he upset you. He has never seen a man so tall. Please, will you take a photo with us? Otherwise, no one will believe we met a giant.”

So yes, somewhere in India there’s a family album with me in the middle, grinning like Gulliver among the Lilliputians.

And my celebrity status didn’t stop there. Crossing a pedestrian bridge over the Ganges in Rishikesh turned into an impromptu photo shoot. Every few steps, someone else asked for a photo. I lost count of how many times I posed. My poor friend became my unofficial paparazzi, camera in hand, smiling patiently through every request.

The Taj Mahal brought déjà vu. A school trip of 25 teenagers decided I was as much of an attraction as the marble wonder itself. Only they didn’t ask—they snuck up behind me, one by one, while their friends snapped “evidence” photos. After a quick word with their teacher, the sneaking stopped, but by then I’d realised: I wasn’t just a tourist in India—I was an exhibit.

Another highlight unfolded at the majestic Red Fort. On the way there, our guide and I had been chatting about some of my earlier encounters with locals. He seemed genuinely surprised by my stories, insisting that such behavior wasn’t typical of Indian hospitality. With a warm smile, he reassured us that I must have simply misread the situations. Not wanting to linger on the subject, we eased the conversation onto lighter topics as the grandeur of the fort drew near.

While admiring a suit of armour at the fort, I noticed in a mirror that a woman had sidled up beside me. Seconds later, a man popped out, took her picture with my back, and off they went. But then it happened again, then another. And another. Like clockwork. It appeared that a whole tour group was coming up, one at a time to snap a photo with the giant.

Amused, I beckoned our tour guide over and told him to watch for my next "attendee". Sure enough, within seconds the next “photo-op” unfolded. His jaw dropped. First he thought I was psychic, then—realising I was being used as a backdrop—he exploded. He stormed at the photographer, yelling furiously, and I had to physically calm him down. Mortified, he apologised over and over, ashamed that I’d been treated like a prop, and that he hadn't believed the tales of my previous experiences.

But here’s the thing: most people we met in India were wonderful. Kind, generous, and welcoming. It’s just that, every so often, a giant wandering through their midst was too much to resist.

So yes, India has the Taj Mahal, the Red Fort, and temples carved from stone—but it also has a family photo album somewhere featuring me, the Giant Englishman.

Standing Tall in a World Full of Wonders

Travel is often about perspective—seeing the world through new eyes, learning from other cultures, and discovering the unexpected. For me, that perspective came quite literally: head and shoulders above the crowd. Being the accidental giant in Thailand and India meant I didn’t just visit temples, markets, and palaces—I became part of the scenery. Sometimes that meant ducking a lot, sometimes it meant starring in strangers’ photo albums, and sometimes it meant lending an arm for a bit of “height inheritance.”

And honestly? I wouldn’t trade it. Because behind every stare, giggle, or sneaky snapshot was something more universal: curiosity, joy, and a human connection that transcends language or culture.

At 6’10”, I might be impossible to blend in—but maybe that’s the gift. Travel reminded me that standing out can also mean standing open—to laughter, wonder, and the kindness of strangers.

So if you ever feel out of place, remember: sometimes, that’s exactly where the best stories begin.

Stuart "Too Tall" Hattrick

Want to contribute as a guest blogger, recounting tales of your travels, providing top tips and pearls of wisdom - email me at [email protected]