Our lot on the European Tour has improved dramatically over the years despite infrequent minor grumbling by some critics, myself included. But if you take a brief glance through the rose-tinted glasses of an invited guest on the Asian Tour, the European situation looks even better.

I have had a number of visits to Asian tournaments over the years as the caddie of an invited player - the invited ones receive royal treatment.

On one such visit to the Philippine Open, played outside the capital Manila, I remember being embarrassed by the special treatment we received as foreign caddies. The course was situated a long way south of the city, and due to crawling traffic the trip took an hour and a half by road.

This was not the best way for star attractions to arrive to work in the morning, so the club owner organised a couple of his helicopters to take us to the course.

A flotilla of cars took us from the hotel to a partially built sky-scraper (property of the course owner), which was about a 10-minute drive away.

No sooner were we deposited on the fifth floor than the chop of the rotor blades cut through the heavy city air and the building site dust rose to create a James Bond-like scene.

I am probably getting carried away, but with the rising sun and the subtle lighting of the early morning, I did not feel like I was just on my way to a day of bag carrying.

We flew for 10 minutes over the extended suburbs of southern Manila and looked down on innumerable fish farms breeding the local delicacy (lapu lapu fish) before descending at the Southern Hills country club.

As the helicopter blades came to a halt and we continued the 200 yards to the clubhouse in a stretched golf cart, the regular players on the Asian Tour were peeling themselves out of a crammed and sweaty bus that at best had taken an hour and a half to reach its destination.

I remember ducking my head sheepishly as the players descended from their bus, looking worn out before their day had started. Us invited caddies were looking fresh and invigorated by the sight-seeing trip over southern Manila on our way to work.

It would not be an exaggeration to say that the regular players on the Asian Tour at best have it tough and at worst are up against overwhelming odds unique to that part of the world. I arrived in the Han Yang Country Club in the northern suburbs of Seoul, Korea a few weeks back and was greeted by the same scene I had experienced there some years ago.

In the locker-room players were huddled together calling yardages across to each other. Peculiar to the Korean events, the usual yardage book-maker on the Asian Tour is not permitted to make books at the events.

Yardages are taken for granted on most tours. In Korea they are considered to be a luxury. So the sight of players scribbling numbers down in a home-made notebook before they head out on the course is strange indeed.

This is after they have left one of the two buses scheduled to take them to the course from the official hotel. If you have a late tee time here, you either have to get the early bus and hang around for half a day or you can take a $50 taxi ride at a more convenient time.

With the 50th ranked player having earned $20,000 this year, you can imagine why some don't want to take too many $50 taxi rides.

We played with a young Australian player from Perth called Kim Felton. He was lying 50th on the Order Of Merit. Kim's clubs had been lost in transit to Korea, so by the time we joined up with him on the Thursday morning he was decked out in Wayne Smith's hat, shoes and glove.

He was using Smith's clubs (mysteriously without a wedge) and golf balls. He had not played a practice round and he did not have any yardages. This would be considered casual, if not unprofessional in most golfing circles.

Kim made the cut but shot a big number on the Saturday, having jumped straight off the morning bus and onto the tee for his third round. If you asked a European Tour player to change one minor part of his regular routine (say, play with a different golf ball than usual), the chances are he would be so put out by the change that the round would be doomed before it ever started.

The key in Asia is to be prepared for the unexpected because it is bound to happen. Players used to being pampered in Europe are made to feel badly neglected in Asia.

Sunday morning in Seoul and the word got back to the range that it looked as if the tee-off times would take place 10 minutes earlier than scheduled. No one was informed officially - it was the old bush telegraph that spread the word. To those of us not accustomed to the workings of Korea it came as a surprise. To the regulars it was to be expected.

If you happened to be in one of the last few groups out on the last day you faced a problem warming up. The driving range is used as a car park on the final day, so if there is a decent crowd then you are unlikely to be able to hit balls before you tee off.

The chances are that you may struggle to hit balls anyway. The members also warm up for their rounds on the adjoining course, so you must wait for them to complete their routines. This is after they have played the tournament course the previous evening. After the last match tees off on Saturday, the members tee off behind the players on the same course.

For invited players the Asian tour has its obvious attractions, while those who have made it their main tour have adjusted to the unpredictable nature of professional golf in Asia.

For example, imagine the thought of having to put chains across the fairways at night in South Korea so the North Koreans don't try to use the fairways as runways for their light aircraft.

With the odds already heavily stacked against the tour players in Asia, the disturbance of a two-seater Cesna trying to land on you at the top of your back-swing may just be a bit too much to bear.