Andy's Epic Voyage

Penang, Those Damn Bedbugs - 8-12 June 2012

2012-02-23T00:00:00.000Z

Wonderful sailing weather

What is there to do when you have an hour to wait for yourferry? There’s either an overpricedStarbucks or a reliable quite cheap KFC. I personally hate eating in KFC back at home because everybody thatworks there seems to be challenged. I’msorry if you work in KFC but it annoyed me to the point where I have nowrefused to go in. Once I went into a KFCin Cambridge and was greeted with “Sorry, we’ve only got chicken left.” This statement made me stop dead inconfusion. It’s a chicken restaurant andthey’ve only got chicken left, there doesn’t seem to be an issue there. Have they run out of drinks? No. Have they run out of chips? No. Have they still gotchicken? Yes…. Still have no idea what that personmeant. Every time I seem to go in there,there’s something wrong with the order. “Sorry, we haven’t got any more corn on the cob. I’ve swapped it for gravy instead.” How is that a fair exchange? Anyway, back at Langkawi port I decided tograb a KFC and quickly use their free wi-fi whilst a monsoonal storm batteredthe island.

Red Garden

All my hopes for the storm going away had faded as I brisklywalked avoiding the rain where possible and hopped aboard the ferry bound forPenang. On board, I sat behind a girlwhom I ended up travelling with through the entirety of Malaysia. Barbara was a German girl who had been livingin London for many years and had been travelling South East Asia for a few months. The ferry journey was actually quite calmdespite the storm and a couple hours later we arrived in Georgetown on theisland of Penang. Of course I hadn’tbooked any accommodation and followed Barbara to where she was going to bestaying. She may have thought I was oneof those creepy stalker travellers. Unfortunately there was no room left in Old Penang Guesthouse whereBarbara was staying so I checked in next door which was slightly more expensivebut was a really nice place, although I soon discovered that you had to payextra for a bed sheet which I thought was ridiculous.

A lot of effort went in to this celebration

Barbara and I went on a walk around the city to find The RedGarden which is where a group of hawkers sell a fantastic variety of food. Talk about multicultural, Malaysia is afantastic example of many nationalities and cultures forming one country. Food is by far the biggest attribute to amulticultural nation which Britain also offers. That evening I had Chinese, Italian and Malaysian dishes. Of course not huge dishes as they would be abit too much. Walking back to ourguesthouses we became area of some rowdiness. What the hell was going on? Musicwas blearing extremely loud, it was as though we were in Kavos. Next to our guesthouses was a piece ofwasteland usually used as a car park, but tonight it had been transformed intoa concert arena. Stage, lights, smoke,loudspeakers; everything you’d expect, however, there weren’t many peoplewatching the show. There were only a fewmiddle aged people and a crazed man dancing (stylised stumbling) around whilstsniffing glue. It was a fantastic showthough, although some of the singing wasn’t entirely desirable. It was in celebration of the local Chinesetemple so all the singing was in Chinese. An unforgettable and random thing to happen led us to meeting Reut, aCanadian who we’d end up meeting again further down the road a few times. As Reut was hungry, we thought it was a goodidea to go back to the Red Garden for more to eat. This time I just stuck to an ice tea albeit agallon!

Time for bed me thinks. I’m not sure how I was going to sleep without a sheet over me but afriendly Australian man in his fifties who was in the same room lent me hisblanket for the night. I brushed myteeth as per normal (every night I promise Mrs Dentist!) and climbed into bed,selected a soothing album to put me into a good night’s sleep. An itch appeared suddenly on my lower rightleg and I scrapped it to relieve the itchiness. Another on my left upper leg and then on my arm. I itched them and thought nothing of it for afew more minutes until I began feeling them all over my body. I turned the torch on my mobile on and lookedaround and saw nothing but when I laid back down I saw something crawling overmy pillow in the corner of my eye. Iquickly redirected the torchlight and to my horror saw an adult sized bedbugscuttling away from the light. Once Isaw one, I saw another crawling up the wall which I squashed leaving a smear ofwhat I believe to be my blood on the white washed wall. Shit! Bedbugs are no joke. The bitesand irritation they cause are the least of your problems as bedbugs like totravel. They hitch rides in backpacks,clothes, towels and bed linin, and are extremely difficult to eradicate. Having said that, I sprung up from my bedgrabbed my belongings and evacuated the room. Nobody was to be seen. It was inthe middle of the night and I resorted to sleeping on the hard wooden floor ofthe common area.

Streets of Penang

In the morning, I went straight to the front desk andpolitely informed them that they had an infestation of bedbugs and needed tosort it out. The man who seemed to bethe maintenance person around the guesthouse took my complaint extremelypersonally and began raising his voice in an angry tone. “We do not have bedbugs!” He protested. “You say we’re dirty and we’ve got bugs. We have not got bugs!” Herepeated. I calmly explained to the manthat I wasn’t saying the place was dirty. Far from it, it was actually one of the cleanest rooms I’ve stayed inand bedbugs don’t care about how clean the place is as they could be in a fivestar hotel. “We do not havebedbugs!” The man repeated. By this point I was getting thoroughlyannoyed as he was basically standing there calling me a liar. “OK, please come with me now.” I requested and took him through to the roomto show him unavoidable proof that they do, in fact, one hundred per cent havebedbugs. “There! Look at that! What is that?!” I firmly arguedwhilst pointing to the dead bug I’d splattered on the wall that night.

The man’s tone changed as it was obvious proof he could notdefend. “It was that dirty backpackerthat came in a week back. Bites all overhim. We asked him if he had bugs and hesaid no. Now I have to do…….” He continued obviously not in that goodEnglish but I had to stop him as I really didn’t care about hearing the backstory. “That, I do not need to know myfriend. You have bed bugs. I slept on the floor. I want my money back.” I said. It didn’t work even though I threatened to write bad reviews on TripAdvisor, Hostelworld and any other website I can find including this blog. I angrily gave up as I really couldn’t bebothered with their lame excuses anymore and moved next door to the Old PenangGuesthouse where Barbara and Reut were staying.


Kek Lok Si

The manager of the guesthouse was an extremely accommodatingand friendly man. Although there was noroom in the dormitory until that evening, he let me leave my bags with him andgave me a locker to secure my valuables. Barbara and Reut were sitting in the common area of the guesthouse whereI met them as we had already planned to head for Kek Lok Si, a temple a fewkilometres out of Georgetown. On our wayto the bus stop we randomly met an Australian man called Norrie in the local7eleven and he ended up taking us on a mini tour of some temples within thetown centre. They were fantastic littletemples hidden in narrow alleyways that we would never have found withouthim. For some reason, probably sleepdeprivation, I didn’t have my camera with me to take any photos but just to bein these working temples was an interesting feeling. There are differences between the touristtemples which are streaming with foreigners taking photos and being sold tackto these temples being used day in, day out by regular everyday people. It reminds me of when Matthew Duncan and Iwere in Hong Kong after visiting the giant sitting Buddha, we found a small,modern temple where no tourists were but one lady was on her knees recitingprayers in a rhythmic fashion accompanied by intermittent chime of bells.

That wish better come true

Before returning to our main purpose of getting to Kek LokSi, I returned to the guesthouse to get my camera and met Nikolai who Iconvinced to join us on our small excursion. Kek Lok Si is arguably the largest Buddhist temple in South East Asia andsits high above the island overlooking Georgetown and its surroundings. Just because it’s perhaps the biggest templedoesn’t mean it’s the best as Kek Lok Si is positioned on multiple levels butwith each level are multiple gift shops selling the usual tack tovisitors. The weather was unfortunatelydismal for our visit which meant we needed to dart between openings avoidingthe rain. One of my favourite memoriesof the temple was the ornately carved hall to one of the temples which has suchfantastic detail. Above the main complexstands a Kuan Yin, Goddess of Mercy statue standing on the hill. To get there you can use a cable car whichseemed the most desirable option giving the weather and my fatigue. After waiting for a few minutes, we boarded andwas soon pondering the point of the cable car as it only travels about 50metres up a relatively mild slope we could have walked up easily. On the way back down we stopped in a localrestaurant for a nice spicy bowl of Laksa.

ABC.... Mmmmm

That evening we headed for an Indian restaurant somewhere inLittle India, however, we ended up at another Hawkers’ joint which was grubbierthan The Red Garden and looked as though it was where most of the locals hungout. The food was unremarkable. Following the main course, we wererecommended the ABC (Air Batu Campur), also known as Ais Kacang which Nikolaiand I excitedly went to order. Back atour table we looked at each other with intrigued looks in our eyes and notreally knowing what to think of the dessert dish lay in front of us. The ABC is a traditional dessert with themain ingredients being shaved ice, red beans, sweet corn, jelly and icecream. For me, it was not the nicestthing I’d ever tasted. It wasn’t theworst and was most likely the thought of all the ingredients together ratherthan the taste but I would not be ordering another one. I ate as much as I could, leaving the beansand sweet corn but enjoying the ice cream.

The next day all four of us headed out to the Tropical SpiceGarden which was a short bus journey from Georgetown around the coast a little,it was a fantastic place full of colourful and interesting flowers andspices. Our guide took us around andpassionately told us about the different kinds of spices, telling us storiesand picking things for us to taste. Ifound the magical sweet tasting stevie that I would have loved to take with me,however, I was heading to Australia in under a month and knew they would notapprove of me bringing in anything like that due to their extremely strictquarantine rules.

Reclining Buddha

Through conversation about how to get to Snake Temple weended up in our guide’s car as he said that he was heading back that way to hishome and he would take us there for the cost of the bus, which was ridiculouslylow anyway. What a great man who was nowretired and worked part time at the Spice Garden where he took tour groupsaround. Not only did he take us to theSnake Temple, he took us to a couple of temples too, a traditional Malaysianstyle Buddhist temple and across the road to a Burmese temple to see the subtledifferences before heading to the Snake Temple. Between the temple was a chance to see the magnificent bridge thatconnects Penang to mainland Malaysia, unfortunately we couldn’t get to a decentspot to take a photo.

Was it worth getting to the Snake Temple? Short answer is no. The temple wasn’t crawling with snakes as wehad imagined and only a few were being carelessly handled by their owners tryingto get money from people holding them and taking photos. We had seen enough and chose to head to thebus stop to get back to Georgetown for some Dim Sum and a couple of beers.

Our last day was an exciting one as the annual Dragon BoatFestival was on. Posters and flyers wereeverywhere and so we thought we should go along. This time we were joined by a new person,Maggie an American journalist. Wefinally got to the dam where the races were to take place following a couple ofbus journeys and were immediately struck by the lack of people there. I expected something amazing, bustling crowdssurrounding the shores but most of the people there were otherparticipants. It was a nice though,watching those participants getting ready, cheering their teammates andcelebrating or commiserating.

That was it for Penang, Barbara, Maggie and I bought ticketsto leave the next day on a bus to the Cameron Highlands. Penang is a fantastic island full of multiplecultures and accompanying delicious foods, just a shame about the bedbugs!

Welcome to Malaysia and the Golden Island of Langkawi, 5-8 June 2011

2012-02-20T01:00:00.000Z

BANG… BANG…. “Welcometo Malaysia” the immigration officersaid as she stamped my passport and exit card. On the back was a strict warning that any drug smuggling will result indeath. OK, thanks for telling me that!! As I entered the arrivals hall to the port, Iwas struck by the westernised feeling of Langkawi. I stepped outside the building where abarrage of taxis wait to take the new arrivals anywhere on the island as thereis no public transport. “Oh great!” I thought as I pictured the taxi drivertaking me for a ride and taking all the money from me. However, they had got it sorted. You had to go to the taxi desk first wherethey would give you a slip telling you how much the journey will take and allocateyou a taxi driver. This certainly limitsthe chance of being ripped off and I liked Malaysia already.

Sunset on Cenang Beach

I was heading to Cenang, the main tourist beach town wheremost people head. I had no idea where Iwas going to stay as per usual and I was dropped off in the centre of the stripto begin my search. I checked a fewoverpriced places first and finally came across the Shirin Guesthouse run by Ebrahim,an ex-Iranian soldier and his Japanese wife Hiroko. My room was a small single hut with airconditioning and an ensuite bathroom. That evening I met Jay, an English man who was heading back to Australiato work. His first bit of advice was,“at no time should you mention politics in this guesthouse.” Later on I saw why as Ebrahim got incrediblyirate with the news. As a retiredIranian army officer, his views are extremely strong and unwavering and anystory with regards to the recent uprising in Libya and other North African /Middle Eastern countries made him extremely irate. He wasn’t ashamed to tell us that he was aCol. Gaddafi supporter. Also I have noidea how or why the couple are still together as they bicker all the time!

Langkawi is a lush island with plenty of green jungle andbeautiful beaches. I took a stroll downthe beach on my first evening to watch the sunset and experienced my firstsight of Muslim ladies in the sea dressed in their burkas. It is an interesting alternative view as manyin the west believe ladies wearing burkas are not allowed to enjoy themselvesand are completely supressed. Jay cameto join me as the sun was setting over the horizon. A beautiful sunset reflecting of the sea asthe last jet skiers and para-sailors were enjoying their trips. Later that evening I devoured a deliciouskebab and had a couple of beers back at the guesthouse. The island is also a tax-free haven whichmakes beer incredibly cheap.

The highlight to my time in Langkawi must have been mymotorcycle journey of discovery. I setoff on my little scooter which I hired from the guesthouse and stormed out oftown. Up ahead, I noticed there was apolice checkpoint and I had actually no idea what the rules were here. In the other South East Asian countriesanyone can ride a motorcycle without a licence. I’m now in Malaysia and stupidly didn’t check before I hired thebike. The police officer flagged medown. Crap, I thought as a million ‘whatif…’ questions raced through my head. “Turn you lights on.” The officersaid to me. That was it. He didn’t want documentation or anything whichrelieved enormously.

My rescuers...cheers guys

STUTTER… SPLUTTER…. NOTHING…! The engine stopped and Irolled to the side of the road. Iattempted to restart the motor to no avail. I was now around 10km out of Cenang in the middle of nowhere. I didn’t have a telephone to call help anddespite many attempts at starting the bike failed. Thankfully I had come to a stop outside awarehouse called FAMA. I pushed my bikeinto their compound and was greeted by a man who turned out to be the managerof the centre. He had a quick look at mybike and invited me inside. Thewarehouse is actually home to the weekly farmers market where traders acrossthe island come to sell their goods. Themanager took the business card to Shirin Guesthouse and phoned Hiroko. He explained what had happened and she saidshe would come and get me. I sat down ata table with three other guys, all in their early twenties and spoke with themfor an hour or so waiting for Hiroko to come and get me.

Langkawi from the top...

An hour went past and there was no sign of Hiroko. The guys got fed up and decided they’d takeme and my dead bike back to Cenang. Wewalked outside and one of the men got onto my bike whilst the other two gotonto theirs. I was asked to climb on theback with one of the men. Within aminute we were heading back towards Cenang in a convoy, two of the workingbikes behind with my lifeless one in front being pushed along by the other twomen’s feet. When we arrived back at thegueshouse, Hiroko was surprised to see us and was saying that she couldn’t findus. We sat down and I treated them allto a drink before they headed back to work. This was another example of human generosity I had received during mytrip.

A long way up...

I said goodbye to my new friends, quickly got back ontoanother bike and hit the road again for take two. I had lost almost two hours of my day becauseof the breakdown so there was absolutely no time to waste. My first destination was the cable car thatled up towards a sky bridge high above the jungle below. The cable car has one of the world’s longestand steepest spans. The cable carjourney was incredible with such beautiful scenery of the island and beingsuspended high above the jungle below was awesome. At the top was the bridge which was suspendedhigh above the ground below giving you a spectacular panoramic view.

The bridge.

Back down on earth it was time for me to shoot off and do aquick tour of the island. First stop wasthe Seven Wells Waterfall which I stupidly walked all the way to the top whilstbeing terrorised by the monkeys which loitered on either side of the path. At the top I got the chance at bathing in thecooling waters flowing down the mountain. I then took off further to the north coast where I met Irish Mark whom Ihad met on the sky bridge and had exchanged each other our photographyskills. He was on his way back toIreland following some time in New Zealand. We decided that we should continue along the road together as we weregoing the same way. We really wanted togo to a beach on the North of the island but the majority of the coastline isowned by private resorts. We triedgetting into one but were caught by a couple of hotel staff driving around intheir golf buggy. They asked us to go toreception as Mark quickly said that we were here to meet a friend, BillEmerson, who was staying in this hotel. The hotel was very up market and we obviously looked out of place. The lady returned after checking theirdatabase to tell us that surprisingly there was no Bill Emerson checked in. We gave our excuses and left.

Sunset from the opposite side of the island.

We travelled further on and ended up on a beach on thenorth-east of the island where we watched the sun set. This was great but we didn’t think about theforty five minute journey back to Cenang in the dark. It was all worth it though as we came across anight market at a small town just outside of Cenang. A fantastic discovery, especially as we werepretty hungry by this point. Havingnarrowly escaped a collision with a reversing vehicle and enjoying somedelicious street food, we finished the loop of the island and celebrated with acouple of drinks at the reggae bar on the beach.

Puppets and Terrorists, Nakhon Si Thammarat, Songkhla and Hat Yai - 31 May - 6 June 2011

2012-02-15T06:42:00.001Z


Krabi Town's traffic lights are a highlight...

Following a one night stop in Krabi Town, I grabbed a bus toTrang not knowing what was there. Iarrived an hour or two later but had the urge to move on further as the townreally didn’t get me excited and I think I was becoming impatient and wanted tokeep moving. I asked around at thestation where a couple of friendly happy ladies approached me to ask what Ineeded. I told them that I wanted to getto Nakhon Si Thammarat and pointed to the map. They told me that I wasn’t able to get there from this bus station andtold me where I needed to go. It wasquite far across the other side of town, which meant I had to get atuk-tuk. I ran across the road where Isaw one parked up and asked the driver who, unsurprisingly, requested anobscene price for the journey. I saw theladies still standing on the other side pointing and laughing. I managed to get the price down and washappily on my way with the ladies and me exchanging energetic waves. I got to the bus station where I had to waitfor all of twenty minutes until my minibus left, time enough to grab a bite toeat. The driver’s assistant approachedme, invited me onboard and within no time at all the minibus was travellingeast towards Nakhon Si Thammarat.

Nakhon's walls... interesting....

My first observation of Nakhon Si Thammarat was the distinctabsence of PUTs and I was really looking forward to spending some time in realThailand once again. I spotted the signto the hotel which I was staying at from the minibus and managed to get thedriver to pull over so I could jump out. When I entered the main entrance to the hotelI thought I had made a mistake as the place was rather up market to what I wasused to. I asked at the desk what theircheapest room was and it was not too bad so I accepted. I was then taken to my room and it all madesense. My room was in another adjoiningblock, where you had to circumnavigate several passage ways, through the servicearea and then up the lifts. Again, theroom was actually really pleasant with a double bed, tv, fan and an ensuiteshower/toilet.

Suchart Subsin, Puppet Master

The city plays host to the grand master shadow puppet makerand performer, Suchart Subsin, which was my main reason of visiting theplace. So early on my second day I madetook a short bus journey and the map in my hand, walked around a kilometre tothe Shadow Puppets house / workshop / theatre. Unfortunately, I was the only person there at the time and despite mypleading the lady told me he wouldn’t perform to any less than threepeople. I cannot tell you howdisappointed I was. I absolutely enjoyedthe visit to his workshop and saw how he made the puppets and came away with mythird souvenir of my trip. The first beinga bottle of Russian Vodka and second being the flute I bought on Christmas dayin Beijing, although this souvenir concerned me as I wasn’t sure whether itwould actually fit in my bag. Shadowpuppetry was an enormously popular art form throughout South East Asia but isnow mainly confined to art festivals and national celebrations. The coloured puppets, made from leather, havebeen made with moving limbs and jaws and are in my opinion extraordinary piecesof art themselves.

Wat Phra Mathathat

On my walk back to the main centre, I stopped by the WatPhra Mathathat which is the largest wat in Southern Thailand and is anbeautiful temple accompanied by a museum full of ancient artefacts andreligious memorabilia. There’s not muchmore I could tell you about the wat as at this moment in time I was pretty much‘templed out’. The rest of the walk backinto town was done at a relaxed pace, stopping in every 7eleven on the way asit guaranteed ice cool air conditioning to cool my body down a little. On my walk I was confronted by a mass ofschool children leaving their respective schools. The shouts of ‘hello’ was frequent and I hadmissed such treatment and it proved that I was finally back in a place wherelittle tourists come.

Songkhla from above

The next day I decided to move on yet again. This time to Songkhla. The motorcycle taxi took me and my bags alongthe a few kilometres to the bus station avoiding oncoming vehicles to within aninch. Once I arrived in Songkhla I wasshocked by the difficulty to get a lift into the centre of town. I asked one man on his scooter to take me, hehad no idea where I was asking for. Ipointed on the map. He took the book andwalked over to some other men and discussed amongst themselves whilst lookingupon the map as though it was a small baby alien. I finally managed to get one man to take meto the guest house, however when we got into the centre of town he pulled up atanother guest house, not on the street that I wanted. There was no room anyway, so I persuaded theman to drop me off at the address that I had asked for. Finally, I arrived at the address just as theheavens opened and the streets of Songkhla became inner city streams. I looked up at the name of the guest house,it was different but was still a guesthouse. A lady came out and told me that she was full. Crap, I thought as I looked back outside withthe prospect of walking in the monsoon rains. A British guy sitting at the table invited me over to join him whilst Iwait for a dry spell.

“Why are you here?” the manasked.

“What do you mean, why am Ihere? I’m travelling.” I responded.

“Nobody comes here anymore. Not since the terrorist attacks.” The man retorted.

It seems as though the city had been subjected to multiplebombings which killed a few people and having retrospectively looked on theForeign and Commonwealth Office website, I discovered that they advise againstall but essential travel to that region. Oops, I thought to myself as I walked on to find another guesthousewhich the Englishman recommended. It istrue, I looked around and there were no foreigners to be seen. Fantastic! That’s exactly what I’ve been wanting! My guesthouse, was a comfortable, single bed and fan with sharedbathroom and was inhabited by several bats which squeaked at night time.

There was a cultural museum a few kilometres out of Songkhlathat I was very keen to go and see. Igot on a Sangthaew and asked to be dropped off at the museum. It was actually some distance from the townand seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. The museum had quite blatantly seen better days and the drop off oftourism to the area has obviously affected this site. I was, in fact, the only tourist there whichis a shame because the museum offered a wealth of diverse information fromprehistoric to the current culture of Thai people. It was actually one of the best museums I’vebeen to.

Back in town, I headed further up the road to the templethat sits upon a hill which overlooks the city and surrounding beaches. There was the same threat from monkeys whichI had become accustomed to, although they still scare the crap out of me. Instead of walking up the hill, there is alift which takes you effortlessly up to the top. Such a wonderful little temple with moralsayings which offer encouragement and a better society. That evening I was lucky enough to be able tohave a wonder around the Friday night market which takes over most of thetown. Local traders hit the streetsselling their wares, cooking up delicious food and school bands entertainshoppers whilst they browse. It was anunforgettable evening wondering around, watching the locals get excited overtheir purchases and enjoying their freshly made Pad Thai. I, myself, found myself a wallet. My short time in Songkhla was wonderful, thepeople I met were friendly and extremely welcoming, it’s a shame that they arebeing financially affected by the recent terrorism and the subsequent declinein tourism.

My wonderful dinner

I now had a decision to make. Do I go against the Foreign and CommonwealthOffice advice and continue travel south along the east coast, or do I go thesafe/boring route via Hat Yai? AlthoughHat Yai is still amongst the towns listed not to travel to. I decided to go the boring way via Hat Yai,where I would stay a night and get a connecting bus and ferry to take me acrossthe border onto the Malaysian Island of Langkawi. The short bus journey to Hat Yai was uneventfullike the majority of my journeys through Thailand. Hat Yai is a large trading city on thesouthern frontier with Malaysia. I foundan odd little guesthouse to stay in with massive corridors and padlocked doorswhich secured extremely sparse rooms with a bed, a hose for a shower and asquat toilet.

Beautifully made puppets

I was lucky enough to hit the jackpot once again and enjoythe Saturday market of Hat Yai. Marketsare one of the awesome opportunities that you get to see the locals at thebest. That is, as long as it’s not atourist market selling only souvenirs and complete crap that, for one reason oranother, the moronic side of us thinks they’re so good that we’d like to buythem and will be on our mantle pieces for ever after. I was actively looking for some new T-shirtsas mine had seen better days but the problem with being a ‘large’ in Asia isthat the size is extremely hard to find as everyone is so petite.

The next day was my last in Thailand. I had got to the bus station slightly late asthe bus to the small coastal town of Satun where I would catch the ferry intoMalaysia had already departed. There wasno real need to panic as the lady in the ticket office telephoned the driverand persuaded him to turn back to pick me up. Absolutely fantastic lady, giving a service that you would definitelynot see in the UK as they’d say ‘You’re late, too bad… next bus tomorrow. Unlucky’. Within five minutes, I was aboard the minibus and on my way towards theport.

Thailand had had it’s ups and downs. Arriving after a couple of months in Laos andCambodia provided me with instant relief with them firstly driving on thecorrect side of the road, something I hadn’t experienced since Hong Kong. Secondly, you had your own seat on the buseswhich seemed to run on time and there estimated travel duration was largelycorrect. Travel was so much easier andrelaxing. The only thing that ruined itfor me was the PUTs and the awfully disgusting sex trade. My faith in Thai culture was fully restoredwith my trip through Nakkon Si Thammarat, Songkhla and Hat Yai. Absolutely fantastic places.

Picturesque Phuket, Phi Phi and more PUTs, 26 - 30 May 2011

2012-02-09T07:21:00.000Z

The rain was still pelting it down and I had under tenminutes to collect my bags, get a man to take me on his motorcycle to the busstation and buy a ticket. The motorcycleride was wet despite the poncho the motor bike driver wrapped around us forminga slightly more than usual uncomfortable intimacy. We made it to the bus station with plenty oftime to spare to buy my ticket, throw my bag into the hold and climb aboard themost luxurious local bus I have ever had the pleasure to experience. Cool air conditioning, comfortable seats and,get this, wi-fi! Although it didn’twork, but still, it had the option!

I headed straight for Phuket town and stopped for a coupleof nights in Phuket Backpackers where I stuffed the budget and paid a littleextra for an air conditioned room, and oh my am I glad I did. I didn’t spend long in Phuket as wasn’tattracted to the place. It was niceenough to walk around but nothing special for me at this point. I took one day to get on a bus and head outto one of the beach resorts and was immediately struck by the tsunami warningsposted everywhere.

Memorial to all those that lost their lives

Boxing Day 2004 an earthquake of the coast of Sumatra causesa massive tsunami that spreads throughout the Indian Ocean, destroyingcoastlines and killing an estimated 300,000 people including many foreignersthat were on their holidays. The islandsof Phuket and Phi Phi both fell victim to the enormous wave which destroyed domany miles of coastline surrounding the Andaman Sea and Indian Ocean. There is little damage still apparent butwith the amount of tsunami escape signs, it seems as though the emotional scarswill remain. The beaches are quitebeautiful and relaxing but the island didn’t really have anything further forme to get excited about. Getting to thebeaches was relatively easy but getting back seemed to be an issue as no buswould stop for ages. Finally one did stopand it was a bigger Sangthaew which had been totally enclosed with metal sides. It was an interesting journey back as all thelocals were finishing work or school and heading back to the city.

The next day, following a boat ride, I arrived on thebeautiful island of Phi Phi. Theapproach literally takes your breath away. Stunning cliffs shoot out of the water topped with green trees andsurrounded by crystal clear turquoise water. Phi Phi is merely a speck in the ocean and was easily overwhelmed by thetsunamis destruction and was largely wiped out. It has been built up again, which is a tragedy in many ways as thenatural beauty of the island has been overshadowed somewhat with concretebuildings containing western style bars selling buckets of alcohol totourists.

Weaving my way through the touts by the jetty I embarked onmy mission to find somewhere to stay. The alleyways of Phi Phi are small and weave around buildings in a mazelike fashion. I found a lady+boy=ladyboywho had a spare room in her guesthouse. The guesthouse had four or five rooms which were comfortable enough withwonderful fans. I dumped my bags andheaded straight to the beach to relax and finish reading ‘1984’. I finished off the day with a banana shake ata beech bar and some delicious seafood, stir fry thing from one of the foodstalls. It was extremely spicy!

The highlight to my time on Phi Phi was the amazing boatride I took to the neighbouring island where the waters are crystal clear. The boat left the main jetty and set off intothe open waters towards our intended destination. We were kitted out with snorkels andwaterproof bags for our valuables. Ourfirst stop was just a few hundred metres around Phi Phi’s coastline where wewere given the opportunity to go meet some monkeys. I have already taken a dislike to monkeyssince being attacked by one in Phetchaburi, so I kept my distance. I wouldn’t mind them so much if there wasn’tthe fear of contracting rabies. I heardthe following day that a man who had been on this very beach sitting calmlywith some monkeys suddenly got attacked and bitten several times. Luckily they have some anti-rabies drug onthe island.

Our next stop was at the other island where we all jumpedoff and swam in the crystal clear waters and searched for fish. There weren’t many in this area but westopped a little further out and the colourful fish came out and was quite amemorable site, despite the odd pieces of rubbish floating by which obviouslyspoils the idyllic feeling of the island. Many of you will know the film ‘The Beach’ and the magnificent beachwhich it is set, well this is on that very island but as the sea conditions weweren’t able to access the beach the easy way. Instead, the boat pulled into a bay on the opposite side. The waves were rough and gave me my firstexperience of what feeling sea sick or travel sick is like. We had to swim around 150 metres to the shorein these choppy waters which, if you weren’t careful (and I wasn’t) will forceyou against the rocks. Having recoveredfrom being smacked against the rocks, I grabbed hold of the rope and draggedmyself to the safety of the steps that led up a small cliff, through somejungle and emerged on the beach. Oh mygod was it worth it. The most awe inspiringbeach I have ever been to, and thankfully the bay was clear of boats because ofthe sea conditions. Just me and tenother tourists spread out on the white sand overlooking the karst landscapethat jets out of the sea. Unfortunatelymy camera is not waterproof and I wasn’t able to take any photos, however, it’swell engrained in my memory. Beautiful. The journey back toPhi Phi was gut wrenchingly painful. Thewaves towered high above us as the skipper took care navigating around strongcurrents, speeding up and slowing down in relation to the waves. Once we reached shore, we were all very muchrelieved to get onto dry land.

It's KATHY!!!

I only spent two nights on Phi Phi and that was enough forme as I couldn’t stand the PUTs any longer. I decided to move on and get the ferry to Krabi where I can continue myjourney south towards Malaysia. Butbefore I left, I was sitting in a café enjoying breakfast, drinking yet anotherfruit shake and talking to an American man who had just received a double kneetransplant in Bangkok and was ‘recovering by the sea’ when the biggesthighlight of my trip to Phi Phi arrived. “ANDY!!!!” I heard a young lady shout. I looked over and saw the fantastic Kathy, whom I met on the bus fromMui Ne to Ho Chi Minh in Vietnam. We hadtried to meet up repeatedly with her throughout Cambodia and Laos but kept missingher. It was great to see her again. We spent the next few hours together and withher two friends. Firstly in a tattooparlour where her friend got a tattoo on her hand and Kathy deliberated aboutgetting one of a watermelon behind her ear. However, after several attempts at the artist drawing the melon, shethankfully decided not to. It was quiteinteresting watching the tattoo artist do his work with a bamboo needle whichis far more impressive than using the traditional needle. Following the tattoo parlour we grabbed acouple of beers and caught up on the beach…. What a beautiful end to a quick trip to Phi Phi… (And no…. Kathy, you are not one of thosePUTs I refer to!)

Maya Beach... photo c/o someone else, not me.

Stranded, Hua Hin to Ranong and Thirty Minutes in Burma - 25-26 May 2011

2012-02-03T03:35:00.001Z

Ah yes!! Finally thebus that I’ve been dreaming of with big comfortable reclining seats. The bus is already packed out as it’s beentravelling from Bangkok. I am shown tomy seat and I sit back and relax. Isuddenly feel something tap on my forehead. I open my eye and manage to avoid the nextdrip which was coming from the air conditioning above. Bloody typical, when I finally get the busI’ve desired, I get one with a leak! Ifish around my bag for a while and fish out a tissue to stuff inside the hole. Success, it worked and now time for somesleep.

My boat across to Kawthaung

Three hours went by too soon and the bus pulled over justoutside the town of Chumphon where the majority of people got off to catch aconnecting ferry to Ko Phangan. Thoseall headed off in a couple Songthaew and I was told to wait for ten minutes andmy bus would arrive to take me to Ranong. It was 4am, still dark, quiet and I had been left alone. There were a few roadside cafés which wereclosed up, so I took a seat outside one and waited. Ten minutes went by very quickly, no sign ofa bus. Thirty minutes passed and I beganto get anxious. A few buses passed bybut none were mine, most of them were heading to Hat Yai. An hour passed, still no sign. Two hours. Nothing. It was now 6am, the sunhad peaked and light illuminated the city. A café was opening up and I had had enough of waiting, so went in to askthe lady whether she knew of a bus stopping here for Ranong. She had no idea but took my ticket which hada telephone number on the back and rang it. The person on the other end said that there was a bus leaving at 7.30amand the lady asked for them to pick me up and take me to their office. This lady was extraordinarily friendly andwilling to help a stranded tourist. Isat there for another half hour, enjoying a refreshing drink whilst waiting forthe driver to collect me.

I arrived in Ranong around 10am and began the routine hagglefor a Sangthaew with Allesia and Matao, two Italians whom I had met on thebus. We successfully cut the price to anacceptable level and went on a hunt for somewhere to stay. We dumped our bags and headed for a walkaround Ranong. A bustling city on theborder with Burma, the market was an amazing experience, a working market forlocal traders not touristic in anyway. Iwas completely knackered from a night of no sleep and decided that I would headback to the hotel for a couple hours sleep. A couple hours turned into far too many and it was dark when Iwoke. I was to meet Allesia and Mataofor dinner but had missed them and unfortunately never saw them again.

Kawthaung

The day had come, an exciting trip to Myanmar, a communistcountry bureaucratically shielded from the rest of the world. I was to head over for a brief visit just sothat I could exit Thailand and enter with a further 14 days. I got the bus to the Thai immigrationdepartment in town who were to stamp me out but I had some outdated informationand in recent months they have initiated a border crossing at the port itselfwhich makes it so much easier. Inegotiated a price for the return boat trip and climbed aboard. I was, as usual, the only foreigner aboardand again, had no idea what was happening! The skipper handed out life jackets as we steamed out into the AndamanSea towards Kawthaung, Burma. On the waywe stopped a couple of times at checkpoints that had been erected in the middleof the estuary. They didn’t care aboutmy passport but the rest had to show theirs. Most probably just checking that nobody is fleeing the persecution ofMyanmar’s military.

Kawthaung's main street with immigration shack on left

The run down buildings of Kawthaung appeared in thedistance. Already you can see thedifference between Thailand and Myanmar. We moored on the shore and all disembarked and made our way to the bluewooden immigration hut that. There wasno queue. I walked in and handed over mypassport, a crisp $10 note and a photocopy of my passport which they kept forone reason or another. I was in therefor about two minutes before I got stamped in and out of the country at thesame time. I took a very brief walkaround the town just to get an idea of what goes on. The market was busyselling items of all sorts and I got the feeling that the Myanmar governmenthave erected this town as a showcase for visitors and traders from Thailand. I finished my walk and headed back to theport to find a boat to take me back to Thailand. I had only paid half of the fare so it didn’treally matter which boat I got on. A manapproached me and offered me a spot on his boat for a decent price. I accepted. A man began shouting from a couple boats downand ran towards me. It was the skipperwho brought me to Kawthaung and he was quite justly annoyed that I had goneaboard another boat. I soon explainedthings and apologised to the other man as I transferred back to the originalboat.

The clouds loomed above. Dark and heavy, drowning the return boat ride in an eerieatmosphere. We made it back just in timefor the clouds to release their pent up water. The rain was heavy and unrelenting. I ran to the road and grabbed the songthaew back into the centre ofRanong where I took refuge in a restaurant and plotted my next journey. I wanted to stay longer in Myanmar butcouldn’t as although they give you a two week visa upon entering, you can onlytravel within a certain distance of your entry point, in this case onlyKawthaung. One of my plans was to enterMyanmar from northern Thailand and travel down south to Kawthaung, but it wasnear impossible with all the travel restrictions and the border crossing shuttingsporadically. My next destination…Phuket.

The rain is 'a' comin'....

The Death Railway, Ladyboys and Monkeys - Kanchanaburi, Phetchaburi and Hua Hin - 20-24 May 2011

2012-01-25T16:11:00.002Z

June 1942, the occupying Empire of Japan instigated theproject to build a 258 mile railroad between Bangkok and Rangoon, Burma tosupport its forces in the Burma campaign. 180,000 Asian and 60,000 Allied prisoners of war were used as forcedlabourers to construct the rail line. Thousands of people lost their lives during the remaining years of thewar. It is estimated that over 100,000people died in the course of constructing the railway due to appalling workingand living conditions, malnutrition and torture.

Stretching out in front of me is the Bridge over River Kwai,which is without a doubt the most iconic remembrance to those that perished andsuffered whilst building the railroad. The bridge sits a kilometre or two from the centre of Kanchanaburi andalthough it’s been rebuilt, walking over the bridge and remembering thosehundreds of thousand people that died is quite something. There are two museums nearby dedicated to theThailand-Burma Death Railway which display artefacts retrieved from the periodand gives a candid description of how the railway was built at the cost ofhuman life.

Death Railway Memorial

Kanchanaburi is a small city an hour or two west of Bangkokwhich was easily reached by a surprisingly comfortable, cool and timely minibusjourney. I stopped there for a couple ofnights to explore the railway and surrounding area. I stayed at the Jolly Frog Backpackers whereI encountered my first ‘is that a man or a woman?’ quandary as the ladyboyserved me my lunch and well needed banana shake. Ah, those banana shakes have become quite anaddiction of mine! Whilst in Hanoi, Imet a Canadian lady who had lived many years as a prominent man, ridingmotorcycles, having children and generally doing the ‘man’ thing. She explained to me that she never feltcomfortable and was unable to come out and show her true feelings due to thesociety she was in. She finally got thecourage to express her innermost feelings to her friends and his family, andalthough it was expectedly a huge shock, they came round to the idea andaccepted her for who she was. Her storywas amazing. She was now travelling withher long friend Brian who is an author and publisher. She had already been through Thailand andabsolutely loved it as they immediately accepted her without question, shestressed that not only did they accept her, they loved her. She was going to go back to Thailand and getbreast implants but explained that she felt too old to have the full genitaloperation.

Beautiful road through the jungle

I took a motorcycle and explored the surroundings to thecity and the amazing countryside. Iheaded out of the city in search of the waterfall that is a must visit, howeverit quickly became apparent that I would not make it at the current speed of mymotorcycle. So I pulled over at someruins and reassessed my route and decided to head to a nearby lakeinstead. Travelling along the main roadwas not that fun as lorries and cars sped by without care, but once I turnedoff onto a smaller road, the traffic disappeared and I was allowed to meanderat my own pace. I looked to my left andnoticed a massive black cloud overhead and saw that it was raining, so Ithought it would be a great idea to become a storm chaser and head straighttowards it. I soon realised that thiswas not such a great idea as the rain pelted down unforgivingly and made itimpossible to see ten feet in front of me. I took refuge under a tree and waited for the storm to pass beforeheading on to find the lake.

Quiet streets of Phetchaburi

The next day, I decided it was time for me to leave and headto Phetchaburi where I had planned to stop and visit for one night. I found the Ramian Ranong Guesthouse whichwas tucked beside the incline of a bridge by the river. It was run by a couple of really friendlypeople who were there to help and provide you any snacks, drinks or advice onwhat to do in the city. I thought thecity was a wonderful reflection on an everyday Thai city with very littletourism being shoved in your face. Iwalked around for a while and took in the feeling of a working city with theoccasional stop in a 7eleven to cook of for a while… that’s when I foundCadbury’s chocolate for the first time on my trip. I absolutely adore Cadbury’s chocolate andcouldn’t resist buying a bar despite the £1 price tag. I rushed back to my room where I opened upthe bar like an excited child and devoured the slightly melting milk chocolatein anticipation of a delightful taste. All I was confronted with was disappointment…

Phra Nakhon Khiri Historical Park sits on the outskirts ofthe Phetchaburi and is a collection of palaces, halls and temples situated on topof a hill which overlooks the city and the surrounding countryside. On my morning walk to the site, I experiencedmy first violent attack from a local. AsI was walking around the base of the hill searching for an entrance into thepark, a cheeky monkey jumped from the ‘Welcome to Phetchaburi’ sign and clungonto my shoulder. I screamed like agirl, shook off the potential rabies infested animal and ran away with mybroken flip flop trailing behind me. This unprovoked attack set me on edge as I walked around the park whichis home to hundreds of monkeys swinging from the trees. Although the locals seem to have made somekind of deal with them and seemed to be cohabiting without any issues. The view from atop the hill was spectacularand I spent a while chilling out enjoying the cool breeze before heading backdown to the heat of the city.

My next item on my list was Tham Khao Luang, a spectacularcave that houses a reclining Buddha, some images and statues which sit amongstthe stalagmites and stalactites. As soonas I entered the complex, my fears turned back to another potential monkey attack. It’s like avoiding the classroombullies. The entrance to the steps thatlead down into the cave was a small gateway which was surrounded bymonkeys. I quickly summed them up and convincedmyself that they were not a threat, so just took a deep breath and walkedbriskly through them and down the steps into the amazing cave. The sunlight shone through the gap in thecave and produced a strong beam of light which looks like a waterfall fallingonto the Buddha below. The serenitywithin the cave was overwhelmingly refreshing and if it wasn’t for the tuk-tukdriver waiting for me outside, I could have stayed in there all day justwatching the pilgrims offering their gifts to Buddha.

There was no time to waste now as I made a promise to myselfthat I wasn’t going to loiter in any one place for a while, so I got on a bus thatafternoon to Hua Hin which I thought would be a nice experience as I hadn’tbeen by the sea since Sihanoukville, Cambodia. I was, however, thoroughly disappointed and to put it candidly, disgusted. The city was the first time I had witnessedthe onslaught of sleaze that has unfortunately overshadowed a certain part ofThailand. Old western men paying fortheir Thai brides and walking around like they are a big deal. No, I’m sorry this is disgusting and I amappalled that people can use money to pay for love. Here’s a fact for those men…. They don’t care for you, they care for yourmoney so their families can get food and education. I couldn’t bear this place for any more thanone night as every corner I turned I would see this exploitation and sex tradeslapped in your face. I swiftly bookedmy onward bus ticket to Ranong on the western Thai coast where I would brieflypop over the border to Myanmar to attain another two week Thai visa.

Sala Chalermkrung and the Classical Art of Khon

2012-01-18T11:48:00.002Z

To celebrate Bangkok’s 150 year, King Rama VII built thePhra Phutayodfah Bridge that links Bangkok and Dhonburi, a statue of King RamaI and also donated more than 9 million baht of his own funds to build the country’sfirst cinema and interestingly the first air-conditioned cinema in South EastAsia. King Rama VII wanted his subjectsto be able to enjoy the most popular cinematic and theatrical performances. The construction of the Sala ChalermkrungTheatre began in 1930 and opened its doors on 2 July 1933 and has provided thatentertainment to Thai people ever since. It has also become an institute that has trained actors and performersof all natures and has become a legendary venue.

In 2008, King Rama VII celebrated his 60th year on thethrone, and to mark the occasion the Sala Chalermkrung Foundation joined handswith the Crown Property Bureau to launch the Sala Chalermkrung Khonproject. The project’s aim was to instilappreciation for the Thai’s traditional culture and art. Khon is a classical art of Thailand wheremasked performers enact scenes whilst narrators melodically tell thestory. Where the narrators used to be anecessity as the masked performers couldn’t possibly fill the auditorium with theirvoices, today they remain more for traditional purposes as wireless microphonescould easily be inserted inside the masks for amplification. The performance used to be for royalty onlyas it was extraordinarily expensive to produce but with the changing of time,King Rama VII has made this performance available to his people and visitors toThailand.

The most commonly used script is Ramakien, which is anational epic derived from the Hindu Ramayana. The Ramayana is an ancient epic which forms an important basis of theHindu cannon alongside the Mahabharata. It depicts an idealistic society and duties of relationships betweenmortals and gods. The Ramayana spreadacross India, Nepal and into South East Asia. Trade and business routes through the area accelerated its influence onforeign cultures which in turn adopted and adapted the story to become theirown epics, Thailand’s version is the Ramakien and is apparently still taught inschools today. Unfortunately many of theoriginal versions of Ramakien were destroyed when Ayutthaya was attacked andrazed to the ground by invading Burmese army which marked the end of theSiamese Kingdom. In the 1790s King RamaI set about creating his own version of the Ramakien which was then adapted byhis son, King Rama II who rewrote a selection of verses for the purpose of Khontheatre.

Khon Theatre is interested in retaining tradition andculture, not evolution of an artistic style. With this in mind, we cannot look at Khon as an end to what Thailand’stheatre has to offer. Unlikeneighbouring, Myanmar, Cambodia, China and disjoined Vietnam, Thailand has adramatically different political constitution as freedom of speech wasintroduced during the 1990s. Althoughduring the recent 2006 Coup D’état which saw the military oust Prime MinisterThaksin from power and exile him, there was a brief period of censorship whichaffected television, radio and newspapers from reporting any news that maycause social strife during the transitional period. Interestingly, the removal of censorship isnot entirely complete, by law, you are still not allowed to criticise the royalfamily nor can you insult Buddhism. Thailanddid have a long history of censorship but was increasingly relaxed since thedissolution of absolute monarchy. Withthis more democratic constitution, Thai art forms have more freedom to produceinnovative performances than their neighbours so long as they avoid royal andreligious criticisms.

The performance began with a short documentary produced toinform the audience of what Khon is and how the performers train and preparefor the show. The performers dress inextravagantly flamboyant costumes full of sequins, golden headdresses that peaka foot above their crowns and intricately decorated masks covering theirfaces. The cast multiplies to dozens andthe video records their preparation and how they are sewn into their costumes,heaven knows what happens should you need to go to the toilet. I believe part of their training must focuson the bladder! It’s magical to seetheir slow, steady transformation from an ordinary Thai into this mysticalcharacter they will characterise for the next hour and half.

The performers in Khon are highly trained and they practiceabsolute control over their entire body. They slowly move with precise and meaningfulmovements that are choreographed right down to their fingertips. Khon is a highly physical and symbolic artform where the performers need to adhere to certain movements which expressvarious emotions. Their movement ismesmerising, extreme control and balance is required as the pace of movementcan be fast and then slow. This remindedme of the work of Eugenio Barba who believed in performers becoming masters oftheir bodies to enable then to move freely and decisively. He put his students under gruelling andrepetitive exercises where the performer studies each individual muscle withinthe body, what it does and how to manipulate it to get to where you need tobe. Interestingly, Barba was influenced byKathakali, an Indian dance-drama form that has a certain amount of similaritiesto Khon. It’s fascinating how theatricalcultures transport themselves around the world and merge.

The performance was a colourful display of dance, acrobatics,movement and mime and although there was the issue of a language barrier, theemotive gestures between performers provided more than enough meaning tounderstand what was happening. Ithoroughly enjoyed the experience and would recommend this performance toanyone who visits Bangkok.

The Grand Palace, Bangkok - 19-20 May 2011

2012-01-08T10:47:00.000Z

Grand Palace, Bangkok

“Please can you stop the bus?” The young Japanese man who was sat next to meon the front row of the minibus pleaded with the driver. We were just five minutes out of Pai,descending along the winding road back to Chiang Mai and it became all too muchfor this man’s stomach. We turned a fewmore corners as the driver searched for the safest place to pull over. The Japanese man became impatient andanxiously tapped his knee. I wasconcerned that he wasn’t going to hold on until we parked up. The bus stopped on the side of the road, I promptlyopened the side door, quickly swung my legs around out of his way as the manlaunched himself from the vehicle and expelled his stomach contents on thesmall patch of grass that encroached the road.

Fantastic detail

The journey down the mountain included multiple vomit stops. As I said before, this road can makeeven the strongest stomachs churn as drivers hit the corners as fast as theycan. One stop coincided with another tohelp out a lady who had come off her motorcycle after slipping on someoil. The lady was thankfully safe buther oranges were sprawled across the road.

Following a brief stop in Chiang Mai for some food, Iboarded my sleeper bus that would take me Bangkok, my next destination on mytrip. It’s a great feeling to be headingsouth again as for so long it felt as though I was going back on myself as Itravelled up through Laos back towards China. From now on, it’s straight to Singapore where I will board a flight toPerth, Australia, not that I had booked that flight yet or decided when thatmay be!

The bus journey was predictably uncomfortable as the VIPsleeper bus turned out to be just a normal coach. I stared enviously at other buses that passby with huge reclining seats and wondered when it would be my turn to get acomfortable trip. This bus, however,didn’t break down… until we were on the outskirts of Bangkok. The sun was just peaking above groundspreading a red glow over the cityscape. The bus stopped on the side of the road, however, we didn’t get off thebus for another hour, we didn’t know what was happening but everyone just tookthe time to sleep for a further hour. Some people were getting agitated as we were so close and yet so faraway. Some gave up waiting and flaggeddown taxis. I waited for some more timeuntil another bus turned up which was going to take us the rest of the way. This bus was one of those that I desiredmost. A comfortable, big chaired bus andI enjoyed it, despite it was only an hour as we weaved our way through themorning traffic.

I found a guesthouse near the infamous Khao San Road with anextremely simple room that comprised a single bed and a fan. No more was required. I dumped my bag, had a shower, a littlebreakfast and headed out for the whistle stop tour of Bangkok. I made my mind up that I was only going tospend one night here and to move on to Kanchanaburi the next day.

Throne rooms

I had no idea where I was going. I briefly looked at the Lonely Planet guideand decided to head to the Palace via a short river cruise. My god was it hot and humid in Bangkok. I arrived at the magnificent Grand Palacewith its amazing golden tipped stupas and temples that glimmer strongly in thesun. The massive complex was builtduring the eighteenth century to house the royal residence, throne rooms,government offices and home to the Emerald Buddha. The present use of the Grand Palace haschanged somewhat during the twentieth century as the abolition of absolutemonarch gave the government more powers and thus moved out of the complex toseparate themselves from royalty. Theroyal residence also relocated to a palace across the river where King Rama VIIcurrently resides. They now use thepalace for ceremonial purposes only.

I roamed around the Palace for an hour or so in my longbaggy trousers that I had to hire in order to enter in respectable attire. At each entrance there were ladies handingout bottles of water to visitors as it was terribly hot, especially withtrousers on. The decoration on thetemples was astonishingly intricate and beautiful. Shinning glass reflected coloured beams ofsunlight off in many directions and gold stupas rose high into the sky. I was unfortunate, yet fortunate not to beable to see the Emerald Buddha as there was some sort of religious ceremonygoing on which filled the hall containing it. I stood there and watched the proceedingsgoing on, beautiful sounding prayers filled the hall and were played onloudspeakers outside. Even though I amnot religious, there is a magical enchantment to religious ceremonies, the harmonicsound of singing, the passion and sincerity that envelops the speaker’s voiceas they preach their religious beliefs. It really is one hell of a theatrical performance, although to have asmuch audience participation in the theatre would be a dream.

I wandered further round the palace grounds and visited thethrone rooms where I got reprimanded by the guard for taking a sneakyphoto. I did feel slightly bad, althoughthe only reason you can’t take non-flash photos is because they want to sellyou a nice little book containing all the photos you could take yourself. It was the end of a long and very hot day,the Palace was closing up which prodded me to leave for my next destination,the Sala Chalermkrung Theatre. I left thesafe confines of the Grand Palace and thrust myself through the swarm oftaxi/tuk tuk drivers that littered the pavements outside the mainentrance. Although I kind of wished Idid take them up on the offer as the heat was stifling and I had quite a walkto the theatre.

Mahouts and their Elephants, Pai, Thailand - 16-18 May 2011

2012-01-03T14:15:00.001Z

It's quiet and I'm all alone sitting in the restaurant ofthe guesthouse enjoying scrambled eggs on toast and a wonderful banana shakewhilst waiting for my bus to Pai. I'mfeeling like third of a man as I look to my left and to my right noticing thatno Alex Ferguson praising Mancunians are sitting next to me. A shiver runs up and down my spine and smalluncertain bubble pops in my stomach as my mind naturally wonders whether I willmeet anyone else along my trip. It is,of course, a stupid uncertainty as it is highly likely that I will meet morefantastic people along my path.

A man rushed into the restaurant area with a clipboard andgreeted the girl behind reception. Thegirl had always been very kind and approachable to me. She lent me a free towel the previous nightand gave me a nice double room for a cut price. I was beaconed over and introduced to the man whom was going to take meto my bus. I gently shook the girlshand, thanked her, said farewell and walked down the driveway to the pickuptruck.

My wonderful bamboo hut

Choosing the right spot to sit on a minibus is vital,however, when you are last to board you have no choice and unfortunately youtend to get the worst seat. This time, Iwas the last to board and yet I found an excellent spot at the back of the busall to myself. However, as the bus wastravelling around the winding hills and sometimes bumpy road up the mountain toPai I suddenly realised my bum had probably spent most of its time about twoinches above the seat. There was noresting available as I sat over the wheel and every bump was exaggerated and Iwould fly up into the air ever few seconds. I'm not usually travel sick but the journey up to Pai certainly triedits hardest to churn my stomach. Despite the uncomfortable nature of this journey it was quitehumorous.

Pai's street market

We reached Pai a few hours later and were dropped off in thecentre of the town. My first impressionsof Pai were that it was certainly built to accommodate tourists as there weretourist shops selling tours of all sorts everywhere. My main reason for coming up to Pai was tomeet and ride some Elephants. Alan, whomI had met in Saigon and travelled with into Cambodia, suggested that I stayedin some huts across from the river and gave me a name of where he stayed. I headed through to the extremity of the townand crossed a rickety bamboo bridge connected the other side of the river andthese huts. I followed the signs,however, there was absolutely nobody around, everything was closed up so I had nochoice but to turn around and find alternative accommodation. On the same side of the river were two moresets of huts and I greeted a man and asked him about his. We agreed on a price and he showed me to mybamboo hut, fully equipped with ensuite hose, toilet and wifi. I found it strange to be in a bamboo hut,practically in the middle of nowhere and be able to connect to the internet onmy netbook. The weather wasunfortunately dismal and the rain had set in with no sign of stopping. I opened the hatch to my hut for a while andrelaxed watching the rain drench the lush surroundings for an hour or two. The river that separates me with the rest ofPai runs besides me and I can just hear the trickle of the water quickening inpace as the rain continues to fall.

My plans for Pai were simply to relax and ride anelephant. I was now sitting in thepassenger seat of a car being driven by a Burmese refugee who was in Thailandto earn a little money for his family who were all in the refugee camp at theborder. He was anxiously awaiting news fromthe American Embassy that their asylum sponsorship had been granted so he couldtake is his family to a brand new life.

Harder than you think...

I soon found myself clambering up an elephant leg, beingassisted by the Mahouts that were going to provide my training. I never really thought about it, but as soonas reached the elephant's summit, it dawned on me how tall these magnificentanimals are. There were three elephantshere, all of which have been in the family since they were born and wereactually older than the female owner who had inherited them from her father whohas long since passed away. Unfortunately,these may be the last three elephants as they are all female and no feasiblemales to mate with nearby.

My Elephant, Mahout and me

Whilst I was back in the office in Pai, the lady gave me alittle notebook and made me write down several useful instructions that theelephant will understand. These wordswould direct the elephant to ‘go’, ‘stop’, ‘left’, ‘right’ and ‘spray!’. As the rope keeping the elephant fromescaping was released, I had to put what I had remembered into practice. I had a stubborn elephant that didn't reallywant to listen to any of my instructions. Luckily I had four experienced mahouts surrounding me and my elephant aswe slowly made our way up a path to the rear of the property where I practicesgetting on and off the elephant. TheMahouts make it look extremely easy, I suppose practise makes it easieralthough going to work out on my upper body strength would also help! You can climb up upon the elephant in a fewways, one by using the elephant’s leg and ear to pull yourself up, and myfavourite is by using the trunk and getting virtually launched on top.


Not sure if this was someone's back garden...

With the first part of my training complete, my Mahouttrainer, my elephant and I headed out onto the road to begin my hour long ridethrough the surrounding countryside. Theelephant picked up a branch and continuously swung it, slapping my legs everynow and again. I was concerned that itwas because she hated me but the mahout told me in extremely fragile Englishthat she was beating off the massive mosquitos that kept trying to feast on herblood. As the journey went on I becamemore and more concerned for my safety. Iprecariously balance on the elephant’s neck as we start going up and downslopes. I haven’t felt this scared sinceHanoi where I rode that motorcycle for the first time. I always thought that elephants were smoothto touch, but they are actually covered with coarse hair just like a wire brushand after a while you skin on your legs become thoroughly exfoliated.

Soaked...

The journey culminated at the river where I became theobject of entertainment for the Mahout who barked order at me and proceeded tolaugh his head off. I had no idea whathe was asking me to do but the elephant was spurting water into my face andthrowing me off into the river. Back atthe farm I was given the time to relax in the hot bath where I discovered thatI had one massive hole in my swimming shorts from being thrown off into theriver. Despite the fear of falling off,it was an excellent experience which, in retrospection, I thoroughly enjoyed it. The day ended with a walk to the nearby riverwhere the elephants were allowed to roam freely and graze on the grassy banksas we sat watching them from afar.

The farm...

It wasn’t until after I bought my bus ticket to Bangkok didI notice that my only other pair of short also had a massive hole in thecrotch. It was time to do a repair jobon them! I’m glad that I wasn’t going commandoas the girl selling my ticket may have got a sight she wouldn’t forget. My short time in Pai, was over. Unfortunately I had to shoot south as you only get a two week visa in Thailand if you cross the border, so I needed to head across the border into Burma to get another two weeks but first I had several other destinations to visit first. Pai is a wonderful relaxing place with fresh air and plenty of outdoor activities to keep the most active person going. I would definitely recommend this place to anyone.

Tigers, Guns and Chiang Mai, Thailand - 12-16 May 2011

2011-12-27T14:20:00.000Z


Band photo

The Tiger, the Big Cats. It's not often that you are able to see a Tiger and even rarer to beable meet one and stroke one. The tigersare now unfortunately endangered and not many remain in the wild due to thespread of humans, hunting etc. Many aretotally against keeping these magnificent creatures in captivity and I agreewith them to a certain extent, however, places like Tiger Kingdom who arecompletely dedicated to raising and maintaining the tiger's health is not aconcern for me. I heard plenty ofrumours before arriving at the Kingdom that the animals were drugged so theyremained docile. I do not believe thisto be the case and I am firmly of the opinion that these animals were welllooked after by their keepers.

Getting up close and personal with a tiger is a greatexperience, although they are welcoming and not bothered by you patting andstoking them, you know that if they did suddenly have enough, they could turnaround and tear you hand off with a swift snap of their jaw. There are certain rules that you must followwhen your within the tiger's compound and should you not follow these, you maybe dinner!

Seeing the fully grown adult tigers playing with the keepersin one of the pens was amazing as they acted like their smaller felinecounterparts in every way. Chasingstring, trying to claw things out of the air with their massive paws andjumping into the pool although with a much much larger splash. Tom paid the extra money to go in with thebaby tigers, I wish I did this too but I was being extremely tight on mybudget. If you do find yourself here,definitely go in with the babies and the big cats. Just seeing them play around was astonishingand extremely, I hate to use this word, cute.

We finished off the day with a few beers whilst watching ManUtd unfortunately win the Premier League which made my Mancunian travelcompanions extremely happy. We were theonly people in this sports bar and the owner invited us to eat with them asthey were celebrating someone's birthday. They had cooked up lots of little dishes and meat on the barbecue. Although we had already bought a meal fromthem, it was very welcome to have some more food. Things always taste better when they're freeand given to you by generous locals.

Back in Ho Chi Minh City, we had wanted to 'blow some shit up', to putit frankly but hadn't managed to as it was actually more expensive than what wehad imagined. The same went withCambodia, although after visiting the Killing Fields, picking up a gun is notexactly the first thing you want to do. As this was our last day together we had planned to head to a localmuseum, however this was closed, so we continued on our contingency plan andmade our way to the shooting range where Nicky and I grabbed a couple of gunsand shot at some targets for a while. Unfortunately time goes far too quickly and so did the bullets. I was actually quite surprised with myaccuracy and managed to get most of the shots on target.

It was our last night together. I had originally met Tom and Nicky way backin Saigon, early April and had travelled with them, bar a couple of side tripsthrough Cambodia, Laos and into Thailand. We had had fun, experienced anger and frustration and had many many laughsand it will be strange not to have them around anymore. They had to catch their flight to Darwin fromSingapore on 28 May and thus did not have long to get down there. I, on the other hand hadn't made any firmtravel arrangements just yet so could continue ambling along leisurely. People ask, what's it like to travelalone? Don't you get lonely? The answer is simple, you're never alone forlong. You meet people everywhere,sometimes the strangest places and stay with them for a while. Up until now, I have only been truly alonefor no longer than one consecutive week.

As a celebration of our last night, we headed back the TigerKingdom in Town and splashed out on some nice food and enjoyed the bands thatwere playing, especially the drunk Thai man who was very exuberant with hisdancing whilst singing. A great lastnight to part ways.

The following day, we hung out for a while the next daywaiting for Tom and Nicky's bus which turned up a little late and followingsome handshakes and manly hugs, I was suddenly alone, the first time in twomonths. My feelings were mixed as Iwould have loved to have travelled on with them but just I wanted to head upNorth to Pai before heading South towards Bangkok. I stayed one last night in the RoyalGuesthouse as my bus up to Pai was leaving the next day.

Our last meal


Our last ride

Luang Probang to Chiang Mai, Thailand. 12-16 May

2011-12-24T07:01:00.002Z

Tom at beginning

The bus journey was in fact a small nightmare, sleep was near impossible as the padding onmy seat is all but disappeared and the metal bar rubbed hard against my buttbones. The windows were far too highmeaning you couldn't just stare out of the window at the countryside passingby. You could see the stars up in thesky, which was amazing but they get pretty boring after a couple of hours asthey don't change. My MP3 player wasrunning low on battery power and my backup battery charger was safely stowed inmy bag underneath. I feared many hoursof uncomfortable, sleepless and boring night's drive ahead. The bus weaved around the narrow roads inthrough the hills in North Western Laos and I was probably thankful not to seewhere we were driving.

Tom getting comfortable with the locals

We stopped after a couple of hours and I was able toretrieve my battery charger from my bag. Brilliant, I had entertainment for the following god knows how manyhours this trip is going to take. Intermittent stops allowed us to stretch our legs, relieve our bladdersand get a glimpse of what the outside world looked like. The bus felt more like a cattle transporterthan a vehicle to transport humans. Acouple of hours towards the end of our trip and as the sun began rising abovethe hills, I managed to secure a couple of seats at the back of the bus whichwere a little more comfortable, although as I looked down towards my feet, anempty Coke can had attracted a swarm of ants. I simply accepted it and proceeded to try and sleep for a while.

Next thing I remember was being woken up as our bus pulledoff the road and onto a rough piece of ground that acted as a parking lot forthe bus station. We were in Hua Xai, thefrontier of Laos and Thailand where we cross into a land that is the onlycountry in South East Asia never to be colonised by a European power. We had secured a space on a sangthaew thattook us into the centre of town and to the border crossing. An odd affair to say the least. The border checkpoint was a tiny office onthe river edge and looking over the river you could see Thailand in all itsglory. It wasn't long until we hadreceived our exit stamp from Laos and were herded onto a long boat for our oneminute ride to the other side.

We landed on the river bank on the other side and followedthe crowd to the checkpoint which you could have easily avoided if you wantedto. There was no order, no line, justfill in your arrival card and shove your passport through the hole to get itstamped. With the stamps officiallywelcoming us into Thailand we found a car that would take us to where we wantedto go, a bus to Chiang Mai. I felt anurge of relief as Thailand's roads were in much better repair than theirneighbours and, maybe more importantly, they drive on the correct side of theroad, the left side. The driver droppedus off at a bus office where we booked our tickets onto the next bus leavingfor Chiang Mai. We had to wait a coupleof hours but we kept ourselves busy by visiting the 7Eleven across the road tobuy some tasty snacks and played Uno until the bus arrived.

I was really looking forward to getting on our first busride in Thailand as I had heard travel here was far easier and morecomfortable. I had grown tired of theconstant breakdowns, delays and uncomfortable squashed journeys of the last fewcountries I had travelled. It was timefor some relaxation and comforting. Thishowever, was not the way things were going to work just yet as the bus hadthree seats to the right and two to the left, which would be fine if theyweren't Asian size seats. Nicky, Tom andI were allocated three seats on the right hand side of the bus, I was on theaisle seat and could only fit one butt cheek on. Not good! I was looking forward to having a few hours sleep before we arrived inChiang Mai instead I spent the next couple of hours moving from empty seat toempty seat but kept being told to move back to my assigned seat as morepassengers kept getting on. The ticketman, finally came to me an hour before our final destination and told me that Icould now go to the back of the bus where there were two empty seats where Icould spend the rest of the journey. Ididn't get any sleep though as I had met a group of students who were on their wayback to University following some time at home and talked with them for sometime about their studies and my trip.

It wasn't long until the bus pulled into the bus station inChiang Mai and we stepped off the bus, I said farewell to my new Thai friendsand negotiated a price for a sangthaew to the Royal Guesthouse which a westerngirl at the bus station had suggested we stay at. I'm glad she did get us to stay at thiswonderful little guesthouse as the staff were immensely accommodating and theroom was comfortable. Tom wasn't feelingtoo well once we arrived and decided to stay behind to watch a few episodes of'An Idiot Abroad' whilst Nicky and I went on a hunt for something to eat. We ended up in a restaurant just the otherside of the river called Tiger Kingdom in town which offered a variety ofdishes accompanied by live music which is always a bonus. We sat there enjoying the music for a whileand savouring our fruit shake before heading back to the hotel to get some wellneeded sleep before going to visit the Tigers the following day.

Luang Probang, Laos - 9-11 May 2011

2011-12-17T04:06:00.000Z

I feel under my seatfor the lever to recline my chair. Bingo! The chair back reclinesand I breathe deeply whilst staring contently outside the windowremembering the great times that Vang Vieng delivered. A few days ofrelaxation, beer, kayaking, beer, trekking, beer, caving, beer andthrowing ourselves into the river a number of different ways. Thisbus is only half full and is really quite pleasant as we have twoseats each and have wonderful air conditioning blowing strongly. We're off to Luang Probang, our last destination in Laos beforeheading over to Thailand.

The bus journey wasgoing extremely well, we stopped once for something to eat and drinkafter an hour or so on the road. As soon as we got back on the road,I slipped into a sleep only to be woken up again later by the busstopping and people began getting off. I was disorientated for awhile and thought, why are we stopping again so soon. Tom said tome, “We've got to get off, the bus is broken down.”. I seriouslythought he was taking the piss as the last few journeys have resultedin many breakdowns. I laughed it off and followed them off the bus,across the road into a small roadside café. By the way people wereacting I suddenly realised he was in fact telling me the truth. Questions were beginning to be asked, “What's happened? Why are webroken down?” The driver informed us that due to the steepgradients, the bus wasn't able to climb them with the airconditioning on. Tom fired out a simple solution of “Well, whydon't you turn the air conditioning off?”. The driver dismissedthis and said that he did not know how to and if it was possible. Ridiculous.

No matter, a big buswas hailed down and we squeezed onto there, thankfully they hadenough seats for all of us. I believe they concocted this storyabout breaking down as they didn't want to take a half full bus toLuang Probang. It really didn't bother me though as it's Laos,there's nothing to worry about in Laos. This new bus, althoughair-conditioned and comfortable enough, was a rougher ride as we saton the top deck well above the road. Underneath us was the driverand the storage room for luggage. The twists and turns through themountains had us continually swaying from side to side and hangingon. The views, however, were breathtaking.

Finally we arrived inLuang Probang early evening and headed to the Spicy Laos hostel. Astoday is my birthday, strange to have a birthday and spending most ofit on a bus, we headed out for a meal and a few drinks. LuangProbang's famous night market was in full swing by the time we gotdown town on our way to find a restaurant. What a fantastic littlemarket it is too, it takes you around 10 minutes to get throughwalking at a steady pace and dodging hanging objects.

Tom disappearedfollowing our meal for a while only to return with a present for myfrom them. It was an 'In the tubing, Vang Vieng' t-shirt. Brilliantly ironic. I had been commenting on how I wouldn't get oneof these because everyone seems to pick one up on their way throughLaos but now I had one and I was determined to wear it. We headedback to the hostel, changed into my new t-shirt and then headed tothe bowling alley, which is a popular hangout for travellers as it'sone of the only places open and selling drink until late.

The following morning Iwake following one of the worst night's sleep I have had sinceembarking on my trip. The dorm room was a sweat room. The two fansthat rotated on the ceiling did not even touch us. A layer of thicksweat enveloped my entire body and my thoughts went back to Mongoliain an effort to cool down. A well needed shower was required,carried out and I headed downstairs for some breakfast.


Night Market, Luang Probang

Nicky was already downthere, sitting outside on one of the stone stools taking with anotherguy. I walked up to them and introduced myself to the new personsitting at the table. “How are you? I'm Andy.”. “I'm Mike,nice to....” He paused and inquisitively stared into my eyes. Itdidn't bother me as I was doing the same thing as my brain wasprocessing memories from long ago into the forefront of my mind. “Iknow you!” Mike said. “And I know you!” I returned confirmingour previous acquaintance. It was Mike Curtis, a guy that I had beenat school with for many years, although he was in the year above us,we used to hang out. I had not seen him in many many years, notsince we left school. What a small world it certainly is. I'm theother side of the world in Laos and I meet an old friend.

Following the MeetingMike, we headed back to the swimming pool we had found the previousday for a nice refreshing swim. As it had rained, the road leadingtowards the swimming pool was muddy and my flip flops werecontinuously getting stuck in the mud. We got there though, finallygetting to a swimming pool, something that I had wanted to jump infor a very long time and I was not disappointed. Jumping into thecool water of the pool and floating around was a magnificent reliefand as they say, good things come to those that wait! It wasn'tfantastic catching up with Mike and finding out that he was now astand up comedian, something I definitely would not have picturedmany years ago.

Luang Probang is a verybeautiful city in the North West of Laos and kind of reminds me alittle like Hoi An in Vietnam. It's relaxed, plenty of restaurants,night market full of wonderful things and food markets with all kindsof delicious food to choose from. It's a shame that we're leaving sosoon but Nicky and Tom had to get a move on as their flight fromSingapore to Darwin was rapidly approaching and we thought it wasjust time to move on and into Thailand, a land full of promise andpunctuality. So we had our final meal in Luang Probang with Mike andgrabbed a bus to Hua Xia, the border town between the two countries. There is an option to take a boat up the Mekong to the bordercrossing, but we weighed up our options, deliberated over cost andtime factors and came to the conclusion that we would just hop on thenight bus. We finished our meal and headed briskly back to thehostel and as soon as we got there the sangthaew was already there topick us up... early!

Party in Amazing Vang Vieng, Laos - 5-9 May 2011

2011-12-10T05:47:00.001Z

Again, we're in a rushand finding it hard to pay up our bill and leave the guesthouse asthe lady really didn't care too much about getting money from us. Seriously, I wonder whether they actually want money from us or theyjust like to have us around! We managed to pay up and ran across theroad with our bags just as a bus came hurtling towards us. Our handsall sprung up in an exaggerated manner pleading the bus driver tostop and pick us up. The driver slammed his brakes on and the buscame to a stop a couple hundred metres up the road. We ran up andwere greeted by the assistant who grabbed our bags and put themunderneath, took our money and we went to find a seat only to beconfronted by another fantastic site. A motorcycle in the isle atthe back. I mean, how did they get it on the bus?

The trip around thewinding roads back towards the main highway that runs North-Souththrough Laos was exhilarating and really required strong hands tohold onto the seat in front or you'd end up lying in the isle. A fewtimes my arse came away from the seat as I plummeted towards the seatif front because the driver had to slam the brakes on to avoid anoncoming car on our side of the road, albeit the wrong side of theroad.

The bus journey toVientiane was uneventful and we got there as expected around 5 hourslater. We were still questioning whether to stay in the country'scapital city or not as we hadn't heard much about it and peopleadvised us to skip it and spend longer in another place instead. Wegot to the bus station and were not impressed by being back in a bigcity after a few weeks exploring the small towns of Southern Laos andNorthern Cambodia. We were also dismayed by the barrage of toutsthat tried to get us in their tuk tuks. Something we had previouslyloved Laos for not having but with every city you get this and haveto expect it. Our first port of call was to have something to eatand then decide what we were going to do.

The tuk tuk weavedthrough the metropolitan traffic that lined the streets as we headedto the bus station the opposite side of the town to get a bus on toVang Vieng. Yes, we had decided to skip this city and head furtherNorth to the paradise that is Vang Vieng, a place that I had heard somuch about from fellow travellers. As we arrived at the bus station,we found the bus that was due to leave for Vang Vieng in the nexthour which should take only 3-4 hours to get to VangVieng.

From our Hotel

Needless to say thejourney was ever so slightly longer than that by another 2-3 hourstaking us around 6 hours to travel the road to Vang Vieng. Nicky hadattracted a rather interesting local who sat next to him and keptstealing one earphone from his ears to listen to his music. Personalspace was not his strong point as there were a number of otherforeigners on the bus, one of which was sitting in front of him andhe decided that it would be a good idea to keep hitting him on thearm and laughing. This guy spoke very good English but I think hemust have had some developmental disorder. His attitude made thejourney a lot longer and harder to deal with. of course we had tostop along the way and pack the isle with dozens of boxes full ofbleach. Nicky, Tom and I just spent the time playing a word gamewhich must have been hilarious to listen to as an outsider.

When we finally arrivedon a bit of waste land in Vang Vieng, we were extremely relieved andwent on the hunt for a place to stay. It was dark by this point andthe partying in the town had already begun as we walked past thebucket bars that sold buckets of alcohol for a minimal price. Wefound a place to stay and negotiated a price for a triple room withfans and settled in for a night of relaxation watching severalepisodes of How I Met Your Mother before exploring what the place hadto offer the following day.

Vang Vieng, an adult playroom... Drinks and Sings!

Vang Vieng hascertainly experienced a massive influx of tourism in recent years,especially with younger travellers who are ready for a party as thisis the party capital of Laos which generally doesn't have nightlife. I have heard people talk about this place ever since I entered SouthEast Asia and something called Tubing. I was excited to finallyexperience this place and it did not disappoint. As Tom wasn'tfeeling all that well, Nicky and I headed up stream in a tuk-tuk towhere there were a congregation of several riverside bars offeringfree shots and selling other beer and spirits to the literally crazytourists there. With the bars are slides and zip lines going intothe river from crazy heights. Only a few weeks previously there hadbeen a tourist die here as he plummeted into shallow waters andlanded on the rocky river bed causing sections to be blocked off. Safety is not of great concern here, only having fun and enjoying theLaos countryside with a drink or too. Nicky and I drank up our freedrinks that entice people into the bars to buy more and used the zipline in the first bar a couple of times. I'm not going to lie toyou, I was a little scared as the bamboo ladder and platform tiedtogether rather precariously swayed as you climbed up. Grabbing onhard to the bar and pushing yourself off the edge for the plunge intothe cool waters of the river is quite an experience. We finished upthere and swam further down the river to the next bars. Many peoplehire tubes, tractor inner-tubes, to float down the river, but you canswim too. As you swim you become truly aware of how shallow thewater can be when your knees suddenly crash against rock and you canstand up with only your knees in water.

Our last bar for theday was relatively quiet and had mud volleyball which was incrediblyfunny and a slide. We finished off chatting and drinking with someother travellers until the night came with a small thunder storm. One of the guys that worked at the bar took the group of us backacross the river as he had a torch and there were absolutely nolights. The bamboo bridge swayed and I became constantly aware ofholes in the bridge that plummeted into the dark fast moving riverbelow. On the other side of the bridge was a dark field filled withbrambles on the ground and as we had no footwear, it wasintermittently painful!

Nicky climbing down from the cave exit

The following day wehad booked on a Kayaking trip up the river with a small trek throughthe jungle to visit a few caves. Unfortunately Tom was still feelingunwell so couldn't come along. Nicky and I climbed aboard thesangthaew with the kayaks on the roof and we headed upstream forabout twenty minutes before pulling off the road to our startingpositions. The guide and driver pulled the kayaks off the roof andwe helped them carry them down to the water edge. Our valuables gotput into a waterproof bag and we were given a two litre bottle ofdrinking water. I know I keep talking about it but the landscapearound here is absolutely stunning and being on the quiet river inthe middle of mountains and jungle was wonderful and an experience Ididn't want to end.

After kayaking for awhile, we moored on a small opening on the shore where the guidehelped us get the kayaks out of the river. He then brought out aplastic bag with food and hung it on a tree before leading us intothe jungle for our first cave. OK, so my experience in the KonglorCave didn't teach me a lesson in appropriate footwear as I was againin flip flops. Our guide too was in flip flops but obviously being aprofessional didn't seem to have the same issues that I was havingslipping all over the place, tripping on rocks and loosing them everynow and again between crevasses.

An opening amongst the trees

The humidity in thejungle was immense and I was no longer dripping sweat, I wasliterally pouring. The climb would have certainly be a lot easierwith good boots on. I wouldn't have to worry too much about theinsects that roam the tracks either. We reached the cave and thehuge opening the led deep into the cave was precariously slippery. Despite taking utmost care Nicky and I both had our legs sweep outfrom under us which sent us plummeting only to be caught by theguide.

Now with a muddybackside, we continue to go deeper into the cave and the guide handedus torches as the sunlight ceased to shine. We had to wade throughthe ice cold water that had collected in the cave. During wet seasonthis cave is apparently filled with water and impassable unless youcan swim for a long while in cold, dark water. We climbed through tothe other side, being careful of spiders that linger in the cracks ofrocks and once again found sunlight again.

Our guide taking us through the party zone!

Following a fantasticmeal cooked by our guide eaten off a palm leaf and a laze in theriver, we were back rowing down stream towards Vang Vieng stoppingat an organic farm for a brief tour and a cup of tea on the way. Westreamed through the party section and laughed and jested with thepeople swimming and floating in the river. Our last stop for the daywas another cave which was a far more adventurous expedition. Havingto balance along a wall, jump into a six foot ditch which would againbe filled with water d it it were wet season and squeeze through gapsthat no western man should be able to do. This cave however wasamazing as the quartz in the rocks glittered when the torch light hitit. Unfortunately there are no photos of this as it was,predictably, dark inside and my camera does not 'do' dark.

The cave entrance!

We squeezed andcontorted our bodies through the other side of the cave where we hadto trek back through thick undergrowth to the bar where we had mooredup. At the bar, Nicky and I had began talking with a couple of girlswho were enjoying one of the quieter bars on the river with a drink. They were also on a Kayaking trip and we cracked open a couple ofbeers and sat there talking for a while. Unbelievably upon furtherquestioning, these girls turned out to be from Norwich and were onthere summer holidays before heading back to the UK and touniversity. It's always strange when you meet someone from your hometown when your from a relatively small city like Norwich as there'salways a chance that you will know them and a huge chance that youhave mutual friends.

Peaceful river

The girls, Nicky and Idecided that it would be nice to join forces on our last stint downstream to our final point back in Vang Vieng's bustling hub where allthe bars play Family Guy or Friends from dawn till late. Half waydown the river however, the guides had grown tired as the girls hadobviously drunk a little too much and their coordination provedproblematic with gaining any sort of meaningful race, so they stoppedus and asked Nicky and one girl to swap kayaks. The race begun and Iwas the lucky one as my girl wasn't as impaired as Nicky's so weeasily won our short races. My joy at our success was soonovershadowed as the girl sitting in the front of my kayak twisted andwriggled a bit too far forcing our kayak to capsize and sending usand all of my and Nicky's processions into the river. I surfacedfrom the thankfully shallow waters, regained my perspective andquickly gather as many of our things as possible before they headedoff downstream. Thankfully we had put the majority of our thingsinto a waterproof bag so the only thing that was lost were Nicky's'genuiiine' Ray Ban sun glasses he purchased from a very honestsalesperson in Siem Reap for a couple dollars, bargain! We climbedback in and were soon at the end of our trip. A fantastic kayak tripthrough the absolutely awesome surroundings of Vang Vieng that Inever wanted to end.

Admiration of the view

Our third day was spentback down at the bars doing the 'tubing' thing (without a tube). Mysecond time on the zip line brought with it a colonic irrigation as Ilanded painfully arse first. Tom landed on his chest windinghimself. At the next bar I went on the slide and landed face firstand I felt as though I may have broken my nose. With these painfulmoments in mind, I called it a day on the swings, slides and ziplines that plunge from the bars into the water. This wasunfortunately our last day in the magnificent Vang Vieng. A placewith such natural beauty and an extremely fun place to be. AlthoughI love the place, I am concerned for Laos as I do not want it to endup like surrounding Thailand and Vietnam where the natural beautiesand people become ruined by tourism and PUTs (Pissed up Twats, a termyou'll here more from me soon!).

A Journey under the Earth, Konglor Cave, Ba Na Hin, Laos - 2-4 May 2011

2011-12-03T18:03:00.001Z

With sweat drippingdown my back, I look down into the ditch out the back of theguesthouse with complete disappointment. According to the LonelyPlanet this ditch should, in fact, be a wonderful refreshing swimmingpool. OK, so obviously they worked a little too hard on digging thehole, they had to take a breather for a couple of years beforefinishing it off. What else does this place have to offer, TV? Yes,but no channels which isn't good as Tom and Nicky want to watch theMan Utd match. Air con? No just fans, which isn't too much of anissue but still a negative point. They did however, have beds andshowers. We were torn whether to stay or not. We had walked a fairway out of the central part of the small town of Ba Na Hin to findthis oasis but in the end we decided not to stay and find somewherecloser to town. We did have to wait whilst Tom finished his showerthough and we left extremely swiftly.

We did find a nice roomin a hotel closer to the centre with a double bed, a single bed, a TVand wonderful air conditioning. It was a fairly new hotel as many ofthe accommodation in Ba Na Hin is as it begins to experience thetourist boom with travellers using the town as a base camp for theKonglor Cave. Finally, we had arrived at our destination albeit oneday late. The night spent in Vieng Kham, I should say the few hourswe spent there consisted of a cramp nights sleep trying not to fallof the bed that all three of us shared and finally getting the busstraight to Ba Na Hin in the morning.

Beautiful scenery

The names of placeshere are extremely confusing as they have two or three names for thesame place so with that and the long bus journey, I never really knewwhere we were! Ba Na Hin is around 50km away from the Konglor Caveand our plan was to either hire out motorcycles or take a Sangthaewbut for now, all we wanted to do is get something to eat, drink andrelax. The town of Ba Na Hin has 3,000 people living in and aroundit, many of them a foreigners involved in building a damn. As thenight falls over the town, darkness spreads as street lights areminimal if not absent. Torches are a very good idea for a walk intothe central part of the village as pot holes and ditches line theroad. It's very quiet here and you only see a handful of peoplewondering around.

On our walk into townaccompanied by the hotel's dog who liked to follow us wherever wewent, we dropped into the tourist information chalet which was run bya eccentric 30 year old Laos guy who was full of enthusiasm for hissurrounding countryside. We ended up organising motorcycles for ourtrip to the caves the following day. He also told us about the busonwards to Vientiane.

We picked up ourmotorcycles early the following day and our 50km trip to the KonglorCaves had begun, albeit on the road on the wrong side of the road forseveral hundred metres. That reminded me when my friends and I hireda car in Corfu and we pulled out onto the main road between Kavos andCorfu Town only to be confronted by a lorry coming at us on our sideof the road. I thought why is he on the wrong side of the..... ohno... I'm on the wrong side of the road!!! It's alright though as Ithink this is the last country that drives on the wrong side of theroad.

The journey to the cavewas absolutely stunning. Travelling through the green fields, hillsand little villages where locals stopped you with a rope across theroad to offer you a drink for a small donation. They were absolutelyfantastic and generous people who didn't speak English but were fullof smiles and laughter. The shot that I drank was extremely potentand I was concerned that it was pure gasoline and my vision woulddisappear whilst negotiating pot holes on the dusty road.

It took us around anhour to travel the 50km to the cave and we arrived at the entrance tothe park where we had to stop at the barrier to pay the entrance feeto the national park area. We parked our bikes up and found the hutwhere all the guides were hanging out, drinking, talking and smoking. We negotiated a price for a boat trip through the cave and werehanded life jackets. The guide got up and led us down to the caveentrance.

Entrance to the Cave

We climbed in the boatand I was struck by the darkness that enveloped inside the cave asthe guide pulled the throttle on the engine and we headed into theunknown. The cave and is actually part of the Hin Phuo river thatruns through 7.5km underground. The Laos lady on the bus from Paksewarned us not to go in there alone as some ignorant tourists have inrecent months and have either died or had to be rescued by thelocals. It is advisable that you wear sturdy waterproof footwear andbring a good torch, neither of which I had. As we travelled deeper intothe cave, the only light that shone was that of the guides as hesearched from side to side, up and down for rock outcrops that stickup through the water. These guides are truly amazing and they reallydo know this cave like the back of their hands.


Our guide dragging the boat through shallow waters

At several points alongthe cave, we had to get out of the boat as the water level was toolow to carry us over the river bed. Our first stop required us toget out and follow a pathway up a stony bank. As I climbed from theboat I had my first experience of how fast the river flows and myflip flop on my left foot got taken for a ride down the river makingme scramble like a mad man to catch it. The pathway through over therock outcrop had been lit with coloured lights and was quitebeautiful until the lights unexpectedly went out. Was this part ofthe tour or were we truly in the midst of a power cut without atorch? There are not very many places where you can experience truedarkness, as there's always light around whether it's the standbylight on the TV or the stars in the sky. It's quite harrowing, yourmind completely awakens and your pupils expand striving to gainorientation of your surroundings. We stood still, nervously laughingand questioning whether the lights would come back on again. My handclenched onto the rope that marked the pathway and a wearily placeone foot in front of the other making slow progress. We had no guidewith us as he was currently in the water dragging the boat over theshallow water.

Thankfully the lightslit up again and our eyes readjusted. A sigh of relief was heardfrom all of us as we continued on the path back down to the otherside of the rock to rejoin our guide and head off again on our tripthrough the middle of the mountain. I'm glad the lights went off asit gave us the experience of being in true darkness and wonder whatit would feel like to be lost in this mammoth cave. The water iscool and the subtle sound of dripping water can be heard from above. At times, the cave opened up into huge chambers which were truly aweinspiring, there are no words to describe the beauty of this naturalwonder that sits in the isolated south of Laos.

Up ahead, the cavelightens gradually and suddenly we're out in the open water speedingthrough the jungle that surrounds the river. My hands quickly searchmy head for sunglasses as my pupils shrink causing slight painfulreadjustment. The boat was slowly grounded on the banks of the riverwhere we got out for a short while for a drink in a Laos tourist trapbefore we headed back through the cave to our starting point.

We finished our tripoff by have a swim in the small lake that accumulates at the entranceto the cave. Wonderfully refreshing swim, however, dark clouds beganforming above our heads and it wasn't long before several load cracksof thunder were heard accompanied by drips of rain. It was time forus to take refuge under the trees whilst a short downpour took hold. Once the rain had stopped we climbed back on our bikes and began ourtrip back to Ba Na Hin. Our stomachs were grumbling so we stopped atthe first restaurant we found and it was good timing as the stormabove awakened yet again and this time heavy rain battered thecountryside.

The restaurant was in asmall guesthouse which was run by a very sweet and accommodatingfamily who welcomed us in with a shake of the hand. Their daughterhad her play area in the corner with toys spread across the floor. She was so happy to see us and kept showing us her toys and drawings. To feel so welcome in somebody's house is a truly fantasticexperience and will be memories that will not be forgotten. We gotback on the road again and sped off along the road back to Ba Na Hinfor an evening of food, fruitshakes and shithead although theintermittent storm kept inducing power outages. The journey fromPakse to here was definitely worth it!

Pakse to Ba Na Hin.... A journey from hell, Laos - 1 May 2011

2011-11-26T04:14:00.001Z

It's four in the morning and Tom, Nicky and I are sitting on a stone table outside a closed shop, tired and irritated by the swarm of mosquitos flying around us waiting for their chance to sink their malaria and dengue fever ridden suckers into our skin to feed on our blood. I was forced to change into my long trousers and a shirt as they began bite. It wasn't supposed to have turned out like this. We should have been comfortable in bed now following a couple of ice cold beers not wondering around the small lifeless town of Ba Na Hin in an effort to find somewhere to sleep for the night.

I thought back to the previous morning in Pakse. We hadn't bought our tickets as the elderly guesthouse owner told us that a bus leaves every hour and not to worry. Our next destination is the Seven Kilometre Konglor cave in Tham Kong Lo however, there is not a direct bus there. The night before last, the owner had sprawled a map out and with his index figure indicated our required route. He informed us that we will need to get on a bus bound for Vientianne and ask to get off at Ba Na Hin where we could catch a connecting bus to Tham Kon Lo. Sounds easy!

We arrived at the bus station just as a bus for Vientianne was about to leave. Our tuk-tuk driver leapt off his seat, grabbed our bags and ushered us towards the ticket counter where he helped us buy bus tickets. Before we knew it, our bags were being hoisted onto the roof of the bus and secured down underneath some tarpaulin with some rope and we were pushed aboard the bus. How's that for Laos efficiency I thought to myself.

Time to wait...

The bus was predictably full and the aisle was nearly full with passengers. My first thought was a memory of that extremely uncomfortable journey between Siem Reap and Banlung the previous week. As soon as they saw us inside the bus, the Lao passengers looked at us and smiled whilst excitedly remarking on the foreigners to the person sitting next to them. Unlike the bus journey in Cambodia, I felt hugely welcomed and smiled back whilst looking for a place to sit in the aisle. As we prepared to perch on some boxes, three people stood up and ordered us to sit down in their seats. I felt truly humbled by their hospitality. The day was going extremely smoothly and as the bus crawled out of the bus station I said to myself "I love Laos".

That's not a good sign....

The lush green hills and the Mekong river that act as a natural border between Laos and Thailand rolled past the window. The sun was beating down rather heavily as the small windows let just enough air in to cool the bus down. We had been travelling for an hour or without hitch until suddenly… BANG, CLATTER-CLATTER-CLATTER… The bus slowed to a stop on the side of the road. People looked around questioning their friends as to what had happened and slowly people stood up and got off the bus.

Out from the back of the bus was a streak of oil stretching back in a straight line for a couple hundred metres. The driver and his assistant crawled underneath the back of the bus. The dangling driveshaft had ripped itself free from a universal joint which lays in pieces on the ground. Quite a serious mechanical failure. Never the less, the driver was under there tinkering away in an effort to fix it. I don't know why he didn't just give up and join his passengers who were all sitting on the verge as it was pretty obvious that it was unrepairable.

The sun was particularly hot as we sat there on the verge whilst the driver and his right hand man tinkered beneath the bus. We had made friends with a Japanese business man who was on a short break from his dealings in Vietnam. After an hour, our throats became too dry and in desperate need of an ice cool refreshing drink so we walked up the road towards a shack that looked as though it was selling drinks. It was indeed a drink selling shack with a wonderful family running it. The family sat around a table eating their lunch. I felt as though we were intruding, however, as soon as we walked in their eyes widened and big smiles spread across their faces. They couldn't speak English and didn’t need to as they jumped up to greet us, shake our hands and began to laugh and joke with us. It's highly likely that they don't see many foreigners cross their path in such a remote location. Unfortunately the drinks weren't exactly ice cold but what more could you expect from a roadside shack in the middle of nowhere. We said our goodbyes to the family and thanked them for the drinks and made our way back swiftly to the bus where the driver and his assistant had finally pulled themselves from underneath the bus.

Transferring goods

Two hours had nearly passed by when another bus arrived and pulled up in front of ours. The bus driver climbed out and had some hushed words with ours whilst inspecting the damaged engine. Suddenly, the men climbed upon the roof and began taking bags down and transferring them onto the other bus. Suddenly the other bus sprung into life and we thought it was driving off with our bags on the roof but instead of moving forward it reversed back and pulled up very closely besides our stranded bus where there was one motorcycle left on the roof. Four men hopped aboard the roofs of the busses and began moving the bike carefully across the gap onto the roof of the new bus. A sight which was interesting indeed.


A squeeze, but look at all those smiles!

We looked inside the working bus and were greeted by an overloaded bus full of passengers smiles. To this day, I have absolutely no idea how we did it but we managed to squeeze two bus loads of people on board one bus. If this happened in Cambodia or Vietnam, I would have been angry but because the Laos people are so friendly and genuine, I really didn't care and enjoyed the bilingual banter between our fellow passengers. As we stood in the middle of the isle whilst things were being sorted out, a lady pinched our bums and laughed. We were again presented with Laos' excellent hospitality when two men gave their seats up for us, although it was a tight squeeze, two seats for three people! The bus sprung into life and we were off again. I do look back and wonder what happened to the stranded bus and its driver and assistant. Are they still there? Did they miraculously fix the bus somehow?

We travelled for what must have been an hour until we pulled into the compound of a small warehouse where we were all asked to get off. What happened next was beyond belief, they proceeded to load the bus with eighty big sacks of rice. Two sacks to each footwell and hell knows how many in the aisle. I couldn't believe how much one bus could hold. After waiting for nearly another hour in the scorching sun unable to sit down as there were far too many ants and flies around, we were finally allowed to crawl back on the bus and over the sacks of rice to find our seats again. Even though we had been on the road for nearly 5 hours, we hadn't made much progress whatsoever.

Getting bored now....

The hours passed by and it was now late afternoon and we had just pulled into the bus station in Savanakhet, only half way to Ba Na Hin. Here we stopped for a further hour, where most people on the bus got off. Gave us some time to have an ice cream and stock up on some more drink an defeat the urge to abandon ship and get the next bus into Thailand which was leaving in just a few minutes. Despite the temptation, we climbed back on the bus, over the sacks of rice towards the back of the bus and prepared for the second half of the journey.

Shortly after departing the bus station the bus turned into a small side street and the driver asked us to get off, which we diligently did and proceeded to stand on the gravel track whilst the bus drove inside a compound with heavy gates and high walls. To us in certainly looked like a drug deal going down as more bags were hoisted on top of the bus. After 30 minutes, we were off again and the sun had dipped below the horizon spreading darkness and lights began flickering on the cars and buses.

The bus journey didn't seem to be ending, hours passed by and we stopped several times, once at this big bus station for another hour whilst we waited for somebody or something. I went to a food stall and began laughing with the girl as I began to haggle with her for some grapes. Despite the journey's length, I still love Laos and its people. We were beginning to consider our options at this bus stop as it was now heading into early morning and we still had a couple of hours to go until we reached Ba Na Hin and knowing that it was a very small town sitting on a junction of two main roads and finding somewhere to sleep would be difficult at the vest of times let alone in the middle of the night. Should we continue on our way or cut our loses and sleep in the questionable motel in this station and get another bus in the morning? Needless to say our procrastination was without results and we were again on our way again.

After a few more hours on the road, some strange conversations with the Laos lady in front of me and keeping an eye out for spiders that periodically crawled quickly over our feet, the bus stopped and the driver's assistant approached us and told us to get off. It was just after 4am and we had finally made it to Ba Na Hin. As soon as we stepped off the bus our bags were there in front of us and the bus drove off into the distance onwards to it's final destination of Vientianne.

Ba Na Hin was at this moment in time the epitome of a ghost town at this time of night, no life apart from the odd motorcycle passing by. Nicky ran off to scout the area and to see if he could find a guesthouse. He did but the man, who we took as security, told us no room. We found the only other guesthouse in the town back on the main road but no one was around to get a room. We sat there for a while in the dark with mosquitos feasting off us and tried again. Success. We finally rouse a lady who was able to give us one room for the remainder of the night. One double room for the rest of the night. Nicky said he didn't mind sleeping on the floor in my sleeping bag whilst Tom and I shared the bed. This changed when we saw insects crawling over the floors which ultimately forced all three of us in one double bed. Thank god there was a shower and wonderful air conditioning unit to refresh us and keep us cool...

Royal Wedding and Ruins, Pakse, Laos - 29 April - 1 May 2011

2011-11-11T16:53:00.001Z

Goodbye to our riverside apartments

“Can we pay please?” We asked for the third time. Having to ask to pay the bill hasbecome a strange concept for me as in Cambodia and Vietnam, theycan't wait to take the money from your hands. In Laos, however, itseems that you have to ask several times and plead with them to takeyour money off you. We were just having a bite to eat before gettingback on the boat to the mainland to board our bus to Pakse and we hadfive minutes to pay up, grab our bags and head to the beach.

Tom's new friend!

Back on the bus again,our first major bus journey in Laos was an utter pleasure. Bags werepassed up to the driver on the roof and covered with tarpaulin andeach person was allocated with their very own seat. Tom, Nicky and Iwere on the back seat along with another girl who was not shy atfalling asleep on Tom's shoulder. The windows were wide open,blowing cool air through the bus. It was a short, painless busjourney and we arrived in Pakse and hour or so later.

We didn't know muchabout Laos before we arrived apart from the country was extremelypoor following the civil war which brought the communist party intopower. Having been dragged into the Vietnam war, the USA droppedmore bombs on Laos to stop the North Vietnamese between 1964 and 1973than the entire second world war. It was estimated that Laosreceived an average of one B-52 bombload every eight minutes 24 hoursa day. This had, of course, a dramatic effect on Laos not only theinitial loss of life but the unexploded ordinances left behind.

After gettingdirections to our guest house from a local travel agent, we strolledand checked into the Sabaidy 2 Guest house. We dumped checked in,dumped our bags and headed to the café across the road for a fruitshake and something to eat. Whilst ordering our food, the slightlyelderly lady, presumably the grandmother of the family was flickingthrough the television channels and stopped on something that caughther eye. It was the beginning of Prince William and Kate Middleton'swedding ceremony. When people ask me where was I when I saw ourfuture King get married, I will think back to seating in this localcafé eating chicken fried rice and drinking down a banana fruitshake. Seeing London on the TV and all those patriotic people liningthe streets with flags and banners in their hands made me feel proudof my nation and happy to see that there are still people that takepride in our heritage. In a small way, it made me feel homesick fora brief second.

Pakse is a small city,not touristy in the slightest with quiet dusty streets whichperiodically become busy with the odd vehicle. I liked it as thesesmaller and less visited places give you a better example of what thecountry is all about. On our initial list of places to visit wereFour Thousand Islands, Vang Vieng and Luang Probang. Only bytravelling did our plans fill out as people recommend places and mapslead the way to interesting places. As I had already been toVietnam's My Son and Cambodia's Angkor Wat, it was time to see whatLaos had to offer in the way of ancient ruins. Pakse was the placeto be as nearby were the ancient Khmer ruins of Wat Phu Champasak.

A typical Songthaew

The previous day, wehad made the journey to the bus station where there are a series oflocal songthaews congregated to take people to a number of locations. A songthaew is a converted pickup truck with three benches forpassengers to squeeze onto. We wanted to ask how we get to Wat Phuand how much it will cost. The tuk-tuk driver who took us from thecentre of town to the station knew who to take us to. A few menstood around us and answered all our questions without us evengetting of the tuk-tuk. We were told that we needed to come back thenext morning when we could catch a Songthaew to Champasak for anominal fee. Back at the guest house, it was time to relax for thenight and for a proper shower with warm water instead of the riverwater coming from a hose pipe on Don Det.

The next morning, asagreed, our tuk tuk driver who took us to the bus station yesterdaywas there at 8.30 ready to take us to our Songthaew for Wat PhuChampasak. Once we were at the station it turned out we had to waitfor hour until it departed. We were asked to board the songthaew bythe same group of men we spoke to the previous day. It was actuallyquite pleasant sitting there watching the Lao people stroll around intheir day to day lives. Everyone seemed so calm and content walkingfrom bus to bus and selling their goods. The songthaew quicklyfilled up with locals and their newly bought goods. The time waitedwent quickly and before we knew it, we were on our way to Champasak.

The journey took ussouth along the Mekong for around an hour, stopping at various placesto drop people or goods off before arriving at the entrance to WatPhu Campasak. We were the last people on board and the driver gotout to take our money. “What time is the last bus back to Pakse?” We enquired.

“No public bus untiltomorrow morning.” He responded.

“But you said youcould take us back?!” We challenged.

“Yes but you have topay more as there will only be three of you.” He returned.

Basically they failedto mention that the return journey would be a private affair and thatit would obviously cost more. This outraged us but we agreed that wewould take our chances and try to find a lift back to Pakse when wewant to leave. It was a risk, we could have been stuck in the tinytown of Champasak all night with nowhere to stay.

Wat Phu as we know ittoday was built during the eleventh century, however, there aretranscripts mentioning a previous complex there in the fifth andsixth centuries, although these have long disappeared. The complexis of Khmer architecture and Hindu religion. Our first stop was aninteresting museum with a collection of archaeological discoveries onthe site and surrounding area. As well as the obvious sizedifference between Angkor Wat and Wat Phu, the sheer variance intourist population was a fantastic relief. A handful of people werewalking with us as we made our way up the long grassy path betweenthe North and South Palaces which were under restoration work and ledto the steps that climb the foothills up to the sanctuary.

South palace

Halfway up I was struckwith a sudden urge to release my bowels. Great, what a fantasticallyinappropriate time for my insides to reject something I may haveeaten. There were no toilets about. Tom and Nicky suggested that Iwent in the bushes. I initially thought that was a great idea,however, as I began walking into the high grass, I suddenly becameaware of snakes, spiders, leeches and all those lovely creaturescrawling around minding their own business. On top of that, itwasn't the most secluded affair as I looked around, I could be seenfrom most places above, below and on the same elevation that I wason. I eventually decided that I was going to quickly run down thesteps to the toilets at the bottom of the hill. Annoying as I hadalready made it up three quarters of them but needs must. I won't goto much into detail but, it was a failed visit and after climbing thesteps once again, rejoining Nicky and Tom and completing theremainder I discovered that the Laos people had very courteouslyplaced a toilet for tourist convenience and the top! Running downand back up was a complete waste of my time and only agonised theissue.

One section of steps up to the sanctuary

The sanctuary at thetop was stunning, not Angkor Wat stunning but it felt much more realin a way as it was largely untouched and was teeming with 21^stcentury structural supports making it semi safe for people to visit. The view from the top overlooked the flat plains of Champasak and hada very calming feel which made you understand why they had built asanctuary there in the first place.

We reached the bottomof the rather uneven and crumbling steps safely. It was time to finda ride back to Pakse. Having failed to get a tuk tuk or songthaew,we approached a line of minibuses obviously privately rented andasked whether we could get a lift back to Pakse. The first said noflat out but the second, with some persuasion, agreed to take us backto Pakse. He told us that he had two passengers and would have totalk to them first but guaranteed us it would be OK. We arranged forhim to pick us up from a restaurant outside of the site in half anhour which would give us some time for some food. True to his word,he turned up to pick us up and we met his two passengers, aneccentric middle aged American couple who were only too happy to giveus a ride back to Pakse. What a great couple of people, theirstories of past travels were extremely entertaining and we stoppedalong the way to meet some locals harvesting in a slightly strangemachine. Turned out to be an amazing ride back to Pakse in aluxurious air condition minivan.

What a difference a border makes, Don Det, 4,000 Islands – 26-29 April 2011

2011-11-07T11:07:00.000Z

I've only been in Laosfor a few minutes but I'm already loving it. Thoughts of our arduousjourneys over the last couple of days in Cambodia are fading away asour minibus takes as towards Don Det, one of the popular islands thatmake up Laos' Four Thousand islands that sit in the middle of theMekong river as it widens in the south of the country.

It's now earlyafternoon and the sun is high in the sky. I rest my head back on thechair and close my eyes as the breeze through the windows cools mymind. The roads are deathly quiet and no one was working in thefields as we passed by. The minibus slowed and bumped along the potholes that scattered the poorly repaired roads until we reached asmall town that consisted of a row of businesses whether they wererestaurants or workman providing services of all kinds. The drivermanoeuvred the minibus into a tiny driveway between two verticalcolumns holding the roof up and a wall, there was no more that fourinches leeway on each side.

Having stopped, thecooling breeze that I had become accustomed to had also ceased andthe afternoon heat swallowed us and demanded perspiration. There'sno time to worry about that here, you have to accept it and getmoving. The driver opened the tailgate and began removing the bagswith determined speed. As always, the passengers become hisassistants and help him to retrieve the bags. With our bags strappedto our backs we begin to follow the driver down the road, past thetradespeople, to the quay where dozens of long, thin wooden boatswait to take people to any one of the thousands of islands thatlitter this area of the Mekong.

After climbing overconcrete pipes, rubbish and negotiating sandy traps across the beach,we climbed aboard our boat which was waiting to take us to themagical island of Don Det. The boat skimmed across the water andmade its way through the maze of islands of differing sizes. Fishermen clinging onto their fishing rods in an attempt to catchthose unlucky fish that swim too close to their bait. Although theengine made a terrific noise, it was a very peaceful and calming tenminute trip to the island. We were warned before going onto theisland that we should take enough cash with us for our stay as therearen't any cash machines, they have only just got electricity inrecent years. The skipper launched the boat hard into the sand bankwhich led up towards a small beach where a handful of people werelazing around catching some rays. I jumped off the boat a littleprematurely and ended up knee deep in cool Mekong river water.

We arrived on theisland with no idea where we were going to be staying. This hasbecome second nature to me and is part of fun of travelling. We hadno idea as to what we would find as we hadn't been able to access theinternet in Banlung, nor did we have a guidebook. Most of the islandis littered with bamboo shacks and very very small amount of brickbuildings. As we made our way up the beach and onto the main stripof restaurants and shops, we took a right as we saw a sign to someaccommodation and at the end of a narrow pathway stood eight bambooshacks circling a piece of grass. There seemed to be no signs oflife.

"Hello?!" Wecalled out in a louder than usual voice, but not shouting.

"Hello?" Asmall petite Lao lady picked her head up from the hammock that she'dbeen sleeping on in the middle of the grassy area. Her eyes lookeddazed and her posture lethargic.

"Have you got anyrooms free?" We enquired.

"7, 8, 9" Shethrew her arms out in the general direction with great effort as shebattled against falling asleep.

"Excellent! Howmuch?" We asked.


Dusty path around Don Det

Nothing. She gave up. Her battle against tiredness overthrew her as she sighed andcollapsed back into her hammock and slept. Nicky, Tom and I staredat each other not believing what we had just witnessed. It's acomplete reversal to how the Cambodians and Vietnamese act. We wereused to being hounded the moment we stepped off a bus or train andnot left alone until we handed over cash. Here, the lady couldn'teven be bothered to speak to us. This is heaven although we didn'tend up staying there as she went to sleep and didn't wake up again.

It didn't matter toomuch as there were plenty of places to sleep, mainly bamboo shacksthat we could choose from. After walking a couple of hundred metresdown the dirt track that led through the main settlement ofrestaurants, bars and shops, we came walked passed a lady who askedwhether we needed a place to sleep. Of course we did, so she showedus to her bamboo huts that overhung the river. We took a hut each. The basic huts, had a double bed, mosquito net and a fan. Thebathroom was a small concrete hut with a hose pipe and a traditionalsquat toilet. Thankfully these were in separate sections so youdidn't trip whilst taking a shower and ending up with you foot in thebog.

A few hours later wehad forgotten about the morning's journey from Banlung and weresubmerged in the life of Don Det and that is complete relaxation. Tom, Nicky and I were cooling off in the river whilst tiny fishnibbled on your feet, throwing Tom's ball around like children. Thatevening we went out and found a restaurant and bought a burger and afew drinks whilst playing pool. When all of the bars shut up ateleven, everybody heads to the beach where to sit round a bonfire andcontinue drinking and laughing. Walking home from the beach iscertainly an experience, especially when you've had a few drinks andnot quite sure where you actually stay because as soon as you leavethe main strip, the lights cut out and you cannot see much. I waswalking alone as Tom and Nicky had already gone back to bed, however,I felt that someone was with me. I looked round but couldn't seeanyone. I shook off the feeling as paranoia and continued cautiouslyalong the path back to my hut. Suddenly I jumped and quickly turnedas something brushed against my leg. It was a dog, now in front ofme but had slowed to join me for my walk home. My next issue was,which hut is mine? They all looked the same to me. I went up oneset of steps and discovered someone else's clothes hanging over thebanister which confirmed that this was not mine, so the dog and Iturned and continued up the path eventually finding the my hut.

View from my riverside hut

FLASH....BANG... Eyessprung open. What the hell is that? Rain began pounding hard on theroof of my hut as the heavens fell in huge buckets. I fought withthe mosquito net as I jumped out of bed and headed outside to seenature's light and sound show. The whole sky was lit up every fewmoments shortly followed by excruciating cracks of thunder. Stayingin a hut made from bamboo with a corrugated metallic roof during anelectrical storm is certainly an experience. The deafening sound ofthe rain hitting the roof was immense.

We stayed on the islandfor three days, however, our plans to walk and cycle round the islandor kayak down the river were not fulfilled as Laos' heat and humidityhad overwhelmed us into a lazy Laos stupor. Having spent three dayslazing around watching films in the bar, playing pool, eating foodand having the odd beverage it was time to push on further into Laos. Next stop Pakse.

Let's get out of here! To Laos! - 26 April 2011

2011-10-22T14:43:00.000+01:00

It's time for us toleave Cambodia and head into the ninth country of Andy's Epic Voyage. Laos had been a fascination and a country that was extremelyappealing due to my lack of knowledge of the country. Our minibuswas due to leave at 8am, it was now 7.30 and we're trying to pay ourbill for the food and drink we had consumed over the past day and forsome reason the man whom classed himself as the manager couldn't takeour money and insisted until his mother was back. Once she hadarrived around 8am she retrieved her little notebook and scraps ofpaper where she had noted all the things we had. It soon transpiredthat she had no idea who had what and had plucked a figure out of theair. The figures was obviously wrong, but thankfully we had notedour own consumption down ever since they refused to take our cashwhen we arrived. Tom, Nicky and I ended up going through our ownaccounts and telling the lady how much we each owed to her, shewasn't too fussed and I think quite pleased that we took it uponourselves. My bill actually came to more so whether we did the rightthing by doing the calculations ourselves is debatable.

The previous evening wesat in the restaurant having a drink and eating a meal with two girlsthat I previously met in Hué on the DMZ tour. As the sundisappeared briskly behind the trees on the opposite side of the lakea swarm of flying insects invaded. We walked to find an internetcafé that night and I had never seen so many insects flying around. Following our previous horrid journey to Banlung, we wanted to have amore comfortable trip into Laos so we decided to go with our hotelwho had assured us that his minibus is private and he makes sure thatthere is only one person to one seat. We interrogated him for awhile repeating the question in several different forms to beabsolutely comfortable that we weren't going to be squashed up onceagain.

After we had paid theowner of the hotel our due debts, we walked towards the minibus thathad been waiting for us for a few minutes. We passed our bags to thedriver who placed them on the passenger seat next to him in thefront, shook the manager's hand goodbye and climbed aboard. “No,no!” the driver said pointing at the seats. “Four per seat. One, two, three, four... One, two, three, four...”. I honestlycan not believe this situation. Just ten hours ago we sat with themanager who specifically stated that there will be one seat to everyperson and now they are trying to squeeze four of us onto threeseats. I exploded. Usually I am an easy going person but I hadreached the end of my tether with these lying Cambodians that aretaking our money and lying to our faces. I sat on the back row,stuck in by the person in front who had pulled down the fold upchair.

“Get me him!” Ipointed at the manager who walked over sheepishly knowing full wellwhy I was angry. “My friend, you lied to us. You told us thateach person would have one seat. One person, one seat. What do yousee here? How many seats? One, two, three. How many people? One,two, three, four!”

“It's usual inCambodia.” He justified his position.

“Usual in Cambodia?! Usually for Cambodians? We're westerners, we're much much biggerthan you! Anyway, that doesn't matter to me. It's that you lookedus in the eyes and lied to us! We paid extra for this bus as wetrusted you!” With that I knew I wasn't going to get anywherearguing with him and the only pathetic insult I could muster up wasto retrieve the business card he had given us from my wallet and tearit up into little pieces and throwing it at him.

I sat back as the doorclosed and stared blankly out of the window at the manager who seemednon phased by my insult. He didn't need to worry, as do any of thesepeople that lie to you. They know you don't have a leg to stand onand will be out of there city soon enough and won't be able to doanything. The only thing we can do is give a bad review on TripAdvisor.

The bus drove out ofthe hotel and into the city centre where we picked up a couple oflocals who were transporting the goods free of charge thanks to uswho had paid for the petrol and their meals for the next month. Thebus left the track, over a little bit of grass and before we knew itwe were travelling along the runway of the local airport. Obviouslythis doesn't get used much if locals can just drive across it freely. At certain times on this trip I just wish I wasn't on a mission tocomplete this trip by land and sea only, however, I'm sure I willlook back at these moments with fond memories. The journey to StungTreng, where we would be changing buses again took us back along thetrack we came out on. Nicky lightened my mood when he asked me tolisten to a song that was quite fitting for our last few days inCambodia, It's a Holiday in Cambodia bythe punk band Dead Kennedys.

It'sa holiday in Cambodia,

It'stough kid but it's life...

...Wellyou'll work harder
With a gun in your back
For a bowl of rice aday
Slave for soldiers
Till you starve
Then your head isskewered on a stake...

Wepulled up to a restaurant in Stung Treng where we were to transfer toanother minibus that would take us up the highway to the border withLaos. A couple of people on our minibus immediately boarded anotherbus that was taking them South. Us, on the other hand had to waitfor an hour for our bus but luckily the restaurant was on hand toprovide us slightly overcharged food and drink for the temporarilystranded tourists. I had my staple fried rice with chicken and arefreshing Coca-Cola and sat back to enjoy our freedom dreaming ofthe wonderful Laos that lies an hour up the road.

Asour departure time neared, we asked the lady if we could pay for ourmeals. She came over, told us what we each owed and we diligentlyhanded over the de facto currency of US dollars. “I can give youchange in Laos Kip?” The lady offered.

“Whatis the exchange rate?” We enquired.

“6500Kip to Dollar.” She answered.

“Oh,that's not a lot. No thank you, we'll take our change in Dollars.” We confirmed.

“No,I give you Kip. 6500 to a dollar.” She insisted.

“Nothank you. Dollars will be fine. Thank you.”

Thisexchange went on for a long while. My newly relaxed state had takena battering again and my agitation increased boiling my blood toexplosion point. I tried to keep calm. Took a deep breath andremembered a valuable lesson I had been taught whilst teachingchildren that raising your voice does absolutely nothing to resolve adifficult situation. So I reasoned with her. “I'll giveyou an ultimatum, you can either give us our change in dollars as perour agreement or you can give us our change in Laos Kip at a rate of8,000 to a dollar.” I offered.

“But this is mybusiness I cannot do that, I need to make money.” she retorted.

“No, our businesswith you is the food we've eaten, nothing more. We paid in dollarsand we expect our change in dollars. If you gave us a good exchangerate then I'd happily get my change in Kip but you're not. Soplease, my dollars.” Conversation ended.

Eventually she mutteredto her son under her breath obviously complaining about us and hedisappeared off on his motorcycle to get us the change in dollars. That of course didn't stop her trying to push the Kip on us. Shecontinued right up to the moment the money was back in our hands. Our minibus pulled up outside and we were ordered aboard. The vanwas packed up with goods again and we were squeezed on. I hadreached tipping point and as we left the restaurant Nicky, Tom and Iraised our middle fingers and wrote it off. It wasn't worth anymoreanger as we would soon enough be walking across that border intoLaos.

It didn't take us longto reach the border as the roads were all newly sealed andcomfortable. As we stopped, the driver opened the door for us to getout, unloaded our bags and drove off back towards Stung Treng. Theborder was quiet, we were the only group of people crossing through. There was a line of drink and snack stalls leading up to thecheckpoint. We were shown to some chairs and table beyond the stallswhere we were handed the immigration forms to fill out. A man whowas on our bus took our passports, documents and visa fees includinga 'compulsory' health check charge and got them processed whilst wehung around with an overpriced drink in our hands. He returnedaround twenty minutes later and handed back our passports withinstructions to walk through and meet our new driver on the otherside.

It must have been themost relaxed border crossing I had ever had the privilege to crossthrough. A man merely glanced at our passports and the health checkbooth which we had paid for was left empty. Obviously the man hadpocketed that extra dollar we paid for it. I was in Laos.

A long journey for a lake, Banlung, 24-25 April 2011

2011-10-17T13:09:00.000+01:00

It's dark, the airrushing past my head is warm and full of flying insects. I'm wearingmy sunglasses to protect my eyes, but it means that I can't see athing. Between the driver and I is Nicky. All three of us aresqueezed on this tiny 125cc motorcycle and Tom is riding next to uswith our bags. The road is nicely paved, leads out from the centreof Banlung and eventually reaches the Vietnamese border. Of coursewe are not going that far. Nicky had booked us some beds in aneco-lodge a couple of kilometres out of Banlung. The street lightsdisappeared and the stars brightened in the sky above.

The town centre hadlong disappeared and we were now cruising in silence. The motorcyclelights struggled to illuminate the road ahead. Tom's motorcyclepulled off the road in front of us onto a gravel driveway entranceand we pulled up beside them. “Is this it?” The gate wasclosed. Initially I thought the motorcycle drivers were trying tofool us by bringing us to a closed place so they could take us totheir alternative hotel instead. We hoped off the motorcycles andinspected closer. The Cambodian riders warned us to be careful as itwas dark, so I retrieved my wind up torch from my bag and lighted theway. There was a sign on the gate to prove that we were in the rightplace but having looked through the gate, we saw no lights nor life.

The three of us stood there for a moment indisbelief. The motorcycle engines had been cut off and darknessenveloped around us as the symphony of crickets and insects buzzingand clicking filled the air. How could this journey become anymore aggravating!? Nicky had booked this place the previous dayon the internet and had been assured that they had a 24 hourreception. By the looks of it, the reception hadn't been openfor a long time. Our shouts and pleads to open up wentunheard. Nicky had enough and grabbed my wind up torch andclimbed over the fence to the disbelief of the motorcycle riders whowarned him to be careful of animals. Tom and I stood watchingthrough the gate as the light from the torch grew dim anddisappeared. Nicky was on his own.

The minutes passed slowly by as we waited forNicky's return. We held on to a hope that the day's events mayjust turn around into a positive and the gates would open to aparadise beyond. In the distance an intermittent whirring soundcould be heard, I looked through the gate and could see a white lightflickering and growing stronger as it got closer. It was Nickywinding the torch to keep it powered. He was alone and a littlebit angry. I looked over at Tom in anticipation of a barrage ofFs but there was only hushed remarks, however, I could tell thatinternally he was visualising BBTs (Baby Bashing Trees). We hadto get out of there before someone got hurt, before the anger boiledup and started spilling over the edges of his self control.

Banlung - Main Street

Luckily, the motorcycle riders knew of a perfecthotel that we could stay in for the night so Nicky, Tom and I hoppedback on the bikes and headed back towards Banlung. Themotorcycle with Tom on it had disappeared behind us. I was alittle concerned not for his safety, but for the motorcycle rider's. Nicky and I waited for him at the Pink Hotel for around five minutesuncertain of their fate. We were shown a room, quite a longroom with two double beds and a massive bathroom that could fit afootball team in. We had decided that we should just go for theroom as it was far too late and we'd been on the uncomfortable roadfor far too long to care anymore.

By the time we got downstairs Tom had just pulledup into the parking lot. Apparently they had run out of fuel. Half way back. Of course, it turned out that the motorcycleriders were very much linked to this hotel by blood. Once theystarted bellowing for their Mum who was this short, friendly lookinglady who came downstairs to cook us something to eat just before weheaded off to bed.

CROAK! What the hell is that? I thoughas a load croak echoed the other side of the door and woke me from mysleep. The way the hallway echoed and amplified the croaktemporarily freaked me out a little but I was too tired to have anissue with falling back to sleep and dreaming of the good old dayslying comfortably in my upper bunk on the Trans-Siberian train as itchugged through the white deserted Siberian plateau. Comfortably warm, listening to the Russians joke and laugh whilsteating and drinking. Even though Yekaterinburg to Irkutsk took3 days, it now seems like a walk in the park compared to the tripfrom Siem Reap to Banlung…. I just hope this volcanic lake wecame to see is worth all the hassle!

The next morning wegrabbed our bags and checked out of the Pink Hotel in search of theLake View Lodge. The dust from the road filled the warm, stale airas we walked in the general direction of the lodge. The streets werelargely empty apart from a few stalls selling drinks and snacks. Thelocals smiled as we passed by and were helpful in our bid to findwere we wanted to get to. The lodge was indeed by the lake and wewere greeted by the manager, a friendly guy who showed us to ourbeds, Nicky and Tom were in a private twin and I was in a five beddormitory.

We had arranged withthe manager three motorcycle drivers to take us to the volcanic lakethat afternoon. It's mad to think back at how concerned I was at thethought of getting on the back of some crazy South East Asian'smotorbike in Hanoi to now, where it now seems like everyday life. Wearrived at the lake early afternoon just after the midday heat hadbeen subdued slightly. This was our last day in Cambodia and all wewanted to do was relax by the lake and have a refreshing swim in the700,000 year old Yeak Laom volcanic lake. I had been dying to getinto some water for a swim ever since leaving Sihanoukville. In away it was worth the journey, the water was beautifully refreshingand we spent a good couple of hours jumping in, swimming around andforgetting about the previous days journey.

Like a tin of sardines indeed, Siem Reap - Banlung, 24 April 2011

2011-10-02T04:11:00.001+01:00

One solitary minibussits still on the gravel, the morning is dark and wet following anovernight shower. I am part of a group of nearly twenty peoplestanding in bemusement as the driver attempts to squeeze us and allof our bags into the tiny bus that should only carry 16 people. The bags a piled high on the front passenger seats and overhang thefour seats that face away from the driver directly behind him. All the time, our comments declaring this as a farce are met with aresponse, "This is only for 3 hours until we meet your VIPbus". It's of no use complaining at the situation and ashe says, it's only for three hours until we meet our bigger and morecomfortable bus that will take us to Banlung.

Five people aresqueezed onto each row that should only seat 4 people. It'suncomfortable. Tom and I are sitting behind the driver facingbackwards and our heads are tilted downwards as the bags stop us fromsitting back with our heads against the head rests. It'suncomfortable. We feel lucky as there are only three people onour row but just before we departed another girl hoped aboardand we were squeezed up with our hip bones grating against oneanother. It's only for three hours, then we will have comfortonce again.

The driver smiles as heknows he's got away with it again and slams the door shut withouthesitation. With that slam, a bag hanging over our headsgets dislodged and slowly falls upon us. The bus hasn't evenmoved yet and bags are falling. The minibus winds it's waythrough the still quiet streets of Siem Reap and the sun is nowbeginning to brighten the sky. It's the second time in a weekthat I had been up for sunrise althoughthe first time, despite theinitial anxiety, was far more pleasurable. Whilst watching thetourist centre of Siem Reap disappear, I remember what Dr Richner hadsaid last night. He reminded us that although the centre ofSiem Reap is full of expensive hotels and nice restaurants, it is afascade that is masking the true poverty of Cambodia for tourists.

An hour has past bysince we left the city limits of Siem Reap and the rain has begun todrop heavy loads on us. When the rain falls, fear of accidentsincreases. Despite the rain, the minibus is getting warmer andwe're stuck with the decision of having the window open and gettingwet, or keep it shut and let the hot and humid air slowly suffocateus. We chose to open the windows. The bus is full oftired looking western faces all feeling let down yet again. Nobody speaks. Everybody is just staring blankly at the flatterrain passing by out of the window, it's flat like Norfolk andreminds me of home somewhat. Some have MP3 players blastingmusic in their ears as they try to forget where they are and lettheir musical memory take over for a while.

My treasured companionon this trip is my Creative Zen MP3 player and I don't know what Iwould do without it. Everytime I leave somewhere I have aroutine check of my important items, wallet, passport, camera, MP3Player. All other items are circumstantial and easily bereplaced. I made a terrible mistake in China when I was tryingto transfer some episodes of '24' onto my Zen and instead of hitting'Eject', I hit 'Format' (stupid buttons are next to each other!) andit wiped my entire music collection. Thankfully, I had broughtan external hard drive with all of my music on so it wasn't lostforever due to my incompetent Mandarin reading skills.

The journey is becomingincreasingly tedious as we drive along an unremarkable road that hasthe normal amount of bumps in it than any South East Asian Countrythat intermittently stir you from your slumber. It's now been acouple of hours since we left Siem Reap and it still hasn't stoppedraining. The bus driver slows and negotiates his way off theroad and into a small car park. Great, it must be break time. Time to stretch the legs, grab a bit to eat and go to the toilet. As soon as the doors open, everyone becomes excited and impatiencefills their eyes as they want freedom from the cramped minibus andtaste some fresh air.

I have learnt that pitstops in South East Asia are inconsistent and sometimes far toolong. This stop was no exception, we're standing there lookingat each other with eagerness as we want to get back on the road andto our destination whilst the driver sits there munching down somenoodles and drinking gallons of tea. I wonder how much the busdrivers receive from the owners for bringing their load to a personsshop/café? I leave the restaurant area and quickly run nextdoor where a make shift shop has been erected under some tarpaulin. There were several baskets with different types of goods in them,mainly biscuit type treats. I bought a packet of digestivebiscuits from the lady and returned to the restaurant with the otherpeople waiting patiently.

It wasn't long untilthe bus driver stood up and began to summon us to the bus. Onlyanother hour, I was thinking. It's already been two hours, theworst is over. We all climb back into our seats in silence. Some have food, some have drink and some don't have anything and sitthere staring outside again, speechless. Indeed another hourdid pass by and the bus stopped on the side of the road. Fantastic, I thought as I admired the 'V.I.P' bus parked up beckoningpeople aboard to experience its luxury. 'People go to Laos, getoff, change bus now.' the bus driver ordered. 'What? How about Banlung?' I enquired. 'No, one more hour. Thenchange bus.' he responded.

Feeling dejected, we'reback on the bus again but at least there is more space to stretch outcomfortably since half the passengers have got off. Iintermittently look at my watch and the second hand seems to bemoving backwards. However, unnervingly true to his word, the buspulls into a town, with incredibly dusty streets and we're asked toget off. We are asked to queue up at a desk to exchange ourtickets for our next bus. You can sense that everybody is happyand utterly relieved to finally be getting onto our 'VIP' bus andperhaps relax for a few more hours until we reach Banlung.

In a happy andprosperous step, I lead the others across the road with our bags inour hands towards the bus that is waiting to take us the rest of theway. After safetly navigating the traffic I begin to climb intothe bus and as my head turns to view the inside, my smile lessens andmy mind begins to boggle. There are no available seats left onthe bus. Not only were there no seats left, the isle was alsofull of people sitting on packages and bags of rice. The sea ofKhmer faces stare back at me blankly as I turn around and pass on thebad news to the others.

"You're not goingto believe this guys, but there are no seats left!" I warnthe others and in shock and disbelief they each go onto the bus anddiscover the truth of my words. Swearing begins amongst thegroup as the final straw has very much borken the camels back. I head back across the road with a couple of others and confront theman. "Excuse me?" I begin politely. "Howdo you expect us to fit on that bus." I ask and am metwith a blank look. "There are eight of us and there are noseats."

       "On your bag, on your bag!" The man insisted.
       "How? No room in aisle!" I returned.
       "On your bag!" He annoyingly repeated.
       "We can't! There is NO ROOM!" I fired backfeeling frustrated.
       "We want a F***ING seat!" The Northern English girlreturned angrily.
        "No,get on now, on bag." He defended.
       "I don't think you understand… We paid $28 and there isNO ROOM to get on!" I said in an effort of understanding.

"Not my problem!" He stated in an attempt to end thedebate.

By saying those threewords he ignited a rage deep within me. How dare he stand thereand tell us it's not his problem. "Who's problem is itthen?" I enquired.

"Not mine. Get on the bus." He flippantly responded.
"How can you sayit's not your problem. You work for the company who sold us ourtickets, right? Then it is your problem!" I try toremain calm as others begin shouting and swearing at him.

Whilst this debatecontinued, the driver of the bus had obviously reached his cut offpoint and drove away without us. A brief moment of silence followedwhere we all looked at one another.

“When is the nextbus?” We enquired.

“Tomorrow!” Hereplied dryly without an ounce of care in his voice.

Oh great, we are nowstuck in the middle of nowhere. We were not getting any further, sowe provided the man with some options. Either, they take us all theway to Banlung in the minibus or pay for accommodation overnight andguarantee seats on the next bus. The man picked his phone up anddialled a number, he began to speak fast and agitated down to theperson on the other end and then presented the phone to me and said“Boss!”

I took the phone andexplained our predicament to the lady on the other end. She wasspeaking fairly good English and asked me what we wanted her to do. What did we want them to do? The bus we wanted was full and had justleft us. An option was for us to stay in this town until the nextday when we could try and get on the bus again but they weren'tprepared to pay for our accommodation. Another was for the minibusto take us half way to Kratie where we could get on the bus andhopefully get a seat from people who got off. They refused thisoption too. The only option was for the minibus to drive us to catchup with the 'VIP' bus and the lady promised us some plastic seats tosit on in the isle. After arguing some more and trying to stand upfor our non existent rights we gave up and got back on the minibus tocatch up with the bus. The driver was driving like a maniac as hewas fuelled with frustration at these foreigners who had caused himso much grief. I wasn't sure we'd actually make it to the bus alive.

Around ten minutes hadpassed and we pulled into a roadside restaurant where the 'VIP' buswas parked up waiting for us. What never occurred to the driver wasthat there was no space on the bus back in that small unknown town,how would there be space now? So here we are, a bit further down theroad but with the same issue. We all climbed out of the minibus andgrabbed our bags. As soon as we were outside the argumentative man,whose problem it was not, was heading back inside the minibus todrive away but I literally jumped in front of the van to stop themand told him that he wasn't leaving until we got on the bus.

The negotiationscontinued just like before but this time it was with the bus driverand after another ten minutes, he stopped, hopped aboard clearly atthe end of his patience and began driving away without us. The busstarted to reverse back onto the road and we had no option but tojump aboard. I was the last one to jump on and it was a squeeze, Iwas hanging out of the door as the bus reached the road and begandriving off. I feared that it was going to be like this for the next6 hours.

My fears were broughtto an abrupt end as the bus pulled over at a road side garage. Thedriver stood up and barged by us, pushing me out of the bus onto thegravel. I watched on angrily as the bus driver talked to the man andhis wife who obviously owned this garage. I say garage but it wasmore like a shack where they lived but had some mechanical tools. They finished talking and walked towards the rear wheel. The driver,a large man, eased himself onto the floor, laid on the floor andpulled himself under the bus to inspect the inside tyre which hadobviously had a puncture.

The drivers assistant,a small lanky young man had retrieved some tools and had attended toretrieving the spare wheel from under the bus. The other passengersremained on board the bus, looking idly on as it was routine. I wascalming down after our anguishing last hour and enjoyed a moment ofpeace looking around the garage on my own. As the workman, thedriver and his assistant pulled off the offending wheel, severalpassengers obviously had had enough and got off the bus and walkedaway looking to hitch the rest of their journey. That was great newsfor us as it meant there maybe just enough space for us to squeezefurther on the bus.


Nicky and Tom with our Northern bus friends, it's funny now!

The wheel had beenrepaired and we were back on the road again but this time we hadmanaged to find enough room to use the plastic stools that weresupplied to us. It was uncomfortable, Nicky's knees pushed into myback and in turn my knees in the back of the girl in front. It'sonly until we reach Kratie, we reminded our selves, only to Kratie. The hours passed by slowly and Kratie seemed to be an allusive placethat would never appear. To my left, A northern English girl hadsqueezed herself onto a seat with two Cambodian boys who seemed lessthan happy to share their seats with her and to my right an angryGerman girl sat there periodically swearing at the driver and hisassistant as they sneered and laughed at our uncomfortable position.

Kratie finally appearedthree long hours later. This is where we would finally be getting aseat all to ourselves. We all looked on with eager eyes, locatingpotential seats but they never materialised and the bus moved offwith even more angry foreigners on board than ever. I wouldn't mindthis situation if we had only paid $5 like my train ride in Mongolia,I got what I paid for and I accepted it but this is blatantly takingthe piss. Paying $28 to be lied to and treated like cattle. Evenmore frustration is that there is nothing we could do to put thingsright or complain. We had to accept this situation, embrace it andunderstand that we would look back at this journey and laugh aboutit.

I finally got a seatfor the last couple of hours as we turned of the paved road onto thea gravel like surface. The bus hit pot hole after pot hole throwingus side to side making us hang on to the seat in front. Nicky wasstill on the floor but seemed to be comfortable enough. Tom waslucky enough to have gotten a seat a very long time ago somewheredown the back of the bus. As we travelled across the precariouswooden bridges over streams, rivers and ravines that creaked as thebus made its way steadily across. The sun had gone down a long timeago which made visibility down this narrow gravel road, surrounded onboth sides by jungle nearly non existent. Every now and again wewould see solitary houses amongst the trees with fires burning.

We eventually arrivedin Banlung around 9pm after one hell of a journey.... But that wasn't the end of it.....