Koh Tao

So its the 125th annivesary of Krakatoa today and I'm still on Koh Tao or Turtle Island.

The main reason for that being Nam''s Bar, which as the name suggests is run by Nam, a 42 year old Thai girl and her 20 year old half Chinese, half Russian, Swedish living, Thai, English, Swedish and Russian speaking boyfriend Sascha.








Oh, and Noodle, their 3 month old Chinese Pug dog, who is adorable...

It's just the most chilled out bar in the world, you completely trust Nam and Sash aren't going to rip you off; if you haven't got enough money on you, you simply pay the next night. Reggae and the music we choose from our ipods and laptops provide the soundtrack. Its just a tiny bar with about nine or ten stools which the regulars occupy, every so often new westerners or "farang" show up and join your little coven. Dene is a Welsh guy, but the most interesting of the lot, he gave up a life of accountancy to become a diving instructor. Nam and Sash pay 8000 baht a month for their bar, about £120 which kinda gets you thinking "I could do this"

The boat trip from Koh Samui is about two hours whereupon I looked square by reading my book "What Terrorists Want" in an effort to try to understand the world a bit better, post 9/11. The author repeats and repeats herself like an aging relative, banging on about how she is not sympathising with, just trying to understand what brings these noble people to destroy civilian lives. Pondering these sorts of questions, every so often you see a beaming face that recognises you and its a bit like greeting an old friend even though you only had a beer with them. Siobhan, an Irish lass sidled up to me as I came to realise how terrible I am with names and recalling events... What was your name again? Oh your friends have left; was that the group of 12 girls or 3.

This country is full of contradictions, the only one that springs to mind is that 7-11 is open 24 hours, great for that last 2 litre bottle of water to brush your teeth with last thing at night but still an oxymoron.

There are none of the lanterns that Koh Samui have, for 200 baht they bring you luck and the sky is full of them. They're basically Ikea lampshades with a "basket" where a paraffin firelighter sits. The locals light them, us farang make a wish and up, up and away they go...









On the boat trip I met Bas, or Sebastian who went to Chiswick Community School, so like meeting Gareth from Wells its nice to have something else to talk about than "where are you heading next" Speaking of Gareth, he has worked in construction since leaving school but is giving all that up to try to become an actor. I respect this not only because its more akin to my world but mainly cos its so bloody brave. Speaking of construction I might have to work on a building site or in a bar in Australia if I can't get any TV work. Will the Builder eh?

Bas is like my little brother, he's a great guy but at 20 he has none of the same cultural references as me, not having heard of The Young Ones, Rik Mayall and never having seen Star Wars! At least I can talk to Dene about John Steinbeck books when we're not quoting Spinal Tap. I think most of my gags are wasted on Bas, as he has seemingly been wasted since he was 15. Trying to mentor him and make him do something with the talent he has for music but I dunno if its working... He'll work it out one day.

Hired some scooters and went to a lovely little bay and had a swim in the really buoyant water while the rocks and coral lacerate your hands and feet. bas kept geetting freaked out tby the little Finding Nemo-like fish which eat the dead skin off your legs. Haven't really been on the beach or in the sea much as its snorkellers paradise, lots to see with lots of coral, but it seems more like a fishing port than a beach for sun-babies.

Bumped into Alex "Danger" Winstanley again, he's 21 I think, bloody posh but a bloody nice guy with it... More on him later, he's writing a blog too I hear.

When Doni, the Javan guy I've been in touch with isn't wearing a brown hoodie and collecting droids for his sandcrawler, he is a vulcanologist and the foremost knowledge on Indonesian volcanoes. I'm waiting til he is back from his trip at the start of September until I go as I want to be safe on the volcanoes and travelling in Java generally as I've heard some horror stories so don't want to go on my own... Also want to travel to Sumatra to see Mount Tobo, which 74,000 years ago wiped out 99% of human life (or the neanderthal equivalent) with the largest eruption of the passed 25 million years. The Toba Catastrophe Theory argues that the human race passed through a genetic bottleneck (a bit like coming from Somerset) meaning human populations may have been reduced to only a few tens of thousands by the Toba eruption. How cool is that? Interesting stuff... well it is to me anyway!

Then off to Mount Bromo and Mount Merapi I hope...

Off to Koh Samui again I think else, like most people on Koh Tao, you never leave. Everyone does visa runs once every three months where you hop down to Malaysia or up to Burma. Now, having seen the new Rambo film, Burma (or Myanmar) is one place I aint going. Ever. I heard they came second in the new Olympic sport the Chinese introduced and won gold in Beijing... Monk Burning. Every other backpacker goes to Cambodia and Laos, but I don't fancy Pol Pot's Killing Fields - not my idea of fun and as for Laos; well... any country that eats deep-friend tarantulas can truly fuck off in my narrow-minded arachnophobe mind.

Apparently I'm not a backpacker, I'm a flashpacker i.e. I have all the gadgets, laptop, iPhone, speakers, hard-drive, shoes you know the kind of thing. The kind of traveller that would rather spend the extra £30 on a flight rather than a 15 hour bus and boat ride.

After all, and to quote Spinal Tap - "Mime is money"

Koh Samui

Its been some time since my last blog... I really must make notes as I've forgotten so much of what happened betwixt Bangkok and here.

A 15 hour bus journey brought me here, it was supposed to be 12 but then the bus drivers take you to their cousin's cafe for an hour. We watched Iron Man and The Happening before everyone else on the bus went to sleep. Iron Man is better than I remembered, but they did switch off the DVD as the credits rolled so everyone missed the end of the film, if you haven't seen it (in much the same way as Stark turns up in The Incredible Hulk) Nick Fury, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D appears to Iron Man. As an almost indie production, Marvel Studios really have come up trumps, finally creating the Marvel Universe or diegesis we've wanted to see since we were ten.
The Happening is truly a shite film, what's gone wrong with your brain M. Night Shyalaman?
You used to be my friend but now you offend me, what did I do to you to deserve this?

My first day on Koh Samui involved a long bus ride whereupon I met Dave, a nice Irish guy who's best friend is Steven Ireland, the Man City player who always gets into scrapes. After grabbing some shut -eye, I applied aloe vera to my sunburnt arms from the boat-ride and then more sunbathing on the beach.


By night, restaurants set chairs, tables, candles and fairy lights in the trees. It truly is heaven. And then there's the seafood. You rock up to a restaurant and choose what you want from a small boat filled with ice; lobster, blue crab, jumbo prawns almost as long as your forearm, you name it they've got it. The only thing that breaks the hypnotic sounds of the sea gently lapping the shore is the arthritic crack of my lobster claws.

I've been swimming further and braving the midday sun a little more each day.
Massages are a requisite of this country at between GBP3-4 for an hour.

On my second night I met a bunch of really nice Irish kids, about 8 girls and 2 boys, boy they can drink, I'm getting to old for this and had to leave them to it. The next night I hung out with and went to a party with two American law students. Much quieter and thats mainly what I've been up to: Withnailian/Bachannailian excess replaced with a few chilled beers of an evening.

One night, you forget the names of days here, I met up with Yana, a girl from travbuddy who was from Coolangatta. She was cool and we went for seafood on the beach. She's a hair and make-up artist and recently worked with Michelle Monaghan on Eagle Eye. She's gonna try and get me Michelle's number! We ate, chatted, had three drinks and then arrived at a club. I don't get why people want to go to clubs or loud bars until you wanna start dancing. You can't hear a word so end up not speaking, which I can only do for about ten minutes before I get bored. Nine minutes thirty seven seconds later I made my excuses and walked her some of the way home...

When I arrived last Tuesday, near my guest house lay an empty shell of a building. Without concrete mixers or scaffolding by Saturday this empty shell was a fully functioning McDonalds which pumps out Gorillaz and S Club 7 in the afternoons. Which got me thinking - if it takes some Thai guys five days to build and decorate a McDonalds, why did it take seven months to renovate my house after the flood?

Speaking of which, I've just had an e-mail from my ex-girlfriend saying she feels as though I have "really left her in the shit with this house" Perhaps she should have thought of that before she walked out on me. I found it hurtful, tactless and incredibly ironic in equal measure.

What would Buddha make of McDonalds or for that matter Coca Cola? Well I know for a fact he doesn't approve of the latter because he drinks strawberry Fanta. Or at least the locals think so as every small statue temple is littered with offerings of the sickly stuff.


Saturday evening brought about the Full Moon party, which I went to with two gals from London. They had been travelling together for ages and welcomed someone new to talk to. I was in two minds as whether to go, I hate techno music and it all seemed a bit of a palava... We sat at the bar watching hundreds of bucketed-up Australians get on boats and disappear into the darkness like cheese-lovers watching the deli-counter number slowly approach our numbers... Two hours twenty minutes and three Tiger beers after our boat was meant to depart, we got on our boat. My number was 613. Great! Number 13. Why am I, the non-swimmer always the only one without a life jacket?

A walk through the grotty town in which every household had become a bucket-selling stall led us to the beach. It was like V Festival on a beach, hundreds of day-glow tattooed idiots listening to music I don't much care for. I found a balcony bar which gave panoramic views of the throng which was playing Michael Jackson; I liked it, Liz liked it but Jen wanted to explore...

After being bitten on the arm by an English girl as I walked past her (its okay the girls said rabies does not travel through T-shirts and they are teachers) we found some places to dance where we weren't elbowed by every Tom, Dick and Minty. Then I saw Tara and Louise, The Girl That Nearly Ruined My Holiday by spilling those drinks over my phone. I lost the teachers and we moved from sound system to sound system, bar to bar until 5 a.m. Tara and I even finding some Motown. This wasn't nearly as bad as I thought. I had only heard the song that goes "Engine, Engine Number 9... If I fall down off the track, pack it up, pack it up, pack it up" and the ghastly remix of Jump Around fifteen times that night.

Some Hooray Henry came and asked what on earth I was doing there as I was "at least thirty-five" and as if by magic, his lame R' n B' was replaced by the very next song. "Smells Like Teen Spirit" I don't need to explain the rest, but its amazing what a shot of Grunge-fuelled adrenaline and a sup from Louise's red bull and vodka bucket can do... who was the old man now, eh?

So like I said, it was 5 a.m. My boat was due to leave at 2.00 and realising this, my homing beacon kicked in. The queue for the boat was six thick and eighty long. Well, at least three hundred people, this would take about 12 boats and I'd still be there at midday with a hangover.
Becoming my Grandfather, the Sergeant Major I began rallying troops to hire a taxi-boat back to Koh Samui. After lots of haggling, which they would not budge from myself, some English guys, a melancholic Irish girl, some yanks and a beautiful Israeli girl set off. The taxi boat was a long wooden boat with an outboard motor and seemingly the branch of a tree as a rudder.

Forty five freezing, soaked minutes later, and I mean soaked; from head to toe - thank God I didn't take my iPhone! We arrived on the shore of our island, and as everyone climbed off the ladder I jumped, my last cigarette in its box in my hands, to the sound of "careful its deeper than it looks" I landed with aplomb and the grace of a vaulter. Then my flip flops slipped and I fell backwards, throwing my cigarettes onto the beach in the process.

I was even wetter than before, at least the sea was warmer but Jesus Jones, where were we?
We specified Koh Samui but not where, a bit like saying "London please" to a black cab driver.
The only option was a cab to Chaweng. 400 sopping wet baht - six quid. Not bad I suppose seeing as that wouldn't get you from Chiswick to Shepherd's Bush. All I wanted was a cigarette and my bed.

Earlier that night before the party I somehow recognised a guy from the year above me at The Blue School. We arranged to meet the next night to watch the footy and did. The Viking Bar is the cheapest place they know, GBP1.50 for three Chang beers, which is even more badly brewed than Fiji Bitter in so much as you don't know if you'll get a 2% bottle or a 7% bottle, its a lucky dip. Gareth and his mate Kev, who is 46 and I watched the Chelsea and Man Utd games, laughing about people we went to school with and lamenting the news of those that had died.

Gareth wasn't very well, so went home early so Kev and I had a few more beers.
Chang unfortunately, but it was really nice to not have to talk about the same things to new people every night; what you do for a living, what brought you here, same jokes, where you're headed etc.

Speaking of which, I'm going to try to head to Anak Krakatau as on the 26/27th August it will be 125 years to the day since Krakatoa blew its top with the force of 13,000 Hiroshimas. I think that would be a good day to climb it, even though the USGS advise not travelling within 3km of the island...

Wish me luck, and don't tell my mum!

Travel Buddies!

So, I just joined www.travbuddy.com and within ten minutes had 6 messages, feeling that its more likely that I'll find some like-minded individuals to travel down south with. Its a genius site, people say its as addictive as FB, but we'll see...

That's good. You can of course pick and choose who you wanna hang out with, so ignore the geeks and just reply to the fit Dutch girls!

So what have I been up to? Not alot, so this post is "just thoughts really" I've been hanging out and doing my own thing - walking round Bangkok taking in the sites by day, I'll start uploading some photos soon. My friend is back from her diving course today I think, if today is Wednesday.
I've really no idea, which demonstrates how different it is here from London. Mind the gap.

So many things are different here, each country in Asia has its own smell. We don't realise how indebted we are to Joseph Bazalgette.... Many things are different like the @ and the " being the wrong way round, but you get used to it. Some things are the same. Soap still works better than shower gel, spicy food still gives you bottom fever, cucumber is still evil, and physics works in the same way... headphone wires inexplicably still tangle themselves in your pocket, broadsheets are difficult to fold and yes, its still impossible to get ketchup out of a Heinz bottle without slapping the crap out it.

Another thing that is different is that everyone talks to each other. Not like London. You walk down the street and either someone or a group latch onto you or vice versa. People of all nationalities too, whether people are from Ghana, Israel or Denmark, it goes unsaid that they are heading to the next bar with you.

Everyone I meet says they are people-watching, to make them sound intelligent I think. I people watch but I'd never say the word out loud as I reckon it makes you sound a bit of a tit. I was sitting with one said "people-watcher" Rachel and explained that I go a step further, I invent backstories for people, like that 55 year old guy over there with the 35 year old Thai wife. He discovered last week that one sweaty night in Bangkok thirty years ago he fathered a baby girl - that's not his wife its his daughter, who was brought up by a witch. If he leaves his daughter's side he turns into a lizard. We laughed as we did this for most of the night and drank the local brew, until she disappeared in a flash; perhaps she was the witch?

Now I'm not to drink any more White Russians, they don't turn me into The Dude from The Big Lebowski, they make me fall over, which is very uncool. Best 35p you can spend though!

I want to take all of the cats that i see home with me, they live on the roofs (rooves?) and fight and howl and fuck. What a life! There's one new mother near my window still suckling her kittens who are adorable, one tabby (Fudge) one calico (Marmalade) and one mongrel looking thing. They are all so thin that the rats outclass them pound for pound. Like Amir Khan taking on Joe Bugner. They seem to eat leftover food that the locals give them. One of my old cats Fudge used to eat yoghurt out of the pot but none of my cats would ever eat a Thai green curry!

Which, it seems the locals don't eat - you can get them in restaurants but they seemingly just eat noodles or rice or satay. I guess it might be a luxury commodity, that we wrongly believe is the staple diet, perhaps its too expensive for the locals, I dunno.

As we'd say in Brizzle... So where to next? I've been put off Phuket by Nicole - she said it was just as mad as here (yup still in Bangkok) and I need some peace and quiet, beaches and the four S's - surf, sand, sea and sex, I'm going to leave the spiders, snakes, scorpions and sharks for later...

Well there go the pips, I'm running out of money; can you call me back, Mum?

"I Still Don't Know What I'm looking For" - U2 n' all that...

So, I briefly told y'all about the Khao San Road and my Delhi Belly, but here's what its actually like...

For those of you that haven't been here, this is the backpackers road; white faces walk down the middle of it while brown faces try to sell you things or solicit cab rides or sex from you from the sidewalk. It isn't really as bad as some people had told me - you can politely wave people away with the words "cap n' carp" - "thank you" the only phrase most of us know (maybe "Sawasdee Carp" - "Hello" on top of that)

Most stalls sell clothes or wallets, you know the kind of thing, the Indian guys try to sell you "genuine Hugo Boss tailored" suits which they promise they will post home to you, while Captain Jack Sparrow tries to sell you belts. I'll try and get a photo of him now that I have the means...


KSR is lined with bars and guesthouses. Neon signs flicker, blocking out some of the beautiful Colonial buidings. The Starbucks I'm in as I write is the most gorgeous building with a museum above it.











The smell of street food envelops everything, sometimes, if you're lucky, even disguising the smell of shit. I hadn't realised that one needs to shower four times a day, I thought whats happened to my skin was due to the amount I was sweating but then someone reminded me that it is the grimiest of cities.

Every bar plays drum n' bass, shite house music for people from up north or has their own tribute rock band.
One night one finished with Rage, Blur and Nirvana, I was in cover-band heaven, though I won't miss Knock, Knock, Knockin on heaven's door for about.... er... forever.

The Shamrock is full of Oirish, who seem a worse race than the Brits and Aussies for drinking and vomiting on themselves. How soon their ersatz smiles and over-played accents give way to talk of "The Struggle" which they've no doubt learnt from one U2 song. Forget about it... The potatoes grew back didn't they? Apparently the south and the islands are full of them... Irish, not potatoes.

Joy.

There is one saving grace to KSR. Boots the chemist. How I wish I brought my advantage card!

So after fully recovering from my funny five minutes, (one concerned friend informing me it was actually the DT's, maybe a bit of both I reckon) I went to see The Dark Knight. Now you all know how much I luurve Batman (and The Joker) but I must admit I was a little disappointed, maybe I wasn't fully mentally fit yet. It just seemed to be really verbose and over-written - Heath was amazing as The Joker and should win Best Supporting Actor if the Academy Awards weren't run by a bunch of 92 year old Jewish guys! There were some great bits - the sky-hook for instance and the truck chase, but it was all a bit too wordy. Telling rather than showing. Though there was one hugely brave thing they did that made me cry. But where had Gotham City gone? This looked more like Chicago or Philly; where were The Narrows, what about Arkham? Unlike Batman Begins, which is pretty much the perfect film with the perfect ending, there's very little expectation on my part for the third installment; thats not just cos I didn't like it, its cos The Nolan's didn't do their job correctly...
And then there was the sonar mobile phone bit.
Grrr, obviously the studio enforcing some video-game tie-in.
I'll watch it again and hope to change my mind.

Anyway, I'm not on the other side of the world to review movies...

After some chilling, eating food for the first time in Ganesh knows-how-long, even having a croiss-wich from Burger King (BAD WILL! its half croissant, half burger, not a nickname for an ex-girlfriend as I originally thought)

That night I went out for the first time in what seemed like days for a quiet drink on a street near KSR, got chatting to an American girl who has lived in Thailand for years. She lives on an island and at one point opened a bar for her mates in her garden. When I asked if they had to pay the police off she said that the police didn't bother going there as it was a 40 min trek thru the jungle! When King Cobras attack, she sets her dogs on them so just imagine her as a female Rambo. That's what I'm doing. She had to go to bed as she was up early to appear as an extra in the John Cusack film "Shanghai". But in the hour or so we chatted I realised I'd stumbled across possibly the coolest girl in the world (so cool that unbeknownst to her, she actually shares a name with a superhero) and I got her e-mail address. Hopefully I might see her when I head down south soon.

Later, walking home had a text from Brummie mate Lee who was out for a beer... Needless to say one turned into three, Lee had gone with Jess and I was in a tuk tuk with some London girls and a really rather shouty Portuguese guy who I made get out and leave. One of the London girls, Louise spilt not one, but two drinks over me and it wasn't until the morning that I realised my phone (with Nicole's e-mail address) was in that pocket. I lurched for my shorts. The phone didn't work and worse, wouldn't charge... Arrrrrggghh! Curse you! I shouted towards the heavens, falling to my knees.


After some sweaty sightseeing, straight to MBK it was then, to buy a new battery. Which actually works, the nice lady in the shop showed me. Phew. Job done. Home then... oooh whats that shiny little thing? After 2 hrs of finding the best price, some wrangling with ATM's, calls to my bank and some help from home (lifesaver once again mate) the iphone was mine. Muhahahah! And it was worth every internationally unlocked penny. Screw your 18 month contract o2, I had a thing of beauty.


Again another quiet night on KSR watching the Arsenal v Real Madrid game wherupon I met Henry, George & James. Despite George being a Spurs fan, I joined their table, not realising that with our collective names all we needed was a dog and some ginger beer to become Enid Blyton's "The Famous Five go Bangkok" They had been to a ping-pong show and every detail confirmed why I will avoid them, the bored look on the girl's faces as they pull a string of razor blades out of their...

Just had an hours massage and hour's facial for six English pounds.
The masseuse, a fifty year old asthmatic woman worked on my shoulder but somehow managed to identify and murder every sports injury I've ever sustained. Every late tackle, every scar, every bike-fall, every broken wrist from sk8ing, every dislocated leg from 19 years ago, every torn muscle and ripped tendon, she even managed to hurt the shin I have no feeling in from that infamous shark bite. She was 4'8" but every time she moved position it was like hearing the bell. Seconds out, bite down on that gumshield, son... here she comes again.

Then the facial where they vacuumed, yes vacuumed my face. How cool is that?
A ten-step programme for 200 baht. How much of a girl am I?

About to book a trip, Cambodia or the beaches daahn saarf.
Tough choice, but I'll leave it to the flip of a coin (see what I did there)

HONG KONG - SINGAPORE

After missing both my flights HK-SING and SING-BKK - don't ask, but needless to say a heavy night on the local beer was to blame, I managed to sweet-talk the girl on the Singapore Airlines desk into getting me onto the next flight to Singapore...

I thanked her profusely but what I meant to say and what came out were two entirely different things. "You could teach a thing or two to Virgin" became lost in translation at that time of night and she thought in the very least I was at least calling her promiscuous, if not a messy slag. What I meant was Singapore Airlines could teach a thing or two to Virgin Airli... Oh bollocks, I decided that explaining would only make things worse so bowed my head and walked on to my free flight. She was a messy slag though.

I arrived at Changi airport around midnight and realised I didn't want to spend any more time there than I already have in my life, so sweet-talked another Singaporean Airlines girl into getting me on the 16.30. Ahh, a night in Sinagpore, land of ex-pats, high-flyers, fashion, Raffles Hotel and gin slings.

Swerving to avoid the stray dogs, my cab pulled up in the red-light district at around 01.00 After a shower I went out to see what other palefaces I could find. Polish sailors, err, no thanks... I declined a beer and walked on. Sidling up to two yanks, I joined them for a Tiger beer. Ryan was my age and looked sensible enough but Joey was one of these young, brash American types who opened proceedings with "you English would all be speaking German if it wasn't for us" (insert your own Ostrich Media joke here!)

As Ryan quickly pointed out, Joey had met his match...
Taking the piss or "ballmunching" me on British sit-coms was probably not his best move!

Then they told me what they were doing there. Joey was the World's number one competitive eater - "yeah right" I thought for the next hour while they discussed his training techniques and his arch-nemesis; the blue-haired, Japanese Kobiyashi. Then Ryan pulled up Joey's wikipedia page on his phone and it was all true. Check for yourself - Joey "Jaws" Chestnut. His blue-eyed all-American features belied the wobble that was only visible when he stood up to "take a leak"

59 hot-dogs in 10 minutes, tying with Kobiashi.
Joey went on to win the 5-bun eat-off by demolishing them in 45 seconds to take the crown.

Just take a look at the list - 8.8 pounds of asparagus tempura, 103 hamburgers in 8 mins, 241 chicken wings, where were all the crazy adventures I planned on writing about? One hour in Singapore and I had enough for a whole book!

Then on to Bangkok.

The Khoa San Road is like arriving into Shepherd's Bush. Apart from the elephants. This is where everyone stays. I found a guesthouse while it was still light then headed out. On the first night I met Lindsey, from Newcastle... The second Lee, a Man Utd fan from Birmingham. He was cool, coming up with my fave black country quote on the Khoa San Road upon seeing said baby elephant "Will, what the fuck is that? Is it a camel?" We met up quite a bit when he wasn't off shagging prostitutes. Silly boy.

Now I've come to realise something about me... I'm not gonna judge Lee or anyone else (every other male out here it seems) who goes with a whore but I've only just worked out why I never would - Apart from the sheer miles of cock that these girls must have gotten through in their time, and Lee's comment about probably having already caught AIDS something I didn't know about me hit me earlier at the airport...

I saw an English guy at the next check-in desk to me looking smug, you know, just generally smug, like someone who works in TV ;) Anyway, he had a Thai girlfriend/wife with him and I thought "what have you got to be smug about - you're so uncharismatic that you had to buy a wife" That is the reason that I will never pay for sex. Seems my moral compass points firmly north. Well done me.

After three nights on the booze, mainly with Lee and meeting other randoms (including the most beautiful girl from Bishopston where I'm from in Bristol but she was too young and crazy - Lee and I couldn't be arsed with her and her mates) the Delhi Belly finally hit me.

In my hotel room I was hallucinating, if I moved I vomited or worse, was sick out of my bottom. My head pounded, everything was a bit overwhelming and it seemed like I was having my 19th nervous breakdown. The room was spinning and I wanted my mummy. If there was a phone in the room I would have poured a bottle of gin over it.

Welll two days on and I ashamedly had some fries from Burger King, feeling much better now and will head down south to the islands or Phuket as my dear, concerned friend from the south coast suggested this would be better...

Well thats all for now folks, loads more to say but... I've run out of coins, but be sure to tune in for the next exciting episode of my travels. You really would have thought that I'd have known that Thailand used to be called Siam, wouldn't you... Ho Hum you live and learn.