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.

16th April - Koh Mak to Trat

Not the most exciting day but I'll give you the basics. We packed up and headed, along with Joe and Diane, to catch the 11.30 catamaran back to Trat. A lady on the boat shared her huge bag of rambutan with us all and we enjoyed popping the fleshy, eyeball-like fruits from their extravegant red and green tendrilled coats as we bobbed along the sea.

Back in Trat we checked in to Pop Guesthouse with Diane and Joe and went our seperate ways for a while: Joe and Diane to sort out a problem with their timeshare stay in Corfu and Matt and I to look for higher factor sunscreen.

Finding sunscreen in Asia is no problem at all. They sell it everywhere and much of what we found were the same brands as we see back home. The problem comes however, in the fact that almost every skin product is whitening. I don't mind whitening toothpaste, I could about cope with whitening deoderant bleaching my armpits, I cannot see the point at all in whitening lip-salve, but I really, really don't want whitening sunscreen. I don't mind not getting a tan because, even though I think it does make my pale, fleshy bits look better, I understand it is esentially just skin damage. However, reversing the natural melatonin build-up and making brown skin turn white in the sun just seems a bit freaky to me. I do keep meaning to read up on it properly but if anyone beats me to it, please fill me in.

Anyway, after several hours of scouring the shops and even a trip to Tesco, we were still struggling to find anything over a 20ml bottle (designed for faces and not the extensive surface area of a pudgy Westerner) of Factor 50+. We enquired about a taxi to take us to the Boots we'd heard was a few km out of town but since he was certain we were saying 'boat' not 'Boots' (even when I wrote it down he thought I'd just spelt it wrong) we decided it wasn't worth a trip to the pier and a confused debate.

We settled on buying a few bottles of Factor 30 from a shop near our hotel and went to the night market for dinner and fruit shakes.

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.