Four Itchy Feet

Chapter 18 - A Shock to the System

2010-09-17T06:39:00.000-07:00

I wasn’t prepared for Cambodia. I didn’t know that one man with his insane Maoist ideals had succeeded in murdering close to two million people in just four years. I was never taught about it at school. Never once had it come up in conversation over the pub table. I don’t ever remember seeing anything about it on the History Channel. And it definitely wasn’t a “did you know?” on the back of any Chappie’s paper.

How could this possibly have happened? How could I have lived my entire life unaware of the torturous cruelty inflicted on so many innocent people mere years before I was born?

I just wasn’t prepared for Cambodia.

I’m sure many of you reading this are probably shocked by my ignorance and clearly not in need of a history lesson from an intellectual dwarf like me. If that is the case I won’t be at all offended if you wish to skip the next few paragraphs. But if you too have been kept in the dark about Pol Pot, the Khmer Rouge and one of the bloodiest revolutions the world has ever seen, please read on.

In short.

After a fair bout of civil unrest Cambodia fell into the grubby hands of Pol Pot’s Khmer Rouge in 1975. Literally days later money was abolished and cities abandoned as hundreds of thousands of Cambodians were relocated to the countryside and put to work on farms. The idea was to transform Cambodia into a peasant-dominated, agrarian cooperative.

During the next four years anyone with any form of education, anyone who could speak a foreign language, in fact anyone who wore glasses and looked just a little intellectual was tortured to death or systematically executed. Their children were brutally flung against trees, splattering their brains, in order to prevent future “revenge attacks”. And hundreds of thousands more people died of mistreatment, malnutrition and disease on the farms they were forced to work so hard on.

Help finally came when the Vietnamese over-threw the Khmer Rouge in ‘78, but it didn’t end there. Financed by China and Thailand with indirect support from the US (yes, that’s the US of A) the Khmer Rouge managed to maintain a guerrilla war in Phnom Penh throughout the 80s. In fact, “the UN allowed the Khmer Rouge to occupy the Cambodian seat at the UN General Assembly until 1991, meaning the murderers represented their victims for 12 years.”

Pol Pot, the educated man who killed everyone with an education, died in jail on 15 April 1998 denying the people of Cambodia both truth and justice forever.

History lesson over.

Phnom Penh is home to Tuol Sleng Museum (aka S-21 Prison) and The Killing Fields of Choeung Ek where some of the most heinous of the Khmer Rouge crimes were executed. And as macabre as it sounds, it’s these two places that had brought us to Cambodia’s once deserted capital.

Visiting places like this is always kind of a weird one for me. I want to go, but I don’t. I know what to expect, but I’m always shocked by what I see. It’s never how I imagined it would be, and I’m too scared to imagine how it really was. It’s daunting, but it has to be done.

We arrived at Security Prison – 21 as the rest of Phnom Penh was waking. It was quite. From the outside it looked like the high school it once was. 3 long, white-walled, double-story buildings set out in a U shape with classrooms leading off balconied corridors.

It was only once we entered the gates that we notice the barbed wire that sealed off the balconies, erected to prevent prisoners taking their own lives. And slowly the realisation that we were standing in the largest centre of detention and torture in the country began to set in.

As you walk from classroom to classroom you’re introduced to face, after face, after face, after face of the people who suffered so tremendously in this hell hole. Some of their hollow skulls stare back at you from inside glass cabinets. Looking at them all, rows and rows, and rows of them you think they would never have fitted so many people in here. No ways. It’s just not big enough. But then you learn that they were averaging 100 murders a day.

Enter another room and torture devices become the display. And another and you’re confronted with oil paintings depicting the Khmer Rouge using the devices to what is obviously great affect. The Khmer Rouge requested one of the prisoners to paint these scenes of brutality after discovering he was an artist. Doing so saved his life.

When the Khmer Rouge fell, they fled fast leaving a dozen people for dead in their torture chambers. It’s these chambers that make up the third and final building we visited. The 12 people were buried in the school grounds, but the rooms have been left as they were found with the inclusion of a black and white picture taken of each body that now sits above the rusty metal bed it was chained to.

Next stop, the Killing Fields.

When the barbarians at S-21 were killing too many people a day to fit into the mass graves dug in the old school grounds, an order went out to open the Killing Fields of Choeung Ek. Prisoners of the detention centre were sent here, blind folded, made to kneel on the hard earth and then bludgeoned to death. Sometimes there were so many people sent that there wasn’t enough time to kill everyone in one day, so they’d make the remaining few stand in a line an wait their turn in a holding cell.

There are 129 mass graves here, some of which haven’t even been excavated. It’s estimated that approximately 17,000 men, women and children were executed here between 1975 and 1978.
Walking around here is an incredibly sobering experience. There’s a sign on a tree labelling it as the tree they smashed babies heads against. It’s hard to read. It’s worse to imagine.

You look up and see the music speakers the killers fitted to the tree tops to drown out the last words of the people they were killing. You look down and see bones, teeth and clothing poking out from beneath your feet. You’re walking on dead people.

A stupa erected as a memorial to those that lost their lives here stands tall above the mass graves. Encased inside are almost 9000 human skulls excavated here. One, on top of the other, on top of the other...

There’s nothing that I can say that’ll make you truly understand how harrowing visiting places like this actually is. To see what people are capable of. To see how dark and sinister a human being can become. It’s scary. It’s really is scary.

More pics here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/43679192@N07/sets/72157624974824168/

Chapter 17 - Angkor What?

2010-05-11T23:54:00.000-07:00

I’m ashamed to admit that I knew very little about Cambodia’s ancient temples before I arrived in the country. The small amount I did know was not from any formal teachings, but rather from films like Indiana Jones which I rated as a kid, and yes, Tomb Raider in my later years. So I was not prepared for the history lesson that would captivate me and the sites that would make me feel like a child again.

The Temples (Wats) of Angkor were made by the Khmer kings in a process that began over a millennium ago and lasted almost 4 centuries. They were then abandoned and left hidden within Cambodia’s forests.

When re-discovered about 150 years ago, not by Indie or Croft but a French explorer, the wats appeared to be fighting a losing battle with the dense jungle. Remember that scene when Croft was running through a temple with massive trees growing on top of it after she successfully stole the half triangle? That’s Ta Prohm Wat, not some big budget Hollywood stage.

The most impressive wat has to be Angkor Wat - believed to be the largest religious structure in the world. It’s not just the scale of it that griped me, but the craft and attention to detail.

Those are just two of the many temples that sent me running around, on top and over in search of hidden treasures guarded by mythical six-armed guardian status, all the while thinking that Indie may crack his whip around the next corner.

I now understand why the people of Cambodia are so proud. Why the wats are at their heart and soul. Proven by the way they proudly display an image of Angkor Wat on their national flag. Even their nation beer is called Angkor.

A beer which we got stuck into with a crazy Irish Couple, Brid & Mike, at ‘Angkor What? Bar’ on Bar Street, Siem Reap, while eating BBQed frogs and discussing why Angkor Wat is one of the 8th wonders of the world and not one of the 7.

So delicious was this precious golden liquid that we thought the keg before us might be the last left in this saloon, so naturally we had to get our fair share...

Check out some pics here - http://www.flickr.com/photos/43679192@N07/

K&M

Chapter 16 - Scamalot

2010-05-09T01:50:00.000-07:00

Entering a new country is always a daunting task. Having to get used to a new culture, a new language, new modes of transport and a new currency is no easy feat. You’re out of your comfort zone before you’ve even crossed the border. It’s hard. And what makes it even harder are the scam artists lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce on the first naïve person that shows their bemused face.

Up until Bangkok we had done well to avoid any such scamsters. Stories traded by travelers over backpacker bar tables tend to keep one abreast of what’s happened to who and where. And websites like Lonely Planet and Travelfish are kept up to date with information about the latest con artists doing the rounds, so you generally know what to look out for when you’re on the road.

But the unfortunate truth is, no matter how scam-savvy you are, there will come a time on your travels where you will fall victim to the cons of one of these slimy men.

Our time came heading into Siem Reap in Cambodia.

It was 7am when the bus pulled up outside our guesthouse near Khaosan Road in Bangkok. It was bang on time and looked exactly like the one they had shown us in the picture the day before. Good start.

We chucked our bags in the under carriage, took our seats and we were off. Around the corner. Where we stopped. For 2 hours. End of good start.

When we finally got on the road (again) the journey to the border was fairly painless, apart from having 1 too many wee stops to satisfy even the weakest of bladders. We later found out that these stops are planned to ensure you arrive well after your ETA and absolutely exhausted, so you’ll succumb to whatever they throw at you when you get to the other side.

But the fun really began when we pulled up at a cafe displaying prices that would give a Ramsey restaurant a run for its money.

We were booted off the bus and met by a group of Cambodian gents that greeted us like we were their lost friends from a childhood long past. They were introduced to the group as the guys who would be “looking after” us for the rest of the journey, and as we found a table and took our seats they seemed to disperse into the group “assigning” themselves pairs or trios of travelers.

Our friendly chap took his place opposite us and without hesitation struck up a conversation in what was almost perfect English. He asked us questions about our country and gave us little tidbits about things to see and do in his. We chatted for a while about our families and our homes and he seemed genuinely interested and interesting, which I guess, looking back now, is what relaxed us into the situation.

As time went by we began to like this person. Trust him even. So when he started saying things like “No problem, I’ll take your passports, it’ll be quicker to process your visas if I do it because I’m Cambodian” or “the government says you have to come into the country with X amount of money now” or “this is the last place you’ll be able to exchange your Bhat because the rest of Cambodia doesn’t take that currency,” it really put a spanner in the works because nowhere in any of the research we’d researched did we remember it saying any such things.

When you’re put in a situation like this, you suddenly begin to question yourself and your sources of information. You start to quiz each other on what you remember about what you read. Then you start to question him, but you like him. He’s so nice, and the only supply of “trustworthy” information you have at your disposal now that you’re in the middle of nowhere.

Panic slowly takes hold of you. You’re running out of time. “The bus needs to leave” he says, but you’re caught up in your own confusion. The words “what if he’s right” are ringing in your head, but your gut is screaming “SCAM, SCAM, SCAM!”

Decisions need to be made. So you make them. Right or wrong? You have no idea.

The next thing you know you’re getting back on a bus, not the bus you came in on, and definitely not the one that they showed you in the picture the day before. You sit down, trying to piece together what just happened and make sense of what you’ve just done. Your new best friend is nowhere to be seen and all of a sudden the penny drops…

I’d like to say the whole thing ended there, and we were left to contemplate our stupidity for the rest of the journey, but it didn’t.

Another hefty amount of (tactical) stops meant that we arrived in Siem Reap well after dark, just as they had planned. The bus stopped about 5Kms outside the town with organized Tuk-Tuks ready and waiting to pick us up, rip us off and drop us at the guesthouse we had basically been sold to. As we were literally in the middle of nowhere, we had no choice but to take them.

Our trip finally ended with a rather nasty exchange with the driver when he tried to accuse us of ripping him off. The bloody cheek.

We had been taken for a ride.

In essence, this may all sound a bit lame and, well, avoidable. And for the most part it probably was. But that’s the thing about a con artist and his cons, they make you question yourself and everything you know to be true. They plant the seed of doubt in your head, insecurity sets in, and that’s when the scamsters won.

The shittest thing about it all is not the loss of money believe it or not (although that does suck), it’s the kick you give yourself when you start to look back and realize you’re the idiot who fell for it all. The whole thing happens right in front of your face and it’s you who makes the decisions that result in your loss of cash. You practically give your hard-earned money away.

At the end of the day you have to take your hat off to these shysters who have the ability to make a fool out of even the smartest of folk. And take the experience as a lesson learnt albeit a rather unpleasant one.

Chapter 15 - Top 5

2010-03-17T18:45:00.000-07:00

We were chatting to a local on Koh Mook Island. We asked him what snorkeling around a certain island was like. His response was, ‘It’s a little better than boring’. A phrase that we have adopted as our own, as it really sums up beach life, which we sooo love living. It’s not crazy or full of adventure, as you spend most passing hours looking at the water or in it. It’s exactly that, a little better than boring.

So here are our “top five” for a little better than boring things for Thailand’s West Coast (aka month 2)

Number 5: Koyak Seafood. A rustic locally owned restaurant that hugs the side of the cliff. The view of the bay is amazing… and the freshly caught BBQ fish is even better.

Number 4: Sea kayaking around Railah. When you feel like snorkeling you just bail off the side. Water was crystal and fish were abundant. Just wish I had my spear gun to catch dinner.

Number 3: Snorkeling around Koh Ngai & Koh Cheuk. Now these islands aren’t as pristine as the Similian Islands, but they are special in their own way. You snorkel around shallow water reefs with fish trying to nibble you. We even saw a coral snake. Thankfully it wasn’t as interest in us.

Number 2: Emerald Caves. Imagine swimming through an 80m pitch black tunnel while the walls howl. And just when you think fuckit I’m turning around the tunnel opens up to an enclosed emerald sea with a white beach surrounded by forest cliffs.

And number 1 goes to…

Koh Jum… everything about this place is perfect. All I can say is go there before the rest of the world discovers it.

K&M

Chapter 14 - A Quickie in Bangkok

2010-03-10T04:57:00.000-08:00

We did eventually reach Bangkok after the epic 18-something hour train journey, and we had an awesome time. But I'm not going to tell you about it now because we're going back there so I'll write something decent then.

We took a lot of photos though, so click here:. http://www.flickr.co.m/photos/43679192 @ N07/sets/72157623472241203 /. if you're bored at work and you need something to make you look busy.

It's worth noting a few things before you do though, so you know what you're looking at when you're looking at them.

Firstly, we were joined by Paul's younger brother, Carlos. He's the guy with the longish black hair who looks nothing like Paul.

Secondly, we were in Bangkok over the King's birthday, and the Thais LOVE their King. So any photos featuring a mass load of people, or fireworks, or both were taken on the night the country came together to celebrate.

Last, but certainly not least, when you come across the pics of shark fins, shark fins, and more shark fins, that's Chinatown, and yes, those are for soup.

Sadly this is where we also had to say goodbye to Paul and Sarah as they headed up to Nothern Thailand and we ventured into Cambodia. I would have inserted a little 'sad face' here if we hadn't just met up with them in Hanoi, but that's another blog all together.

Right, that's it. Stay tuned for tales of Cambodia, there are a few ...

Chapter 13 - Are we there yet?

2010-03-05T00:31:00.000-08:00

Chapter 12 – knock, knock Um hi, is this heaven?

2010-01-28T19:52:00.001-08:00

The little town of Trang wasn’t meant to be anything more than a stopover. As far as we knew it had no real attraction other than an ATM and the train that would take us up the coast to Bangkok. Lonely Plant only thought enough of it to give it half a page, with a combined eating and sleeping section I might add, so we put it down as a bit of a non place.

Until we found out it had a Tesco that is. And I'm not just talking about any old Tesco, but a Super Tesco. (For all our SAFFA friends, think giant Pick ‘n Pay).

It may sound slightly odd to be excited about the prospect of going to an ordinary store, and a super one jam-packed with people at that. In fact most people, including myself, would normally despair at the thought. So let me put it into perspective for you.

For close to 60 days straight we had survived solely on Thai food. Not that there’s anything wrong with Thai food. It’s delicious! Gorgeous even. But every dish is a taste explosion that never seems to give your palette a rest. And by this stage in our trip the thought of facing another chilli, lime, sugar, salt, soya, fish sauce, coconut milk concoction was kind of making me gag.

I was in need of something, well, bland. Or maybe bland's the wrong word. I was in need of individual flavours, like bread - minus the sugar. Or cheese, just cheese. Mmm cheese...

I had also started to suffer some major wine withdrawals. Anyone who’s spent any time at all with me will know that I’m rather partial to the odd glass of Sauvignon Blanc or seven. And those who were unfortunate enough to be around me during my one and only sober January will also know that the monster unleashed through depravation is far worse than the one copious amounts of white wine could ever conjure up.

For these reasons the Super Tesco in Trang was going to be more than just a source of retail therapy, it was going to be my saviour. Marc's saviour. In fact Thailand's saviour.

Our sardine can of a minibus came to a rude halt outside the train station. But as I opened the door the sun came out from behind the clouds and the angels began to sing. I swear it was like being in the feel-good part of a Disney film. Before me stood a sign that read ‘BAKERY’. And just beyond that glowing sign were people sitting around round tables enjoying pots of real coffee and dare I say it, sandwiches – real sandwiches filled with ham, and cheese, and chicken mayonnaise on ciabattas, and baguettes and thick cut brown bread and croissants...

Tesco was going to have to wait.

When we had gorged ourselves with enough bread to warrant the unbuttoning of top buttons, we could move on with our lives. Next on the agenda, accommodation, and yet again the gods were looking down on us.

We found a gorgeous little boutique hotel right by the train station we were leaving from the next day which had wifi, a fridge, hot water, air-con (4 things none of us had seen in a very long time), and wait for it, a TV. Up until that point I couldn’t remember where last I had even layed eyes on a TV let alone watched one.

And that isn’t even the best of it. Not only did this TV have cable, it had Super Sport on cable, and cricket on Super Sport, and who could be playing this game of cricket, but South Africa. Seriously, could life get any better?

By this point I was about to spontaneously combust with excitement.Tesco was going to have to wait a little longer...

We spent a couple of hours in our little lap of luxury doing the things that regular people do like having hot showers, channel surfing, catching up with emails, opening and closing the fridge door, you know general things like that. And when we started to feel slightly normal like normal people do we decided it was time. Tesco would wait no longer (it was 4 o’clock and we were scared it might shut at 5).

So we hailed one of the retro looking tuk tuks and its driver and said “Take us to Tesco kap koon ka (please)” and he did and it was magical.

Aisles and aisles of things and people and things, just like home, except for the live fish in the fish section, and the seaweed flavoured crisps, other than those minor things, just like home.

Like fat kids in a chocolate factory we filled our baskets with butter and cheese, proper Edam cheese (‘cause that’s all they had) and crunchy sugar-free baguettes and lettuce and tomatoes and salad cream and snack things and it was lush.

Then we headed to the wine section, and it was closed, but only until 5. For some bizarr reason you could only buy alcohol from 9-14 and 17 till 22. A minor glitch in the matrix as it was 16:15 but it was all good. We were willing to wait.

Packed and paid for we took our spoils (wine included) back to the hotel, borrowed a couple of knives and plates from the sweet, sweet restaurant staff next door and made giant sandwiches in our room.

When all was done we ventured to the restaurant downstairs. They put on the cricket for us and just when I thought this day could not get any better, we opened the menu. Pizza and wine. Affordable pizza and wine. Pizza made with proper mozzarella cheese and wine made from Australian grapes (as opposed to rice).

This just had to be heaven...

K&M

PS We haven't uplaoded any pics onto flickr because, well, there aren't really any. I think we were too busy eating...

Chapter 11 – A little bit better than boring.

2010-01-08T03:42:00.000-08:00

Our next destination was an island south of Lanta called Koh Mook. The details of this little gem, as with Koh Jum, were spilled over a pub table late one night in Khao Lak. Fortunately one of us was sober enough to pocket them at the time. I’ll let you guess which one...

We had arranged a shuttle boat to take us over. When it arrived, however, our shuttle boat had turned into a speedboat. This was a bad thing because Paul and Sarah had recently had a rather unfortunate accident involving a speedboat, and understandably weren’t really keen on a repeat performance. So a long tail boat was quickly summoned. This was a good thing because unbeknown to us we had joined a four island snorkelling trip (equipment and fruit included) for the price of a ferry. Score.

The rest of the passengers did look slightly bemused when the boat left us standing on the shore of island number three and the crew waved us goodbye.

Koh Mook is cool. There’s only really one beach to stay on, unless you count the incredibly beautiful, incredibly expensive luxury resort and SPA on the other side of the island. But we don’t. That’s just for yuppies.

We got pretty basic bungalow accommodation in the garden/jungle of a family run restaurant which had no hot water, but electricity that lasted long enough to allow the fan to shift the hot air around our room. It served us well.

But cushy accommodation is not what had brought us to this island. We had come to cast our eyes on the legendary Emerald Cave, a secret lagoon once upon a time home to the treasure of pirates.

We set out on this adventure on our 2nd day in. A long tail boat took us around the bay and anchored on the other side of the mountain. Our driver pointed to what looked like a hole in the wall no bigger than four heads. Sarah said “No Way!” The bravery in the boys’ faces disappeared. This was going to be interesting.

Despite the fact that we were all pretty good swimmers, we donned our life jackets not quite sure of what we were getting ourselves into. Leaving Sarah on the boat we dropped into the water and tentatively followed our guide. Thankfully, as we neared the cave its mouth began to open, but as it swallowed us, we were submerged into a darkness so dark it belonged in a Stephen King movie.

The walls howled torturously as we waded through the black water, orientated only by each other’s voices and the glimmer of light in our guide’s hand ahead. But as we rounded a corner, some 80 meters later, the darkness fell behind us and what lay ahead stole what breath we had left.

We emerged into a crystal clear lagoon surrounded by a perfectly white sand beach. Massive cliffs steeped in green hid us from the rest of the world. The whole place seemed to glow emerald. It was exquisite. One of those real jaw-dropping, awe-inspiring, speechless moments made slightly comical by the fact that my left boob had managed to escape from my bikini and was in full view, nip and all, as I came out of the water.

No, we weren’t the only people there. And yes, it was noticed.

When we had all got our breath back and I had found my dignity, we decided two things. 1, that Sarah could not leave Koh Mook without seeing it, and 2, we had to have a photo with us all there. Both of which meant we’d have to go back through the tunnel of torture.

We did it.

We got the camera and Sarah, and it was worth it. I mean how could you not have your picture taken on a real life treasure island?

Our day was made.

We ‘sailed’ back to shore heads high feeling a combination of Captain James Cook and Jack Sparrow. Real adventurers discovering the undiscovered and living to tell the tale. Well, not really, but one can pretend.

We washed the day down with one, two, many Samsung cocktails. And when we were well into the night, round about silly hour, decided it would be a great idea to do headstands on the beach. That’s when it happened. That’s when gravity stole my camera, filled with all our Emerald Cave memories, and gave it to the sea.

Never to be seen again.

We spent the next day mourning our loss on the beach as we were too hung over to drown our sorrows. But all was forgotten when Marc and I were suddenly surrounded by millions and millions of tiny silver fish whilst snorkelling just off the shore. They swam circles around us, build walls between us, below us and above us.
They stayed and played for what felt like an age, their little bodies shimmering like shards of a broken mirror in the sun’s light.

It was truly one of the most incredible experiences of my life.

And if you’re wondering, no we don’t have pictures of that either.

You can find the picture we do have here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/43679192@N07/sets/72157623040941695/

Chapter 10 – Another time, maybe.

2010-01-04T05:11:00.000-08:00

As we waved goodbye to gorgeous Jum sitting on the deck of the Lanta ferry it began to rain. Little drops of refreshment at first. Then big splodges that quite frankly just started to piss us off. But by the time we began to care, it was too late. Every inch of cabin space was taken and we were left out in the cold for the 90 minute journey. Pleasant.

We had made plans to hook up with Paul and Sarah, a couple from London we met volunteering in Khao Lak. They were doing a similar route to us, and we got on really well, so we decided to travel together until our paths split.

We met (drenched) on the Koh Lanta pier all gung-ho and ready to go, but it seemed we had forgotten one tiny little detail, research. Under normal circumstance this probably wouldn’t have been such a big deal. But as Lanta is a pretty big island with a pretty big selection of beaches which are all vastly different and thus can quite easily determine the type of stay you have, it probably would have been a good idea to have at least opened our Lonely Planets before we actually arrived.

Unfortunately this wasn’t the case.

Luckily what we had all picked up on our various paths was that the further down the island you went, the less ‘touristy’ it became. So we grabbed a taxi and headed South.

A quick scan through the “Yellow Bible” set our sights on a beach called Ao Kantiang. But our driver (who, come to think of it now, must have been damn convincing) managed to persuade us to go to Hat Khlong Khong instead, as apparently ALL the accommodation on Kantiang was SUPER expensive and full. She then swiftly drove us to her friend’s set of bungalows which we politely refused. Sneaky little Thai Lady.

Anyway, we ended up checking in at a place called Lanta Nature Beach Resort. Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t really feel the need to tell you exactly where we stayed, but our little fan bungalow could have potentially burnt to the ground while we were sleeping peacefully in it, so I thought it deserved a little mention.

It was only because I happened to wake up as the fan switch just above my head began to throw luminous sparks at us, and smoke started to fill the air with that ‘you’ve got 10 seconds before I burst into flames’ aroma, that we’re still here to tell the tale. Fortunately the mains switch was within Marc’s quick grasp, and we were able to wheel the bed away from anything with a voltage. I can’t say it’s the most pleasant night’s sleep we’ve ever had.

Moving swiftly along.

Our first night entailed a rather large catch up session which started with a bottle of Samsung (Thai whiskey) and ended at a beach party with one too many buckets of Samsung. Needless to say the next day was spent under a Samsung blur blanket with all of us swearing we’d never touch the stuff again. Sound familiar?

Other than coming out the other side of a sever hangover and our exciting little fan fire event, I’m not really sure what to say about Lanta. We stayed on an ok beach, in an ok place, with ok food. We rented scooters for a day and went exploring, but didn’t really find anything exciting enough to write about. We bought a pair of fire chains, Inspired by the mesmerising fire throwers that light up the beach at night, and discovered that it does actually hurt when they hit you (even when they’re not lit).

And that’s it really.

It wasn’t horrible or bad by any means, It was just a bit of a non event which is disappointing as we had heard such great things about the place.

Having said that, I have no doubt that if we had done a tad more reading up, we would have had ourselves a completely different experience. The only thing to do is go back me thinks, and give it another go.

K&M

Check out the photos here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/43679192@N07/sets/72157623136431770/

Chapter 9 – What goes up, must come down.

2009-12-27T03:39:00.000-08:00

Wow. It’s been a whirlwind of weeks on the beach. Or at least it was. We’re currently in Cambodia nowhere near the beach, but we’re a bit behind on the blog so we’re playing a bit of catch up.

We’ve pretty much been on the road, or the sea, or the dirt track, or the train track for that matter for the last 2 months. In fact we’ve almost been on every mode of transport imaginable (bar anything that flies or hovers).

From Khao Sok we took a local bus to Krabi Town and then a long tail boat to a beach called Raileh. It’s on the mainland, but you can only get there by boat. That and the fact that it’s surrounded by magnificent karst formations help to create a bit of an island illusion which is really cool.

Raileh is a strange little place. It has two sides to it, East and West. We had heard that East belonged to the backpackers and West, the flashpackers, and when our boat dropped us off 100 meters from dry land, and we had to wade through a muddy mangrove marsh to get to shore trying with all our might not to land in it, it was easy to see why.

Fortunately enough West Raileh is blessed with a pristine beach and turquoise water and we knew the 2 sides were only separated by a 5 minute palm-shaded stroll. So when our eyes locked on what looked more like’ The Swamp’ than ‘The Beach,’ it didn’t worry us too much.

What East Raileh does have going for it though is its chillaxed rusta bars that line the water’s edge. Cushion-covered wooden platforms jet out into the brown ocean which is deceptively beautiful under the night’s sky. We lost many an hour sprawled out sipping cold beers and cocktails listening to Bob tell us “every little thing was gonna be alright”.

Our sun hours were mostly spent frolicking on West Raileh and every other day a beach called Princess, or Kayaking and snorkelling around the karst formations. These arduous activities were only really interrupted by hungry bellies wanting to go in search of giant seafood kebabs. It’s a tough life.

We did on one occasion exert ourselves to something slightly more strenuous I’m sure you’ll be happy to know. The story probably deserves a post on its own, but I’m on a roll, so here goes:

If you’re sitting on a boat in the ocean looking at Raileh, you’ll see Princess Beach in the middle of East and West. You can’t walk directly from one to the other because there’s a big fat mountain in between them. You have to kind of walk around the mountain. It’s on this mountain that I discovered my fear factor.

As you come around said mountain before you get to Princess there sits a rather innocent sign saying “view point & lagoon” with an even more innocent looking arrow pointing up. Thinking about it now, the vertical mud “path” with the knotted rope hanging limply beside it should have been a warning sign that screamed DANGER, not for the inexperienced, short legged, rather uncoordinated mountain climber. Or simply, everyone BUT Kate Royce allowed.

But it didn’t, or at least not then.

It was only after I got half way up, one hand clutching desperately to the root of a tree, the other clasped tightly around the rope and my feet scrambling to find something, anything solid enough to save me from plummeting to my death, that I thought, oh shit, perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea. But it was too late. Turning back wasn’t an option. Looking down wasn’t an option. There was only up, and I was going to have to deal with the down part when there was only down to contend with.

I’d love to say that at that exact moment I had one of those so often talked about adrenalin rushes and I Spidermaned up the mountain and concluded the climb with a Rocky ‘Yeah’ at the top, but that’s not how it happened, not at all. Every bolder was a struggle. And I’d love to say that when I got to the top the view made it all worthwhile. But it didn’t, because when I did eventually make it up there, all I could think about was how the hell I was going to get down.

And down for me is just a whole different ball game.

You see, I have this thing about going backwards. My body just won’t do it. It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just that I can’t. It’s not in my DNA. I spent many an athletics meeting being ridiculed for the fact that I had to somersault over the high jump pole. But Marc managed to convince me there was no other way.

And so the decent began. One tiny step at a time, with Marc practically placing my feet for me. Pathetic really, but If it wasn’t for him I’d probably still be up there, a mountain woman in the making grunting at passersby and foraging for food.

I can’t remember when last I’ve been frozen with fear like I was that day, if fact, I can’t remember when I’ve ever been that hands shaking, teary-eyed scared before in my life, but we made it, and I have my mud stained clothes, a couple of scrapes and my life to prove it.

No more rock climbing for me.

Despite my little incident, we really enjoyed Raileh, enough to stay longer than anticipated. But unfortunately it seems someone let the Raileh secret out of the bag so long ago that even the Americans seem to have heard about it. Needless to say, if and when we decide to go back, it’ll be out of season.

A long tail boat, minibus, ferry and another long tail boat took us to our next destination, an island called Koh Jum. It’s between mainland Karabi and Koh Lanta, and unlike Raileh, is off the beaten track.

There’s no direct transport to Koh Jum. Yet. You have to take the Koh Lanta ferry and tell them where you’re heading. Half way to Lanta the ferry stops in the middle of the ocean and long tail boats come from Jum to pick you up. Everyone with backpacks in hand looks at you with this “what do you know that I don’t” look as you wave them away with a know-it-all smirk. It’s a random yet satisfying experience.

What can I say about Jum? I shouldn’t actually be saying anything. It’s only because I like you people so much that I’m spilling the beans on this little piece of undiscovered paradise.

It’s absolutely incredible. Rustic little log cabins hidden away in tall palm trees give the impression that there’s nothing there, no one there. And there practically isn’t. We stayed in what can only be described as a gorgeous little wooden wendy house on stilts with big windows that let the cool outside breeze in. There’s no electricity, so gas lanterns help you guide your way back from the bar at night. By day the beach could be solely yours for hours.

I don’t have much to say about what we did here, because we literally did nothing. And it was bliss. Unfortunately the lack of an ATM forced us to move on, and as we were already half way there, we made Lanta our next stop.

Check out some photos here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/43679192@N07/sets/72157622953896043/

Stay tuned.

M&K

Chapter 8 Continued - Some Monkey Madness

2009-12-17T20:37:00.000-08:00

These are 3 monkeys we filmed trying to get over a river on a couple of wires. We thought it was pretty funny. Check it out.

Just because...

2009-12-14T04:28:00.001-08:00

For Jo.

Chapter 8 - Thanks. But no thanks.

2009-12-10T23:38:00.000-08:00

It was hard, but we finally managed to tear ourselves away from the clutches of Khao Lak. I can’t say it was the most amazing place I’ve ever been to, but there’s just something about it that makes you want to buy a scooter, rent a little bungalow in the mountains and stay for as long as it takes you to forget that anywhere else exists.

We couldn’t really have earned our ‘backpacker badges’ if our journey started and stopped in Khao Lak though. So we put our lives back into our packs after a particularly boozy send off, and headed north to Khao Sok National Park way too early the next morning.

Khao Sok is a rainforest in Southern Thailand that is said to be older than the Amazon. It’s home to elephants, tigers and bears (not that we saw any) and is littered with clear streams, waterfalls and gigantic limestone cliffs. In a word, it’s magnificent.

Unfortunately our expedition was tinged with a tad of bitterness from the beginning though. We had gone to speak to Shaun, an expat in Khao Lak who had recently moved down from Khao Sok after a fairly hefty stint in the jungle. (Stay with me, I know all these Khaos can be confusing). What we thought would be a friendly chat filled with tips and tales quickly turned into a 3 way Thai conversation between him, his Thai wife and her sister in Khao Sok, with us sitting in baffled silence on the sideline.

Before we knew it a tour had been organised on our behalf without the option of opting out and the worst part about it was he expected us to be grateful, which at the time we kind of were because we weren’t quite sure what had just happened or how.

We came away slightly bemused, but once we had talked it through in the quiet of our room we came to the conclusion that all the “added” extras were probably worth the “special” fee we were paying, and we were able to go to bed feeling a bit better about the situation.

So, what was meant to happen:

On arrival at the bus station/bench on the side of the road, we were going to be picked up by Shaun’s Thai wife’s sister. She would then drive us around until we found accommodation to our taste and budget. Once settled, we would then be picked up and taken on an orientation tour of the surrounding area before going to her restaurant for lunch. From there we’d go kayaking on the river. After which we’d be taken to Monkey Temple, and the tour would conclude with a stop off at the lookout point to watch the sunset.

What actually happened:

We arrived at the bus station/bench on the side of the road, and Shaun’s Thai wife’s sister was there waiting for us. Good start. From there she took us to her restaurant. Not exactly according to plan, but we went with it. She gestured for us to pick up our packs and walked us across the road to what were quite obviously her best mate’s bungalows. They exchanged words (in Thai) and with that, she was gone. According to her, our accommodation hunt was over.

We were given the option of seeing two bungalows, one that cost 800 Bhat, the other that was 250. BIG price difference. It didn’t leave us with much of a decision as we could only really afford the latter, so off we went with Shaun’s Thai wife’s sister’s best mate to see what £3 would buy us.

Through the “tropical garden” we trekked, and just before we reached the ass end of beyond we came upon it, a pile of woven leaves and sticks ominously balancing on termite ridden stilts. We should have turned around then and there, but we’re not ones to shy away from a bit of rusticity, so we followed new Thai lady in through the door that she almost took off as she opened it.

There is just no single word to describe what awaited us inside. I’m writing this wishing I had taken a photo so you could all see it for yourselves. Something lived in there and it wasn’t human. The bed looked alive with creatures. The walls were alive with creatures. Nature had moved in and it didn’t look like it was going to be moving out for us.

There was no way in hell we were going to spend another second in there let alone a whole night, and new Thai lady knew it. She had that ‘I know I’m showing you the most disgusting room we have so you’ll cave and take the 800 Bhat room’ look in her eye.

Well, it didn’t work.

Packs in hand we hightailed it out of there and walked our way from one resort to the next until we found a lovely clean, riverside bungalow disease free and human friendly all for just 300 Bhat. No thanks to Shaun’s Thai wife’s sister.

Next on our “agenda” was the orientation tour of the area, so we made our way back to the restaurant we had first been dropped off at. But there was no orientation tour. There was only lunch, which, I have to say, actually deserves a bit of credit. We had barely finished chewing our last mouthfuls, however, when a crazy-eyed man arrived and began to usher us into his car, “Kayaking, you go kayak now!” We weren’t about to argue.

About 10km on and a few near death experiences later we came to an abrupt halt on the side of the road in what had to be the middle of nowhere. Our driver pointed to a man halfway down what would become an inverted incline carrying a kayak, then got back in his car and left us standing there. There was nothing else to do but follow him.

Despite the fact that we were kayaked and didn’t actually get to kayak ourselves, the Kyaking was great. Khao Sok really is incredibly beautiful. The towering limestone cliffs lined with trees older than our greatest grandfathers have this way of making you feel insignificant in the world. It’s a truly incredible place to see.

But back to business.

Just before we arrived at our final destination our guide found us a beautiful black and yellow snake. Mysteriously, a VERY similar black and yellow snake, in a very similar tree appeared in photos taken by friends' of ours who visited the park 2 weeks later. Coincidense?

Our crazy-eyed driver man was waiting for us as we beached, not to take us to Monkey Temple or the lookout point as we had been told, but to take us back to our accommodation as he had been told. You see, he wasn’t the monkey Temple Man, he was the Kayak man. How silly of us not to have known. So we asked him to drop us off at Shaun’s wife’s sister’s place thinking that maybe she had arranged for the Monkey Temple man or the lookout point man to collect us. But she hadn’t, and she couldn’t take us because she ‘no have car anymore’. And with that our “special” tour for a “special” fee was over.

What’s the moral of the story? Don’t go speak to Shaun in Khao Lak if you want to go to Khao Sok.

Our “special tour” aside, it was a magnificent place to spend a couple of days. Just peaceful and beautiful and refreshing. We got to walk unassisted and at our leisure through one of the oldest rainforests in the world. We got to see monkeys swimming for the first time in both our lives. And we got to experience a completely different side of Thailand. All in all, it was worth tearing ourselves away from the beach.

K&M

Check out some of the pics here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/43679192@N07/sets/72157622872037077/

Chapter 7 - Top 5

2009-12-05T01:00:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite films has to be High Fidelity. Throughout the film John Cusack and his misfit employees list their "top five" for every conceivable thing imaginable, from music to relationship make ups and breakups.

To decide on one’s "top five" is a big thing. It’s not just a case of quickly rambling what’s top of mind. It deserves some serious thought, discussion, debate and often requires the overnight test. Just ask a friend what their "top five" all time movies are. Chances are they’ll have to get back to you on that one.

To be in the "top five” it has to be great and then some. Lying in a hammock that’s stretched between two palm trees, watching the sun set over a perfectly still ocean while nurturing a beer is pretty special, but it’s just not capable of being in the "top five”. If however a whale swam past at the same moment the sun sank behind the horizon, then you’re talking.

So after numerous discussions here are our “top five” for Khao Lak (aka month 1)

Number 5: Visiting Home & Life orphanage. This sounds quite worthy, but it’s anything but. These children are the most optimistic, fun-loving kids we’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. It was an incredible experience for us.

Number 4: Eat all you can 99 Bhat Mokataa Barbeque. Ever barbequed bite-size pieces of meat over sizzling hot coals set in the centre of your table with chop sticks? That’s a mokataa. If you don’t know what it is, look it up? You’ll rate it.

Number 3: Drinking Tiger beer at Mo’s bar, The Rusty Pelican. (Yes he does get a heap of Simpsons wise cracks). Mo’s an avid musician, and has toured with some of the greatest bands of all time. If you ever make it to this 4m x 5m, jammed full of character bar, make sure you don’t leave without hearing some of his incredible stories.

Number 2: White Sands Beach. It’s more than just a pure white beach that runs for miles. The water is turquoise and people are scarce. Get there before anyone else discovers it.

And finally, our number 1…

Diving the Similians. We’ve already dedicated a whole post to it. If you haven’t already, check it out.

K&M

PS Check out some Khao Lak photos here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/43679192@N07/

Chapter 6 – Sepak Takraw

2009-12-05T00:29:00.000-08:00

Whilst in Khao Lak we came across this game of Sepak Takraw being played at the festival of Loy Kra Thong. It’s a sport native to Southeast Asia which seems to require a certain amount of gymnastics. Think volleyball with no hands. We thought it was pretty impressive. Click ‘play’ to see for yourself.

Chapter 5 - Something for Nothing

2009-11-29T02:59:00.000-08:00

When we first decided to trade in our creature comforts for life on the road with a tribe of backpacking nomads, it was a given that part of the journey was going to be spent volunteering. If we were going to tread the already well trodden paths of Southeast Asia for an entire year trying our utmost to spend as little money as physically possible, there was no question we were going to have to give something back.

So we started to do some investigating into the world of volunteering. Given the fact that we had been apprehended on the streets of London by many a desperate do-gooder determined to deliver Asia’s cries across the globe, we thought it would be pretty easy to find an organisation that would be grateful for the offer of our willing and able hands somewhere along the way.

How wrong we were.

Finding the people, animals and parts of the planet in need wasn’t the problem. There are plenty of those. Finding an organisation that didn’t want to charge us an arm and a leg for our free hands was. Yes, you did read that right. Volunteering organisations charging you to volunteer. (Is that some form of an oxymoron?)

And I’m not just talking about dropping a penny into the donation box on your way out kind of charge. I’m talking, hand over your hard earned £999 first, and only then can you feed the monkeys and clean the shit out of their cage. I shouldn’t be so harsh, you do get “3 meals a day and accommodation throughout your stay on a shared basis with en suite western bathroom,” after you’ve paid for your own flights of course.

But before you start to think I’m beginning to sound like a worthy cow, I do see the advantages of “guilt-free” travel packages like these for people who don’t have the luxury of travelling for a year and want to get more out of their annual holiday than a cocktail induced one night stand and tan lines. It just wasn’t what we were after. That’s all.

So our search continued until we eventually came across Volunteer Teacher Thailand volunteerteacherthailand.org and Fun 4 Kids fun4kidsinthailand.org

Volunteer Teacher Thailand (VTT) is a small non-profit making service, run by volunteer staff who provide free English lessons to children and adults in the Phang Nga province of Thailand.

Now teaching English may seem like a pretty lame way to go about saving the world. But what you have to understand is that tourism is a huge source of employment in Thailand. Euros turned into Bhat that pale bellied foreigners throw around like monopoly money is what puts food on the table. And having the ability to communicate with tourists in English in order to get that money, makes a Thai person more employable.

The thing is, that over 75% of the Thai English speakers in Khao Lak were killed in the Tsunami in 2004 as the majority of them were working in beach-front resorts when it hit. VTT’s free classes give adults the chance to secure jobs as restaurant staff, taxi drivers, shop worker etc. so that they are able to send their children to school, and they give children the opportunity to master English at an early age, so they may have a more promising future.

We were fortunate enough to have spent some time with VTT while in Khao Lak taking the adult classes. These lessons were held in massage parlors, restaurants that had offered up their premises during their quiet hours, and makeshift tables on the street. The students were anyone who wanted to learn. One day it could be a one-on-one session with a petrol attendant wanting to break in to the food industry, the next, a family of masseurs wanting to boost their business.

What amazed us was the appreciation. How grateful they were for our time. It was an incredible experience to teach people who wanted to be taught.

During our stay in Khao Lak we were also able to spend some time with Fun 4 Kids, a volunteer organization that strives to improve the lives of local children by building and installing playground equipment in underprivileged schools, Burmese learning centres and orphanages.

Steve, an English ex-pat who runs the organization, picked us, and the rest of the volunteers, up every morning and took us to the donated workshop just out of town. Here we got to play with paint brushes and some pretty hectic power tools, with the Thai electrics always adding a bit of excitement into the mix. We grafted until the midday heat got that bit too much to bear and then Steve would take us somewhere local (aka cheap) for lunch. The rest of the day was ours to do with what we wanted.

We loved it here. I got to shed a bit of London poundage (or at least I think I did) and we both met some fantastic people, all whilst contributing to the community. It was definitely a win, win situation.

Both VTT and Fun4Kids have become incredibly attached to a local orphanage, Home & Life www.homelifethailand.net, which was established to house children whose parents were unfortunate victims of the Tsunami. At the moment it’s home to about 25 children, and as the schools were on holiday when we there, we got to spend a decent amount of time doing activities with the kids and helping out around the property.

This was probably one of our favourite volunteering experiences. Given the circumstances, we were literally wowed at how happy this place was, and how forward thinking Root and Rasa, the couple who run it are. They’ve recently been given two commercial ovens and have now opened a bakery on site which helps pay for the upkeep of the orphanage. They’re also planning on opening a ‘family’ business, a travel agency, guaranteeing the children a job (if they so wish to take it) when they finish school.

It’s been a pretty intense month, but incredibly rewarding. There’s no doubt we both learnt more than we taught, and experienced more than we thought possible. The next part of our journey won’t be the emotional rollercoaster the first part was, but I have no doubt it’ll be every bit as challenging. In a very different way of course.

We’ve posted some pics on flickr for your viewing pleasure. Check them out here:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/43679192@N07/sets/72157622760620057/

Chapter 4 - Open Water

2009-11-01T22:03:00.000-08:00

The Similians. 9 islands each covered with tropical jungle and surrounded by snow white beaches and crystal clear water. A diver’s paradise. This is the main reason why people come to Khao Lak.

700 hp speedboats whip you across a 60km stretch of the Andaman Sea and just 90 minutes later you’re there. The east coast (land facing) dive sites are hard coral reef dives, with some soft corals interspersed. Whilst the west coast (sea facing) sites have incredible rock formations, with huge granite boulders and giant fan corals.

This place is definitely in my top 5 dive sites. Our average vis was about 25 meters, which, for those who don’t dive, is pretty damn amazing. And I’m told it averages around 30 meters, so it wasn’t even at its best. It’s like swimming in a pool with loads of fish. At one stage we had a school of barracudas circling above us, with moray eels looking for lunch below us, and if that wasn’t enough we saw 2 turtles on the same dive!

As you’d expect with such an awesome dive site just off the coast, there are heaps of dive shops on the mainland. And the thing with diving is you don’t just want to dive with a professional shop, but a place that is fun. And not that try hard sort of fun, but real fun. So it’s like looking for that special diamond ring in Hatton Garden, London. As it’s the stories, beers and friendship that make the dive experience after all.

We visited over 10 dive shops, and eventually settled on Khao Lak SCUBA Adventures (KSA), not because they are the only locally owned dive shop in the area, but because of the people. Kate completed her Open Water Course in just 4 days thanks to her awesome Swedish instructor, Maria. (No she didn’t pay us to write this. And yes, she is probably going to read this post.)

In the words of Maria, Kate is now not just a qualified diver, but a good diver. Because she was taught by a f’ing good dive instructor (also in the words of Maria). She even fended an agro Trigger fish in attack mode off of Kate on her first dive. But it’s not because she saved my fiancee from death by Trigger fish that I count her and her crazy boyfriend John as good friends, it’s because they are great people.

The diving mixed with the people is making it hard for us to venture on to our next destination, but we’ll be back to share another Tiger or 7 outside the dive shop next year.

K&M

For more pics see - http://www.flickr.com/photos/43679192@N07/4067650328/in/set-72157622714890266/?addedcomment=1#comment72157622590605745

Chapter 3 – Eaten Alive

2009-10-28T02:12:00.000-07:00

Dracula’s spawn live here. Little blood sucking creatures sent from the depths of hell to torture us ‘till insanity. They’re not just after a drop or two here and there. These tiny Thai mosquitoes are evil, and they’re out to suck us dry.

I knew they were going to be bad. Having grown up in South Africa, I’ve been the victim of the little beasts’ bites before. So I came prepared, with bags loaded with Peaceful Sleep, Rub Away, Patches, trendy Bangles that make you look like you’re an avid supporter of a charity, even a nifty little clicker device that’s supposedly meant to ‘shock’ the itch out of the bite. You name it. I packed it.

Well, all I can say now is what a waste of backpack weight. Why? I’ll tell you why...

It was our very first evening in Thailand. We decided to enjoy it sitting on our veranda with a much anticipated, ice-cold Tiger beer. Before doing so, I made sure we did the necessary repellent application - on the ankles, behind the knees, the back of the neck and the arms. Light, but thorough, just like the bottle said.

No sooner had I sat down than the first bite appeared. Small, red, and perfectly round slap bang in the middle of my calf. I put it down to the little bugger’s stealth. He must have got me before I applied the ‘Natural Rub Away with added Citronella Extract’. Or so I thought, until another one appeared, and then another, and another, all within seconds of each other.

Obviously my weapon of choice wasn’t strong enough to ward off this little troop of nasties. So I put one of our super stylish repellent bangles to the test. But its ‘pleasant smelling, insect repelling vapours’ proved more of an attraction to the little suckers. I should have seen it from the start. The thing looked too good to be effective. So I grabbed a patch. But it was useless. They were everywhere. Their bites were everywhere. And by then it was clear I was under attack.

Half an hour later and I was in a state of frenzy. My body was one big itch. My two hands torn between scratching, lathering, shocking and squashing. But still they came, like little kamikaze pilots, their sights locked on any piece of skin that didn’t already resemble a piece of bubble wrap. And there I sat, a lone soldier fighting a war that had been declared on me.

Something had to be done.

So I started lathering myself in every form of repellent we had. Until every piece exposed flesh was covered, and then recovered with one or another rub on stick, cream or spray. I kept at it until it stunk so bad I didn’t want to be near myself. The only place I didn’t apply the stuff to, for fear of actually blinding myself, was my eyelids.

Where did the little sucker bite me? You guessed it, my eye lid.

It sucked the blood from the only piece of flesh that protects my precious eyes from the hostilities of the outside world, and I didn’t even see the damn thing coming. It was the itch that first drew my attention to it. A little irritating itch. And then it began to swell. And it kept on swelling until it became the size of gross. The size you don’t want to look at but you just can’t help yourself.

And just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, they struck again, their target this time, my ear. Not the soft dangly lobe, no, inside the hard little pointy-outy bit right before the hole.

That’s when I knew I had no choice but to surrender and retreat to the air-coned, mosquito-free indoors.

I had lost the battle. But I am here for a year, so the war will continue, and victory will be mine.

You just wait and see.

The Second Chapter - The Ins and Outs

2009-10-18T03:40:00.000-07:00

We're here. Safe and sound. The entire journey took us a full 24 hours and the last stretch was every bit a struggle, but we made it, and so did our bags thankfully as those 26.3 kilos are all we possess between us.

We're staying in a small resort called Cousins. We've got a nice size room with air-con, a king-sized bed, a fridge, cupboards too big to hold the contents of our backpacks, and an en suite bathroom.

The resort itself is lovely. Lush foliage line the little paths that divide the bungalows, of which there are 30. There's a pool, although we're a mere 100 metres from the beach, and a little rustic bar and dining area.

The staff are brilliant. Monte, who I guess can be called the manager, has quickly become our friend and 'go-to guy' for all things local. And Mieu, the resident ladyboy (who seems to have taken quite a liking to Marc) provides us with much daily entertainment. I swear he tries so hard to be a woman I almost think he deserves my boobs more than me.

The resort is brand new. In fact, most of the places here are, as the entire area was swallowed by the 2004 Tsunami. The swimming pool and three palm trees were what remained of the original Cousins. It's incredible to think that right where I'm sitting writing this post now, passed a wave 8 meters taller than the top of my head less than five years ago.

I can't say we did much when we first arrived. A well-timed tropical downpour confined us to our room for two days, where we got some much needed sleep. I think we've now officially made up for every hour we missed due to work, large nights out in London, and the general day to day stress that comes with trying to survive in the western world.

But on the third day the sun rose, and so did we.

Our first few days pretty much revolved around meal times, as we had little else to do but laze on the beach until our stomachs told us it was time to move.

The food here is amazing. Thai like we've never tasted it before. Every dish is fragrant and delicate and carries a kick that still allows each ingredient's flavour to live. A big bowl of Tom kha kai (a coconut and lemon grass chicken and noodle soup) will set you back about 80 Bhat (£ 0.80) in a restaurant, and 30 Bhat if you go local.

As we're on a backpacker's budget, we've allowed ourselves one restaurant meal a day, which is usually dinner. At our own peril, this has forced us to really explore the real local cuisine which has, at times, proved rather interesting due to a pretty extreme language barrier and the use of ingredients very foreign to us foreigners, or faranges as they call us here.

The only way to really deal with this tiny little glitch, is to eat what you get without thinking about it too much. It all tastes good, it's when your mind starts to wander that it becomes a problem.

It does make for a more interesting day though. It means flagging down mobile 'food bars,' motorbikes ingeniously fitted with a mini kitchen if you like, driven by local Thai people. Depending on who stops, you're able to get anything from ice-cooled fresh fruit on sticks, to filled Thai pancakes and the staple Phad Thai.

It means adventures to the local market, which is always an experience. We bought fresh prawns, calamari and monk fish from there on Wednesday, and Monte was good enough to cook it for us. Despite the fact that it tasted amazing, it was probably the closest thing we're going to get to a 'home-cooked' meal in a while, so we were incredibly grateful.

It means frequenting the street-side BBQs that do a mean grilled chicken on a stick (they put a lot of things on sticks here) and Green Papaya Salad.

It means being brave and bold and open minded. Until we get the dreaded 'Bang Niang Belly' or suffer from severe bum burn. Then we'll probably have to rethink.

But believe it or not we haven't just been eating and sleeping since we arrived, although by this blog it might seem so. We've met up with both Ken from Volunteer Teacher Thailand and Steven from Fun 4 Kids, and are hopefully starting to get involved with some of the projects they have running from Monday. More on that when we have more.

I've also done my Open Water Diving course and was fortunate enough to do my first 2 dives in the Similan Islands, one of the top 5 dives sites in the world. It was incredible. I'm hooked. And my father, I'm sure, will be delighted to know that I have finally, after all these years, found my version of his love for birding, although a tad more dangerous and only slightly more expensive.

Maria, my dive instructor, has introduced us to the expat community and their local watering holes, so our faces are starting to become familiar, and we're slowly seeping into the woodwork. There's a few Swiss, some German, a couple of Aussies, some Americans, a few poms and a token Saffa, who's house we're going to for a Braai this week.

Other than that, we're acclimatising. Our lobster red bodies (yes, we got burnt, badly) have cooled to a crisp golden brown. Our sweat pores that have lain dormant for the past 4 years are functioning once more. We're hot. We're happy. We're back in summer. And we're loving it!

Until next time.

K & M.

PS We've posted some photos on http://www.flickr.com/photos/43679192@N07/sets/72157622625214124/ for your viewing pleasure.

The First Chapter

2009-10-13T02:20:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow we begin the journey that many have called brave, a few irresponsible and the rest crazy.

It’s true; we’ve had to be brave. We’re leaving our friends, our families, our lives. And they’re right. It is slightly irresponsible. The money we’re using to fund this trip could have been a pretty healthy deposit on a house. And yes, it is a bit crazy. We’ve quit our jobs and given up our only source of income in the mists of one of the harshest economic climates we’ve ever encountered.

But we considered all these things. We thought about them long and hard. And we decided to do it anyway.

So tomorrow we board a plane to Singapore, where another will take us to Phuket. There we’ll find a bus that'll drop us off in a little place on the south west coast of Thailand called Khao Lak.

Here we’ll spend a month or so ridding ourselves of the baggage of the western world, and volunteering in some independent charity organisations still battling the destruction of the 2004 Tsunami.

When we get sick of the monotony of the tidal change, we’ll head north to Chiang Mai, then to Laos, onto Vietnam, Cambodia, Malaysia, The Philippines, New Zealand, Australia and finally home, to South Africa.

We hope that a few of you will come visit us somewhere along the way. If not, we’d love you to follow our epic journey on this blog.

Stay tuned.

M&K