Phnom Penh

On Thursday Morning I visited Tuol Sleng Museum, the former detention centre of Pol Pot's regime. I found this a very sobering experience, but it was a powerful and effective museum. The following afternoon was spent doing very little - I opted out of doing the National Museum simply as I felt I would not enjoy it.

On Friday I intended to head towards Siem Reap, home of Angkor Wat, but unfortunately sickness struck me down and I spent the day thankful of my IPod, guitar, book and room TV. I also decided to buy the second Lord Of The Rings book just in case I couldn't find it later.

It was today, therefore, that I took a bus to Siem Reap. The town itself seems pleasant with plenty of tourist bars and restaurants - although I may opt for an early evening in order to arise in time for a visit to Angkor Wat before the crowds arrive.

In recent days, however, my attitude towards my travels have seemed slightly repressed. It's difficult to pinpoint what it is, but my spirits have been lower. It may be homesickness, it may be that I've been more alone lately, it may be that there's been less excitement in recent days, or it may just be that things are getting a bit samey. I've been travelling for nearly six weeks; this is only a fraction of the time I intend to spend travelling, but nevertheless it is still a large amount of time to be on the road. I fear that I may be starting to bore of things, and in fact yesterday I was considering boycotting Vietnam and simply crossing the nearby border back to Thailand from Siem Reap - thus shortening my time in South East Asia.

From the start of my travels I have always kept one important notion in mind; that one year is a long time to travel, and I will shorten the trip if it becomes desirable. I gave myself four months for South East Asia, which in hindsight appears to have been a very good estimate. However, the countries I've been visiting have many similarities, and maybe I find myself yearning for a change.

I will see how I feel over the next few days. If I cross back into Thailand shortly, then I will surely need to bring forward the date of my flight from Singapore to Darwin (currently booked for May). However, maybe if I have a good time in Angkor Wat, or become more active in the evenings like I used to be, then maybe I will once again be happy to complete a full tour of South East Asia.

4000 Islands and Arrival in Cambodia

It was only a two hour bus ride to 4000 Islands, but it was plenty of time to finish 'The Beach'. I was quite stunned by how the ending had differed from the film. After spending recent days in secluded homestays and quiet towns, I decided that it was time to go somewhere with more tourists. My island of choice, therefore, was Don Det.

4000 islands are a series of islands encompassed within the Mekong river in the south of Laos. Locals and tourists alike spend most of their time swinging on a hammock whilst reading a book, or sleeping on their riverside porch. However, not only had I no book to read, but I was very low on cash on an island with no ATM machines. It is probably for these reasons that I struggled to relax on what is otherwise a very lazy island. It was so laid back, in fact, that restaurant owners often looked slightly unsettled when I asked if I could order some food, as if I was asking too much!

Much of my time on the island was spent playing cards with the Israelis from the room next door, or catching up with Johan who I bumped into once more. I also met Andy from the midlands on the island. After just five minutes on Don Det, Andy had invited me over to play some guitar. Making conversation, however, proved difficult. After he finished off whatever he was smoking, his drug fuelled brain would take an eternity to reply to anything I said.

My second day also involved a fun but exhausting day of cycling around neighbouring island Don Khon, but with funds running out I arranged to travel to Cambodia the following morning.

Tuesday was a very long day. After a boat ride, a bus ride, a visa purchase and a border crossing, I found myself on the long bus to the Cambodian capital Phnom Penh. The bus was very hot, and the long journey was not helped by a shambolic delay at the border for seemingly no reason, an argument between the organisers and people heading towards Siem Riep, and the fact that the bus had to backtrack fifteen minutes because somebody who had changed buses had left her bag on our bus. From there I assumed it would be plain sailing.

Suddenly a loud bang erupted from the back corner of the bus. I knew immediately what it was - I had been on a coach before with a punctured tyre. I actually felt quite relieved for it would give me a chance to stretch my legs and take a toilet break. However, as the bus very gradually applied its brakes and a further eruption occurred, many of the others on the bus seemed less content. I saw sheer terror in the faces of many as I turned my head around. In the knowledge that we only had a burst tyre, I couldn't help but find it thoroughly amusing in the way that the grimacing girl behind me was hanging to the seat in front as if she was in a plane crash - and she wasn't the only one.

The bus was soon stationary by the roadside amid cries of relief. As I took the opportunity to nip behind a bush I was still finding the unnecessary terror amusing - but fate was soon to punish me for my glee. I suddenly recalled the advice that was emphasised and subsequently re-emphasised in the guidebook - never ever should you stray from the well trodden roads of Cambodia! Not even for a toilet stop! Cambodia is full of millions of unexploded mines. Despite efforts to clear them, the most common way that they are discovered is when people step on them. Well done Karma!

As I stood motionless behind the bush, I concluded that I had two options. If I headed to my right around the bush, I would be retracing the way I had come - about ten yards. Heading left, alternatively, would be a shorter journey, but I had yet to test that ground and it would also involve leaping over a roadside bush. I decided to go right. As I paced around the bush towards the roadside I braced myself with each step. Originally I tried to place my feet onto sections of land where the grass was thinner, but soon I found myself simply speeding up and taking as large a steps as I could manage, thus minimalising the chances of unearthing a mine! As I returned to the roadside I knew the chances of death had probably been little more than the chances of death had been on the bus, but it still came as a relief.

It was dark by the time the bus driver had successfully replaced the punctured tyre, and late by the time we arrived in Phnom Penh. I shared a room with Jon from the bus, had a curry, and went to bed. Today I took a leisurely stroll around the city, and finally found not one, but numerous copies of The Lord Of The Rings books. I'm now one chapter in of my Part One book. Tomorrow I'll probably do a museum or two, and the day after that I may find myself heading up to Angkor Wat.

Pakse and Don Kho

On Wednesday evening I had a change of heart. My Lonely Planet guide book talked about an island village you can visit near Pakse. If you turn up and just say 'homestay' to a villager, you can get a place to stay for the night. On Thursday morning, therefore, I endured a very long, humid and cramped bus journey to Pakse. I got a twin room with Johan from the bus, and had a low-key evening.

On Friday morning Johan informed me that he had paid for his half of the room, and he departed for a three day motorbike journey. When I began to pay the remaining half of the bill, however, I was informed that none of the bill had been paid yet! Johan had seemed like a very honest guy though, so I stood my ground, blindly putting my faith in Johan's claims. After a circular five minute conversation of 'He paid already!' and 'He no pay!', a new member of staff was enquired who duly revealed that Johan had indeed paid up.

One tuk-tuk ride, one bus ride, and one boat trip across a river later, I found myself on Don Kho island. Following Lonely Planet to the word, I stated the magic word to the guy who sailed me over the river; "Homestay". He looked at me blankly. "Homestay" I repeated. Nothing. I figured that he clearly wanted his 20,000 kip. Once I paid him he pointed me in the direction to walk.

Stating the magic word to every other villager resulted in more pointing, and it wasn't long until I was following a bicycle to a nearby village house. After settling my stuff down I was immediately offered some food; a very salty omelette and a tub of sticky rice. I politely fought through as much as I could.

Before long I was strolling around the island. The villagers were the most friendly people I am yet to meet on my travels. Despite the huge language barriers, they were very keen to say hello and state "Where you from?". My encounters included a family who took great pride in showing me photographs and a colouring book they had received from a previous foreigner, and a bunch of happy children playing a game which involved throwing some sort of light projectile at each other.

A little later I was invited to go fishing with four young villagers. This involved the four of them dragging a large net along the shallow river floor and then dragging it together. This would consistently draw up a mass of tiny fish little more than an inch long. Following the group through the river, however, also resulted in me soaking and breaking my phone. It was inside a forgotten pocket in my shorts. This was very frustrating, I was using my phone as a clock and torch! It appears that I am breaking my electrical devices at a rate of one every two weeks, so I'm not looking forward to the moment I break my IPod in Cambodia!

The oldest of the group of four was twenty-two. Her English was slightly better than the other three and she informed me that she taught English at the temple at 7pm. She asked me if I would like to come along, and I accepted. After an hour or two watching them fish, I engaged in a few more village encounters (including a meeting with a small pet monkey) and I returned to my homestay. I had some fairly good fish soup for dinner and, being lost without my phone clock, wondered if it was 7 o clock yet.

Upon asking I found out it was indeed 7 o clock. It was dark outside and I feared that the lack of light would hamper my short walk to the temple. One false move in the wrong place and I would tumble off the side of the island! Nature was at hand, however. A lightning storm was flourishing in the distance. Despite no rain and no thunder, frequent flashes of lightning lit the path, and I managed to arrive at the temple without any slips. All I found, however, were a few praying monks. If her English class was running, I failed to find it

I returned to my homestay, and it wasn't long until everyone, including myself, was asleep for the night. I slept well, although a middle of the night journey to the outside toilet was severely hampered by the lack of my phone light!

The following morning started with a salty beef breakfast which I again forced down, and another fishing trip. This time I accompanied the father of the household I was staying with. The fishing was a solo task, and I think the aim was to catch much more sizeable fish than with the technique I had seen the previous day. All it involved was walking into the river and a throwing a net, but getting the technique right was harder than it sounds. I watched the man do it a few times, and all he caught was a small fish, not much bigger than than the fish we had caught the previous day. It was about two inches, and he threw it back.

When it was my turn I caught a lot! I caught my shirt button twice and my shorts pocket button at least three times. I struggled to get the net to spread out, but incredibly I caught the biggest fish of the day! It was about three inches and extremely fat! The man seemed unimpressed, but as far as I was concerned, I had won! My fish was bigger than his.

The rest of the morning was spent exploring the far side of the island. After a few more village encounters I said my farewells to the family, paid them, and made the journey back to Pakse. On the bus home I continued reading The Beach - it's closing to the end now. I am now relaxing in Pakse and plan to go to 4000 Islands tomorrow. Whether there will be much to write about, I don't know - the islands are apparently all about doing nothing! Let's hope they have a copy of The Lord Of The Rings there!

Dong Natad

Luck was on my side on Monday afternoon; a two-day trek to a nearby village in Dong Natad was due to set off the following morning. I signed myself up and spent the rest of the day relaxing. In the evening I bumped into two Israeli girls who were going on my trip, and it was good to get to know them before the trip began.

Tuesday involved five hours of trekking. This sounded a lot, but much of it was in sun-shielding forest, and there were no hills to climb either. At one point early on into the trek I found myself lagging behind the group. Once I caught up I found everyone huddled by the side of the dirt track. There was a foul stench in the air. A dead snake had been placed a few yards away from the track. As I slowly ebbed towards it I noticed another dead snake to my left and then another to the right - but the smell was my main reason for staying back. The locals had probably found the snakes dead and dumped them by the road - if the locals had killed the snakes themselves they would have probably eaten them.

Despite hearing the calls of birds, there was little other wildlife to see as we trekked through the forest. It was an enjoyable walk though, and it was nice to be tired by the end because of the walking rather than because of the heat.

Late afternoon we arrived at the village. Whilst we were walking about it was pleasing to see that the villagers were genuinely glad we were there. They all stood and watched as we made our way about, while some of them would say hello. It felt like we were a spectacle for them as much as they were a spectacle for us; it therefore didn't feel like we were intruding in their lives. The village was very interesting; huge cattle would wander about on their own, whilst people up to all ages would be doing manual jobs such as weaving mattresses or making sticky rice. As with the rest of Laos, however, everybody seemed very relaxed.

In the evening my group were given a welcome ceremony by the family we were staying with. Numerous neighbours also turned up for the event. All the locals seemed to really enjoy it, whilst our group were as much baffled as belated. After a few Lao words were spoken, the head of the household placed a basket containing a whole roasted chicken into the hands of one of the Israeli girls. Being a vegetarian, she didn't seem to enjoy being eye to eye with a dead shrivelled chicken - head intact. After a few more words were said, some white thread was knotted round her right wrist and she was handed a hard-boiled egg into her left hand. After passing the basket on to the next guest she just sat there, egg in hand, looking thoroughly bemused!

Moments later I too found myself in the same situation, and by now it was clear that the egg was for us to eat. I was particularly hungry by this point and was looking forward to some food. I began peeling the egg when I felt a tap on my shoulder - another lady wished to wrap some thread round my wrist. I transferred the egg shell into the palm of my egg bearing hand and let her tie the white thread and say some words. Once she finished I eagerly began some more egg peeling, only to be interrupted by another tap on my shoulder. After some more eggshell juggling I sat there as more thread was tied to my wrist. Upon looking right, however, it appeared a queue was forming; every local in the room was anxious to tie their thread around my wrist. With an outstretched right arm and an appetising looking half-peeled egg in the other, all I could do was sit there as blessing after blessing was made. Apparently they were wishing me a long life, but I'd have felt much more satisfied just munching on my egg!

The following morning we witnessed the giving of alms to the monks at the temple, and afterwards walked to the local school. As usual, the kids were even more excited by our presence than the adults. The toddlers particularly seemed unable to control their excitement. The really young were learning the Laos alphabet and enthusiastically singing songs about how to grow flowers. If we walked into a classroom there would be a perfectly practiced union of 'Sabadee' - meaning 'hello'. All the classes at the school seemed so well behaved, a far-cry from the manic war zones at some of England's schools.

When we visited a class full of older children they were learning English. Being the only Brit of our group, I was asked to read out a few words from the blackboard so they could hear how they were properly pronounced. Whether they were expecting the Queen's English I don't know, but I was happy to go along with it. The words on the blackboard were all about birds. 'Beak' I would say. 'Beak' they would collectively respond. 'Feather' I would say. 'Feather' they would respond slightly more muffled. 'Albatross' I would say. 'Albafloshhh' they would respond, followed by a union of giggles.

After I had finished passing on the wisdom a Croatian woman in my group was asked to read a passage from a book. She was reluctant, but nobody else stepped into her shoes. I would have, but I felt like somebody else should be given the chance. I was unsure if the students would be able to follow her European accent, but many of them seemed okay with it. Furthermore, she taught me a lot of interesting information about birds!

After we visited the school we embarked on a two hour trek. The previous day's five hours had seemed like a good amount, but my tired legs were glad that today's trek was short. After enjoying some lunch (for the first time on the trip), the entire group fell asleep on our picnic mattress as we waited to be picked up.

I am now back in Savannakhet taking a relaxing evening. I will probably get an early bus tomorrow and work my way down to 4000 Islands in the southern tip of Laos. This should be very relaxing, just what I feel like at the moment. Other places between here and there only appear to have trekking, which doesn't appeal at the moment. Most travellers go straight from Vientiane to 4000 Islands, missing out all that's in between, so I'm happy I have done a stop-off at Savannakhet.

From Vang Vieng To Savannakhet

Thursday's trip involved a lacklustre session of paddling a rubber ring through an unexciting cave, followed by some tiring and unrewarding kayaking down a river. Things were eased slightly by the fact that my kayaking partner was one of the guides - although whether he minded me taking regular breaks from the job at hand I don't know. It was the most dull trip so far in my travels, and I spent the evening with a good Friends session and a last brief visit to Vang Vieng's lively bars. It's incredible how you meet so many familiar faces during your travels - sometimes faces from as long as two weeks ago. Alas, Axel is in South Thailand so no chance of a reunion, although he has now set up a facebook group for his proposed adventure to Papa New Guinea!

On Friday I left early to catch the coach to the Laos capital, Vientiane. I had heard there was little to do in Vientiane, and that appeared to be true. Nevertheless I enjoyed my time in surely the most relaxed capital city in the world. Most of Friday was spent just wandering around, and also popping into every bookshop I could find. Before I left England I envisioned that I may want to read whilst on my travels. I don't normally read, but with so much time waiting or travelling it seemed a good time to start. I knew a guitar could always keep my occupied but I didn't want to be stuck dragging such a large and expensive object around with me. Back in Bangkok I had considered buying a copy of The Beach, but more recently I had developed a will to read The Lord Of The Rings. In Vang Vieng I came across the second part of the trilogy , so I had high hopes of discovering the first part in Vientiane. Despite finding all of the books in French, the third part in English, and a goliath monster book encompassing the full story for thirty dollars, I am yet to acquire what I need.

I was also still without a guidebook, and now more than ever I needed one. I was in the centre of the north section of South East Asia, and a decision now had to be made. I could backtrack north and continue travelling clockwise, but this would mean missing out South Laos. Alternatively I could head south then finish off the nearby countries anti-clockwise, but this would ultimately mean flying all the way from North Vietnam to Bangkok. I realised, however, that rather than taking a flight, I could re-enter Laos and travel through the parts of northern Laos and Thailand I had missed out. I spent much of Saturday with my head tucked away in a newly purchased Lonely Planet guidebook, and I made my decision; I was to head to South Laos.

With my decision set in concrete I headed back to my guest house. At one point I past a couple of English guys thrusting a guitar into the face of a Laos shopkeeper. I paid little attention to this, but seconds later my ears pricked up. "Want a guitar?" shouted one of the guys to a stranger across the street. If the stranger replied I don't know, my instinct kicked in. "I'll have a guitar!" I said on the swivel. Whether the stranger across the road had even wanted it, I don't know - I never even looked in his direction! Within thirty seconds I found myself walking down the street with a barely used guitar on my back, tuner included! It all happened so quickly that we were already walking our separate ways when I realised I should have at least offered to buy the boys a drink! Back in my room I gave it a quick spin. It sounded great.

In the evening I chose to eat at an Indian restaurant for a change. This is where I met Fred from France. We had a very interesting conversation that evening. I never expected to meet anybody on my travels who could share my musical admiration for both Damien Rice and Jamie T.

The next day I completed a few errands in preparation for my journey south. This included buying a copy of a book I finally managed to find - not Lord Of The Rings, but The Beach. I also bumped into the generous guitar boys again. They informed me that their friend had been sick of dragging it about with him, so just dumped it in his room and left. They decided that it deserved to go to somebody who wanted it. Whether I'll also find it a nuisance, I don't know, but if I do I'll ensure it gets passed on to another willing player. It will probably end up being the best well travelled guitar in Asia.

Sunday's bus journey was suppose to last about six to eight hours on public transport. It turned out to be about ten. As the bus set off I noticed the TV screen turn on. 'Surely not?' I thought when the word 'Karaoke' appeared on screen. As it happens, there was no invitation for anyone to stretch their vocal chords, but cheesy Asian pop with on screen lyrics did play for the majority of the ride. Luckily my IPod was fully charged, and I found myself a quarter of the way through The Beach by the time we arrived in Savannakhet. Another moment to note was when we went through a section that was incredibly smoky. Locals on the bus were covering their mouths with their shirts. I don't know why the air was so bad, but at the same moment the entire sky was a murky shade of purple red. It was eerily beautiful.

I arrived in Savannakhet at midnight. I gladly accepted the services of a tuk-tuk driver and was taken to a guest house. As my Lonely Planet informed me, there is very little here, but apparently there are some fantastic but expensive treks to do. Shortly I will enquire about this. The only problem, however, is that I have barely seen any tourists round here at all, and I think I will be very lucky if we have enough people for a trek in the next day or two. Only time will tell.

Arrival in Vang Vieng

Monday was a quiet day of walking around Louang Prabang, and in the evening I booked a bus ride south to Vang Vieng. The plan was to head in the direction of Vientiane to pick up a visa for Vietnam. From there I could backtrack north again in Laos before crossing the border. However, I was informed by a fellow traveller that when crossing into North Vietnam there is little transport to the nearest city. I am therefore now considering doing South Laos before heading into Vietnam, and possibly entering Cambodia before I go to Vietnam.

The bus ride to Vang Vieng showed off the incredible scenery which Laos has to offer. As the bus swivelled around each hill top turn, the hills rolled on for miles. I was also thankful that I had booked myself onto a slow and steady VIP coach rather than a nippy and scary minibus.

I teamed up with a Swiss guy when the bus arrived at Vang Vieng bus station. Jarmo has been travelling for three and a half years, and I trusted his instinct to just walk somewhere despite the fact that we had no guide book. After ten minutes walking we were caught up by a Japanese girl from our bus. When we informed her that we had no idea where we were walking, she asked a local for some directions. It turned out that we were walking the wrong way! To make it worse, the sun was blaring down and the mosquitoes had recently made a meal of my ankles! After more blind walking and asking locals, we eventually found some more westerners who had recently arrived. They had a map and we soon realised the truth; we had been going the right way all along! When the local had given us some wrong information, we were actually only round the corner from Vang Vieng centre!

When we eventually arrived, Jarmo and me got a twin room and we had a quick walk round. Vang Vieng is a very tourist based town next to the river and with some great scenery. Many 'Friends Bars' are dotted around; bar-restaurants that serve western Food and play back-to-back episodes of Friends - constantly. One of the waiters genuinely appears to find it amusing to greet all customers with Joey's 'How you doing?' catchphrase - although in his Laos accent it actually does sound pretty funny. By crossing one of the bridges over to the river, however, it feels like I have been warped to a new place altogether! Busy bars blurt out loud dance music accompanied by psychedelic strobe lighting and the occasional camp fire. Herds of drunken westerners begin to crowd in as the nights draw on, and it's very easy to forget that you are in the middle of a third world country. It feels very bizarre and out of place.

On Wednesday, Jarmo and me hired some motorbikes and explored the beautiful surrounding landscapes. The ride was much more off-road than my explorations around Pai, thus pushing my biking skills a step further. I once again remained on the bike at all times, and the scenery was yet again spectacular. The highlights were probably the two caves we went to. A guide was there to help us around, and the second one contained a lagoon. Large rubber rings were waiting by the pool, and it was eerie and relaxing to float around amidst our echoed voices.

In the evening I relaxed with many hours worth of Friends. Tomorrow we have a tripped planned which will include kayaking and going through some caves on a rubber ring. I just hope my lack of swimming ability doesn't prove to be a problem!

Arrival in Laos

On Thursday night I decided to book the two day long Mekong river boat journey. The hope was that this would give me a couple of days sailing to hopefully work out a plan for Laos. The following morning, therefore, I arrived at the meeting point and crossed the border into Laos. It was during this process that I met my traveller buddies for this section of my journey, Colin and Myriam.

Our group were waiting for a very long time to be taken to the boat and I feared we would struggle to find a seat or even miss it completely. As it turns out, however, we were lucky. The boat was full and my group were therefore put onto our very own boat. While the passengers on the original boat were packed in like sardines, we had room to stretch our legs, walk about and enjoy the first leg of the two day journey. The scenery was pretty but repetitive, but the occasional herd of riverside cattle or group of village people added a little variety to the scene. I was still without a guide book for Laos though and therefore felt a little lost.

That evening the boat dropped us off at a one-street riverside town called Pak Beng. Colin, Myriam and myself were intrigued by the place; the entire nature of the settlement was to cater for the needs of those who were halfway along their Mekong River journey. It was basically a long street of guest houses, restaurants and the occasional shop. There were already some notable differences between here and Thailand too. After ordering our meals at a restaurant, the waiter soon returned with something else to sell; a small bag of Marijuana. I declined the offer, although the man subsequently felt the need to ask me to sniff the bag in case I would change my mind. I declined once more.

Upon boarding the boat for the second day of the boat ride, the boat was packed. Furthermore, we were informed that only the one boat was travelling that day. Finding a seat proved difficult, so Colin and myself moved to the back of the boat to lay down on the matted floor where much of the crew stayed. This proved to be far more comfortable than cramming into the crowded seats on the main section of the boat, and it also let us interact with the crew. One crew member seemed particularly interested in my IPod, and thoroughly enjoyed cycling through the randomised selection of songs. When I decided that I wanted it back an hour later, I found two crew members asleep on the floor with an ear-piece each. I was all set to attempt to retrieve my IPod in a warped version of Operation, but one of the men awoke before I could play.

In the evening we finally arrived in Louang Prabang. Louang Prabang is very relaxed and full of tourists. After we found a place to stay and eat a meal, Colin, Myriam and myself went to a bar. There we met Martin, probably the most interesting person I have met since Axel. Martin reminds me of a Norwegian version of Neil from The Young Ones. He's been travelling for an incredible three years, and he took great pleasure in informing me about his 'Musical Journey'. That evening our group of four ended up at a Laos disco - a place that was very reminiscent of a terrible and cheap university disco, but with the coolest Laos in town attempting to be 'Western'. Back in England it would have been a nightmare, but over here it was amusing.

The following day inevitably started late, but when Martin informed us of a nearby waterfall he was planning to go to, we could not refuse. The waterfall was certainly impressive from the base, but things got more interesting as we began to make the trek to the top. Very few of the many tourists there seemed to make this trek, and with no surprise; it brought back memories of my arduous trek to the hill tribe village near Chiang Mai. Once we hit the summit, however, it was all worth it. The views were fantastic.

Martin, however, was still not satisfied. He wanted more. As we began to trek down again he spotted a new route to one of the upper waterfall levels. With some steady footwork and a little inventive climbing, Martin had found his paradise. By straying from the well trodden route we had found a beautiful secluded section of the waterfall with spectacular views. Although a few people turned up later, we were largely there alone. It took a bit more climbing to find a way out of the waterfall once more, but we all knew that without Martin the trip would not have been so memorable.

In two days time Colin and Myriam are going on a three day trek. I am currently unsure if I will join them - I may possible choose a two day trek and then do a further trek in a different section of Laos. I will decide this tomorrow. What else I will do, I don't know. It's slightly different trying to plan days and routes with no guide book to hold your hand, but Martin has showed me that some of the better experiences while travelling come from finding your own way around.

Chiang Saen and Chiang Khong

On Wednesday morning I made a short shopping spree. This included the purchase of a new camera. It was disappointing to have to spend such a large chunk of my savings on another camera, but ultimately I feel that it was the correct decision.

In the afternoon I boarded a coach to Chaing Rai. It arrived in the evening where I made a snap decision to catch another bus to Chiang Saen. This would be my final stop before I travelled to the Laos border. The bus to Chiang Saen was the first time on my travels that I felt like I was going somewhere slightly off the beaten track. The bus was full of Thais, and the English language did not seem to be well understood. It could have been a time where I felt slightly daunted, but actually I felt very relaxed. Maybe if I hadn't been clutching my guide book I would have been more unnerved.

I checked in at a very friendly guest house run by a Thai family. The grandmother, about four foot in height, seemed as pro active and helpful as the younger members. Other guests were scarce, but its certainly the most homely place I've stayed in so far.

In the evening I went out for a meal. As I began the stroll back to my guest house, I came across a group of four men drinking whiskey and playing some music outside an internet cafe. After enquiring to use the computers, they informed me that the shop was closed, but instead they invited me to join them at the table. I accepted. To avoid being rude, I also reluctantly accepted the straight shot of whiskey they thrust in front of me. When they found out I played guitar, however, they became increasingly excited. Upon handing me the guitar they ordered me to play. As I strummed a simple tune, the four men became mesmorised. My playing was far from extravagant, but the men reacted as if Jimi Hendrix had entered their lives. One man, who introduced himself as 'O', stared intently at each chord I played. The others continuously made the thumbs up signal whilst saying 'Very good!'. They also continued to offer me shots of whiskey whilst downing many themselves. O repeatedly apologised for one of the other men who clearly had drunk considerably more whiskey than the rest.

Towards the end of the encounter, O approached me with a felt tip pen. For a moment it puzzled me what the pen was for, but O clearly had big plans for it. If in five or ten years time it appears that I am the new John Lennon, then O will prove to be a very shrewd man indeed. However, it is more likely that O will wake up tommorrow wondering why he ordered an unknown westerner to scrawl his name and country across his otherwise unblemished guitar. Furthermore, the inebriated man, now dribbling on the floor in a barely conscious state, will have absolutely no recollection who 'Andy England' actually is!

The following morning I had a short stroll around Chiang Saen before setting off for Chiang Khong. From here I could cross over into Laos. The plan was to make the journey on a Songthaew; a kind of communal bus which will set off once it is full and takes everyone wherever they want to go as long as it is on the vague route. Upon boarding the bus I didn't think I could fit on, but the locals all squeezed up encouraging me to board. It was very crowded, and two further locals hung off the back off the bus as the journey began.

As the locals alighted one by one, I suddenly found myself alone on the bus. When it finally stopped, I was informed by the driver to change onto another waiting Songthaew. I was not in Chiang Khong after all, I had been taken to a halfway point at Hat Bai. It was around 1pm. I asked the driver of the next Songthaew when he was going to set off for Chiang Khong. He pointed to the number 3 on his watch. I hoped he meant 1:15, but deep down I knew he meant 3pm.

A school was situated across the road and a chicken farm appeared to be next door. Despite my wait it felt quite good to be travelling in such a remote and interesting region. However, one man was not so pleased. At around 2:15 a Korean man was dropped off next to the Songthaew. He was making the same journey as me but was not best pleased to have found himself having to make a time consuming change of vehicle. After a loud and angry moan, the Korean and I were asked to board the Songthaew, and we set off for Chiang Khong.

I was considering making the move into Laos today, but it is getting late and I have no guide book for Laos. I know that in the morning a 2 day boat trip leaves from the Laos border down the Mekong river to Louang Phabang. This trip is very popular amongst tourists and I think it's likely that I'll do it. For tonight I will stay on the Thai side of the border, hopefully learning some extra information about the new country I will be moving to.

Leaving Pai

Yesterday night was another regular night in Pai. As expected, it didn't take long until we bumped into Axel. I spent great chunks of the evening watching his kung-fu moves, admiring his new home made skateboard lights, and listening to his 'long story long' about how he nearly died after being attacked by a rabies ridden dog. Axel also made a very important proposition. He is hoping to start an adventurous trek in a couple of months to an obscure country. Originally he was eyeing Bhutan, but he changed his mind once Kirsty informed him that it officially costs $200 per day to visit there. Axel is therefore now looking into the prospect of visiting Papua New Guinea, and he has invited me along. Whether I will accept yet, I don't know, but even a trek to Leeds would be exciting if it involves Axel!

It is now the following evening. By the afternoon I had said my goodbyes and was on a bus back to Chiang Mai. As I stared out of the window it felt sad to be completely alone again. My aim was to hopefully get my camera fixed and depart towards the Laos border, preferably all that day. Finding the local Fujifilm store proved surprisingly easy, but my luck soon changed. It will cost me about forty pounds to get a new screen. Furthermore, I will have to wait a month and then return to Chiang Mai to collect it. This is just not feasible. I was also informed that I could possibly go down to Bangkok to get it fixed. This would be a little cheaper and take around half the time.

With trains to Bangkok running dry for the evening and the final bus towards Laos revving it's engine, I found myself increasingly flustered by the decision. At first I thought I should just carry on with a broken camera - it possibly still works despite the fact that I can't use the screen. I then realised that I could simply change my planned route by heading to Bangkok, dropping off my camera, visiting some of Thailand's southern islands, returning to Bangkok to collect my camera, and then heading East into Laos or Cambodia. This seemed very appealing, but the extra transport costs rendered it rather pointless - I would be spending so much extra money that I may as well buy a new camera.

I have decided to carry on heading towards Laos. Time has pressed on unfortunately and I'm going to have to spend a night here in Chiang Mai, although at least this gives me time to consider buying a new camera in the morning. Not for the first time, and certainly not for the last time, it's been a very frustrating day. My spirits have been dented. It probably is not helped by the fact that I am once again alone.

Pai

On Friday I said farewell to the Canadian guy and booked a bus for Pai. It had been recommended to me by a few people, and according to my guide book it was a chilled out place that travellers like to stop off in. By 2pm I was on the bus, and conversation started to flow instantly between the westerners at the back. Key to this conversation were Ti and Tina, two Americans who often go to Thailand and enjoy visiting Pai to relax. I also got on well with Janelle in the seat behind me, not least because of the guitar case she was nestling against my seat. She was only just learning to play, so I told her that I would give her some lessons in Pai. The conversations in the back of the bus ranged from travelling to cannibalism, but once the bus had navigated round the bends and hills of the road to Pai, Ti and Tina were more than happy to be our guides. They directed me and Janelle to a nearby place to stay and ensured us that we would bump into them later.

It wasn't long, however, until I bumped into someone else. I knew that Kirsty from my recent trek was going to Pai, but it was only when I bumped into her after just a few minutes walking that I began to realise exactly how small Pai was. Her bus ride had also brought her together with a new flatmate; Polina. Through a small chain of buses and trekking companions, our group of four had been welded together. We soon found Ti and Tina once more who introduced us to some places to eat and some bars to relax in, and this is how most of our time in Pai was spent.

Many evenings, however, were given some further spice by an extra face. Having worked in IT, I have met a few eccentric characters, but even I was bowled over by the wide eyed, ultra friendly, 1920's moustache clad Swede named Axel. When Kirsty had first stepped onto her bus, Axel had apparently instantly introduced himself. This does not surprise me, he appears to introduce himself to everyone who sits or stands within his vicinity; and even if he doesn't he will be complemented on his moustache by many passing strangers. Axel would take great pleasure in telling anyone or everyone one of his many theories on life, and without hesitation he would interrupt an entire group's conversation in order to make a speech. This would often merge into a tale which he would introduce as 'long story long'. He's the single most interesting person I'm yet to meet on my travels, and fully deserves his own paragraph in my blog!

Pai has been a welcome change of pace to my travels. Before Pai I had always been going somewhere, planning to go somewhere, or coming from somewhere. Before Pai I was always scrawling through a map or fighting off frequent calls of 'Taxi?'. In Pai, time became irrelevant. For the very first time I felt like I could totally relax. If we were walking through the streets it wouldn't take long until we bumped into another member of one of our bus rides or someone from the bar the previous night. This is what makes Pai such a welcome break for travellers though; It's a small ever changing society of people taking a holiday from their holiday. As Polina once said to me, 'in Western cities you have a Chinatown, but Pai is Thailand's Western town'.

There is one more activity, however, which has made Pai a refreshing experience. Ti was not the first person on my travels to recommend I rented a two wheeled motor on my travels, but he was the first to convince me to give it a try. The fact that Kirsty, Janelle and Polina were also interested in trying it was also key. Renting the bikes was very cheap, and we were all given a lesson into how to use them. Unfortunately this simply involved being taken to a straight bit of road to practice on, but the bikes were so simple to use this did not matter. Before long the four of us were setting off towards a waterfall a few miles outside Pai.

By the time we arrived at a nearby place to fill up our petrol tanks, we all appeared relatively confident in our driving abilities; this was until Kirsty ended up on the floor in the middle of the road whilst turning back onto the main street. Luckily she was largely unhurt; she seemed to find it amusing as she sat up in the middle of the road giggling about how the sunscreen on her hands forced her to lose her grip - although she would probably have found it less hilarious if she had noticed the oncoming motorbike which was forced to slow down for the laughing girl in the middle of the road!

The drive to the waterfall was refreshing and scenic, and the waterfall itself was spectacular. By climbing down some rocks towards the bottom of the fall, the view excelled yet again. It's such a shame that I kept forgetting to carry my camera around with me in Pai. Upon leaving the waterfall, Polina felt that it was her time to fall off the bike, but it was also only a minor fall and we spent the next hour riding around the beautiful outskirts of Pai. The combination of spectacular scenery and freedom on the road was fantastic.

When we returned to Pai, I briefly lost the rest of the group. After a few minutes I found Kirsty. When I enquired where the other two were, she replied that they had gone to clean up. "Why?" I asked. "Didn't you see it?" she replied, "They crashed!". Apparently Janelle was first to topple, and Polina soon decided to follow! The injuries were only cuts and bruises, but the day had been a wake up call for everyone about how cautious we had to be. It's very wrong, however, that I felt smug to be the only one of us to end the day with all my skin and blood intact! I wisely kept that to myself!

By Sunday people began to move in their own ways. Our group whittled down to three and then two. Unshaken by the previous day's events, however, Kirsty and I went for another ride. We drove to some hot springs, and then I returned to the waterfall with a camera in my pocket. When I tried to use the camera, however, the screen was broken. It had always been in my shirt pocket, but all I can think of is that it broke when I went over a bump.

It's clearly time to move on soon. I will shortly be heading in the direction of Laos, although I'm yet to decide on what Thai stop-offs to make; hopefully somewhere that may be able to advise me if my camera is fixable. I will look back at my time in Pai with nothing but smiles; it was certainly the right time for me to take things easy. Tonight will probably be my last night, and Kirsty and I are hoping to bump into Axel again - I think we're both ready for another long story long.