This is the third and final installment of my "rooms with a view" series.  The idea has been to show snapshots from various places (all taken from a window or balcony) that give tiny glimpses into the world's diversity and complexity.  Following are ten more photographs:

Masada, Israel -- Shortly after sunrise, on an El Al flight from Bangkok to Tel Aviv, I slide my window cover open to see the barren landscape of Sinai and then southern Israel.  Here the plane passes over Masada, and i think of history, struggle, and religious fundamentalism. 

Luang Prabang, Laos -- It is in this room, and on this balcony, where I spend part of the week of my 31st birthday.  The place cost only two dollars a night, and from this perch I look across the street to the Mekong River.  It is a beautiful sight, especially after rising from nights of fever and sweat.  Here I think of the beauty of hardwood floors, the soothing flow of a river, the act of turning older.

Bukit Lawang, Sumatra (Indonesia) -- This picture is an exception to the series in that I'm looking at my room rather than from the room.  Along with four other travelers and three local guides, we had camped for the night beside a stream in the jungle.  The day before, I had been grabbed by an orangutan while trying to run away, and in the evening I shared the lean-to structure with a man who had recently lost his wife and daughter to a flood.  Here at night I think of fraility and tragedy, and I stay awake till near dawn listening to the sounds of a darkened jungle.

Halong Bay, Vietnam -- Here the sun is about to set outside my cabin door as we sail throught the waters of a UNESCO World Heritage site.  Here I think of my love for Vietnam, for the sea, and for affordable package deals (from Hanoi, this three-day, two-night excursion, including meals and lodging, costs $45). 

Ko Phangan, Thailand -- Here, on an island best known for its Full Moon Party, I wake from my two-dollar per night hut to see the horizon.  I wipe gecko poop off my sheets (it falls from the ceiling onto the bed at night) and lock my door when I go to the shower room in an adjacent building.  And then I recline in the hammock, reading a John Krakauer book, an Annie Dillard book, or just plain falling asleep.

Gaza City, Palestine -- Here I take in the view from an apartment in central Gaza City.  The sunset will be a magnificent red fiery ball this evening, and at night an Israeli Apache helicopter will hover in the sky.  And later in the future, most dramatically in December 2008 - January 2009, war will level much of the city and its suburbs.  And now as I type these words, I think of the people of Gaza, particularly the children, and how most of what was destroyed a year ago has yet to be rebuilt.

Zababdeh, Palestine -- This was my view for much of three months in 2003.  Here I am sitting in bed in a small West Bank village, watching a man take his sheep through an olive grove to graze. This pastoral scene was in stark contrast to other scenes within a six-mile radius of the house, which sometimes included assasinations, commando raids, and the blowing up of houses to punish a family for a crime they themselves did not commit.  Here by my window I something would give thanks for seeing this beauty, especially when during other parts of the day I might see the horror.

Turkmenbashi, Turkmenistan -- Here I watch the sunrise from a family's home.  I had arrived in the town late the night before but could find no hotel where I could stay.  The night receptionist at one hotel took pity on me and called her husband to come fetch me.  I slept in their living room and in the morning, as I take in this view, think of a new day, the kindness of strangers. 

Sapa, Vietnam -- It is Christmas week 2003 and I'm in the Mountain View Hotel, giddy to have found a place with such clear air (I had just come from China), toilet paper in the room (I had just come from China), and cozy blankets on the bed.  Here I think of the beauty of slanting morning light, the crisp feel of cool air on the skin, the thrill of being in a country with which my own was once at war but now is not.

Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia -- It is dawn, the beginning of yet another new day, and I'm waking in the guestroom of my friend Ken, A Malaysian citizen I had first met seven years earlier at a church service in the city.  As I get dressed and look out the window, I think of all there is to do in a city, of the excellent lunch I'll be eating in Chinatown later, of the gratitude one feels when a stranger becomes a friend and shares his home even years after you first meet.

Joel Carillet, chief editor of wanderingeducators.com, is a freelance writer and photographer based in Tennessee. He is the author of 30 Reasons to Travel: Photographs and Reflections from Southeast Asia. To learn more about him, follow his weekly photoblog, or purchase prints, visit www.joelcarillet.com.