The first thing to note with approval about Intrepid Journeys' episode of Paul Holmes in Yemen was that the presenter did not mention Holmes' olive oil once.
This was a mammoth act of self-restraint for the cheerfully self-promoting eternal Broadcaster of the Year.
The second good thing was that, unlike so many of the celebrity hosts of these shows, Holmes didn't snivel about the discomfort, or wince at the strange food, or sneer at the locals, or say self- consciously sentimental, empathetic things about poverty.
Say what you like about Holmes - and most people cannot be stopped - he approaches most things in a spirit of generosity, and Yemen was no exception. He was delighted, bemused, occasionally frustrated, always ready to show off an enviable knowledge of history - but never, ever patronising.
The third and – even Holmes would agree - the best thing about the programme was the surprise of Yemen itself. It is poor, remote, and populated with the standard array of terrorists and extremists, but it is also staggeringly beautiful.
The ancestral home of the bin Ladens, it is a country that, from the vistas shown here, looks every bit as ancient a civilisation as it is, and aesthetically stunning.
Centuries-old, lion-coloured structures tower from improbably steep hillsides, testament to architectural and engineering brilliance of a breadth and depth the Western world can't match.
You didn't spot a McDonald's or even a Coca-Cola sign in any of the footage. It seemed a country that had retained its authenticity.
For "unspoiled", of course, you can also read "poor". But the way Holmes found it, the lack of lucrative tourism and industry didn't breed suspicion of strangers. Quite the opposite; everyone was extremely friendly.
But there might be another reason for this. One of the most remarkable facets of Yemeni life is the herbal drug quat - pronounced cat - a substance on which the nation's men spend nearly a third of their income.
And that's nearly all the men - official estimates are that about 90 per cent of males, boys included, are daily quat users.
Quat is basically the leaves of an inoffensive-looking shrub called catha edulis. Tea can be made with it, but generally a Yemeni male sticks a great wad of it in his mouth and chews it, pretty much continually, in order to feel mildly euphoric.
This is simply mind-boggling - it would be like most of the New Zealand male population being permanently stoned on low-grade marijuana. Perhaps this would be an improvement.
The hilarious thing about Holmes' on-camera drug-taking was that quat's euphoria-inducing properties didn't seem to work on him.
He did end up jigging about the room in a mad little dance with a bunch of happy quat-heads, carrying a dagger. But then again, you can quite imagine him behaving like that while completely sober.
The other striking thing about quat is that Yemenis show their prowess in its ingestion by frogging out their cheeks in the manner of jazz trumpeters, to accommodate giant wodges of it.
The other treat in the programme was Holmes' pointless but endearing acquisition of a goat - the household staple of the Yemeni - whom he named Nigel.
Nigel was a very appealing goat with a patchwork coat and a sweet face, who must have wondered what the deal was, being carted around on tour and cuddled a lot, rather than tethered in some dusty spot and then eaten.
Told that he would not be permitted to bring Nigel back to New Zealand with him – MAF being such killjoys – Holmes had to find a home for Nigel at the end of the programme, so we can assume he has since become dinner.
And you get the impression Nigel might not have minded much. Holmes reported that even people taken hostage by terrorists in Yemen are treated with great courtesy. Again, there might be a good reason for this.
Never mind Holmes' olive business, quat would surely grow just as well as olives in Hawke's Bay, and might make us all as good-natured as the Yemeni.
*Intrepid Journeys, TV One, Monday.
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