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