17th May - Kampot to Saigon

Woke up early to book my bus and had some breakfast whilst waiting for my 9:30am departure. Double checked how long the bus journey would take and was told 13 hours which I wasn't looking forward to but seemed bearable. Went off to buy some bread for the journey.

The minibus arrived to pick me up from the hotel pretty much on time and we set off on our journey after picking up a few other people from other hotels. I got chatting to a guy who was originally from Cambodia but moved to America as a refugee after the Vietnamese "liberation" of Cambodia.

I'm not sure the bus driver had every driven a manual vehicle before as he constantly tried to pull away in 5th before restarting the engine and doing the same a few times. He had a tendency to accelerate quickly take the bus out of gear and then jam it back into the gear he was already in causing us to slam into the seats in front and also to take the bus out of 5th gear at speed and ram into 3rd gear having the same affect. Maybe he just like torturing us, I'm not sure.

After around 2 and a half hours we reached the border and got stamped out of Cambodia and into Vietnam with very little fuss. In fact it was all going much better than I thought, even the minibus came through and we all piled back on until we got to Ha Tien city. At this point we all got off and had to wait around 1 1/2 hours for another bus to arrive. I was OK with this as it meant I could have a wander, buy a Vietnamese sim card and change some dollars for dong (snigger). One of the western girls on the bus, an American named Rachel got quite pissed off as they initially refused to give her an onward ticket to Saigon a she'd let the bus driver take her original ticket off her. After lots of swearing and name calling from Rachel they gave in. Not how I would've dealed with the situation but it seemed to work and was quite amusing.

The bus arrived a few minutes late and turned out to just be a small local bus full of Vietnamese. Not that this is a problem, but it really wasn't turning out to be the "VIP" service that always gets promised. This bus was quite annoying. It had been raining heavily whilst we were waiting for the bus and the roof was leaking above the only seats that were left. It also spent the first 30 odd minutes of the journey driving at walking pace, and I'm not exaggerating, bicycles pedalled by 70 year old men were flying past us. After this the driver then decided to drive at the speed of sound, as is the norm it seems for buses in Asia, for the rest of the journey. I've got used to this but the two German girls that were also on the bus looked scared to death.

After a while once of the westerners, I can't remember who, got talking to a vietnamese family who spoke good english and we discovered that this bus was actually only going to Can Tho not all the way to Saigon so we'd have to change again.

After about 4 hours we stopped and I was poked by the driver through my open window, when I turned he said "you go toilet". I said OK and he led me by the arm to a secluded wooded area where I wasn't sure if I was about to sexually assaulted or left to urinate. Fortunately it turned out to be the latter.

I got back to the bus and noticed everyone else was still on it. Not sure why I had been singled out for the toilet but eventually other people got off and we had a few minutes before the driver started pushing me back onto the bus and then beeping the horn frantically to hurry everyone along.

It was a good few more hours until we got to the next stop, which I don't remember the name of and we were bundled off the bus and left standing around not knowing what was going on. After a while the driver started throwing everyone's bags onto the dusty bus station floor so I went to pick mine up and noticed it was wet and that it stank of fish. When I looked in the luggage compartment of the bus I noticed it had been rammed in next to an unsealed polystyene container which obviously contained fish and dirty stinky fish water which was now all over my bag. Awesome. Of course the bus driver wasn't in the slightest bit interested.

We crossed accross the dual carriageway and were bundled onto a local minibus, hoping it was actually the correct one, and set off at warp speed. The only seat free for me was on the back row and the back row is not somewhere you want to be on a road as bumpy as this one with a driver that slows down for nothing.
This bus stopped constantly to pick up and drop off until eventually I had the back row to myself so I could lay down and try to get some sleep between being lifted out of the seat by another bump. This was short live however as I was shortly woken by a Vietnamese guy kicking my legs because he wanted to sit down.

By this time is was about 10-10:30pm and Rachel, the loud american girl, had decided she was hungry. As she was sat next to the driver she badgered him constantly by loudly repeating "Food, I need food" for about 30 minutes until the driver finally relented and pulled up next to a steamed dumpling stand. The dumpling stall owner I'm sure doubled the price at the sign of white faces and decided they were 20,000 dong or about 1 dollar but we couldn't be bothered to argue and bought some. I was so tired that I ended up paying with a 200,000 note instead of a 20,000 but fortunately the seller gave me my change.

We then continued on at insane speed with the usual constant beeping until we arrived in Saigon. Only of course it wasn't in the center, it was a good few miles outside and the normal moto drivers pounced telling us that we had to go with them as it was the only/cheapest/whatever lies they tell to get your money way to get to where we wanted. I'd heard about this scam with buses before so argued with the driver about being taken to the main bus station but he point blank refused to let us on the bus. By this point Rachel had flagged down a taxi and we gave up and were taken to the backpacker area on the meter.

Everyone else had a room booked so the german girls went off to find theirs and I went with Rachel as hers was in the cheaper area of town but, as it tuned out, at $15 a night, not cheap enough for me so I started looking elsewhere and eventually got an OK room for $8.

By this time it was well past midnight and I'd been travelling for 17 hours so, after a quick Skype with Anji, I had a well deserved sleep.

16th May - Kep

Got up reasonably early and discovered that Alfred sleeps nude, obviously this is fairly normal but I'm not sure many people do it in dorms full of people.

Anyway, that aside, I decided that I'd head to Kep for the day rather than moving there, finding a guesthouse, etc. so I went back to the same place to rent the same motorbike I'd had the day before. I specifically wanted this one as the guy had told me I'd need a full tank of fuel for Bokor when in actual fact it had half a tank left when I returned it. So I asked them to pull it out, even though it meant they had to move half the other bikes there, only to find that they obviously siphon off all the left over fuel and use it for theirselves. Oh well, at least I know the bike is fairly decent.

After a quick trip to Kampot market to buy some deodorant (I stink - Anji had the only deodorant) I head out on the ~25km trip to Kep. It was all uneventful but nice.

Sorry kids... Kep Beach

After arriving in Kep, I realised the town was fairly boring. Nothing much to do but eat crab or lay on the beach which wasn't very nice so I took a look at the map and noticed a hiking trail that lead around the "mountain" in a nice loop. Me being me, I decided walking it would be a waste of my motorbike rental so I decided to see if I could ride it.

To begin with I was on the wrong road which I realised once I came to a dead end so came back down and decided to take any road/track that took my fancy. 9 times out of 10 these lead to nothing more interesting than a hole in the ground. On the 10th time it lead to thousands of decomposing multilated crab laid out on various old tarpaulin sheets, which was a little odd.



After finding the start of the trail, I decided it would be worth a go as it actually started out as a road, albeit an unpaved one, with a $1 toll entry fee for the national park but no one to take it and an open barrier. So off I went.

The road soon degraded to a rutted path but I kept on going up and it was lovely, with benches every so often and signs pointing out the various points of interest. At one point I passed a couple of tourists walking up the path and thought to myself how foolish they were until it occurred to me that I was the one doing the wrong thing. Oh well.

I reached the summit and stopped for a well deserved drink before heading back down the other side of the loop where unfortunately the entry booth was manned and I had to pay $1.

After carrying along another dirt road I noticed another signposted trail to the very top of the hill so decided I may as well have a go. This was pretty foolish as I soon discovered this trail was very steep and in fact was more of a storm runoff for the mountain streams with loose rubble everywhere. I wasn't about to give up though and powered my way up slowly but surely. After a while the trail came to a temple and narrowed into the forest so I could no longer ride. Feeling that I really ought to do some exercise today I got of the bike and walked through the forest/jungle until I got to "Sunset Rock" which was a lovely viewpoint. There were already a couple of people there who'd obviously walked all the way up, the idiots.

A lot steeper than it looks

I wasn't feeling quite so smug once it came to the descent as it had started to rain and the cable operated drum brakes of the Honda Dream leave quite a lot to be desired. The front brake actually won't hold the bike on even the slightest incline so it was quite fun. On one of the flatter bits of the descent a huge bird, an eagle I think, soared out of a tree along the path and flew in front of me for a while. It was most impressive but I couldn't really take my eyes off the rutted surface.

Once eventually down I decided to head for a tarmac road into Kep itself to see if there was anything to do.

I wandered the crab market and the seafood stands but wasn't hungry so after a short ride along the beach front road I started to head back to Kampot. Realising I had over half a tank of fuel left I decided not to head straight back and to just find an interesting looking dirt track off the main road which I did. This led into the countryside proper, with traditional houses on stilts, people working the fields and children chasing me along shouting hello. At one point I had to cross a river on a bridge that looked a bit like the one in "The Man With The Golden Gun" only flat and without a massive gap in the middle. Still it was fun riding over it whilst it twisted and creaked.

I decided to keep taking random dirt tracks to see where I ended up and stumbled across a lovely temple where I stopped to take a few photos. The locals didn't really know what to do until a boy ran up to me and said "money, money, money".

After leaving the temple I rode the dirt tracks for another half an hour or so before meeting a raised train track. The only options were a steep wooden plank rested on the track and then bumping over two set of tracks or to follow them until I hit something, preferably a road. This is obviously a common choice as there were plenty of tyre tracks. It wasn't long before I came to a bridge over a stream, unfortunately it was a railway bridge but fortunately somone had laid planks along it so you could just get a bike across which I did and it wasn't long before I'd got back to a main road. I still had lots of fuel left so just decided to ride until I was bored. This never happened but my aching back (asian motorbikes just aren't built for normal height foreigners) got the better of me and I decided to head back to the guesthouse where I discovered Alfred had checked out. A cheap dorm wasn't really his thing.

Everyone wears pyjamas in Cambodia

After a bit of a relax whilst researching possible Vietnam sat nav options for my phone I wandered into town and had a cheap dinner at a food stall and sat by the river to watch the disappointing sunset. Realising I hadn't sorted out any travel arrangements to Saigon, I then tramped around the various bus ticket offices to work out my best options before giving up and wandering back to the guesthouse only to find that they coud arrange the tickets at the same as the cheapest price I had found. Still 13 hours on a bus doesn't sound like fun and I'd imagine it will take longer than that so I may just book a ticket to the border town and see what happens when I get there. I have until 7AM to think about that as that's the latest I have to book the bus for a 9AM departure.

Getting an early night so that I can be up early and it's absolutely throwing it down outside. It seems rainy season has begun in earnest.

15th May - Kampot - Bokor

Woke fairly early this morning and realised I didn't have my "day bag". Remembered I had it at the bar last night so got ready quickly and went straight to the bar which was closed. Peering through the gap in the shutters I could see the owner was asleep in the bar (this sounds weird but is perfectly normal here) so knocked and shouted to wake her up. Fortunately for me she was a lovely person and despite being half asleep opened up the bar and after rubbing the sleep from her eyes remembered that she had found my bag. The relief! I had the camera in there. She also offered these words of wisdom "It is a bad idea to leave your bag in a bar. Anyone could take it." however I was so relieved to have it back I couldn't bring myself to be sarcastic.

After that excitement I splashed out and had a $0.75 breakfast whilst I decided what to do for the day. It took me around 2 seconds to decide to rent a motorbike and drive it up the mountain road to Bokor hill station, an abandoned french hill station nearby that Lonely Planet describes in their 2011 edition thusly
"The highlight of a visit to the hills station is the shell of the Bokor Palace , which has been stripped of everything of value. You can explore all four levels and the rooftop terrace, from which there's a magnificent view over dense jungles that stretch almost to the sea.

It's possible to wander up and down the corridors, around the kitchens and through the ballroom to the suites above, past variegated ceramic floors, tiled bathrooms and a giant fireplace where cocksure colonial French and wealthy Khmers could warm up on a nippy night. On cold, foggy days it can get pretty creepy up here as mists drop visibility to nothing and the wind howls through the building."

I wandered round the corner to the nearest motorbike rental shop and got myself a semi automatic Honda Dream for $5 and returned to the hostel to grab a waterproof jacket. Once back I found out that Alfred and a lovely french couple had also just hired motorbikes to do the same thing so after grabbing a jacket and fuelling up the bikes we were on our way.

Once out of Kampot, and off of National Route 3, the road to Bokor is a fantastic new, winding mountain road with great views of the area and even though it was throwing it down with rain for most of the journey, it was a fantastic ride. I was the only one with a raincoat and the french couple gave up after around a quarter of the way so only Alfred (who was wearing shorts and Tshirt) and I made it to the top where there is now a massive great big hotel/casino complex and building work everywhere. Even the old hotel described above is being redeveloped and is now off limits (trust us - we tried). However, the view from the top is amazing, with the sheer drop then trees, beach, ocean and islands. A photo would probably help here so I'll upload one at some point.

We spent a good few hours exploring the few empty buildings that we could, including the eerie empty church where mists appeared and disappeared in seconds.

We had lunch at the fancy hotel, a buffet which cost $10!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Excuse the overuse of exclamation marks here but that is more than Anji and I spend on food together in a day and I had no idea it would be this much. I'd already started once I found out so ate as much as humanly possible to make up for it. I'll not have an evening meal and won't each much tomorrow or maybe ever again.

We had a quick look around the casino where I was impressed by the "Please volunteer to relinquish your hand guns here" sign at the security desk. Once inside we were promptly stopped by security and told we had to hand over our bike helmets or we'd be asked to leave. Good to see they have their priorities straight.

The ride back down was great fun and it has made me adamant that I will get a motorbike licence once I'm back in the UK.

After dropping off my motorbike and discussing bus options for Vietnam with the shop owner I've returned to Cozy Elephant with no desire to leave for the evening and a thoroughly blown budget for the day. Tomorrow will be frugal.

14th May - And then there was one - Matt's solo journey from Battambang to Kampot

Today is the day that Anji has to start her journey to Bangkok so that she can get her flight home early in the morning of the 15th. I've also got my bus booked to Kampot for a similar time so we both get up fairly early and do a final check of our bags before heading to the bus station.

Unfortunately our buses leave from different stations. Fortunately they are fairly close together, so despite the fact that our buses leave at the same time, we get some time together at the nearest bus station to say our difficult goodbyes. This is much harder that I imagined it to be.

My bus arrived a little late and I set off on my journey to Kampot via Phnom Penh. The journey to Phnom Penh was fairly uneventful, at least other than a lorry deciding to perform a three point turn in the road as we barrelled towards it. Fortunately our bus driver reacted quickly and we came to a fairly well controlled stop on the grass next to the road. Even the Cambodians were screaming so I guess it wasn't a run of the mill event. After we got back onto the road the bus driver boxed the lorry driver in so everyone could stare at him through the bus windows. I'm not sure if this affected him at all, maybe it will make him remove all the stickers from his side window so he can see oncoming traffic in his mirror, or maybe he'll just carry on pulling out without looking.

We arrived in Phnom Penh on time which gave around 20mins to wait for the bus to Kampot. I just had enough time to find a stall selling food (a Khmer Sandwich which was meant to be pate but tasted like some kind of canned meat) before being bundled on to the bus.

The journey was longer than expected and was uneventful until we reached Kep. Everyone leaving the bus at Kep got off and the luggage started to be unloaded, after a while the annoying TV went off which was a blessing, the the lights flickered and left us in darkness.  After a while those of us on the bus noticed everyone start to back away from the bus. It seemed odd but we all sat in our seats until someone noticed smoke pouring out from the sides. We got off and were told that the bus was on fire due to an electrical fault which was nice to know.

After the small fire was extinguished we were told that another bus would be sent to Kampot which would take around 30mins so people started to disperse to various food stalls and restaurants. I sat with a guy I recognised from the bus and started chatting, 30 mins went by, then another 30mins so we decided to have a beer; at which point the bus arrived.

After 30 mins on the bus we arrived in Kampot to the usual swarm of Tuk Tuk drivers. Whilst Anji and I would normally wander around to find a guesthouse, at this point I was knackered and jumped in a Tuk Tuk with the guy I'd been chatting with (I finally remebered to ask his name at this point - Alfred)  and set off to find a Hostel. This turned out to be something of a challenge as we'd arrived in the middle of the holiday for the king's birthday and it appears to be something the Cambodian's really like to celebrate so every hotel and guesthouse we tried was full until we reached Cozy Elephant which had $2.50 dorm beds available.
I was ready to lumber into bed but Alfred suggested a wander so we walked the strangely empty streets of Kampot until we found an open bar and had a few beers.

It turned out Alfred had a really interesting life. He'd spent the last few years working in various African and South American countries for Medicines San Frontiers and also for the UN attempting to combat corruption in African governments.

At around midnight I'd had enough and returned to the Cozy Elephant for a well deserved sleep.

Update

Unfortunately Anji has had to return home for two weeks for a family emergency.

I'll be continuing the blog of my own travel whilst she is in the UK.

Despite the gap in the blog, Anji has a lot of the entries written or at least planned so I'll post them as they're ready. For now ignore the gap.

2nd May - Phnom Penh

Matt's been complaining about his backpack and eyeing up the backpacks of lighter travellers for a while now. He does not want to get rid of his beloved pack and so, instead, we decided to post our bulkier winter stuff to Australia where we can meet up with it later.

After spending much of the morning being sent this way and that, looking for the small, local Post Office, we were getting hot and a bit frustrated. We stopped at a posh supermarket for water and asked a British guy there if he knew where it  was. He said that he would advise against sending anything from Cambodia as 'they even nick the stamps' and to wait until we got to a 'proper country'.

I was fairly put-off by this but Matt just said that it fit in with what he'd read in the guide book and that he thought it was worth sending it via Cambodian equivalent of DHL so we hopped in a tuktuk to the larger Post Office. We soon found out that it was nearly $80 to send 4.5 kilos via EML though actual DHL would have been about $250! To send overland was $32 dollars and I wasn't sure if I wanted to pay that much money for someone to steal about £150 worth of my stuff but Matt had got excited by the prospect of having more room in his bag and was going to send it anyway so I gave in. We wished we hadn't brought expensive things but since we would never have fit winter stuff in our bags or been able to pick them up if we didn't have technical stuff, I'm not sure we had a choice. Now we just have to wait 3 months or more to see if they arrive at Roy and Colleen's in Australia.

Weren't sure whether to go to the Killing FIelds (Choeung Ek) and see more terrible tragedy or just got to the palace and have a look around something pretty and pointless. It's very difficult hearing the details of genocide and torture and we very much got the point yesterday but, in the end, we both still felt like the right thing to do - despite the fact that they've been privatised and the money goes to a Japanese firm instead of Cambodia.

We happened upon a good tuk tuk driver who spoke little English but was honest and we took the 14km journey to Choeung Ek. The people who were taken there were told that they were being relocated and apparently had no idea of their fate. Given their lives under the Khmer Rouge so far I doubt that many of them were truly oblivious and I still couldn't help but imagine them couped up in a truck, heading into the unknown under the cover of darkness.

First impressions of Choeung Ek were much different to what I'd expected. I'd anticipated farmer's fields and a dark, maccabre mood but instead it was more like a pretty little park with a lake and some signposts. There was of course a sombre, sincere mood but it had been styled more like a memorial garden in many ways. Somehow it made it even more disturbing to imagine the horrors that had happened there amongst the sunshine and flowers.

One of the most appalling things was that the mass graves which had held so many were just so small. Several hundred people in a shallowish hole that you could hop, skip and jump over. It really struck me that skeletal people don't take up much space. Simply horrific.

The audio tour contained a good mixture of fact and personal experience as it led us round key points, and enabled people to avoid conversation and eye contact. Since most of the stations were informative signs, I decided to take photos so that I could use it for teaching at some point. It made me feel grim still but there was a very different atmosphere to S-21 yesterday and was very much about passing on knowledge to help avoid further atrocoties in the future.

Though most of the site was actually very peaceful and rather poignantly beautiful now, there were obviously still so many heartbreaking points. The one which clearly effected everyone very badly was the site of the grave of many naked mothers and children. There was a tree next to it where babies had been swung by their feet to crush their skulls against the trunk before being dropped into the hole where their mothers had been bludgeoned to death. There must have been hundreds of colourful woven friendship bracelets draped around the fence and hung on the bark of the tree where people had left them as a mark of respect.
We had to be careful as we walked around because, even though most of the major bones had been excavated and layed to rest in the Memorial Stupa, many more bones and rags slowly surfaced from the ground with the rains and the shifting of earth. On the site there were two boxes to house these harrowing remnants as they emerged: one for clothes, blindfolds and bonds and the other for bones and teeth.
The Stupa itself was very striking and contained nothing but shelves upon shelves of skulls and bones, categorised into age and injury. Many of the skulls were fractured as bullets were precious and so almost everyone there had been killed using farming tools and brute force. Though others had been killed using other 'natural' means such as having their throat slit with sharp leaves.

Our last stop was the museum on site, where there was more info on the lead members of the Khmer Rouge and a little on those who had been brought to prosecution. Unlike in S-21 where many of their faces had been gouged off the boards there, the photos of them remained intact and they looked frightfully ordinary. It's always hard to believe that such montrous actions do not leave more of a trace.

We were both pleased that we had been but we would also admit to being quite relieved that we could drive away from it, unless S-21 which sits darkly in the middle of the city.

We were dropped off outside guesthouse but had to find a Canadia bank ATM so there was no chance to hide under the covers and think about what we'd seen. As we passed the stadium, we noticed lots of people seemingly dancing around the rim of it so we took a closer look.  It felt quite off going into a stadium without having to pay anything or speak to anyone but it was full of ordinary people exercising. We passed several volleyball matches and football matches outside on the flat section and then made our way up the hill to the top level of the seats (I'm sure there's a technical term but I don't know it!)  where several large groups of people did aerobics to loud, distorted music. Down below us there were people running around both the bleachers and the track: some wore sports clothes but most just had on their work clothes.

After heading down the steps into the 'bowl' of the stadium, I couldn't resist and Matt went to sit down while I did a couple of laps in my flip flops. We're so used to being  crowded or penned in in many ways that it was a real relief just to be able to run, unhindered and without having to be self-conscious. The sun was going down, it was getting cooler and there was a tremendous atmosphere; I just wished I was a little fitter so I could have carried on for longer.

When I stopped, Matt was sat talking to a Cambodian Mr.T.  who was wearing camoflauge t-shirt, trousers and radio, and was fiddling with his handcuffs while he smoked a huge cigar. I wasn't sure if he'd picked up a nutter but it turned out that he was in the Cambodian army and worked defending the Thai border. We weren't sure why he was in fatigues but he was a huge fella so weren't going to question it.

We finally found the ATM and after a quick stop to admire the huge range of extraordinarily expensive Lock & Lock tupperware in the flashy mall, we bought fruit and a French stick and went back to our room for an early night.

1st May - Phnom Penh

One of the reasons we came to Phnom Penh was to find out more about the Khmer Rouge and so we started the day by walking just a block away to Tuol Sleng Museum, former Security Prison 21 (S-21). After the Khmer Rouge took Phnom Penh on 17th April 1975 and forced the entire population (500,00 people) into the countryside, the city became the residence of senior military leaders, factory workers and trusted personel.  Tuol Svey Prey High School was taken over by Khmer Rouge and turned into the largest detention and torture centre in the country, Over 17000 people were taken from there to the killing fields at Choeung Ek.

One of the more disturbing aspects the prison was just how ordinary it was. It was like any other school you might see in the UK or anywhere else in the world. There were several simple buildings arranged around a communal area and I could easily imagine students milling about and pushing and shoving to get past one another on the stairs on their way to the classrooms inside. The only difference from the outside was the barbed wire that surrounded the perimeter and shielded the outside walkways of 'Building B'.

We started in 'Building A', where there were several classrooms containing just one rusted metal bed frame. Some of the beds had a metal bowl or shackles or a blunt intrument on them. These were the rooms where the last 14 people to be tortured to death were found. On the walls were faded pictures of how their decomposing bodies were found. They were layed to rest in a series of graves in the play-area just outside.
Other rooms contained seemingly endless pictures of men, woman and children, nearly all of whom were killed, either at the prison or at Choeung Ek. Some of the women were holding small babies and many of the pictures of children were just toddlers. In the simple surroundings of the school, I found some parts even more appalling than the Holocaust Museum in Israel. Children were considered to be equally as dangerous as adults as they may already be indoctrinated or may seek revenge. The Khmer Rouge had a saying about how if one wants to get rid of the grass, one must also dig up the roots.

Because the Khmer Rouge shared the Nazi's desire for order and record-keeping, there were not only photos from before and after torture, but also rooms of documentation and false confessions that had been beaten out of terrified prisoners.

Other rooms contained classrooms that had been subdivided further into tiny brick or wooden cells.  One the floor there were embedded chains and occassionally tiny metal boxes where prisoners had been allowed to keep their personal belongings. Most however, were empty.

We'd decided that taking pictures was inappropriate but were trying to respect the decision of others who were trying to capture the misery of the place. I did however, very nearly lose my rag at the couple who were happily snapping away with the girlfriend posed, slightly seductive and smiley against the doors of the cells. The place had seen enough anger and so I held it in but I was fuming and had to steer clear of them.
There had been 7 people still alive in the prison when the Vietnamese closed in and they had survived by making themselves useful, mostly with their skills of painting or photography. One of the survivors, Vann Nath, had since painted a number of harrowing pictures, which were also on exhibition there. The pictures were of torture, mutilation and humilation but as one of the few survivors, he felt duty-bound to tell the world what happened there.

Other exhibits included details of the Khmer Rouge senior members and their current legal trials as well as personal histories of people who had joined them thinking that it was a just a noble cause. Overall, it was an exhausting place just to visit as an outsider and I can't imagine how you would feel knowing that that was the resting place, or the work place, of your parents, children or siblings.

In need of a distraction, we took a tuk tuk to palace but, in a typically British style, it was closed for the Labour Day bank holiday.  Instead we stumbled across Wat Ounalom, where the head of the Buddhist Brotherhood lives, along with lots of other monks. The temple and some of its icons took a battering from the Khmer Rouge as they tried to show that Buddhism was no longer the driving force of Cambodia but it has now been restored.

Behind the main building there was apparently an eye brow hair of Buddha with a Pali inscription but we did not see it.  We only saw bottom floor of the main building but there were so many Buddha statues at the shrine that it looked like a shop. The other buildinds appeared closed to we had a closer peak at some of the animal statues in the gardens and continued our explorations of the city.

Unfortunately, Matt is in need of new shoes again and so we embarked of the seemingly endless task of finding some. We passed loads of markets and has several stall owners desperately showing us what they had but no luck (for Matt, them or me). The closest we found to anything Matt might like was some fetching black and bright yellow 'Asia Sports' trainers but ewas worried that the soles were too thin and wouldn't commit to the $8 pricetag.

I however, bought a photocopied book of 'At First They Killed My Father' from a a shiny, smiley guy without any limbs who was selling them to make money instead of begging, and somehow, some new, purple, fake Chanel sunglasses because my last pair broke.

After a longish walk back to guesthouse, Matt went out to get dinner again. He came back a little later saying that he'd had a conversation with the guy on the stall about how he volunteered for an AIDS charity and he was sure that he kept referring to it as 'Men Sex Men' and 'MSM' so will have to look that one up later. A kooky name and a worthy cause sounds just up my street.

12th to 15th April - Koh Mak

Baan Ing Kao was truly lovely and we had a fabulous time there. However, to save you all from endless mentions of relaxing walks down the beach and what-have-you, I'm am going to try a list of highlights and low-lights.

Highlights (in chronological order):

1) Finding a bikini - it's a bit skimpy but it's lovely. Navy blue with gold spots and red ties. Yay!

2) Seeing our cute little beach hut by the sea and its hammocks

3) Walking on the beautiful, empty, white sand beach, next to the blue, blue sea and swinging on a coconut tree.

4) Watching Matt try to get a coconut fresh from the tree

5) Seeing the sandbank across the sea where you could just walk to another beautiful island at low-tide.

6) All the scrummy food at Baan Ing Kao. We were quite far away from the rest of the resorts but didn't have to leave our haven unless we wanted to.

7) Waiting until the sun went down and then walking across narrow part of the island to get to the other side. It was deserted, the sea was incredible there and the sea bed was sandy and soft. We had to walk for ages until it got deep enough to swim and we felt like we had found a little piece of heaven.

8) Watching Matt get freaked by being stared out bu a tiny, inquisitive little fish that would not leave him alone.

9) Dragging Matt through the water back to the beach by his arm.

10) Saying hello to the old man who came to the beach with a beer and his dogs to watch the sun go down every night.

11) Getting to know a copke of Swedish guys, Atte and Jouko and Atte's Thai girlfriend, Noknoi.

12) Going to the temple for Songkran (more about that later) and then heading out in the back of the truck armed with plastic bottles with their lids pierced ready for the water fights.

13) Stopping for fuel at the 'gas station' where they manually had to crank fuel into the tanks before letting in run down a tube into the truck. (I am certain I could have been more technical about that.)

14) Going to the pub all soaked from water fights and having a few beers before playing the most antique game of table football I've ever seen. Matt and I spent most of our time tipping the table or blowing the ball when it ground to a sudden halt where neither player could reach it.

15) Meeting our Canadian friends Diane and Joe who we spent many happy hours and with whom I learned more about the Christian faith than I've even really understood before.

16) Swimming in the sea with Diane with Matt and Joe napped on the beach. Diane was fabulous and I've missed my girly friends so much that it was a real treat.

17) SEEING FIREFLIES!!!!  If they were in order of preference this one would be first! It was the first time I'd ever seen them and there were hundreds, maybe even thousands! They were all sparkly and mystical as they pulsed around the woods on the side of the path to the bungalows. I loved them! I'd gotten to the point where I suspected that peopel were just making them up to tease me and that they occupied the same realms as unicorns, leprichauns and dragons. I am so glad that they don't.
I was so excited that I lost my t-shirt! But I wasn't wearing it at the time.

18) Sitting in the shelter at the end of the pier, peeling a pineapple and looking into the sea below and around us.

19) Trying to find the signposted 'viewpoint' with Diane and Joe. We walked for ages and never came across it but it was a nice wander.

20) Doing yoga in the sun on the porch of the unoccupied bungalow next to ours. I would have done it on the beach but for the pesk sandflies!


Lowlights:

1) Slipping on a rock the first time that I went for a walk in my beautiful new bikini and getting laughed at my fisherman. I had to walk back all bloody and muddy.

2) Matt getting bitten by red ants as he tried to get a coconut fresh from the tree

3) Being too much of a wimp to cope with what was under my feet as I tried to cross the sandbank across the the beautiful island and not getting chance to go back with my wonderful sea shoes that Rachel bought me.

4) Being told by Atte about a horrific disease that you can get from shellfish after I'd been eating loads of the stuff. He lost the use of his legs for months and the brother of someone he knew died from it!

5) Finding out that plastic bottles were futile against the huge barrels of water being carried by other trucks on Songkran. Our opponants simply scooped and threw and we were soaked within seconds and totally unable to see where to aim ourselves.

6) Some of the barrels of water containing ice.

7) Finding out from the Dulcie (thank you Dulcie, you have beeen a real Godsend and we really appreciate it!  xxx) that Barclays have sent me a letter saying that they are now familiar with my complaint and are investigating. If they knew anything about my complaint then they wouldn't be writing to be at home would they!

8) Eating durian fruit in the shelter at the end of the pier. It is disgusting! It smells foul, it tastes like it smells and it clearly knows itself that it shouldn't be eaten because it's made itself so spiky and heavy that it's painful to handle! And yes, I know this isn't how natural selection works but I prefer to think that the durian fruit's ony redeeming feature is the fact that it tries to save humanity from just how rank it is.

9) Getting sunburnt in the shade of the shelter at the end of the pier, despite the fact that I was wearing the suncream that protected me during long, hot days in Greece. Damn the photosensitivy side-effect of Doxycycline!

10) Trying to dangle my feet in the water from the pier and getting cuts from the billions of barnacles stuck there.

11) Matt 'realising' (while I was in the shower) that he hadn't changed the flight from Singapore and that it was due to leave the following day and rushing out to find wifi so that he could Skype. I got out of the shower and panicked because he was wearing sandals and hadn't taken a torch and, thinking that he was walking miles down dark roads and through forests, both of which had snakes, scorpions and several other nasties,  ran after him wearing nothing but a towel and calling his name. There was no answer and I went to Diane and Joe's in a bit of a teary panic. Joe had just got his shoes on to come and help (I'm still not sure what we would have done really) when Matt turned up and declared that he'd found a wifi connection really close and that he'd already changed the flights anyway!

12) Not being able to speak to my mum on her birthday,
Phew, and I thought we hadn't really done much there! Imagine how much longer that would have been if it was written in continuous prose. You'd have been bored silly!

Now, just in case that wasn't enough, it's for a fuller account of our visit to the temple at Songkran:
We'd managed to get ourselves invited because Noknoi was a devout Buddhist and so had arranged to go to the temple with the family who owned the resort. Matt and I were looking forward to getting a bit more immersed in the culture after all of our beach hovering (I'd like to say 'lounging' but the sodding sandflies stopped all those shenanigans!) and it would be our first time in a temple during a ceremony.

I had woken up super-early with an allergic skin reaction to something or other and so was feeling quite spaced out and serene after watching the sunrise and comings and goings of fishermen, but at around 7am we all started to assemble.

Now the culture of Buddhism in these parts involves giving lots of offerings. Since our arrival in Bangkok we've seen spirit house of all shapes and sizes, given pride of place both indoors and out. From large, ornate, golden structures to simple doorstep arrangements, they usually have a little idol, incense sticks and an offering of food: we've seen everything from bottles of strawberry Fanta (including a straw!) to scraps of rice and meat on saucers. Our hostel in Bangkok always had fresh fruit which, when it was on the verge of turning, was deposited in the fridge for guests to eat and replaced with something better.

This is also extended at Songkran, when people take offerings of food to the temple to feed the monks. In the run-up to today, we'd been quite curious about the 'monk baskets' that we'd seen for sale in a number of places. Tesco had a load of them and we'd previously spent time poking them and wondering what use the monks had for some of the odd items contained within. We'd also seen lots of brightly coloured shirts on sale which we could only assume for for the same festival since we hadn't yet seen anyone wearing them.
Noknoi had made up her own monk basket including sensible things such as dried goods, soap and toothpaste but also had a selection of food and rice. We then saw the food that the family had assembled: bags and bags of curries and soups and other tasty-looking dished were collected together, along with a big bowl of rice, and deposited on the truck. We all climbed onboard, squidged up together and heady down the bumpy track to cross the island to the temple, stopping ony to collect one or two other people (and their food) along the way.

When we arrived at the temple, it was still fairly quiet but I was very careful to try to start putting into place all of the etiquette that I'd read up on such as entering the temple with the correct foot and positioning myself in such a way as to make sure my feet would not be pointing toward the monks. I am particularly scared of accidentally toucing a monk and making him endure days of cleansing and fasting rituals but I managed to stay clear of the one who took his sandals off next to me.

Inside the temple, the family joined other early arrivals,  transferring their bags of food to plates which were set on a low table in front of the main stage, and rejoining their familes, still holding their rice. Most people were still standing around and we were feeling awkward about what to do with ourselves but Noknoi told us to get settled and so we positioned ourselves on the matts on the floor and hoped that we weren't in anyone's way.

There were several people addressing the shrine in the corner of the temple and after they'd finished, Noknoi lit 3 incense sticks each for us and instructed us on how to hold them, bow towards Buddha and stand them in the pot of sand which held many other burning sticks. I always find these moments quite uncomfortable as I'm never sure whether it is more insulting to particpate in rituals I do no understand or believe in, or whether to make a bumbling effort to get involved. I realy do not mind either way and I do quite like getting involved but I am always so worried about offending people.

We sat back down and several monks filed on to the low stage at the front. Each of them crouched down and rested the cloth bag they were carrying on the floor, equidistant to one another, uncovering the large brass-looking bowls contained within. They wiped them carefully and arranged lids to the side before moving away again.

As more people arrived at the temple, with a range of colourful, flowered shirts finally on show,  they transferred their food the the ever-growing selection there. More tables were fetched, along with large trays on wheels, and the piles of food, drinks, fruits and sweets continued to pile up.

Each family then carried their rice to the front and placed a spoonful in each of the monk's bowls. It seems important that the family remained a 'unit' as they did this and we witness some quite comical shuffles as several adults and children held on to one another, and the spoon, and scooted their way along the row of 7 bowls.

After everyone had performed this ritual settled on the floor, the monks then came back in a sat cross-legged behind their bowls and returned the lids back on top. The second monk picked up the microphone and gave a short address in English directed at  Swedes and us and, although we could barely understand a word, we laughed and nodded along with the obviously kind and generous sentiment that he was extending.
The next period of time was a combination of talking, prayers and chanting. The chanting was just wonderful. I loved closing my eyes and letting the vibrations and rhythms undulate through me. I couldn't get my head around the prayers and talking though. Despite all the demonstrations of religious respect and reverance prior to this it seems that people didn't really take much notice of the monks when they were speaking.  Every time the head monk spoke or prayed, many people appeared disinterested and continued to chatter and communicate with one another. The family in front of us had bizarrely brought a tiny, skinny, half-bald, shivering laptop with them and gave most of their attention to entertaining it, clutching it and retrieving it after it scrambled from their arms. One of them spent most of the time fiddling with their Android phone and even took a telepone call half-way through a prayer. The monks didn't seem to mind so much though and remained focused on their blessings.

After this, we then watched and waited as each plate of food was loaded onto the trays and presented to the head monk, who took what he wanted and rolled the rest to the next monk in line. The food was served by the apparent leaders of the 'congregation':  the head monk recieved the food directly from the man but the woman was required to place the food in front of him so that he could use a cloth to retrive it. Each monk kept a separate pile for drinks and used the lid of their bowls as a plate for fruit but everything else went in their giant bowl together. I was fascinated (and a little squeamish) as they piled boiled eggs, curry, jam roly-poly, chicken and chilli, sweet jellies, fish and every other food there on top of the rice in their bowls. Another blessing later and they all tucked in.

Then came the free-for-all frenzy. Now the monks were eating, it was time for everyone else to grab what they wanted and sit in small groups of family and friends to polish off whatever was left. It was all surprisingly good humoured despite the fact that everyone seemed to have eyed-up and grabbed the dishes brought by other people. We were a little bemused at this point as we really weren't sure what to do but Noknoi got a few of the things that were left we sat down together to enjoy a few cold curries and stews for breakfast.
Afterwards, I followed Noknoi to wash the plates and return them to the big pile in the corner of the temple while everyone else filed outside. Songkran is a water and white powder festival and so were were expecting something along the lines of what we'd seen in Nepal but it was all very tame indeed. There were a few buckets of water and scoops placed around the *Bodyah* tree so that people could pour water into the hands of the large, cross-legged Buddhas surrounding it, and we were dampened gently on the shoulder or hands a few times but it was all very tame and respectful.

We poured water on the Buddhas and wished several people a happy Songkran before climbing back aboard the truck and heading back. On the way back we festivities started heating up slightly and we were pelted with water and talcum powder by a few passing jeeps and people assembled outside shops and hotels. More uncomfortable however, were the number of face lashings I recieved from the overhanging trees because I didn't catch the multi-lingual warnings and kept turning around at the wrong time!

Back at the resort, we changed our clothes and prepared ourselves to go back out and water battle! (See highlights and lowlights earlier)

11th April - Trat to Koh Mak

Opposite Da' Guy was a cafe called 'Cool Corner'. We'd eyed it up a few times because it claimed to have home-made brown bread (Oh, how I miss grainy loaves!) but hadn't quite made it there yet. Until this morning, when we entered into it's beautifully decorated interior with its wonderful paintings and quirky menus on CD and DVD cases and enjoyed the finest breakfast yet. Simple but delicious scrambled egg on toast.

We still couldn't decide on another island or Cambodia and so I extended my pleasure in my surroundings by undertaking my favourite past-time of reading the guest books. They were really useful for both alternatives and, with a little input from the lovely cafe lade, we eventually decided on Koh Mak.  We booked a catarmaran online, the lady in our hotel organised a free pick-up and by 1.30 pm we were on our way in a songthaew.

At the pier, we waited ages in the sun for them to load piles of produce before we were allowed on the boat. After a little snooze, a Thai lady behind us started a conversation that would lead to a few days of friendship. She said that her English-speaking friends called her Rose. I thought she said her name was Lois (oops) so I was glad I got her to write it down.

We had only booked one night in accomodation because it was Songkran weekend (Thai new year) and we were expecting to have to have a good look around because everywhere would be packed more than on the bank holiday.

I started chatting to a white guy on the pier in the hope of finding out somewhere else to stay but couldn't help noticing that his legs made my mosquito munching suffering look like a paper-cut. They were a mess. A pussy, infected battleground of scars, bites and pits that he was clearly aggravating more by standing there scratching. I asked whether he was catching the boat back to Trat and he told me he was waiting for produce for the restuarant where he was a chef. I quickly found out where he worked so we could give it a very wide berth!

There was no sign of a pick-up form our hastily arranged accommodation so Rose gave us a lift on the back of her truck, along with all of the fascinating fruits she's bought to stock up her shop.

We checked into our bungalow at Koh Mak Cottage after just a minor confusion. There were big, open spaces to let the mosquitos and crawlies inside and the bathroom like a slaughterhouse but we'd seen worse and it was right on the beach.

We walked along beach, having an explore and looking for somewhere else for the rest of the weekend. There was an equally cheap one (that we had to show ourselves around) with a slightly nicer hut but it was surrounded by lots of standing water so we weren't still weren't sure.

After checking out the length of the beach before it disappeared into the sea, we went for food at Rosie's mum's restaurant. When she found out how the search had gone, she called her friend's place, Baan Ing Kao. Within 15 mins they had sent a guy on a moped so Matt could go view it. He really liked it and booked one of their bungolows right by the water.

Back at the restaurant we ate disappointing food, including weird 'vegetable noodle' made with overcooked lasagne sheets and gravy. Rosie had assured us that it was the best but then went out and came back with something she'd bought for herself which looked loads nicer. She said it was because her mum was too tired to cook but I'm not convinced.

We bought a coconut from her stall and headed back to our bungalow, where Matt attacked it with a hand-held chainsaw from his dad, so I could eat the flesh. The saw said on the packing that it could cut through bone but, even though Matt did eventually get into it, I wont be employing the pair of them for amputations any time soon!

10th April - Trat

Waking up it looked like we'd avoided all of the potential nightime 'visitors' that our hut allowed access to. Nevertheless, since we'd taken a bit of a shine to Trat and had decided to stay another night, we took a look around for alternatives and found Da' Guy - which was very cheap and had a private bathroom.

Since Matt had sheepishly owned up to finally actually losing his hat for good in the songthaew we took yesterday, we ventured to the day market. There was a stall selling manufacturing samples of the hats from company uniforms and Matt was predictably enchanted. He was captivated by the McCafe or Chicken Shack ones but I reminded him of the Chairman Mao bag and the fact that people could not read his mind and eventually convinced him that no-one would know he was being ironic. Having spent several tortorous and laborious months shopping for hats with Matt before, I gave him a time limit. The end result was his selection of a black cap with a sports logo on that neither of us could recognise. Which reminds me, I really must take a picture to see if anyone else out there can help us to identify it. Though please tell me rather than Matt so I can can judge whether it's going to make him want to get rid of it and buy a new one!

Still on the search for swinwear so I could avoid any more primary-school-reminscint underwear sunbathing, we asked the lady at the guesthouse where we could buy a large bikini. She was convinced there was a shop that would sell them and drew it on our (already hand-drawn) map. We walked around all afternoon looking for it (and yes, I am a hypocrite but Matt did misplace his hat at least once!) but couldn't find it. The nearest we got was a store called Chickee where we were attended by a tiny lady with HUGE boobs and disturbing bright blue contact lenses in. They had no bikinis with tops to fit but had some larger looking bras so I gave them a look while we were there. Bizarrely, their bras only had one size measurement on them and when I tried to unsuccessfully determine whether the number referred to rib size or cup, I struggled to make her understand. Determined to make myself understood, I then tried to use the attendents unlikely frame as a reference point and we left very shortly after that before it got any more embarrassing.

As we searched further, we came across a lady selling sugar-cane juice. It was (unsurprisingly)  too sweet and (more suprisingly) made me incredibly silly. Unusually, I had been craving sweet drinks though so on the back of coconut juice, chocolate soya milk, iced-coffee, (Thailand's own invention) Red Bull, perhaps it wasn't so surprising that I ended up as giddy as a schoolgirl as we walked around our last-ditch attempt of Tesco - where there wasn't a single bikini to be found.

As we headed past Trat department store on our way back, we decided to try and work out my bra size in a more conventional way. I soon regretted this. The lady measured me and then spent the next half hour passing me massive looking, over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder type affairs; none of which fit me. I decided to stick to my sports bra after all.


After dinner at the night market, we spent several hours sat outside trying to make cards on Moonpig. While Matt was doing his technical bit, I had decided to investigate why mosquitos find us so damn attractive. Unfortunately, this led to following links about bed bugs (we've met several people who've been blessed) and subsequently led on to be being so paranoid that I could not settle. It really didn't help that our hours outside had led to countless bugs dropping off us when we sat on the bed and so we had to remove a whole manner of ants, beetles and general crawlers. Icky!

9th April - Koh Samet to Trat

We needed to move on but were in two minds whether to give Koh Chang a try because we'd heard many mixed views of its island delights. After taking the boat from Koh Samet to Ban Phe, we had the chance to get a direct minibus there but since we were being tight after splashing out on accomodation and didn't want to wait the half hour until it arrived, we took the public transport option: a songthaew from Ban Phe to Rayong bus station and then a bus to Chantibury.

It didn't take long until we realised our mistake. After a bried spell of watching Alien on the tiny, grainy TV in the bus station, out bus arrived: steaming. The driver calmy got out, opened the door to the engine and poured a bottle of water over it. Nevertheless, we were all herded on and charged our fare then left to wait a while while the bus took its time to start.

After engine cut-outs along the mai road, the driver pulled into a petrol station, fiddled with the engine, turned up the idle revs and then dusted his hands with satisfaction as the engine started more efficiently.

Finally arriving in Chantibury we were descended on by a very persisent taxi driver. He told us we weren't in enough time to catch the last boat to Koh Chang and though we weren;t sure whether to trust him, we didn't want a repeat of our Koh Samet arrival. We still weren't certain about going to Koh Chang and since we'd done things the ridicuous way, we decided to justify our journey by heading to Trat so we could make our way to Cambodia from there in the morning. You could also get to Koh Chang relatively easily from there just in case we changed our minds.

Despite getting a bit rattled by the snappy lady at the bus station, our bus to Trat arrived bearing cooling fans, a toilet and a nice conductor lady so I soon felt like a winner as we set off to Trat.

Arriving in Trat in darkness and having travelled several more hours than we woud have done if we'd just waited for the mimibus, a kind taxi driver pointed us towards the guesthouse area of the town. We looked at a couple but one called Tattoo had a cheap bamboo hut that Matt took a shine to so we stuck our stuff there. They also had a boxing ring and Thai boxing lessons that I was hoping to get a bash at at some point.
We's passed a night market when arriving so headed back there for food. They were  winding down but we stood around looking awkward enough for someone to help fix us a tasty noodle soup. We followed it uo with the first of many fruity iced drinks. I opted for passionfruit but when I tasted it, it was both sweet and salty. My initial disgust turned into a feeling of wellbeing as it replaced what the heat had stripped out of me and left me feeling revived.

8th April - Koh Samet

We'd decided to make the most of our guesthouse and it's location and amenities so slept late, showered and spent some time sitting on the beautiful balcony raised over the sea while I blogged. Lovely.

Lunch at Ao Noi Na was fabulous again and they forgot to make our food so we got scrummy pineapple crush freebies and enjoyed sitting by sea a bit longer.

We then headed back to the little private beach attached to our guesthouse for our first bout of sunbathing this trip. We hadn't seen anyone on it before and so were looking forward to relaxing in peace and tranquility and pretending we owned the place.

I'm not sure if they were attracted to our pasty bits but it didn't take long before we were invaded by tanned, lithe blondes. This was expecially bad for my self esteem since I still hadn't found a bikini and so had made my own from plain black pants and sportbra.

To make matters worse, it also wasn't long before I noticed a growing number of perfectly round, red, flat circles on my skin. And as soon as a spotted one of the little black flies filling up his rear end with  my lovely red blood I became a lot more aware of frequent sharp stinging sensations. Still, despite being a bit irritating at the time, they didn't seem to sting, itch or hurt after that so I stayed put until I looked like I had the chicken pox. Oh, how naive and foolish I was. Due to the fact that I don't think I've ever been on a beach holiday, little did I know of the horrors of sandflies. A few days later, the first day of a constant burning itch turned into over two weeks of living to regret my beach bumming!

We spent our evening having dinner at Ao Noi Na and chatting to Sammy and Beth, who we briefly met yesterday. They were doing a bit of holidaying on their way home from a year living in Hanoi. Sammy had taught English there so I picked his brains a little as to what it what like. He didn't recommend it but said the money was great.

They had spent the day on a different beach nearby and Sammy in particular was suffering from sunburn. Despite the fact Beth was humourless and did not appreciate my 'milky-arse' joke about the time I burnt my bum cheeks in Greece and had to sooth them with yoghurt, nor the thoughtless and sexually inappropriate comment I made on why I wouldn't want to have twin girls, we had quite a nice time and found out some recommendations for Cambodia. A few rounds of table tennis between me and Sammy also suggested that he enjoyed loosening up a lot more than she did.

7th April - Koh Samet

We had an early start to hire our first moped (automatic with Matt as the driver of course!) and set out to find a less stinky, less wonky place to stay. Since we weren't so fussed about staying on the busy beach, we headed inland a little.

We started off at a guesthouse called Tip Samed, where the guy wanted 800 for a fan room per night for a room we could not see. I asked a fella, Andy, who was just coming out of his room what it was like and he told me it was reasonable but that he'd seen a nice place further round, past the pier and closer to a different beach. He was a nice fella and we stopped to chat for a while. He was a similar age to us and him and his wife were in the dying throes of their own year long trip.

As we walked away, Matt mentioned that he didn't expect to bump into so many people traveling for a year too. I thought he was a bit naive at first and laughed at him for thinking he was going to be unique, but actually he had a point. You go to work every day and the fact that everyone else around you is there every day too (not so much every day in the case of Belper School but I'm sure you're still following) makes you believe that that's what everyone does and that it what is right. People may work different hours doing different jobs in different places and some of them are satisfied and happy but they all give over their lives to making money to keep everything afloat. But then you come away and travel and everyone else is also doing the same thing as you too. Different countries, different lengths of time, different interests and different ways of funding their travels, It's just that none of them seem to be paddling so hard to keep themselves afloat, they just seem to be drifting along on lilos.

Of course, many of these people are the priveliged and prepared childless traveller, but not all of them are. All of them however, see more choices than restrictions. They are more at ease with their days, months and years and none of them are moaning about any work they do have to do to continue doing what they want to do. We haven't met anyone yet who can't just say 'Enough' and go home if they want to, and have come across plenty of people who are looking forward to being back home. But, apart from missing our friends and family, we can't imagine that yet.

So, I had no right to tease Matt for thinking that work was all there was because work was all there was for him. I was the idiot who forgot this. So I'm sorry Matt, I'm a dufus, now let's get on with our story.

So we quickly found the recommended place and it was lovely. Nice atmosphere, lovely places to sit and relax and it's own private beach. They wanted 650 with air-con and shared bathroom so we snapped their hands off. In retrospect, just hope I had the sense to take a photo of it so you can see. We were quite enjoying our task and didn't need to check out of the stinky stilt shack just yet so we kept on looking down the road in case we wanted to stay another night.

Further down found Ao Noi Na Resort, run by an English guy named John and we chatted to him for a short while. His rooms were more expensive (though they were actual bungalows) and we couldn't stretch that far but since he assured us that his wife was a fabulous cook, we said we'd go back for dinner.

On the way back we passed Andy again and stopped to tell him we'd found the place he suggested. He was talking to a rather weepy looking young British girl who'd had some problems with her and her friends rooms and was desperately searching around for somewhere else.

We mentioned there were more places down where we'd just been and Matt offered to take her on the moped. She didn't look convinced and I reassured her that he wouldn't steal her. She said that she just didn't want to put us out and we insisted it wasn't a problem. As they rumbled away I couldn't help feeling like we had actually forced her into it.

Matt came back shortly after but without the girl in tow. She'd insisted on being left there and making her own way back. Matt had told her it wasn't necessary but started to feel a bit weird trying to convince her it wasn't a problem when she was so adamant.

Back at stinky stilt shack I stayed and did some blogging while Matt did the luggage run with the backpacks. He had to do them both seperately and then come back for me but was cleary enjoying himself.
After settling in at Tony's, perusing his menu and deciding we didn't fancy schnitzel or chips, we headed back to Ao Noi Na Resort for lunch. We bumped into a much happier Roxy who had found somewhere very cheap, almost oppositte where we were - though it was near a creepy cat shelter. She joined us for lunch and we soon found out that John was right about his wife's cooking. We sat on a table on the grass overlooking the sand and sea and chatted to Roxy about her adventures.

She'd travelled with a group of fellow Jerseyians and was happy to talk about Jersey and her experiencing travelling. She was a bit ditsy but really interesting to talk to. She'd had a job in Laos being a rep and no-one had told her how often she needed to work to earn her bed and board. After almost 2 weeks of constant drinking and promoting, she was totally burnt out. She also told us stories of how she's been ripped off in India and various other places. When she later said, 'Oh, you do have to pay to get out of Cambodia so make sure you have some money on you',  we didn't have the heart to tell her she'd been ripped off again.
The rest of the day was spent exploring the island on the bike. We headed over dirt tracks and to one of several other beaches, but wasn't as great as we'd imagined so went to find Ao Wai, which was apparently the best. After a while the roads got even more insane. The brakes were so hot and the grip so crappy that I had to climb off at every sleep incline and decline. We even quads turn back but we'd come too far to give up and so soldiered on.

We'd had to agree with the guidebook earlier when it mentioned that the island was being ruined by overdevelopment, despite its National Park status. It was quite dirty in places and people very much neglected it's beautiful shoreline. When we got deeper into the island we realised that what we had seen was nothing. It looked like someone occassionally collected all of the crap from the outskirts and dumped it in huge piles in the forests within. National Park indeed, it was more like India than Exmoor.

Ao Wai however, was definitely lovely and was probably stunning a few years ago. The beach was small and that made the range of resorts there looked like they'd just been piled on top of it. We played int he sea for a while and enjoyed the warm water and lovely views as well as having a swing in a hammock. I say 'swing' but it was so low that my bum touched the ground and made it even less comfortable!

The return journey was easier after the brakes had cooled and we had developed a taste for swimming and so spent sunset in the sea back at Had Saikey before returning the bike and walking back to our hotel along the beach front - our first leisurely stroll rather than sweaty errand-run.

We stopped at a nice restaurant for reasonable food and enjoyed lying on the traditional Thai loungers that we see everywhere, watching the huge moon in the sky and the people walking past.

On the way back we saw several fire shows, put on for the benefit of the customers in the beach bars. First we saw a troop of young boys performing tricks that were very impressive but that I found difficult to enjoy, since I'm not exactly comfortable with pre-pubescent boys being paraded down the beach every night to perform tricks for foreigners involving the inhalation of such quantities of petrol fumes. It was intoxicating for us and we were far away. Matt admitted that he thought the same but was mainly just envious of their perturbingly manly pecs.

Further down we saw a group of adult blokes doing a similar show. No complaints from me about the pecs here though!

6th April - Ban Phe to Koh Samet

We slept very late till 11, packed our bags and brunched at a place that should have been called Cafe Disinterested. The food wasn't great and Matt's pork wasn't cooked properly. He didn't really notice until the end of the meal though so we were expecting fun time when we got to the island.

We bought the ticket for the ferry to Ko Samet and seemed to have to undergo endless ticket validation, unlike all of the Thai people who were obviously off on their bank holiday jolly. Since Koh Samet is a National Park, we were also collared to pay the fee for this even though we didn't see anyone else paying it. We had read that a fee was needed though so weren't too worried about it. The worst thing was sporting the sticker that they insisted we wore but which made us feel like children.

We arrived at Had Saikaey pier where there was no sign of the 'free taxi' we were told was part of our fee so we just took the bouncy jeep. It turned out that the beach that the owner of Tawan had recommended was not too far away.

Many of the resorts and bungalows were directly on the beach so we spent an embarrassing 10 minutes stumbling in the sand and heaving our bags past all of holiday-makers and weaving between the sunbathers. It was too hot and uncomfortable so Matt left me with the bags while he went to search out some accommodation.

I waited so long that the lady fixing inflatable dinghies and toys on the beach started to feel sorry for me and I started to feel much sorrier for Matt. When he came back he told me that every place was so full that when he'd managed to find somewhere with a room, he'd taken it, even though the man had told him that it was normally 300 baht but he was going to charge him 500 for it because of the bank holiday. He warned me not to expect much.

A 15 minute trek later Sea Breeze bungalows looked very nice with their bright pastel colours and their wooden balconies. Matt led me down the path which cut through them, past some less swanky ones to the very, very poorest relation.

The room on stilts was a real sight. There were holes taped up with gaffer tape and the floor dipped in the middle so flimsy, stained dressing table leaned at a jaunty angle. Other holes were left uncovered and there was a pervasive smell of mould. The bathroom had no sink and the toilet had no flush so there was an old, large container with a bowl in it instead. To the room's credit there were some curtains with cheery slogans on.

We took a quick shower and grabbed our stuff to so down to the beach and make the most of the remaining sunshine. About 10 minutes worth as it turned out so we abandoned sunbathing, dropped our beach stuff back off and turned our attention to finding food instead. Luckily, Sea Breeze beach restaurant was better than Sea Breeze accomodation and we enjoyed some Pad Thai whilst watching to moon and listening to the sound of the waves.

The rest of the evening was spent wandering up and down the beachfront accomodation trying to find somewhere more suitable to stay on the following day. Everywhere was full or way out of our price range but at least we got a taste of the atmosphere in each place in case we wanted to visit any of their bars and restaurants later. There were some possibilities but most need checking out tomorrow.

Now we were in a holiday place, my practical travelling clothes felt somewhat inadequate and frumpy so we also checked out some bikinis and beachwear. I did bring a swimming costume but because it was the one I wore for swimming in Belper, it was extremely conservative and make me look about 50 compared to all of the other bikinied beach-goers. I'm not holding out much hope though since many thai girls are tiny. The usual responses from shop owners have ranged from the rather diplomatic, 'Only Thai sizes' to the rather more direct, 'No really big clothes'. Nice.

5th April - Bangkok to Ban Phe

We packed our bags, did some more planning and headed out to find lunch before we left. We were accompanied by the girl from the hostel again, as she was taking us to show us where to get 'the best papaya salad'. I left her and Matt at the stall as I went to collect the adjusted clothes but when I got back Matt was looking significantly pale and sweaty. He told me that he had just (discretely) vomited foam on a crocodile in the 'canal'. Well, he'd chucked up in the canal and had seen a crocodile at the same time but that doesn't sound as good. The girl thought Matt was just struggling in the heat and so sweetly sent us back to the hostel to wait.

The Doxycycline anti-malaria medication was blamed for the queasiness but it didn't help Matt much that the food was crazy spicy or that we were joined by Kathleen. She was passing time before she went on a date with the old expat guy she had told us about the other night but openly divulged various key facts about her sex life. She also told us about her adoption of a baby in Thailand many years ago and that was much more interesting and quite a tragic but heartwarming story of a different time. As the time came to meet her date, she unceremoniously said her goodbyes and trundled off without her 'walker' in an attempt to make herself more sexy.

Lauren turned up straight after. She was heading to Australia that day and was just having lunch before she left too so we sat for a while shared ideas of places to see before we all left for the Metro.

Now Bangkok Metro has the most useless security system in the world.  It beats the Hong Kong system of having a line of workers who side-step in front of the Metro doors after the warning beeps go to make sure that no-one gets stuck trying to squeeze past them. Apparently the trains do still set off and people have been torn from their limbs. It also beats the Chinese system of having an x-ray machine and a person to tell you to use it, even though most people just walk straight past. It even beats the Indian system of having a metal detector with enough space to walk around it and avoid it altogether. What Bangkok does is employ someone to stand at the entrance to every station and briefly check the top of your bag. Every person carrying a bag has to stop, unzip their bag and open it up so that someone can shine a torch into it and wave you through. There's no x-ray and not even a metal detector. They don't even make you remove any contents or unzip all of the compartments. They just salute you, shine a light on whatever is in the top of your bag and send you on your way. Every single person is checked but not a single one of them is even questioned. As long as they remember to put their bomb and their gun under their purse then they are considered to be secure.

Most of the time we found it comical, but when we have to unload our backpacks and find they key to unlock them just so someone can shine a torch on the carrier bag containing the dirty underwear that we have stuffed into the top, it becomes a bit of a pain.

We said goodbye to Lauren at the second stop and she continued to the airport while we made our way to the bus-station. Matt got his bum trapped in a speedy electronic gate and got a bit of a bruise but other than that it was quite simple.

The bus to Ban Phe (where we could catch the boat to Koh Samet island) was one of the better ones we have been on on our travels. There was somewhere to store our bags, there was cold-air blowing from the vents and they gave us a carton of water and a packet of 3 fake Jammy Dodgers. The children's version of a 'Pop Idol' type programme blaring on the TV was less than desirable but tone-deaf children warbling songs that sound awful even when they're sung well is not the worst thing we've had to deal with on public transport.

Unfortunately, we arrived at the town Ban Phe late so the town was already in darkness and the late boat had left. Leaving the pier, we were tired, hot and grotty and so took the first room we were offered and at the price we were offered. More fortunately, even though it was expensive for us, Tawan Guesthouse was clean and nice.

We freshened up and took a walk down the road to look at the beach on the mainland side. It was pretty dirty and not very nice to look at but there was a storm in the clouds over the ocean so we bought ourselves a beer from Tesco and sat down on a rock.

Back at Tawan, we shared a "rum" (I'm sure it was whisky) with owner of guesthouse and his boyfriend and they told us that no-one ever really goes in the sea from the mainland but that Koh Samet was better. It didn't have the greatest write-up in our guidebook though so we'll have to see.

4th April - Bangkok

For breakfast we thought we'd try the chicken place that Kathleen had recommended. Apparently he started cooking early in the morning and had sold out by lunchtime so breakfast was the best time to indulge.
The chicken stall stood on the edge of the stangnant 'canal' than ran the length of the street round the corner from our hostel. The smell of it barbequeing somehow overpowered the stench of the water and could make your mouth water from 100 paces.

On the way, we were chatting away when I suddenly felt something much bigger than the usual mosquito or ant bite my thigh. I yelped and turned round to see a brown dog, scurrying away and looking back at me with an odd doggy look on his face. It dawned on me what had happened and the sickness and panic set in.
Matt coaxed me back to the hostel and half a minute later I was stood in their foyer, snotty, sweaty and sobbing. I went to the toilet to check if the skin was broken but it was only bruised. The concerned receptionist asked what had happened and asked what the dog had looked like.

Still shaking, Matt made me eat some chicken and we discussed what would make a dog that didn't growl or bark, make a grab at my leg and not the fresh, tasty chicken that was in Matt's hand. Matt suggested my flappy Indian trousers and I had to agree it was possible, although they may have also saved me from a better aimed bite.

Then the rain started. There was no pitter patter leading up to a steady beat but simply a big crash that didn't stop ringing. It was the first rain we'd seen in so long and the first taste of air even slightly fresher than that in a steam room, so we ran outside and got drenched. The receptionist and surrounding locals looked a bit bemused to see me opened armed and face-to-the-sky when they were all fleeing inside but it couldn't have come at a better time than for me.

We needed to get some clothes adjusted and Matt wanted to have his hair cut so the lady owner of the hostel sent her younger sister to show us where the best place for a hair cut was. The rain susbsided a little and gave us an excuse to carry a big brolly for protection but I was still super-nervous walking to the alleyway of the dog.

The girl asked the barber for some magazines of sample haircuts so that Matt could select one and explained that he would be next in line if he sat and waited. We'd passed an old man with a sewing machine sat on the corner of the street and I asked her to help me to explain to him what needed to be done to the clothes. It was fairly straight forward despite the numerous requests of what the clothes needed and I was soon back in the barber shop.

Matt was sat looking at very dated pictures of hairstyles, including a few punky numbers and the odd mullet, but had narrowed it down to a few. I took a picture of the one we wanted so we could compare it to the later result.

When Matt's turn came he sat in the chair and took off his glasses. He said it was so they didn't get in the way but I think he just didn't want to look! The barber was very lovely and completely helpful, miming questions about what was required and checking with me that he was doing what we wanted. The range of tools that he used, far exceeded the number that had been used on Matt's hair over his entire lifetime and about half an hour later, something was starting to take shape. The barber in Belper seemed not to know what to do with long hair and generally gave Matt something approximating a 'bob', but this guy was doing a cracking job.

After a final trimming of the length at the back, he moved on to Matt's beloved beard. It was soon very short and looking great so we asked him to go one step further give the bottom section around Matt's neck, a closer shave. Out came the cut-throat and within an hour we had a very new looking, slightly covered in baby powder, Matt. The guy who was patiently waiting his turn in line gave it a big thumbs up and the barber agreed to pose for a photo with his new work of art.

When we went to pay, the barber held up his hand to show five fingers. Matt said that it must been 50 baht but since that was such a small sum, I found that very unlikely. I wasn't thinking properly and scrapped around to find 500 baht to pay him. When I handed over the money he just laughed at me and handed it back. Turns out a hunky new Matty only costs £1! Bargain!

We had to go back to the hostel so Matt could have a shower to get rid of all the fine hairs that were sticking to him and we were half way there when we realised that we'd forgotten our brolly. The barber looked very relieved to see us and pointed towards where he had hung it for safekeeping.

There was no sign of the dog on the way back but I still didn't fancy risking another run-in so we chilled out for a while in our air-conditioned room and looked at making a few plans. We wanted to go for a Thai massage and had thought we might visit the one recommended on the wall at the hostel in the evening.
We were joined in our room by a big French guy who had a flat in Thailand and was just hanging around without a job at all. He recommended a different, significantly cheaper massage place so we thought we'd give that a try. It was so cheap that even if it was rubbish, we wouldn't have lost much if we then went to the posh place too.

I had a quick conversation with the owner of the hostel who told me that she had had to call City Hall to report the dog. I explained that it was probably only playing because it had not given us any warning but she was unconvinced, explaining that many dogs went mad in the heat and had to be dealt with. I tried to persuade her to tell me that the dog would go on doggy holiday but I could tell from her face that it wasn't the case. Poor dog. I'm sure he didn't mean it.

The massage place was over a pizza shop but looked pretty ok when we walked in. We selected our massage from the board and were taken upstairs to a darkened room, where there were a series of 'beds' on the floor. We were led past the lady being contorted by a strapping great masseur and told to put on some pyjamas. It felt a little like a visit to an odd hospital when she drew the curtain around each of our individual beds.

We changed and opened the curtains between us, whispering and giggling a little when two woman turned up. They had a short discussion about which one of us to take and I was assigned the young one, while Matt got the older one with her wrist in an elasticated bandage.

They started work straight away, working the muscles in our calves in a non-too-comfortable way. They both had slightly different sequences and I kept glancing over at Matt, wondering how he was coping with the drastic techniques and hoping that my lady was a little more gentle with me. Seconds later, I was chuckling uncontrollably as this tiny lady put her hands on my thighs at either side of my groin and then leaned all of her weight onto it. She did not miss a beat and continued on while I tried to compose myself. It was so uncomfortable, tender, alien and not at all funny but I struggled to to stop. Eventually I got my breathing into shape but still could not relax. It did not help that  we were so vulnerable and both women constantly talked to one another, most likely about us.

We were manipulated, twisted, crawled on, cracked, pressed, poked and pummelled for the next 40 mins until both ladies held their palms together, bowed their heads, thanked us and left. We grinned and grimaced at each other in the darkness and tried to dress in silence as the woman next to us continued to whimper, gasp and murmer behind her curtain.

I did not feel any more relaxed or an less achey than before we had gone in and my feet still throbbed and so we decided to stay for a foot massage. Matt was a little hesistant after his first experience of a massage but I persuaded him that this time would be less intrusive.

The ladies had swopped and the bandage had come off so both of us were a little more comfortable. Unfortunately, my lady was the manager of the place and now we were downstairs in the the reclining chairs next to the reception, she was a lot more distracted and kept stopping to deal with other things.
Nevertheless, the massage felt much more like the tension relief that I needed, especially when it was completed with a quick shoulder and head massage - and just one weird little crack of course.

As we walked back to the Metro, Matt was still not convinced about the massage as a whole but I felt a little better.  Although we both resolved to try again later but pay more cash next time. We had planned to see more of Bangkok's evening sights but were hungry and so decided to give the seedier side a miss and go to find the duck noodles we'd been told about. Despite a long search we didn't find them, but we did find our first genuine Thai curry so weren't too disappointed.

Just after we'd returned to the hotel, a girl turned up to check in. The hostel only had opening hours of 7am to 9pm and so there was no-one there to assign her a room or a key. We felt a bit awkward letting her in but since no-one was answering the phone number left on reception, we couldn't just leave her outside. We weren't sure she understood the problem because she kept looking at Matt like he was being difficult. Luckily, a girl from the female dorm, Lauren, was in the commom room chatting to Anderson (a guy from our dorm) and so she let her into the room.

I spent some time talking to Lauren after Matt and Anderson went to bed. She was really lovely and was very brave to be travelling on her own at 19. She's left her boyfriend behind and come to explore (mostly the beaches of) Cambodia and Thailand. She was interesting to talk to because she shared many of the ambitions I'd had at the same age but had perhaps done a little bit more about them.