Koh Samui

We’ve decided that when we get back to England we’re going to buy one of those natural light alarm clocks. Waking up with the rising sun, although a bit distressing at 5:30, is a glorious way to start the day. We’re staying right by the beach on Koh Samui and everything is so peaceful and still as the sun rises and the wildlife starts to come alive. Alright, so it’s a bit annoying waking up before 6 every morning, but it’s a hell of a lot better than being woken up by a naked man at the end of your bed, which is what happened this morning.

It’s surprising how little prepared one is to be woken up by a nude stranger. When I imagine intruders in my house they are usually dressed in black, face covered with a balaclava and carrying a crowbar. Since it’s my imagination, I mostly end up disarming the robber with some lethal force and teaching them a lesson before they’re sent off to jail to break lumps of coal in those black and white suits with the arrows on. But I digress; the man that was standing at the end of our bed this morning was not wearing any sort of outfit other than his birthday suit. The less said about his crowbar the better.

The sequence of events isn’t entirely clear, but it seems the first alarm was raised when Polly heard the door open. She’s used to me creeping about in the morning so wasn’t unduly concerned, until she opened her eyes to shout at me for being too noisy and saw me next to her. At this point she woke me up with some sort of noise and I was aware there was a problem; however, it wasn’t immediately obvious what. First, I saw Polly – so far so good. Second, I saw me naked at the end of the bed – fine. Oh hold on, that’s not me naked at the end of the bed, I’m naked in the bed! Crap!

Disorientated by a vivid dream where I was on the wrong end of a manhunt in some charming Austrian village, my reaction was to leap out of bed and make a noise that was a mixture of angry shouting mixed with a goose honking. Since I couldn’t speak it was no wonder that I didn’t stop to consider that I too was naked so there we stood, face to face, naked, with me honking and him looking very confused as to why I was making such a fuss. Either way, either my shouting or my nudity convinced him to leave without a fight and he sloped back off to his room opposite ours. We can’t wait to see him at breakfast.

The last week here on Samui had been very peaceful by comparison. We’ve had enough of carrying our crap around the islands so have decided we’re staying put for the rest of our time away, which only gives us about another week. Tragic. Anyway, we still need rest and relaxation after Thai New Year, Song Kran, also known as the water festival.

It’s quite difficult to describe just how chaotic this celebration is. We’d heard a lot about it, none of which prepared us for the pure childish fun that is a whole country having a massive water fight. One restaurant owner told us he was closing down for two days and wouldn’t let anyone check in or check out because of the damage caused last year by water and advised us to stay inside in case we got cholera or some sort of exotic water-borne disease. Obviously we didn’t pay a bit of mind to this and couldn’t wait for the action to start.

We’d met up with an old friend of mine from college, who I’m glad to say is still as badly behaved as ever, so we were ready for two days of carnage. My goodness did we get them. Walking down the street it takes about two minutes before you are drenched from head to foot. The streets are lined with people with dustbins, buckets, water bombs, water pistols and numerous other reciprocals constructed with the sole purpose of drowning other people. The really serious Thais pack about 15 people in the back of a pickup with enough water to ensure the UK never has another hosepipe ban. Without any weapons ourselves, I resorted to picking up small Thai women and dumping them in rubbish bins full of water. They found this hilarious.

The celebrations started off innocently enough as we had a few drinks at our hotel, ate some dinner to line the stomach and went down to the beach to enjoy a few white Russians and watch the festivities. It’s unclear precisely what went wrong after that, but considering we’d only gone a few hundred metres down the road from our hotel it was somewhat disappointing that Polly was lost for about two hours and had to borrow money from a couple in the street to get home, whilst I had to enlist the help of two ladyboys who helped me by feeding me incredibl;y spicy chilli chicken.

Feeling suitably energised after 38 minutes of sleep, the party downstairs woke us up and we did it all over again the next day. Needless to say, we've never felt so awful.

Beach bums

Sweet mother of Moses, the scenery on Koh Lipe is something else. You can say what you like about the white sand and turquoise sea set against the lush green mountains, but when it comes to entertainment the humans win hands down.

We spent a whole afternoon watching these two and their mates (the other girl’s thong was even skimpier, unlikely as that seems) employed in all sorts of stretching and bending. We thought it couldn’t get more graphic than during the sandcastle squat, but we hadn’t counted on the photo shoot. We felt like we were on the set of a porno as we watched the bloke in Stetson and Speedos photograph the other guy and two girls who were gyrating, lunging, posing and groping all over the place. Top-notch entertainment.

Lipe's great, we even made some friends who could put up with us for more than one night! We met Dave and Clare on the beach, one thing led to another and we were soon clearing the fridge of Chang. It could be because we’re out of practice with the drinking, or the fact that it turned midnight and we’d forgotten to eat, but by jingo I could barely stand up. Still, it hadn’t stopped me trying to fight Dave – a professional kick boxer – all through the night. When I woke up the next morning I had sand in every orifice, scratches everywhere and my hands looked like raspberries I’d been bitten so many times by sand flies. Still they met us for a curry the next evening, but we suspect it was just show us the photos and videos of us making tits of each other.

This all made up for the biggest disappointment of the trip so far; not being able to see the Dugongs. We’d gone to Koh Libong for three nights just to see them but the weather was terrible; it had already rained and blown a gale for the last two nights.

We agreed we probably shouldn’t have bothered when the journey over there on the longtail boat was very, very scary. We didn’t see another boat out on the water, the major ferries weren’t running and yet we found one nutty longtail driver who would take us. It’s no exaggeration to say that every ten seconds we got soaked from head to toe by waves crashing over the side. As we motored past Koh Mook’s rocky coast we just closed our eyes and prayed the engine didn’t cut out. When we got to Libong the storm felled a palm tree that crushed a building there; luckily no-one was hurt so we decided we’d just whimper in our hut for the next few days and ride it all out.

It’s all blistering heat again and we’re in Hat Yai in the southern mainland after a complete 180˚ change of plan. The idea was we’d go from Koh Lipe back up north by ferry to Phi Phi and Phuket, but we had to plan this the day after our kick boxing evening and couldn’t cope with the idea of a nine hour ferry journey. We had the inspired plan to just go to the nearest city and eat McDonalds, which brings us here.

We’re staying in the New Season, which has a brilliant policy on damages to the hotel. You’d expect to get a bill if you smashed the TV, but in the room there’s a list of EVERY item in the building and what it will cost you if you a) break it or b) want to take it as a souvenir. Quite why you’d want to take the minibar as a reminder of your stay isn’t clear, and we daren’t put the ‘Do not disturb’ sign out in case someone nicks it.

Tomorrow we head to Songkhla on the east coast, the last safe town in the south before the Muslim separatists get really serious with their bombing. We hope. If it all goes wrong, please remember us by these sexy beach poses:

The End

So thats it: we're finished. Polly and Dan are no more, our relationship a whisper on the wind. It's a tragedy but my immediate concern is what I'm going to do at weddings when I get a plus one. Polly will obviously be fine but what about me? I'll probably have to employ a cheap prostitute and then never get invited to a wedding ever again.

I should mention that we are still technically a couple but it's only a matter of time now until we break up. How do I know? A fat little mechanical Buddha told me. We were out shopping in Krabbi - a particularly stressful affair because Polly was crippled by her bad back and I was suffering from stomachas eruptis - when I happened on this pleasant looking chap.

If you've seen Big then you'll understand this guy's the equivalent of Zoltar. I gave Polly our only five baht piece and she sent the Bhudda a-whirling until he gave us the fateful number 21. It turns out all fates can be categorised by 30 succinct descriptions because there were that many choices of destiny to be taken from the counter under the big man.

Unfortunately all the fortunes were written in Thai; fortunately, our very generous host at our hotel spoke excellent English and was able to translate. I was coming down the stairs as he finished translating for Polly and when I enquired as to the outcome he was very abashed and refused to tell me. After some struggle I was able to squeeze the prophecy out of Polly and it turns out she's going to be very lucky and then have a new lover very soon. My only guess is that she'll win the lottery and be able to upgrade to a far superior model; Tinchy Strider I expect.

So with this grave news we set off to Koh Lanta and landed on our feet with a small resort that had only been open two months. Very reasonably priced, it had the most comfy bed we've seen in weeks, air conditioning, mini-bar and hot shower. Thank Vishnu it did because the next night was full moon. Prudence requires that anyone interested in that night's events apply in person, but suffice to say we have never needed these creature comforts more than that day. Polly only left the bed once and that was during a power cut when she crawled to the balcony to breath.

We packed up and sheepishly left for our next destination, Koh Ngai. Beautiful place, very rustic and probably the loudest place we've ever been on account of the jungle creatures, which meant we got about an hour's sleep every night.

Even when the sun rose the wildlife found a way to torment us, my particular favourite being this guy that Polly found in her trousers.

My least favourite was a slightly smaller version I encountered on a morning jog; I hadn't spotted his massive web and went face first through it. Needless to say I took the whole thing in my stride and after few mere seconds of having a proper fit I got the spider off me.

If we thought we were safe when we ate at the restaurant, we were wrong. A couple of extremely bolshie mina birds joined us every lunchtime after Polly had made the mistake of feeding them scraps on the first day.

After that they decided our food was fair game and landed right on our table and tried to pick off morsels of food when we weren't looking.

Exhausted from our battles with nature we set off to Koh Kradang where we've been spoiling ourselves at a posh resort. Turns out we couldn't have timed it better because it's been crapping it down. It's really not a problem though, we've taken advantage and spent our days in the gargantuan bed and had our own little filmathon.

Despite the size, as you can see Polly wasn't that keen on sharing.

In other news, it will be to everyone's delight to know that I've acquired a vest.

Cardamom mountains and Koh Kood

Every communal tv has been playing the 24-hour tsunami coverage since Friday. It’s strange being in Thailand while this is happening in Japan; there doesn’t seem to be any fear here, but everyone is obviously hugely concerned for the Japanese and it’s a surreal replay of 2004.

No-one here seems fussed about the nuclear problem, but we overheard a conversation between a Canadian and Italian yesterday while on Koh Kood. The Canadian said his countrymen on the west coast back home were all preparing for radiation poisoning and had bought up all the Potassium Iodide supplies, so he was going back to Thai mainland to get some to send home. We later agreed with the Italian that this all seemed a little bit neurotic.

We’d just come into Thailand when the disaster happened, having spent our last few nights in Cambodia at an eco-lodge in the Cardamom mountains. What is an eco-lodge you ask? Well, in basic terms, it’s a shack in the rainforest. But, because it’s an eco-lodge, the inconveniences you usually pay to avoid – animals in your room, animals dropping off the ceiling while you’re eating, animals attaching themselves to your skin and sucking your blood – you apparently pay to enjoy.

For example, we had a family of Tokay Geckos living in our room. Not a problem, as we quite like these weird chaps, even if they’re a little bit big and bulbous. We did freak out a bit when there was a huge thud beside us at dinner the first night and we saw one on the floor next to us. Until this point we’d been happy thinking they just worked their way round the tasty mosquitoes and bugs while hanging upside down from the ceiling, but it turns out they sometimes make a suicidal leap if they see something really tasty. Whether they take into consideration where they land we don’t know, but we spent a lot of time staring at the ceiling.

This turned out to be just the preemptive remedy to our jungle trek the next day. We were warned by our host Janet that there would be some leaches on the journey and she advised us of what clothes to wear and gave us some tips on how to get them off. Everyone else had sophisticated anti-leach leggings, walking boots and trousers, but we knew right from the start the best option would be to wear Reebok Classics and Hawaiian shorts.

I don’t know if you’ve encountered leaches before, but they’re bastards. They hang around dank leaves and mud, attached by one sucker to the floor while the other end spins round like a maniac windsock smelling out its next victim. Once it catches a whiff it moves like lightening across the floor, flipping over from one sucker to the other like a possessed Slinky. Once it gets you (we had about 50 confirmed attachments each on the trek), you’ve got about five seconds for it to move from the base of your standard 2010 edition Reebok Classic to the ankle.

These little worms can get in anywhere too – even through the Classic’s patented ventilation system! Only one survived long enough to suck any blood out of us, it somehow infiltrated through the backdoor and ended up on my ankle, but was gone pretty sharpish. The dog that came along with us wasn’t so lucky and, lacking any urban footwear and sporting only a keen nose, ended up with fat leaches in its mouth and between its toes.

Anyway, we spent the whole day staring at our feet and flicking these blood-suckers off and so it was a welcome relief to get back to base and stare at the ceiling to avoid flying Tokay. Oh, and we saw a waterfall and a lake. We went in them both. They were nice. And we went out on a kayak.

We waved goodbye to Cambodia; quite literally in my case as I bode farewell to a toothless old woman on the back of a moped who kept telling me she loved me as we rode our tuk-tuk to the Thai border. We thought the border crossing – normally a long, tedious affair – had gone a bit smoothly and were proven right as we waited two hours in the belting midday heat for a minibus to fill up to take us to our next destination, Trat.

We decided to spend another day in civilization to organize our next leg of the trip, then got on a speedboat and headed to Koh Kood, Thailand’s fourth largest island. Very nice it was too; we chose a resort and unpacked the Speedos.

On day three we decided that we’d do a bit of exploring and rented a motorbike. The first one had to go back after about ten minutes because the back wheel was falling off, but then we got stuck in, braving rickety wooden bridges and vertical mountain roads. So excited was Polly that she clean forgot the map after one stop, but seeing as there was really only one road we didn’t think we could get lost. After seeing the same junction for the third time as we tried to get back we decided that even if we couldn’t get lost we could certainly get confused and had to flag down a Russian couple and relieve them of one of their many maps. All a bit stressful at the time but what does it matter when you look this cool?

The following day was just another day in paradise – until disaster struck. The morning we were due to leave, we decided to have a game of bat n ball and were on top of the world having broken the world record with a score of 245! Polly was busy showboating after this famous result when she lunged for the ball and froze in pain. Her back was out. We barely got her back to the room and she had to lie down for a good hour before she could move again. I did some remedial back rubbing but it can’t have made it worse because we finally got her on the speedboat back to the mainland. I wasn’t that popular when, not realising she was asleep, shouted to be heard above the engine and started her out of sleep, convulsing the muscles in her back. We didn’t talk much after that.

One visit to the hospital, several shock therapies and prescriptions later and gladly Polly is on the mend. Just the two flights to Bangkok and Krabbi today, shouldn’t be a problem. Maybe we’ll get a wheelchair and bump her up to those expensive seats with all the leg room!

Me and my beaches

Finally we can stop pretending to be interested in temples and history – we’ve hit the beaches. It’s all tanning oil, Speedos and girly cocktails from here on in. Our last port of call inland was Chao Doc in Vietnam, a town on the other side of the Mekong River from Cambodia and there wasn’t a European in sight. We spent a couple of days getting taken around on motorbikes looking at rice fields (wet) and temples on hills (hilly) but the real fun was in the evenings.

We’d heard about a local bbq hut that’s a bit of a hit with the locals so went there for dinner and got a raucous reception from one table who kept insisting we went over to try their food and drink their banana spirit. We couldn’t communicate with anyone by any means but pointing and laughing so we sat down and gesticulated at the waiter as if to say ‘bring us anything you’ve got my good man’.

We’re doing this at every meal now because what we got was amazing and included a meatsicle, a sort of burger stuck on a piece of bamboo that we cooked on the tabletop barbeque. By the end of the night we’d been fed a banquet and drunk an awful lot of spirits. I’d innocently partaken in a ritual of drinking half a shot each with the girls on the rowdy table, but I later got the impression that meant I fancied them. Polly wouldn’t let me take any of them home though.

We’ve been away two months now and till this point hadn’t seen a single beach. Makes you sick doesn’t it? So it was with great excitement, water wings and a Frisbee that we headed to Phu Quoc. Apparently this island’s a real bone of contention between Cambodia and Vietnam because it’s much closer to Cambodia but Vietnam’s gone and stolen it. Not that we care, it’s got a beach!

We arrived by boat and got dropped at any old hotel on the beach, but our slapdash attitude cost us dearly in the heat of the day. Turns out it’s pretty popular and despite there being dozens of resorts it took us an hour of schlepping up the beach to find a room. Phu Quoc was grand at the time, we just sunbathed in the day and went to watch the local Abba tribute band of an evening, but the best was yet to come.

Back into Cambodia we stopped off at a fishing town called Kep for a night, ate lots of seafood and drunk too much again. I had a chance to polish my pool skills while Polly chatted to an American guy out there working for an NGO – I’m pretty certain Polly fancied him, he kept going on about how he organises his expenses using spreadsheets, which is right up her street.

From there we went to Koh Tonsay, also known as ‘Rabbit Island’ but I haven’t got the faintest idea why, it’s not got any rabbits and looks nothing like one either. When you consider there are about 20 beach huts with no running water on the whole island, you may see the futility in Polly’s mission to hack through jungle, clamber over rocks and fight off a sea dog in order to find what she claimed was ‘the biggest supermarket in the region’. We eventually found someone who would sell us food, which we were more than grateful for by that point.

Then finally, the jackpot. On our way to a lodge in the Cardamom mountains we thought we should try a place called Koh Rong off the seediest of Cambodian towns, Sihanoukville. No idea why but this place has story after story of people being robbed, drugged, imprisoned and plenty more besides. We didn’t hang about and went straight to the island and what an island it is. I guess this is what Thailand was like 15 years ago; three very nice bungalow resorts and nothing but beautiful sea and white beaches.

We thought we were going to have a bit of a nightmare though as when we arrived the first thing the owner did was come up to us apologetically and say that, despite our three night booking, we could only spend one night there and that he’d find us somewhere else to stay. He explained that the guy that owned the island, not to mention Cambodia’s biggest bank and insurance company, had phoned up that morning to say he needed the whole resort for his royal friend’s birthday party.

Being the lovely understanding people we are we said it wasn’t a problem, but the next day he was getting more and more agitated and we weren’t moving. Then about midday the beach, normally dotted with a dozen sunbathers at most, started to fill up. Not with more tourists, but rather with a regiment of Cambodia’s Army. Armed to the eyeballs with machine guns and pistols, they must have thought us a very serious threat.

As it happened the owner couldn’t find anywhere for us to stay so there we remained with the richest, most affluent group of Cambodians going. They turned out to be very hospitable and invited us to their beach party, where there was a lot of drinking and a lot of dancing – we had a go at a bit of Khmer-style dancing (like raving, but slower) then showed them a thing or two about dancing to the Macarena. They even put on a huge fireworks display, but without the usual health and safety legislation it was all a bit tense when they went off all around us. In summary, the most important lesson I learned was that a hangover in the searing heat is a very undesirable thing indeed.

Vietnam part one

I can confirm we have arrived at the worst place on our travels so far. It’s my fault. Polly’s been Head of Planning so far and the one time I’ve made a decision it’s not turned out well.

It’s also the fault of Can Tho Waterpark with its enticing waterslides, tide pool and hot dogs, which is more temptation than I can handle. Can Toh’s towards the very south of Vietnam and is the capital of the region, which must explain why the Japanese came and built an incredible toll bridge here. I would have taken a photo from the bus but the camera was jammed between my legs and a pile of bags. Plus I didn’t want to make any sudden movements in case I made the fighting cock trying to break its way out of someone’s bag, or the chicken that was just hanging out on the bus, angry.

We arrived and had a relatively pleasant negotiation with some blokes with motorbikes and set off for the guesthouse. It turned out to be a short journey, which is always a bonus when you’re carrying a backpack weighing about eight stone. I didn’t have any change to pay them so went to buy a bottle of water from a stall and checked with the woman that she had change for the note I’d given her. She smiled and went off to get change, then came back a second later waving a completely different note and telling me I had to give her more. I presently experienced the following range of emotions: confusion, disbelief, rage.

The woman had taken my money and was pretending I’d only given her a few pence. I tried to reason with her but she wasn’t having it, so I went behind her counter to root through her draw but my note wasn’t there and she started getting shirty. We then wasted about a minute while I told her she’d taken my money but she was still demanding more off me, and we had a decent crowd round now. Some guy that spoke English stepped in and explained her story to me and I explained to him that she was full of shit. The problem here is that with half the street around and the thought of wasting our whole water park day getting the police involved over £3 (it’s not a lot, but it’s still daylight robbery), and other people saying she was right, I had to give up.

Stewing over a suitable revenge, we set off for the waterpark, the whole reason we (I) stopped over here. It’s hot and we thought we’d walk to work up a bit of a sweat so the reward would be all the sweeter, but as we got closer we could see the slides were either being used by incredibly small people or they were shut. But surely not? On a weekend? The website looked good so we thought it must be ok.

As we rounded the final corner it all made sense; the whole thing was closed down and had been for a year, as we later found out. As far as we could tell though, the park will be re-opening at 6:30 this evening – in Malaysia. We’ll be getting the first bus out of here tomorrow.

Vietnam hasn’t been all bad though, we’ve just come from a couple of nights staying in Vinh Longh, a busy little city on the bank of the Mekong. We had a nice room overlooking the river and the local karaoke bar. I can’t tell you who was singing or what, but it might have been auditions for Rex Factor from what we could hear. Woof.

We got up at the crack of dawn and went on a cruise round the nearby waterways and islands on our way to the local floating market. We really enjoyed it, the market was a sight to see and was something of a mix between Mad Max and Waterworld, just with less fighting and more root vegetables.

We also saw some new wildlife to tick off our list, including a few kingfishers and baby crocodiles that were being farmed for food and handbags.

Oh, and a horse.

The Mekong made a nice change from Saigon, Ho Chi Min city, where I think the traffic is more incredible than either Bangkok or Shanghai. It’s a big place and there’s no public transport to speak of so everyone has a motorbike. The sheer volume of bikes makes being a pedestrian hard enough, but when you throw into the mix the fact that traffic lights are meaningless and that, despite there being two lanes for traffic to flow as normal, it seems perfectly legitimate to ride the wrong way up a road or round a roundabout. Too much traffic on the road? Not a problem, just ride on the pavement!

We found a way to beat all the chaos by escaping to the top of the tallest building we could find for a drink.

Saigon gave us our first taste of poorly conceived but sometimes effective robbery techniques. One of the postcard sellers at the zoo was explaining how much he wanted for his postcards while I had my wallet out. Not feeling worried I let him touch my wallet and he took out a note. Here we go through my stock emotional response to robbery: confusion, disbelief, rage. He then tried to explain that I needed to pay with another note, presumably thinking we both hadn’t seen him taking the last one. A short attempt to reason with him later and Polly took matters into her own hands and managed to snatch the note back. Five out of five for effort, zero out of five for ingenuity, Mr Postcard.

Otherwise all was well, we had a delicious meal at a restaurant where all the waiters are kids from the city’s poorest areas and went out for some proper drinking at Apocolypse Now, a nightclub where there were more security guards than punters when we arrived.

It’s all a far cry from Raffles. Now that’s holiday-making.

Cambodge

Cambodia’s been an incredible experience for us. We spent our first week in Strung Treng and then moved on to Siem Riep where all the temples of the Ankhor empire remain in various states of disrepair/renovation. It was incredible, but the most poignant experience so far has been learning about the reign of the Khmer Rouge from 1975-79.

We didn’t know much but the basics about genocide and civil war, if you can call it a war, over that time but this country is still so affected by it that it’s been incredibly sad learning about what happened.

I’d tentatively asked a few people about it in Siem Riep but no one discusses it. It was only when we got to Phnom Penh and visited S 21, a school that was converted to a torture camp and holding place for as many as 30,000 Cambodians before they were taking to the killing fields to be slaughtered, that we got a glimpse of how terrible the Pol Pot regime was.

A handful of people, including two of the only seven people that actually left the camp alive, were guides at the camp. As one woman told us about the death of all her family at the hands of the Khmer Rouge she choked back tears – I’ve never seen such pain in someone’s face. At the time the revolutionaries cleared out the big cities as part of Pot’s plan to take the country back to an agrarian society with none of the so-called evils of the western world. No one imagined that the incoming army would slaughter a quarter of the country.

There are such terrible stories of atrocities and at S 21 hundreds of pictures were found showing young men who were tortured and put to death. One picture showed a woman holding her baby; after the photo was taken her baby was taken from her arms and beaten against the wall until it was dead. It’s no surprise that families do not talk about their experiences even among themselves. As much as I’ve studied history, this is the most painful story as it was so sudden, brutal and unexpected and speaking to a couple of survivors made it so real. No one expected their own people to cause such devastation.

Before Phnom Pehn we spent two days exploring the temples of Siem Riep (Polly's the little red dot). The short history is that they were built as homes for the gods around year 1000, and they really knew how to build a home for a god. Temple after temple, all unique in their own way with the most immense example being Angkhor Wat. It turns out that the pathway to heaven (represented by the top of the temples) should not be easy, which I discovered as I climbed a staircase that was more like a stone ladder.

We stomped, we trekked, Polly nearly fell off the top of a temple after sunset on the hill and we were fully exhausted. Dan’s travelling tip: Inconspicuous as a tree sounds, beware hidden monsters. Ambling back to our motorbike cart we were assaulted by a serpent that obviously remembered it wasn’t a monkey and fell out of a tree right next to my feet. I pretended to be an elephant and it slipped away without biting me.

We’ve being staying in cheap accommodation, which has been great in some places, but when we arrived in Phnom Penh the guesthouse we arrived at could generously be described as a prison cell. Here’s Polly preparing to kill one of the 936 mosquitoes in the room.

Our good friends at work had given us a generous bundle of cash when we left (in no way would I infer that they couldn’t think of anything good to get us) so we decided to cash our chips. Next day, here we are at Raffles, Phnom Penh. The most delicious breakfast, complimentary massages by the pool, a room you can actually move in and free showery stuff like shampoo = heaven.

Here's a picture of me looking pretty sexy.

We’re not moving outside the hotel, Phnom Penh is proper busy and on the roads there are ten motorbikes per square foot. In two days we leave for Saigon (there’s a new name for it but I can’t spell it), which is apparently 100 times more hectic. We’re resting up good while we can, although I've been toying with some 10k training plans.

Cambodia

You’ve got to hand it to the Cambodians, they know how to motivate you to cross the road:



Cambodia: Transparency International rate it the 12th most corrupt country in the world, which is pretty good going. They don’t make much effort to hide it either, when we crossed the border from Laos we had to take a bundle of dollars to pay off various officials including a medical examiner who checked our temperatures by pointing a ray gun to our head. Notwithstanding the fact it looked like a toy gun, I can assure you I wouldn’t be making this journey if I was running a 100˚ temperature.

We’d spent the last four days in the 4,000 islands in the south of Laos, a really serene place made up of thousands of sandbanks but only a few real islands. We stayed on Don Kohn, the quieter and more laid back of the group and really did nothing but explore on the bikes and sunbathe. Polly looks like less of a glowworm now, although she’s still not being mistaken for a local.

Still, it wasn’t without its trials and no surprise that a bike was the culprit in our latest mishap. We’d been out for the morning, looking at waterfalls and beaches and trying to find the elusive Irawaddy dolphin (no luck) and were heading home when Polly and I had a little race on a straight of road. I had been suspicious about my bike since the start, it sort of wheezed as I peddled.

When Polly started pulling away from me I knew for certain there was a problem and it wasn’t just the colour of my bike.

Next thing I know the pedals have gone limp and the chain’s come off. I got the chain back on but the illness was obviously terminal and the pedalbox or whatever it’s called was broken. An old man passing by helpfully analysed the patient and came to the same conclusion and I had to get home the rest of the way like a proper numpty:



Nicely rested we took off to Cambodia, heading for Siem Riep and the Angkor temples. It’s a twelve hour journey so we decided to cross the border and spend a night in a terminal town (in every sense) called Strung Treng. Thank goodness we did because as our guesthouse owner merrily waved us off on the boat he shouted that the bus had broken down at Pakse and there wouldn’t be one to pick us up for a couple of hours. We smiled and shouted back our thanks.

When the bus finally arrived we literally had to fight for a place on the bus. I think Polly killed a man. It took us ten minutes to get to the border and another hour before we’d cleared the various pay points and had to fight once again for our place on the bus. At one point I wedged myself behind a telly just to make sure I was in a defendable position but the company finally conceded they would have to get more transport and herded the overflow onto another bus. Seven hours later we’d got to Strung Treng and left a group of twenty Australians and Brits already well on their way to alcohol poisoning. As we found out from the next day’s journey they still had another twelve hours to go. What a bitch.

So here we are, tomorrow we take on the hundreds of temples with our cyclo man Mr Chas, a twelve year old in charge of a motorbike with a cart on the back of it. Should be great.

Tickets, systems and disrespecting local culture

From the calm of Luang Prabang to the storm of Vang Vieng, the would be Ibiza of southeast Asia if it was made of bungie jumps, zip wires and wooden huts giving away booze and selling lots of ‘happy’ drinks. Not that the girl running around screaming for an ambulance seemed that happy, nor the girl we saw as soon as we stepped on the river bank who was passed out and surrounded by people we can only assume were trying to put her in the recovery position.

We arrived late in the afternoon and the fun was already well underway so we skipped the first couple of bars where everyone was grinding in bikinis like it was 3am at a rave. We got ourselves a bucket of gin and watched the Aussies go for it. I would have liked to have shown them a thing or two but was a little bit poorly so we left without so much as a sniff of a rubber ring.

This picture sums things up nicely.

We only stayed two days, the second of which we tried to find a blue lagoon about 6k from our hut. What we actually found was an impassable road with a girl putting up a sign with skull and crossbones on it and the words ‘Danger, death, explosion…’. We tried to go up anyway but a very persuasive dog convinced us not to. Dan’s traveling tip: If a dog comes at you barking, do not confront it and then run away. We didn’t get to the lagoon, but we did get to explore a cave with a couple of entrepreneurial kids who took us to a Buddha in the depths. Why was it there? No idea.

Vang Vieng was our first encounter with the mystical Laos ticketing system. Pedestrians are charged for crossing the river bridge and in exchange get a nicely printed ticket. So far so good and on our return we handed in the ticket to cross back. Apparently the ticket system is no match for the eagle-eyed attendant who accused us of having crossed twice on the same ticket already. Anyone involved in ticket distribution/collection can feel free to correct me, but in my opinion the system should be quite simple – pay and collect a ticket one way, return it on the other. I tried explaining this in my calmest manner for about five minutes before falling back to wild gesticulation and finally getting waved through.

Next morning we headed for the capital city Vientiene. Highlights included buying antibiotics without a prescription, finding a cash machine that didn’t charge and this wonderful decorative chandelier on the VIP bus.

I should have saved the camera for our next trip though, the sleeper bus to Pakse. ‘King of Buses’ claimed the disco lights on the back of the bus. King of Cramp more like, We’d got the last beds on the bus but were a little disappointed to find it was no bigger than a single bed. We hoped that a couple of people might not have made it so we could snatch another one but the bus filled out and we settled in. Dan’s travelling tip: If you ever get a sleeper bus alone, buy two seats. If we thought we had it bad we felt a lot better when the 6’5” bloke above us realised he had to share the bed with another lanky man he didn’t know.

We allowed ourselves a little giggle but no more. Some Aussie chaps gave us a couple of valium for the journey but I found a bottle of whisky (70p!) worked just as well.

Safely deposited at Pakse we decided to do a bit of shopping and Polly found herself a right bargain; three knickers for 80p! Probably should have washed them first though, she’s got dyed zebra pattern all over her bottom now.

There’s not much to do in the town except have a sunset drink on one of the roof terraces but the main reason for stopping over was to visit Wat Phu Champasat. It’s a Khmer temple dating back to the 5th century built on the side of what was described as a ‘phallic’ mountain. They must have had some weird phalluses back then. A gruelling climb up the steepest steps in the world was well worth it, the ruins and the view from the sanctuary at the top were amazing, we’d definitely recommend a stop if ever you come to this part of the world.

We’ve just arrived at Don Khon, one of the 4,000 islands on the Mekong River at the southern end of Laos and we’ve got sunshine, hammocks and beaches. The trial to be passed in getting here? Buying a ticket for the boat at the boat ticket office, only for the boat ticket office to tell you it’s not valid and expecting you to pay again. Some would say another flaw in the ticketing operation but five minutes of calm discussion followed by wild arm gesticulation once again gets the job done.

Injuries to body and soul

We’ve slipped behind schedule. Luang Prabang is that sort of place, it’s a grown-up town that’s happy wearing its slippers and smoking a pipe, satisfied with its lot in life and not trying too hard.

After our stay in the villages of northern Laos we were excited about the prospect of a working shower, warmth from the sun and posh restaurants and bars. While the dream shower continued to elude us – not surprising at the prices we’re paying – everything else lulled us into a few lazy days on the Mekong.

It’s not been without its troubles though; I’ve picked up two injuries and a cold. The first ailment was at the Lao Lao Bar, a sort of barbecue fondue where a bucket of red hot coals is sunk into the middle of your table and you cook a choice of meats over a metal dish, with noodle soup bubbling away in the dish round the side. I got a burning coal right on my pinkie and nearly kneed the whole table over Polly before I knew what had happened, but luckily no further damage was done.

The next morning we went out for an amble around the town, made it to breakfast and were overcome with fatigue so just ate our way through the day. We made up for it in some spectacular fashion the next day, breaking our daily Wat record and climbing Phu Si where there were some incredible views out over the whole province. I was so overcome I ended up doing a sexy pose.

The real highlight of the day came that evening. The best bar in town is a place called Utopia, which has a bamboo terrace overlooking the river and is incredible at dusk. More importantly, every Friday it has a volleyball tournament and so I put my name down, while Polly took the reigns as Head of Media and additionally Chief Cheerleader. She refused the miniskirt and bikini top I offered her for the latter.

So how did I do? It wasn’t looking good at first, I was teamed up with three Germans that looked like they were out of Glee and an Australian girl who had cycled 80k (we talk in ‘k’ here, it upsets me but that’s how it is) already that day. We lost our first match to a team of Cambodians who obviously lived in Laos and hustled the volleyball circuit, but won our next three group games. We literally bulldozed our way through the semi-final – I personally knocked a girl over on the way to victory.

And so to the final, after three hours of competition. I can’t speak for my teammates but I was five Beer Laos to the good and full of confidence that only blind drunkenness can give you. Polly was saying something about not having eaten any dinner but I was so focused I blocked her out of my mind.

It was the re-match everyone had been waiting for; Team Sebastien vs. The Cambodians. The first match was a close call but we narrowly lost. Then the second leg , and disaster. With the game tied I made the supreme sacrifice going for over a ball over my head. Turning on a sixpence, I executed an amazing overhead volley. The crowd gasped. Lying on my side, I watched the ball arc to the far corner as it dropped. It’s in! I’m going to win this single-handledly! But then joy to despair as the ball hit a branch on the way down – out! I got to my feet and as I took the commiseration from my team and the crowd (except Polly, she seemed to have gone somewhere) I realised that the pitch was not in fact beach and rather a concrete yard covered with a fine layer of sand. My hip was shot and my wrist unplayable. Needless to say, without my flair and vision we went on to lose. We went home dejected to a loser’s dinner of crisps and half a Dairylea baguette.

The plan for the next day was to go to the Tat Kuang Si waterfall waterfall but I was in pain and so we went to the hospital instead.

To pass the time while we waited for an x-ray Polly had brought her trumpet, so imagine the disappointment when we saw this sign at the entrance. We didn’t have to wait long though, the doctors laughed as they handed me my bill and sent me on my way with a couple of aspirin.

The next day we finally made it to the waterfall. Have you ever seen a bear in real life? I don’t see how this has slipped past the rest of humankind, but bears aren’t real. We saw a Moon Bear supposedly saved from poachers near the Quin Se waterfall and I can assure you from the movements of this actor that there's no such thing as a bear. All bears are humans dressed up in bear suits.

The park owners were probably putting dye in the water as well, the waterfalls were incredible although suspiciously not so at the top where everything starts out as a brown sludge. It took us half an hour climbing sheer mudbank to find that out.

And away again! Off to Viang Vien for the tubing...

Laod? Not much!

We’re back in civilization! If you’ve been worrying about our lack of updates I apologise on behalf of the northern Lao, who haven’t bothered to set up their internet yet. It’s probably not their fault though, I bet you BT have cocked up their change of address and they’re still on hold with technical support.

So without the ability to play Bejewelled or check on West Ham’s misfortunes we decided to get out into the fresh air and do some outsdoorsy stuff. Our first stop was Luang Namtha, a town that seems to have changed quite a bit since our 2006 Lonely Planet edition was published, so the bus station was not in fact 200m from the centre but 10k. Seems the Ministry of Transport moved it to give the tuk-tuk drivers something to do.

I can't blame them, not only does it give them an income but also something to do in the freezing cold. At night Polly slept in a pair of leggings, tracksuit bottoms, three t-shirts, a jumper and a delightful Lao fleece she had to buy in a fit of panic about the temperature.

We signed up for a day’s trekking which gave us our first taste of really being in the middle of nowhere. Great for us, not so great for the girl who decided to do the four hours up a mountain in flip-flops.

Some of the money for the trip goes to a village in the mountains, but don’t worry, I won it back from some kids in a game of Kataw. I was pretty amazing but this is the best Polly could do to capture the moment.

It would seem she was more interested in taking pictures of all the baby animals than watching me making mugs of the small children.

We also got on the bikes to see the surrounding area for ourselves, it’s a stunning setting and the hundredth Wat we‘ve seen even managed to provoke some interest.

Next to Nong Khiaw on the dustiest public bus on the planet. Not only did we get bronchitis but also enjoyed the entertainment from the driver, smoking away at the wheel and stopping off to buy a lovely set of brushes. Nong Khiaw is built on the River Ou between sheer mountainside and is breathtaking. By way of punishment for this pleasure we had to stay in a bamboo box, which claimed to come with a shower. It might more accurately have been called a drizzle.

We took a bit of downtime here but you can’t just get drunk all day (so Polly says) and we went off for a wander, encountering a herd of water buffalo appear out of nowhere while we were investigating a pond full of water lilies and stumbling on a cave that the Lao used to live in while the area was being bombed. I must have made quite an impression, they made me Chief of the Cabinet!

Word quickly spread about my appointment and I was invited to play football in the town square; apparently it’s a requirement for any incoming cabinet member.

Although the rocks on the pitch made slick passing a little tricky, the mountainous scenery made it feel like we were playing at the Nou Camp, albeit with trees for fans. Sadly, an heroic effort to stop the ball going out of play left me with a graze on my ankle and, as is tradition when I go abroad, the wound’s got infected and now I’m injecting iodine into it every ten minutes.

The following day we took a longboat up to Muang Ngoi Neua, which is inaccessible other than by river. They pack the tourists on like cattle on these little beauties, but my new VIP status meant Polly and I were granted the best seats on the boat. We didn't realise how significant this was till we hit the rapids and everyone got drenched but us. Result!

Even more stunning than Nong Khiaw, we only stayed on for one night; this had nothing to do with the town alarm clock, which involved some bloke banging a drum for ten minutes at four in the morning. He even had a little trick where he’d leave out a couple of beats every now and again to lull you back to sleep. The snooze button of the rural world if you will.

So that’s it, an incredibly painful four hour journey on the back of a truck and we’re here in Luang Prabang. It’s a bigger place than we’re used to but very laid back, we’re going to look at more Wats, go see a waterfall and then relax vigorously. We haven’t had a massage in days.