Bouling Down Under

Apparently you need to be in the water for it
to actually qualify as surfing.

Here we are then.  It’s all over.  We bouled, not quite all over the world (it turns out the world is massive) but at least all over Asia.  It’s been an epic trip.  Although the blog lets me tell you a bit about what has gone on it’s impossible to put into words just quite what this trip has been.  Don’t worry, it hasn’t turned us into stinking hippies, I have no intentions of heading into the Amazon and strapping myself to a tree to save it from being cut down.  I won’t pretend that we’ve loved every second of it or loved every experience, but, taking the good with the bad, the exciting with the mind numbingly boring and the stress with the feedom that we’ve had it’s easy to wish that we were back at the start waiting for our flight out of the Toon with butterflies in our bellies and a mind full of unreasonable fears.  Of course we were excited, but we could never of imagined how mind blowing the trip was going to be.  We’ve seen some of the worlds most beautiful offerings, met some of the worlds most interesting people and experienced things that sadly, a lot of people can only dream of experiencing.  That said, I’ve also met some of the worlds most anoying people and seen some things that I wish I hadn’t; an Indian fella having a shit on the road being one of them.  When a man has looked you in the eyes whilst having a shit you connect on a level beyond any other kind of social bond.

To say it’s all over isn't quite true.  The ‘travelling’ part is over but that doesn't mean the excitement is finsihed.  We’re not at home.  I’m not wrting this post in England.  I’m writing in Australia.  We plan to be here for a while if we can manage it but it’s going to require a lot of graft, probably a lot of stress and some pretty miserable times I imagine.  We have nothing.  Two rucksacks filled with tatty clothes, some residual dioreah and heads full of big plans and dreams.  We’re almost the set-up for a terrible ITV sitcom.  Let me give you the low-down on what the plan actually is, it’s a bit boring so I’ll give it to you in a nut shell, but at least you will know;

At least I won't have to watch any more of this shitey dancing.

We have 1 year working visas which will help us to recoup some of the funds that we were scammed out of in Asia.  If we work out in the sticks as farmers for three months we can extend our visa’s for an additional 12 months.  Then, we’ll take a month or so traveling around all the major cities to see which one suits us best, when we find one, we’ll rent a place and look for the elusive ‘real life’ jobs.  If we find them, like the place and meet a good group of friends, we stay.  If not, we can move on knowing that we give it a good go. That’s pretty much it.  It’s exciting and scary at the same time.  Anyway, enough of the borig stuff, let me fill you in on what has happened since my last post which was ages ago but you can let me off, we only had a month left and I didn’t want to waste time in an internet café!

So, after Sumatra we headed to Bali, spent some time in the Gilley Islands then flew to Singapore for our final few days.  Lets start with Bali, or Little Oz as I like to call it.  Here are the facts; 

•  It’s not as good as it should be.  
• There are more Australian douchers in Bali than anywhere in the world. 
• The beaches in Bali look the same as the beach at Whitley Bay.  I swear.  
• If you aren't wearing a sports vest, backwards cap and board shorts you are the one who looks like an idiot.  

Total rebel.

It’s a weird place.  It’s alright.  It’s an easy place to be in that it’s very much geared towards tourists but I think that maybe it’s a little too geared towards tourists to actually offer anything of interest. If you just wanted a week on the beach and some time to relax you’d have a decent time but it wouldn't blow your mind.  Then again, I’m now a snobby traveler douche so maybe I’m being unfair.  The first thing I noticed was the sheer amount of what I think are Australian chavs.  Where ours wear tracksuit bottoms tucked into socks and Berghaus jackets (or at least they did last time I saw one) the Aussie version wears a sports vest (usually an American basketball team), surfer shorts and a backwards cap.  To me they look like the lads out of 90’s UK pop groups. I’m thinking your A1’s, your 911’s, your Take That's and I’m certain that even at the time they all looked like huge homos.  That said, I probably looked like more of a homo trying to imitate their look whilst dancing around my room to their songs.  But that was the 90’s.  I have to give them some credit though; they aren't nearly as bad as the English lager louts and radgees who go to Malia to beat people up and help enforce the international perception that English people are dicks.  We’re even more hated than Americans.  Can you believe it?! 

Those chillis were a bit too hot for Laura.

After spending enough time with the Aussie chavs in Bali we took a boat out to the Gilley Islands which is supposed to be a little undeveloped haven with pristine beaches.  

Much like Bali, it’s alright.  Slightly fewer Aussie chavs but it’s still not paradise.  We spent a good week there though just chilling out and making the most of the clear waters for snorkeling. But, remember when I was boasting about not dying and cheating death? Well, my boast came back to haunt me a.  Death clearly doesn't like to be mocked openly.  I came down with a pretty nasty fever that came out of no-where.  Luckily there was a clinic on the island so I dragged my sorry self down and flopped onto the doctor’s bed where I was tested for malaria (luckily it wasn't) and given an initial 3 injections and 2 drip bags.  I felt as though I was in pretty safe hands and in a reasonably clean clinic which gave me a bit of confidence.  Then when I started to have some sort of fit or reaction to the injections which made me convulse like that bird off the exorcist I got pretty scared.  I was injected another 9 times and given 2 more drip bags.  I don’t know what the injections were but they made me chunder al owwa the doctor and his clinic.  Bants.  He literally grabbed a couple of paper towels and wiped down the surfaces then carried on as though nothing had happened.  Pretty efficient you’ll agree.  But if this doctor thinks its cool just to wipe sick off the floor and bed without using any kind of cleaning product he’s an idiot.  That made me wonder how clean his clinic actually was.  I could only think that I was lying in some Aussie’s chunder.  Not cool.  Regardless of cleanliness he did make me better in the end (not before slamming me with a bill for 100 quid) so I guess I should be grateful that it didn't turn out worse. 

Doctors always perscribe rest, at least they do when they don’t really know whats wrong with you and are simply hoping that they haven’t given you an overdose.  Rest it was then.  Well, it wasn’t.  Have you ever tried sleeping next door to a Mosque during Ramadan? Those Muslims know how to make a racket at the best of times, but during Ramadan they take it to another level.  Every twenty minutes or so they’re piping up on the mic and for some reason they have speakers which amplify the dreadful singing across the whole town.  What could be worse when you’re trying to recover from an illness? How about two Mosques belting out different tunes through loudspeakers at the same time? Duling Muslims.  Not fun.  I can’t remember if it’s allowed back in England but I can’t imagine it going down very well at all.

When I entered Indonesia I had a little issue with the lad on immigration so it’s only right that I should have an issue on the way out.  It wasn’t an issue with me, it was an issue with Laura.  Well, less an issue than a crush.  Well, less a crush than a need to marry her.  Well, less than a need to a marry than a need to have copius amounts of dirty sex with her.  This guy wsn’t secretly coming on to her, he was openly coming on to her safe in the knowledge that I couldn’t say anyting.  If I did, he’d just give me grief and not let pass thorugh immigration.  What a dick. Laura kept explaining that I was her boyfriend but he would only look over, smirk, and carry on tring to steal my girlfriend.  He explained that he had a car, which in fairness is more than I have, but surely that isn’t ground enough to steal a woman? Let’s not forget that I sprayed Laura down in the shower after she shat the bed and cleaned her dirty undercrackers for her.  Surely that is worth more than a car?!  He persisted for about 10 minutes before remembering that he actually had a job to do and let Laura (and luckily me) pass.  If I didn’t need him to stamp my passport and let me leave I would have given him a less than polite finger wagging.

If only Megan Fox was there.....

To end our trip we spent a few days in Singapore.  During our time there we didn’t really do anything massively exciting.  We had quite a few errands to run which included getting some new clobber so that when we landed in Oz we looked like normal people and not total hippies, we had to buy a laptop so that we can apply for jobs over the coming weeks (Laura also managed to persuade me that we needed an I-pad somehow.  For the record, we don’t but it’s too late now) and of course, we couldn’t leave without going to Universal Studios to ride the Transformers ride..…which is fucking mind blowing and without a doubt the greatest experience of both the trip and my life.  Screw graduation, screw building shit in Zambia for underprivillaged kids, screw everything.  Pool all of your money and get to Singapore to get on the Transformers ride, it’s worth it. Perhaps not the most cultural experience, perhaps not the most challenging, but without a doubt the most fun.  I’m sorry if that disappoints you. I feel bad for summing up Singapore in one paragraph mostly dedicated to a ride in a theme park but other than it being beatiful and a nice place to be, nothing really happened, at least nothing you’d care to hear about.  That’s just the way it sometimes.

So I guess that’s it for now.  I’ll blog if something interesting happens but I honestly don’t think it will, at least not for a while.  We’re going to be looking for jobs and if we find them, we’re likely going to be picking fruit for 3 months.  I can’t make that interesting.  So, for now, thanks for reading and thanks for all of your kind and witty comments.  If nothing else it’s served to help us feel connected to home even though we’re on the other side of the world.

Lessons learnt recently;

1. The world is bigger than I could ever of imagined.  I have more to see now then I did when I left.  
2. Time flies when you’re having fun.  It feels like yesterday we were saying our goodbyes in England.
3. I don't want to get involved with Aussie fashion.
4. There is nothing better than a day on a sofa in front of a TV to make you feel at home.
5. It's far to easy to slip back into normality even after being away for a while.

Cheating Death.

Wild Orangutan!!

It seems like at the start of this trip, every country that I entered posed some kind of annoying problem. Scamming hostel owners, dodgy visa payment options, fighting taxi drivers or some other kind of situation that made my piss boil.  That all seemed to stop for a while which was kind of nice but it gave me nothing to complain about.  Well, when we came to Indonesia a certain customs officer managed annoy me in a way that took me back to the good (bad) old days.  When I was going through immigration I was politely informed that I wasn't in fact Kristopher Coulthard.  Thats pretty fucking weird?! I was Kristopher Coulthard the last time I checked, and I'm fairly sure that I was Kristopher Coulthard for the last 24 years. I've got a passport in my pocket that belongs to Kristopher Coulthard and the picture on it looks somewhat like me.  Never mind I must be mistaken.  The fella at the desk was having none of it. I'm not sure if he was bored or just a cunt (thats the first time I've dropped the C-Bomb in all my posts.....sorry Mam) but he wanted to make things difficult for me.  Apparently using an internationally accepted passport isn't enough to get through immigration these days.  Oh, OK then, they must have some new super duper advanced technology that has superseded the good old passport. Not quite.  I was told that I had to provide a signature.  A fucking signature?! Anyone who practices enough can learn to forge a signature! Surely actually owning the passport with my face in it is worth more than a signature?  Not to worry though, I write my signature all the time, it's easy.  When I provided my signature the guy laughed at me and asked me if I was joking.  I tried again.  He said that it looked nothing like the signature on my passport.  I explained that I was about 15 when I signed that and that my signature had developed slightly through time.  Not good enough.  He then started looking through my passport at all of the stamps I've collected over the years.  He didn't like that.  "Are you rich?" he asked me.  Of course I'm not fucking rich otherwise I wouldn't have flown in to this shitty airport on a tinpot airplane.  I'm clearly on a tight budget.  I think he was just trying to wind me up due to the sheer boredom of sitting in a booth all day stamping the passports of happy holiday makers. In the end I didn't really have to do anything to get through, I guess he had just finished winding me up and decided to move on to the next unsuspecting traveler. He's an idiot though, he didn't even find the kilo of weed that I was hiding in my bag (joke mam).

The airport express.

A bad start for Indonesia then due to one idiot on the immigration desk.  It left me with pretty small hope for the country and what it had to offer.  In truth, I had no idea what we'd be doing.  Laura had done her usual thorough planning using the guide book and what not but as time has passed I've grown less and less interested in reading that sort of stuff.  It's so lazy but I know Laura is keen so she just tells me the crack.  I was pretty excited when I found out we'd be going on a jungle trek to try and spot orangutans, climbing to the top of active volcanos, staying on the edge of one of the worlds deepest crater lakes and learning to surf. However, in order to achieve all of this it meant that we had to fly with a real ropey airline. You all know by now that I'm not the bravest of flyers so imagine how I felt when I was told we have to take two flights with "Meth-Death Airlines".  It's not their actual name, but in the last 10 years they've crashed about 95% of their fleet and had to sack their pilots for being on crystal meth. Fucking crystal meth man.  But, just because Laura couldn't be bothered to take a five day bus journey on pot hole covered roads in the sweltering Indonesia heat that would of cost about three times as much, I had to get on "Meth-Death Airlines" and fly to an almost certain crash landing or mountain side.  At least I would have died happy and well traveled.  As I'm not writing this post from the grave you may all assume that I didn't die.  Kris 1-0 Death.

5 star hotel in the jungle.

Our time on the jungle trek could not have been better. We've done a few of these nature spotting type walks and safaris and it's usually left us feeling pretty gutted after not seeing anything.  Remember our ordeal in the alleged 'Tiger Safari' in India?  I was prepared to be let down again and thought that I would be over the moon to just see a glimpse of one orangutan.  Well, we actually saw about 12 orangutan, 2 black gibbons, 1 grey gibbon, numerous macaques and thomas leaf monkeys and loads more of those Dino-lizard's.  It was amazing.  As well as the enjoyment of trekking through the jungle we were able to get pretty close to all of these amazing animals. We opted for the two day trek which included one night in the jungle.  I knew it would probably be a rough night under the stars but I guess it was worth it to be sleeping in the jungle.  We had spiders, snakes, dino-lizards, mosquitoes and who knows what else all over us.  Wait a fucking minute, it wasn't worth it at all.  I got no sleep, had to sleep on what was essentially a rock covered in tarpaulin and woke up at 4am to the sound of a rooster making that annoying rooster noise that they make in the morning.  What the fuck is a rooster doing in the jungle anyway? Forget it.  I woke up groggy and aching.  Luckily we didn't have another two hours of trekking, oh wait, we did.  That said it was a pretty easy two hours which ended with a 45 minute raft back to the village that we were staying in so it wasn't all bad.

Cat shit coffee beans anyone?

Trying the local delicacies is something that I always like to do.  It's had me eating some pretty odd things though.  Scorpions, fried frogs, sheep bollocks and a range of insects...and that's just the stuff I know of.  Well, on Sumatra I was lucky enough to try the worlds most expensive coffee.  Yeah, a nice step up from sheep balls eh? Not quite.  The most expensive coffee in the world comes from the arsehole of the Civet cat.  Yep, you read that right.  The arsehole of a civet cat.  In a nutshell, the cat eats the beans, passes them through it's digestive system and shites them out.  Then, a little Indonesian fella collects the shit, picks the beans out and pops them into your brew.  As if cat shit coffee is the most expensive coffee in the world?! It tasted nice to be fair so I can't really complain but I just can't see it making the menu in Starbucks anytime soon.

I thought the volcano was erupting but it was just
Laura landing.

I almost died a few days ago.  True story.  We were climbing a volcano in Sumatra (which is dangerous enough) when I came face to face with a big old snake (species unknown).  I was climbing over some rocks and noticed it when I was bout 1m away from it.  It saw me and uncoiled itself, I was certain it was going to go for me.  Now, as you all know, I'm a hard lad (no not in the mens showers) so I didn't yelp, didn't jump out of my skin and definitely didn't loose the ability to breathe, that would have been embarrassing.  Luckily for me, instead of going for a life ending bite, it just slithered away.  Later in the day when we bumped into a guide I told him of my near death experience and he said that I was genuinely lucky.  I don't know what kind of snake it was but the guide told me that if it had of bit me, I wouldn't of had time to get down the volcano and to a hospital before keeling over.  Kris 2 - 0 Death.

So, we're now in Bali.  It's pretty much our final stop before the Boulage ends.  I can't really believe it.  It feels like we've only been away two minutes and here we are at the end of our journey, or, at least at the end of this chapter.  I guess going to Australia doesn't really mean the end of the trip, but we do have to find jobs when we get there so it does mean the end of a relatively stress-less life.  Actually that reminds me, stress.  It's weird, over the last couple of months my stress tolerance has dramatically decreased.  I find myself getting stressed out about nothing.  Seriously.  Nothing.  Last week I was trying to book a flight and couldn't get the website to accept my card details.  I almost had a mental breakdown.  If it hadn't of worked when it did that would of been it for me, I would have snapped and ended up going missing only to be found years later in the dense Indonesian jungle living with apes and wearing a wheely bin.  I really don't know what I'm going to do when I have to get up for work everyday and deal with all of life's little stresses.  Anyway, I'll report on Bali shenanigans in a couple of weeks.

*Update.  My SD card still isn't working so again, no photos.  I'm sorry.  You'll find me in the Jungle.  I'm the one wearing a wheely bin.

**Update 2.  I've managed to get out of my wheely bin and sort out the photos.

Lessons Learnt This Week;

1. I am not Kristopher Coulthard.
2. I can chin snakes.
3. Meth-Death Airways do fly one plane a year that does not crash.  I was on it.
4. Cat shit coffee tastes good.

Dino-Lizard Vs. Monster Spider 4

I'm nervous.  Last night I had a dream that Laura was having an affair with some douche bag who had a stupid hair cut.  It seems they were meeting up whenever I popped out to write my blog.  I'm not sure of the exact logistics of how the affair works, but I can only guess that he is following us everywhere we go and Laura is texting him using a secret phone that I don't know about to tell him to come over.  Sounds possible.  I'm going to be keeping my wits about me for the next couple of weeks just in case.  I'm on to you Laura.

In the last couple of weeks or so we have made our way out of Thailand and into Malaysia.  Although we had a great time in Thailand, we were more than ready to leave after six weeks.  We made one last pit stop in Koh Lanta to catch up with an old friend who we first met in China and then jumped the boarder to Penang.

Anything to get away from the Monkey gang.

Koh Lanta is a reasonably small, quiet island located in the South of Thailand.  While we were there we spent a bit of time chilling out by the pool and visited a cave and a national park.  The caving experience was incredible.  We've been on a few caving trips since leaving home but none that required us to navigate around spiders, bats, bamboo bridges over 10m drops to total darkness (and likely more spiders) and through tunnels too small to fit through with a bag on.  It was slightly nerve racking but entirely rewarding.  After going through the caves we set off to the national park on our mopeds.  There were six of us in total so we were essentially like the Hells Angels only slightly harder and more bad ass.  The trouble with being in a biker gang is that you attract attention from rival gangs.  En route to the national park we had a few encounters with small monkey gangs.  They were sat on the sides of the roads smoking cigars with biker helmets on just waiting for us to drive past so they could take a swipe at us.  Well, not quite but any that we did see ran for us and either tried to jump on us or scratch us.  I have to admit, I was a little scared.  Luckily we got to the national park unharmed.  On the way back things were slightly different. Where there had been the odd monkey kicking about on the road there were now full on clans of about 20 or 30 (no shit, there were loads of them) just sitting there picking nits out of each others fur and scratching their arse holes.  Now, I wouldn't want to get scratched by a monkey at the best of times but a monkey scratching me with it's shit covered fingers is a step too far.  Dirty tactics that.  We had to stop our bikes in the road to figure out what to do. We discussed our options and we were left with only one;  A "Brave Heart" style showdown.  We decided it was best to stick close to each other in order to look as big as possible but that lasted all of two seconds. When the monkey's saw that we were advancing they started for us and split us up.  Suddenly the 20-30 monkey's in in the road were running and screeching trying their best to get on the bikes to bite or scratch us. They were all over us and all we could do was drive.  I saw one go under the front wheel of Ashley's bike and other than that I can't remember much, it was a bit of a blur.  We got through the the battlefield unharmed but slightly shaken.  Not the relaxing ride we were hoping for.  I think I'll hang up my leathers for while.

After Koh Lanta we were off to Penang.  Penang is an Island off the West coast of Malaysia.  It's not like the islands we had been on previously in Thailand, it's more of a city.  We had a fantastic time there.  The city itself is beautiful,  it's steeped in history and has some amazing heritage sites.  For me though the best thing in Penang is the food.  Ho-ly Shit.  As there are so many different cultures in Malaysia (and in particular, Penang) it's easy to find all types of food.  There is a very large Chinese and Indian community so where ever you are there are always street venders working away over a frying pan or wok.  I must have put on about a stone in the 5 days we were there but I just couldn't stop eating.  The food is so cheap and so tasty it's easy to get fat.  On top of cheap street food you can get a Big Mac meal for just over a quid.  A QUID! If they were a quid at home we'd have a real problem on our hands.  People would get uber fat, uber quick.  Although eating pretty much dominated our time in Penang we did have a chance to dig a little deeper into the Malaysian culture.  Back when I was in the UK studying I met a lad from Penang who was on the same course as me.  He had moved over to the UK to get his degree.  A pretty bold thing to do.  I worked with him a few times during group projects and helped him out occasionally when he was struggling to get his work together.  It's not easy studying for a degree when it's in your own language never mind in a foreign language.  I never really gave him as much of my time as I should have though and even though he didn't have a big social circle I never made the effort to include him in my plans.  Looking back I can see that I should have made more effort for the lad.  Anyway, he moved back to Penang after graduating and I never really heard from him again.  I decided to send him a message on Facebook saying I was going to be in his 'hood' for a few days and asked if he wanted to go for a drink or something.

Our hosts in Penang.

He replied saying that he would show us around and take us to his home so that we could meet his family.  He ended up spending his whole weekend driving us around, taking us to posh restaurants and bars, giving us information about what we were seeing and wouldn't let us spend a penny.  I felt a streak of pure guilt.  He was so pleased to have us in his home town and would do anything to make sure we had a good time.  I could tell he was proud.  When the situation was reversed and he was in my home town I essentially did fuck all for him.  I feel shitty for that. On top of his weekend tour, he arranged with his family to have us over for a traditional Malaysian dinner. Being welcomed into a family home like we were is something we haven't experienced so far on this trip. We had great food, lots of beer, and great chat.  We learnt a lot about how a normal Malaysian family works, and guess what? They're just as dysfunctional, loving, annoying, kind and proud as my family and yours.  A family is a family it turns out, no matter where you are.  During our dinner our host was particularly attentive, spooning food onto our plates faster than we could eat it.  It reminded me of a similar situation we faced in India in a guest house.  I don't mind, to me the food is always good, I'll eat anything and be grateful for it.  Laura on the other hand sits and skwirms.

Our extended Malaysian family.

I love watching her in these situations.  She's a bit picky, she doesn't like her food to touch other food on her plate and she's scared of curries when she doesn't really know what's in them.  So when she has a lady spooning random curries and fried fish onto her plate her face is a sight.  She tries to be polite but inside she is terrified.  I can see her mind calculating how she can get the food off her plate and either on to mine or into the dog bowl without anyone seeing.  The answer is that she can't.  Asian women like to sit and watch you enjoy their food.  So it can only go one place, down the hatch.  She just about made it through dinner without hurling or insulting our host but dessert posed another problem, even for me.  Imagine a trifle.  Delicious right? Cream, custard, jelly and sponge.  What I'd give for a bit of my Mam's home made trifle.  Right, now swap out the jelly and sponge for a salty, malty goo.  Swap the custard for condensed sweet milk and swap the cream for boiled sweet potato.  I don't know what it's called but I was gagging trying to get it down.  I managed a few mouthfuls and had to give up.  Laura saw me struggle and decided not to try.  Not quite what we're used to but clearly Mrs Supraminiam had gone to a great deal of trouble so for that we are very grateful.

That yellow thing isn't a mushroom.  It's a table and chairs.

After out very homely experience in Penang we were bound for the Perhentian Islands.  It took a night bus and speed boat to get there which actually wasn't too bad but it left us feeling pretty tired and groggy.  We landed on the beach at about 8am and I went for the usual stroll looking for accommodation while Laura sat in a cafe and 'watched the bags' (i.e. sat on her arse drinking fruit juice while I sweated my bollocks off walking up and down the beach).  There were lots of hotels and what not but none of them had anyone on reception so I couldn't check in.  Annoying.  I walked around for two hours looking for a place before finding two options.  A massively overpriced room that was well out of our price range or a shitty timber structure covered by a tin A frame roof with a mattress on the floor (which was also over priced).  After arguing about which room to stay in we decided we try and give it a go in the nasty A frame hut.  We slept for a few hours and I woke up to the sight of a lizard chasing a fucking huge spider across the wall right above my head.  That's it.  I'm fed up with this day.  Why am I paying for this shitty room when I won't get any sleep or enjoy a single second that I spend here? I got up, woke Laura up and we checked into a nicer room that was way out of our price range and still pretty shitty.  At least we would be able to sleep without being wrapped in a web and dragged to the monster spider's lair.  On our first day in our new "posh" hotel we saw what we thought were three big lizards which were cool as fuck! I don't know what type they were, they were about 1ft long and really interesting to watch.  I was pretty excited that they were kicking about our room most mornings.  It turns out a 1ft long lizard isn't actually that big.  Who knew?  One day while we were eating lunch we saw what can only be described as a fucking dinosaur.  I've since learned that what we actually saw was a 5 ft long Monitor Lizard which could apparently eat a dog, which is about the same size as a toddler, which means it could eat a toddler, which is a human, which means we can describe it as a man eating lizard.  It wasn't doing much, it just kind of passed by without noticing us but I was pretty excited to see it.

No matter how hard we tried we couldn't get a good pose.

That wasn't our only brush with nature during our time there.  We went out on a snorkeling day trip which allowed us to get up close and personal with all sorts of fish, a turtle, a reef shark, a Finding Nemo (as it is scientifically referred to) and what I thought was a whale but turned out to be Laura swimming in the distance.  Too far?  I know it is but insulting your girlfriend for a cheap and easy laugh is too much fun.  Or is it cheap and easy girlfriend? OK, now I know I'm in the dog house.  It was nice knowing you all.

It's the best time ever to be British and the best time ever to be in England.  I didn't realise quite how much having the Olympics on home turf would make me miss home and make me want to be back there.  It's a real one off and probably the most important positive event that has happened in England in my lifetime so far (apart from TalentStar....obviously).  To watch the opening ceremony we had to stay up til 6am.  Not easy after traveling for 12 hours on the bus earlier in the day but as I said, it's a one off.  I thought the ceremony was absolutely incredible.  I don't know what the feeling back home is, but the Brits who we've spoken to here thought the same as us.  It made me very proud to be British.  Laura was in tears the whole time.  I think seeing all the images of England and all that it stands for made us both homesick and we both could probably do with a weekend back at home.  I'm hoping that the games run smoothly and that the event is regarded as one of the best.  I'm also hoping that my bet for a Chinese fella drowning at some point comes off.
Watching The Queen parachute from a helicopter got me thinking of the phrase 'when pigs fly'.  Not because I think she is a pig but because it's one of those things that you could never imagine seeing.  You wouldn't even dream it up.  I really really hope there is a fella somewhere who's wife has agreed to some kind of degrading, dirty sexual act on the basis of "if the queen parachutes from a helicopter with James bond on live television....."  That guy will be laughing his head off.  

Some bad news.  You may have noticed there are no photos.  Very observant of you.  Unfortunately something weird has happened to my card which means I can't get the photos off it and onto the PC to load to the blog.  Sorry! I can't handle the thought of losing two months worth of photos so I'm not even going to muck around with it.  If possible I'll update the post later, and, if I can't, I'll put in extra photos next time.

Some good news.  Last week we were granted our Australian working visa's so we're good to go.  It's just over a month until we fly to Perth where the whole game changes.  We have to find jobs, integrate in a westernised community, shower everyday and try and start a new life.  I'm excited and nervous all at the same time.  Still a few more destinations before that comes though so I'll be sure to keep you in the loop.

Lessons Learnt This Week;

1. Its better to be eaten alive by a Dino-Lizard than a Monster Spider.
2. Don't mess with monkeys in biker gang attire. 
3. The Queen is a bad ass.
4. It's OK to get homesick.
5. Make time for foreigners in our country.  You might need them to repay the favor one day.

Familiar Faces

Ahhhhhhhhhh.  That's a sigh of relief in case it doesn't come across as so.  Hello again.  I feel like it's been ages since I've had time to sit down, relax, take some 'me time' and write a post.  In fact, it has been ages, somewhere close to a month I think.  Not to worry though, we haven't stopped doing what we do and I haven't fallen out with my blog, I just literally have not had one minute spare.  Why? Because I've had the (dis)pleasure of having my little brother out for the last three weeks with our old flat mate.  Seeing old friends and family has been amazing.  But looking after a 17 year old younger brother is no walk in the park.  That said, no matter how much extra pressure looking after your family is, it doesn't compare to how good it is having them around you.  It's weird how much you miss having a familiar face around and it's a total pleasure not having to go through the oh so tiresome traveler introductory conversation that I may have mentioned in an earlier post;

"Hey, how are you doing?"

"Fine, you?"

"Yeah good.  How has your trip been?'

"Good, and you?"

"Great.  Where have you been?"

"Generic place a, b, c, d and e."

"Sounds great."

"Yeah, where have you been?"

"Generic place a, b, c, d and e."

"Where are you headed next?"

"Generic place f, g, h and i."

"Cool, me too.  Where was your favorite place so far?"

" Koh Phangan."

"......................................"

Conversation ends. 

Making the most of the interactive art in Bangkok.

I'm so sick of having this exact conversation on a daily basis.  I'm thinking of just having the answers to the questions tattooed across my chest so that when someone starts I can just whip my top off, let them read it and carry on doing what ever it is I'm doing.  The only problem with that solution is that any ladies looking at me would get all flustered.  What was my point? Oh yeah, familiar faces and so on.  Naturally, being away from home for so long has it's down sides.  You miss your friends and family, you miss your home and your mam's cooking, you miss Gregg's pasties, you miss Yorkshire puddings, you miss good pints of ale, you miss the familiarity that you have with your home town and the people in it.  So, having Matt and Karl over for a few weeks was a treat.  They even brought me a selection of Gregg's pasties with them.  Total heroes.  Mind you, whichever one of them decided to bring corned beef needs slapping.  Corned beef?!  Everyone knows that's the worst, by a good mile.  Now, as great as it is having my brother visit us you need to understand that looking after a 17 year old in Thailand is no easy task.  Thailand (Bangkok in particular) is an assault on the senses.  As soon as you step out into the streets it's a whole new world, one that many adults could never dream of never mind a hormonal teenager.  Cheap booze, unlimited drugs, cheap and unlimited sex, crazy modes of transportation, lady boys and all other manner of mind blowing things.  Can you imagine being 17 and being faced with these things? I used to get worked up just looking at Katy Hill's cleavage on Blue Peter when I was a young lad.  Finding the balance between being a boring over protective father like figure who could easily ruin a holiday and an irresponsible big brother who sends his younger sibling home in a body bag is an art.  Some rules were made and enforced.  Some rules that were made were broken.  What can I do? I tried my best and I'm sure both Karl and Matt had the time of their lives, as did we, but I aged about 10 years in three weeks.  How my Mam and Dad mange to control him I have no idea.  We wanted to make the most of their time in Thailand so we aimed to tick off the big hitters.  

• Eating bugs - Tick
• Drinking buckets on Koh San Road - Tick
• Ping Pong Show - Kind of Tick
• Lady Boy Show - Double Tick
• Open water diving course - Tick
• Island hopping - Tick
• Magic mushroom shakes - Tick (unless this is my Mam reading.  In which case no tick)
• Getting the shits - Tick
• Going to 'The Beach' - Tick
• Seeing an actual shark at 'The Beach' - Huge tick
• Fire limbo dancing - Tick

Some of these are the standards, but that doesn't make them any less exciting.  Remember, it's not about being the biggest douche bag traveler with the most 'unique' experience.  It's about having a bloody good time, and a good time we had.  Naturally, nothing is straight forward as I'm sure you've all gathered by now from my previous posts.  Nothing has changed in that department.  Allow me to tell you a little bit about the ping pong show.

Once you go black and all that....

Not seeing a ping pong show in Thailand is like not bothering with the Taj Mahal in India, or skipping the Great Wall of China if you're in Beijing.  You wouldn't do it because when you got home and everyone asked you if you'd seen it you'd have to disappoint them.  You don't want to be the guy who went to Amsterdam and didn't eat the banana out of the old lady's vagina on stage at the sex show....or do you? I can never remember how much I admitted to Laura.  As you can imagine going to see a ping pong show is a pretty seedy thing to do.  You have to go to a seedy area to see it and it's usually full of seedy people.  We've heard a few horror stories about tourists getting hit with a huge bill at the end of the show and then beat up they can't pay the amount or being forced to pay it.  So, we were aware that it might get a little rowdy, but we figured we would keep our wits about us and we'd be fine, we were in a group of about seven people so we couldn't be easily intimidated.  We checked out a few places and turned them down on account of them feeling a little bit too dodgy.  After searching around for a reasonably safe looking place we realized that such a thing does not exist so we had to go with the ruff one.  We agreed drinks prices with the tout on the door (100 Baht per beer and a free show) and sat down.  Our drinks were brought over and to be safe we asked for the bill.  I figured paying up front would rid us of being hit with a big bill later in the night.  The bill hadn't come after a few minutes so I asked again.  I was ignored.  I asked again.  Ignored.  I suggested that we shouldn't start drinking our beers until we had paid just in case the staff did want to slam us.  Anyway the bill never came, only a sign written in English saying that we each owed 300 Baht.  No chance.  As we stood up to leave, a gang of butch Thai women came piling out of a little side door and started ruffing us up.  We were being pushed about and tugged at, the girls were having their hair pulled and for a second, my little brother even averted his eyes from what was going on on stage.  It was scary.  We just huddled together like penguins and shuffled out of the door unharmed (if slightly shaken) and without paying any money.  We couldn't really believe it.  I honestly think that ping pong shows don't exist and that it's just another elaborate Asian scam to get some money out of tourists.  During the time we were in there, there was no sign of ping pong balls anywhere.  There was one fat lady who had had a cesarean pulling a string of flowers out of her.......self.  Not pleasant.  So that was that, our ping pong show outing was a disaster in some ways, but saying as we all got away unharmed I guess we can laugh about it now.

Karl's snorkel was slowly filling up with vomit.

It doesn't take long for Bangkok to take it's toll on you.  Constant scamming and lying, taxi drivers taking you to 20 shops before they take you to where you want to go and more Indians than I can count offering shitty tailor made suits makes it a little hard to swallow.  So, we did what all good travelers do and left.  We jumped on a night bus and headed to Koh Tao.  Koh Tao is a beautiful island on the East coast of Thailand that boasts picturesque beaches and fantastic diving.  A tropical haven and a great place to unwind after spending a few nights in Bangkok.  Me, Laura, Matt and Karl all enrolled on an open water diving course which was excellent.  Koh Tao is really cheap place to dive so why not? The first couple of days went swimmingly (sorry) until Laura started having trouble with her ears.  She couldn't manage to equalize on the way down which could have resulted in perforated ear drums had she continued.  It was a real shame, we had been looking forward to diving together for months.  Our instructor who fancied the pants off her was even more upset though.  Shortly after that Matt fell ill and had to join a different group to catch up on the course which left me with my 17 year old brother, the worst dive partner anyone could wish for.  That boy throws up just looking at the sea.

Sunset on Koh Tao.

During our safety checks I would watch his face turn from tanned to white to green and I knew he didn't give a shite whether my equipment was safe or not, all he wanted to do was chunder.  That didn't fill me with confidence as I was going underwater.  Once we made it underwater Karl also had trouble equalizing but rather then heading back up to the surface he would push through the pain until his nose exploded in his mask and it filled up with blood.  Nice one, now sharks for miles around are on their way over here.  Given all the chunder, blood and lack of attention to life saving details, I thought we'd never get through the course, but, with a little bit of effort we managed and we're now Open Water Divers.  It sounds cool because it is fucking cool. 

One of these is a man.

That wasn't the only exciting thing we did on Koh Tao though.  I say we.....I mean Karl.  I don't know how he does it but he manages to get himself into some crazy situations.  Being dressed in a wig with his shorts pulled up his arse while dancing with a bunch of lady boys on stage in front of a hundred people being one of them.  There is a video somewhere, hopefully I can get my hands on it and I'll post it.  Lady boy's are something else.  There are different levels in the lady boy hierarchy which starts at the bottom with basic cross dressers, passes through to chicks with dicks and ends with men who have boobies and other lady bits.  At the lady boy show one question kept going through my head, and I'm sure it was the same for the other lads in there......Am I gay now?  I promise you that some of these lady boys are unreal.  It's scary.  I'm looking at you and I know you are a man.  The fact that you are a man is no secret.  You're a fit man though, with breasts and long legs and a nice bum.  You're wearing hot pants and dancing all sexy like on stage. Am I gay now?  I figured I'm probably not gay and just a sucker for sexy dancing.  But still, it makes you wonder.

Not "A" Beach.

Another one of the big hitters for travelers in Thailand is to visit "The Beach".  Notice it's not "a" beach but "The Beach", as in the one off the film.  I've got to say it was pretty beautiful, but, like all good tourist attractions in was full of tourists.  And guess which kind made up 70% of us? Yeah, Chinese.  I didn't see any shitty photos being taken but I did notice something else.  They can't swim.  To get to "The Beach" we had to swim about 10m in shallow water and climb through a tiny cave.  Easy.  Not for the Chinese.  They were splashing and drowning all over the shop.  The specialist Chinese orientated tours include little Thai fellas who patrol the 10m swimming section on kayaks ripping struggling Chinese folks out of the water.  It was hilarious.  They were wearing arm bands and life jackets and still couldn't make it to the cave.  My advice is this; if you're looking for a safe bet for the Olympics, bet on a Chinese fella drowning during either the diving or swimming events and I swear it will come off.

Enjoying a little home comfort in Bangkok.

It seems like only two minutes ago the boys arrived here and now they're gone.  It's left both me and Laura feeling pretty homesick.  Since we left home back in January we always knew that Karl and Matt had plans to make it out to see us, and it was comforting.  Now though, none of our friends have plans and we don't know when we'll see them.  On top of that we're getting closer to Australia which feels like a huge move.  We're planning on being there a while and to be honest it feels a bit weird.  No doubt we'll get over it soon.  I tend to look at the weather for Newcastle when I'm feeling down and it usually does the trick.  We keep telling ourselves that nothing will really change at home and that comforts us a little but we know deep down things are changing.  Our friends are graduating and getting jobs, people are moving around, getting engaged and having babies.  If it's another two years before we get back anything could happen.  So a quick word; When we message you and ask how things are going and what you've been up to we want to know the answers.  I have a feeling people don't want to tell us that they had a good night out at the local or went to the cinema because it sounds less exciting than riding elephants or drooling over lady boys.  But it's not.  It's nice for us to hear about things at home and it's nice for us to hear about the things we miss.  So next time, don't come at me with that "Nowt's really happening" chat.  Tell me what you had for dinner or something!

Thailand's waters are swimming with sharks.

Since the boy's left we've managed to get our sleeping pattern back on track (i.e. getting up before noon) and we've done some pretty cool things.  We spent a few days on Riley Beach which an incredible destination for climbing, cliff jumping and generally exploring, either by foot or kayak.  On our first day we opted for Kayak.  We had a bit of sunshine so set off into the sea to explore the limestone cliffs and caves that surround the beaches.  It was awesome.  It may have been more awesome if Laura had understood what her paddle was for, but she never quite came to terms with it so as well as taking in the views I got a pretty good work out.  We managed to get around a few beaches to an area that seemed good for a little bit of cliff jumping.  Nothing too high, but high enough for you to realize that you're in the air for quite some time and belt out a good scream.  Not long after we got back to the kayaks a storm set in.  We tried our very best to paddle through it but it was too much, the wind and rain was battering us and we were going round in circles.  We decided to head for the shore and sit underneath an opening in the cliffs.  It was romantic to be out in such a storm on a beautiful beach for a good ten minutes but then we were just cold and wet.  The storm seemed as though it was in for a while so we had to carry the kayak's back to the other beach which was about 1.5km away.  It's not easy carrying kayaks but I was due some exercise and I'm pretty sure all the ladies on the beach thought I was uber muscular and stuff so it was all good.

Chinese swimmer patrol.

After our Kayak fiasco we decided to explore the beaches and surrounding mountains on foot.  Apparently there was a lagoon somewhere close by so we headed off to find it.  We were told by two travel agents that it was an easy twenty minute walk that could be done in flip-flops. Awesome, lets just do it in the morning before breakfast then.  If only it was an easy 20 minute walk that you can do in flip-flops.  It wasn't a walk, it was a climb.  It wasn't easy, it's was fucking hard.  You can't do it in flip-flops, you need a cable car.  But, once you get there and you're in flip-flops it's easier just to do it then to go back and change into shoes......apart from the part where it definitely isn't easier just to do it in flip flops.  It took us a good hour to make it to the point of the trail where you literally have to descend vertical drops with no harness or safety features of any sort other than some ill maintained rope that someone chucked around a boulder in the 80's.  To reach the lagoon you have to descend three vertical drops.

Some things are not safe.  This is one of them.

Not easy in flip-flops and in pouring rain.  But I'm a lad and lads don't turn back when they're so close to the end, no matter what....at least not until the third descent. After struggling with two shit scary descents and leaving poor Laura behind (she's not good with heights) I decided to call it a day for the fear that I could genuinely hurt myself or worse.  It wasn't worth it.  So, with my tail between my legs I started to climb back up to Laura and head back to the hotel all the while trying to convince myself that I had made the right decision.  No matter what I told myself though I knew I was a pussy.  So, I woke up early the next morning, put on a pair of shoes and went for it again with Pedro (A friend who we are travelling with.  No he isn't Spanish.  No he doesn't have a mustache or a sombrero. Stop being racist.) and we nailed it.  We got to the bottom and to the lagoon.  Surely it was worth it? Surely it was worth risking my life to see this amazing spectacle hidden in the middle of a mountain?  Well, not really.  It was nice, but it wasn't worth my life.  Maybe I had made the right decision first time.  At least I'm not a pussy anymore though.  Boom.

Lessons Learnt Lately;

1. I wish I was still 17.
2. Butch Thai women are bloody scary.
3. There is no such thing as a ping pong show.
4. If you're at the bottom of a mountain wearing flip-flops, it's easier to go back and change into shoes.
5. When dancing under a flaming limbo bar, the biggest cause of injury is a chicken scratch on your foot.
6. If someone tells you that Koh Phangan is there favorite place.  Walk away.
7. Gregg's pasties are by far the best food in the world.
8. Even when your family does your napper in, appreciate that they're there to do your napper in.
9. That shit cray.

Up's and Down's

As I've said a few times, starting a blog is usually difficult.  This time though it's worse than usual.  First off, Laura is in the pool chilling with some friends in the sun (from where I've dragged myself away) and the keyboard I'm using is missing most of the lettering so I don't really know which key is which.  This could take a while...............................oh, that''s the full stop key.

Just a quick one.  Something that I forgot to write about a couple of weeks ago was a peculiar sign that I came across in a hostel.  Now, usually there are hand written signs in hostels that don't make a lot of sense or have hilarious spelling mistakes which turn an innocent message into something entirely offensive. A million times we've been in restaurants where you can order cock.  Not male prostitutes, just misspelled 'coke'.  Disappointing for some I'm sure. That said, a message that we found outside of our room in a hostel in Laos could not have been mistaken for anything else.  The message read "No having sex with children in the rooms".  Take that in for a second.  Usually, making a sign like this is a reaction to something that happened in the past.  It gave me the shudders.  I could only hope that we were not sleeping in a bed where some dirty paedophile had been breaking the laws, loose as they may be in some of these countries.  It's a weird thing to know that all around you weird and often illegal sexual acts are being committed.  It's one of those things that you know is there, but you put it to the back of your mind and try to pretend that in fact it might not be happening.  But, when you have a sign plastered outside of the door to your bedroom, it really makes you think.

We're now in Cambodia after traveling over the Laos border.  We've spent some time in Siam Reap (the home of Angkor Wat), Phnom Penh, a busy and bustling city not too unlike some of the places we visited in India and we're now on the southern coast.  As is often the case, the journey itself provided a little excitement and annoyance.  Just a couple of weeks ago I posted "VIP's"within which I shared our dreadful journey from the North of Laos to Lunag Prabang.  Well, we just encountered an equally as bad but totally different journey to get across the Laos-Cambodia border.  First off, the bus itself cost us $35 each which is roughly our daily budget so that was the first kick in the balls, but only one of many.  In a nut shell, to get from the piddly island we were on to Siam Reap we had to get on one boat, three buses and some sort of tuk-tuk which was just a trailer strapped to a moped.  Now again, this was a VIP service but I didn't hold much hope for that after last time.  The staff organizing the transport and border crossing were....arseholes.  They didn't care for much other than getting the money out of your hand and fobbing you off onto the next rude guy but I can deal with that, I didn't want to make friends with them, I just wanted them to provide what was agreed when we paid.  I'm pretty easy to please.  Everything was going fairly well up to the point that we reached the border.  We had a comfortable bus with air-con (actual air con, not just opening windows) and there was no-one singing shitty local songs on the mic.  Result.  Unfortunately that leg of the journey was only one hour long.

The whole bus annoyance just to see what I'd already seen.

As we were paying massively over the odds, the travel agency were in charge of obtaining our visa's for Cambodia when the time came.  All we had to do was walk across the border with our bags and jump on another bus.  Easy.  As we were walking I was chatting with a friend about how easy this all seemed.  I think the quote was "This has to be the most hassle free border crossing ever".  He had hardly finished saying the words when an almighty 'DONK' resonated across the whole of South East Asia.  Everyone turned to see what had happened knowing that something had whacked into the traffic barrier that separated Cambodia from Laos.  Each person turned to see what had happened and I could see a look of relief on their faces when they realized it wasn't their boyfriend, girlfriend or travel buddy who had just nutted the barrier.  Any guesses what I saw when I turned around? Yep, A weeping Laura holding her head.  How she managed to walk into a bright red and white barrier I have no idea, but it was no time for asking questions.  The poor girl was white as a sheet and swaying like a boxer who had just be caught by Ali's right hook.  If there was a pivotal moment which signified the beginning of a shitty journey, that was it.  After that everything was annoying.  Firstly, the trip was supposed to take 14 hours but ended up more like 19.  And, on the last 4 hour leg of the journey the bus was overbooked so some people had to sit on the floor......at 10pm....after being on a bus already for 14 hours.  FUCK THAT.  The Cambodian fella organizing us all tried to tell me that we would be sitting on the floor.  I'm normally a placid guy who either a) would just take it on the chin and be thankful that I was getting to where I needed to go, or b) politely request that I might instead take a seat.  This time though, after such a day I decided on option C.  Telling the guy to go fuck himself because I've paid 35 fucking dollars to get on this shitty bus so if he thinks we're sitting on the floor he can think again.....Prick.  I felt damn hard at that point but he wasn't fazed and that was pretty much my only argument.  Uber fail.  So, all I could do was to take on the German tourist mindset and push my way to the front of the queue to make sure we got seats which unfortunately meant that some other unlucky people would have to sit on the floor.  I felt pretty guilty in the end but 'what to do?'.
It wasn't only the situations that were stressing me out or getting me annoyed though.  There were some people on that journey that were idiots, and sadly, they were English.  I'm always embarrassed about the way our nation acts in foreign countries.  It's weird, it's as though we have some sort of superior opinion of ourselves, we think that everyone should just bow down and accommodate us.  There was one particular English lad who definitely passed as a Grade A wanker.  He was about 20 years old, had clearly been mothered too much, was probably traveling on an allowance from Daddy and had decided to embrace the 'traveler' look by wearing a raster beany hat and some other stereotypical hippie wannabe attire.  They aren't his worst points either, he argued with every local at any opportunity presented, and he spoke in broken English.  Nothing riles me more than an English person speaking in broken English to try and force their point across to a foreigner.  How will that help?! If a none English speaking person is having difficulty following what you are saying, the last thing to do is to start speaking poor English yourself! That will only make things worse!! Anyway, I don't want to rant too much, I'm still feeling guilty about my last post where I ripped into that Glaswegian fella.  Poor Guy.  Although, I doubt he can read so he'll probably never know.

Full on Indiana Jones stuff.

During out time in Siam Reap I  mainly visited ancient temples and got flipped off by disabled kids.  First, temples.  Angkor Wat is probably the only temple that I actually wanted to see.  It's a huge collection of ruins and temples that sprawl across Siam Reap.  The norm for tourists here is to buy a 3 day pass so that you have enough time to get round all of it but I know my limits so one day was all we opted for. We started early and went straight for the most famous temple first.  Truthfully it was a let down.  It didn't really seem much different from any other ancient temple or ruins that we'd seen.  I was panicking.  How am I going to be able to show interest in this shite for a full 10 hours?! I wasn't, I knew it and Laura knew it.  I tried my best to show interest and take photos of the same things as the other tourists but I was pretty bored. Luckily, as we moved away from this particular set of ruins, things started to get a little more exciting.  Nothing I saw was quite as interesting as The White Temple in Chiang Rai, but as long as I was humming the Indiana Jones theme tune as I walked through the different sections I was pretty happy.  There were some cool sights to be fair.  Huge stone heads mounted high up on the top of temples, trees growing on top of the ruins that had done their part to destroy walls and ceilings, and, a big ass spider on a huge web that I fooled Laura into pretty much walking into.  As I said, I was bored.  In the end I think we managed about eight hours of temples before we called it a day, I was pretty pleased with myself.  I couldn't not do it though, Angkor Wat is one of the most famous ruins/temples in the world.  So now when I get back and people ask me if I seen it I can say yes.  I find myself seeing quite a lot of things for this reason.

I was sat in a bar a few days ago with an American guy that we met earlier in the trip having a casual beer (for 35p) when a young disabled lad came up to us trying to sell us a book.  We didn't really want the book but you feel bad when young disabled lads are giving you the hard sell and telling you that your money will help to send them to school, even if you know it's bullshit.  The lad wanted $5 for the book which is pretty steep.  Remember, a beer is 35p.  Even so we decided to go for it but he didn't have change and all we had was a $10 note.  He said he couldn't do anything with that.  I found three $1 notes which I offered instead but he wouldn't take less than $5.  We went backwards and forwards for a few minutes but it got pretty old pretty fast.  I'm trying to help, I'm also trying to relax and this kid is not working with me at all.  Forget it.  I've tried, he hasn't tried and now I can't be bothered, I don't really want the book anyway.  As we couldn't reach an agreement, we told him that we were sorry but we no longer wanted the book.  He didn't like that much.  He said he was sick of hearing sorry and that people saying sorry doesn't send him to school.  Fiery little lad.  There is only so long you can argue with a 10 year old disabled lad about a book in public.  We didn't want to be particularly mean but we just had to ignore him until he left us alone.  I think this might sound harsh if you're reading back in Europe but if you've been to Asia then you will know that you eventually build up barriers and can become cold towards beggars and such.  Eventually he left but he decided to spend the next 10 minutes or so walking backwards and forwards past where we were sitting flipping us off and mumbling some Cambodian at us.  Cheeky little fucker.  What can you do? If it was a full grown man you could tell him to piss off. Even if it was a young lad you could probably tell them to piss off.  But a young disabled lad with a speech impediment?  I draw the line there.  So our relaxing casual beer turned into us sitting being pretty much bullied and flipped off by a 10 year old disabled lad.  Good times.

A bed used to chain up prisoners.

We only stayed in Phnom Penh long enough to depress ourselves.  The city itself is great, its a kinder, easier version of India which we liked. It had all the same hustle and bustle, just without the smell of shit or Laura shitting herself or guys shitting in the street.  The reason that we were so depressed is that we spent our time looking around S-21 and The Killing Fields.  Let me just give you a quick and easy background; Pol Pot, a crazy Cambodian lad got fed up with his lot after failing his degree in France. Later, after teaching in Cambodia for a bit he got fed up with that too.  So like any level headed fella would he went crackers and decided to take over the country with the Khmer Rouge.  He forced Cambodians into the countryside to work the fields and got rid of any educated folk, people with glasses or anyone who opposed him.  In the three years he was calling the shots he killed an estimated 2.5 million people (the population at the time was about 8 million).  Swell guy.

Faces of those killed at S-21

S-21 was a high school that was taken over by Pol Pot to be used as a prison and torture site for pretty much anyone he fancied throwing in there.  In the three years it was running, an estimated 17,000 people were brutally tortured and killed.  S-21 has now been turned into a museum which displays the meticulous documents that were kept during these years and trust me when I say, it's creepy.  The beds, shackles and torture equipment remain in the rooms where it all happened, often coupled with photographs of the deceased, post torture.  An entire section of a building is used for displaying 'mug shots' that were taken of the prisoners, some as young as 4 years old.  90% of these pictures show the faces of desperate and scared people that stare at you blankly from the past.  Interestingly, the other 10% show some smiling faces.  I don't know what the smiles meant, I can only put it down to an act of defiance from those being photographed.  I have a romantic fantasy that not all of these people were scared and that they were ready to die without giving the Khmer Rouge the satisfaction of hearing them plead for their lives.  I suspect that it's just my way of trying to make the situation seem better.  The methods of torture used in these buildings is beyond comprehension.  To even begin to try and understand what the inmates went through, and, what went through the minds of the torturers as they carried out there barbaric acts is pointless.  I'll never know, or at least I hope I'll never know.  The scariest thing about Pol Pot and his regime is that it happened less than 40 years ago.  I can't understand how something so dreadful happened so recently.  Why was it not stopped? What were we doing at the time? I had never even heard of this until a few days ago.

Not much more to say here.

After our upbeat morning at S-21 we decided to lighten the mood and go to the killing fields.  The killing fields are essentially an extension of S-21, it was the area that prisoners were taken to be executed and dumped.  Again, the fields are particularly unpleasant.  As we walked around the site we found teeth and other remains sticking out of the ground where the pits had once been.  It was sickening.  The whole place seemed to seep pure evil.  Although what we had learnt throughout the day was all difficult to handle, one particular place within the killing field really got to me.  There is a tree within the grounds named 'The Killing Tree'.  The Killing Tree was used for executing babies, they would be picked up by the ankles and literally smashed against the trunk of the tree.  Can you imagine that?  I tried not to.  What kind of person do you have to be to do something like that?  I couldn't stand the thought of it and just writing about it now is making me feel a little sick so I think that's enough of that for now.  It's not pleasant to write and I'm sure it's not pleasant to read.

Just to lighten the mood.  Enjoy us dancing in the
street with a fat lad.

Sorry for ending it on such a depressing note but that's the way it goes I suppose.  There are up's and down's.  Luckily now we've made it to the Southern Coast for a bit of beach time.  We both need to recuperate our energy before that liability of a brother of mine flies out to meet us with our old flat mate.  I can't wait to see them both.  Hopefully our antics during that time will provide for some interesting tales to share.  If we're lucky, they won't be quite so depressing either.










Lessons Learned This Week;

1. I can type without needing the letters to be printed on the keyboard.
2. Angry disabled kids are the worst.  You just have to sit there and take their shit.
3. VIP standards do not exist in Cambodia either.
4. It's easy to get depressed whilst travelling in Cambodia.
5. There is no way I can do the'Pol Pot Saga'justice in just a couple of short paragraphs.