New Zealand: Aaaarrrghhh

I’m quite excited about New Zealand. NZ is supposed to have alien nature settings and unbeatable adrenaline adventures, things so crazy you would only do them once in a lifetime and only here in NZ. I intend to do them all.

For this trip I will bring 3 main travel components, the 3 T’s:
- Travel bag: on wheels of course, a bag pack is sooo 1990
- Travel companion: Ward, my loud friend from Amsterdam
- Travel transport: a Nissan rental car, a model categorized as ‘El Cheapo’ by our rental company.

It’s good to see Ward after such a long time, we meet up in Auckland for a uniting beer.

Brugklas mates Ward and me catching up

I’ve got a busy schedule lined up for racing through the amazing nature of New Zealand in the timeframe we have, and I picture myself screaming along the way while jumping from planes, bridges and cliffs.

Ward, however, is yet-lagged, overworked (haha) and very tired. His über-priority is sleep, rest and slumber. We agree to first spend a few days on Waiheke, a small island off Auckland’s coast, to chill out and relax before we jump on the rollercoaster of Nouvau Pays de Marine magnifique.

Auckland by boat

Peaceful settings of Waiheke

Waiheke is a small boring island mainly known for its wine. While I do the necessary nose picking and ball scratching, Ward keeps up his promise and sleeps on every possible occasion.

Afternoon nap

But then it’s time we hit the road in our lovely Nissan El Cheapo. We pick up our vehicle in Auckland and the trip will take us all across both main islands that make up New Zealand and hopefully we will end up in Queenstown, from where we fly back to Auckland.

Our new 4-wheeled friend will bring us to viewpoints like these. Road adventure coming up.

Destination numero uno is Rotorua, an area known for its numerous hot springs and geysers, as well as its Maori villages. As a bonus there are various sporty activities along the rivers and forests.

Looking over Lake Rotorua and its central island

On the first day I go on a full day of Sledging and White Water rafting. For now Ward prefers the sleep-in option and stays at the hotel.
When you go Sledging you swim on a sort of body-board with flippers on your feet and you speed down a powerful streaming river. The highest rapids in this sledge are grade 3 (the highest being grade 5, grade 6 means 'not raftable').
Back in the days Sledging was considered one of the most extreme activities for visitors, because any participant is completely in control and responsible for his own actions. After a few accident, it got more regulated.
We get thorough safety instructions and we hit the cool river along with 3 instructors. Although I understand how this can be very dangerous, it is so well organized it feels comfortably safe all the time.

Sledging action on the lower part of Kaituna river

Then the main dish follows, a white water raft is on the menu. In this raft on the upper part of the Kaituna river we go down the highest commercially rafted waterfall in the world, a heart stopping drop of 7 meters… obviously a grade 5 rapid. Chances are 50-50 the raft will flip over at this part of the raft, instructions we get are mainly about what one should do in case we flip over…

The Kaituna river 7 meter waterfall in all its glory

Some fools in a rubber raft going down the fall (sound: ‘AAAAAAAA…’ to be continued in the next pic)

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
Will we make it without flipping over? Enlarge picture by clicking on the photo, the facial expressions are fantastic. (Sound continued: ‘…AAARRRGGGHHH’)

Made it! Again, our ecstatic expressions say it all.

The second Rotorua day Ward seems to come alive and together we explore the area.
A Cultural visit to Maori village Whakarewarewa (que?) is easily digested. All modern Maori are as Western as any of you reading this blog. Still to keep in touch with their history and for tourism purposes I reckon villages like these are kept alive.


Masters lodge

Maori performance

We see the necessary exploding Geysers around the area.

Mysterious boiling mud, that stinks of rotten eggs. The whole area has this smell btw hmmm

The day ends in action when we hire mountain bikes and speed through tracks in the Whakarewarewa forest. This is sometimes more challenging than we thought, but perhaps our daily 10km bike ride to school from back in the days gave us enough experience to return the bicycles without any damage done.

Ward awake (!) and in action.

It looks like Ward is now permanently back in the land of the living and we head on south for more new experiences. One of them involves jumping from an airplane….
Ward will update you in the next post, if all his bones are still in tact, that is :-)

Australia: family catch up

Next stop is Australia, all passengers for Australia please get off here and don’t forget your luggage, sense or other valuables. Next stop is… Australia!

Damn! I love Australia. Pretty much everybody I know who has visited Australia says they could potentially live there. Me too! Australia has something je-ne-sais-quoi, a sort of friendly glow. And it’s an English speaking country in a pleasant climate, imagine that! OK, there is the US too, but who would want to live in the states?

I am in the land of Oz, Melbourne to be precise, only short this time with a specific purpose:
catch up with my Mammen’s side of the family, who I see only once every so many years, besides Rohan that is, who moved to London recently.

The whole XXX bunch including the latest member: Oscar. 

Being in Melbourne means also being back in the Western world and although I’m further away from home than ever it feels somehow homey.

Melbourne City, shops with price tags! 

The visit feels very familiar, staying in XXX house, making cheese sandwiches for breakfast, a powerful hot shower, a reliable wireless connection, missing the tram, going out to pubs and restaurants, winning playing pool (ok Andre, it was a tie)….it’s like being home, and I like it.
So why then this travelling thing, you might ask. Good question. I guess being outside the usual comfort zone can a give similar sort of satisfaction on a different level, if you catch my drift. But travelling forever? No way, José! 4 months will be plenty to satisfy my current unidentified travel desires and I will crave for cheese sandwiches soon again I’m afraid.

On the last of my 5 day visit we go for a hike in Mornington Penisula National Park. Nature in this area of Australia is very different from what I’ve seen so far in Asia.

Obviously it has different road signing

And matching wildlife, though demonstrating not to be injured.

xxx and Andre taking in the far stretching views

South coast rocks

Nearly soaked

  Actually soaked?

Lunch time

 Andre high in the sky

But perhaps I am higher in the sky?

 

Before you know it the travel-train blows its whistle and call passengers to leave their loved ones and hop on board for departure to a New destination, a New country, a New experience. I’m on my way to New Zealand.
In New Zealand I will travel with Ward who will arrive from Amsterdam at the same day. We will be there for nearly 4 weeks and I’ll try to persuade Ward to write a few words on this blog as well. Don’t expect too much, he is not the brightest fellow :)

Thailand: the end...

The last few days in Thailand we spend our time in Hua Hin in a homey environment with Tuk, Sarah and Rogier. I also spend some time kiting, my first kiting this ‘holiday’, hurrah!!

Immy showing off with Sarah

Tuk and Immy being pretty

Having our first lobster ever

But then... after all these good times the sun went down, Holland lost 2-1 of Germany and Miss Universe is nowhere in sight. The day has come for me and Immy to part.
We successfully passed the ultimate relationship test by travelling 30 days 24/7 with each other without either of us ending up in jail. She is heading West, back to the UK and I am heading East, towards Australia to visit family. I already miss you, babe!

The Thai army organized a formal farewell.

Chiang Mai Part Two: animals galore *by Immy*

Chiang Mai offers so much in the way of activities that we decide to extend our stay by another night. It is still far too little time to manage to do everything we want, so we discard the idea of watching Muay Thai Boxing and going on a night safari. We push Ro’s cultural tolerance to the limit by venturing to yet another temple. The Wat Phra That Doi Suthep temple is reputed to be beautiful, and an attractive pilgrimage for many Thai’s to worship at, as well as admire its beauty. Unfortunately the temple is undergoing major construction work, and is shrouded by scaffolding, so it looks somewhat less majestic than we had anticipated.
Structural work detracts from the splendor of Wat Suthep.

Thai pilgrims at Wat Suthep.

Cultural expeditions well and truly exhausted (Ro breathes a long sigh of relief), an afternoon of zip-lining ensues. For the uninitiated, that comprises of being harnessed to wires/ ziplines and gliding between platforms in the treetops at the highest point of a forest, some 45 meters above solid ground. It is exhilarating, and quite a rush, though perhaps a bit tame for the most seasoned adrenaline junkies.

An interesting mode of transport, 45 meters above ground.

I think we deserve some sort of recognition for the amount of waterfalls we’ve visited… by now we must be somewhere near double figures. Now some of these supposed waterfalls are in fact more like bubbling streams masquerading as waterfalls, while others are crashing cascading waterfalls that belong on postcards. Keeping up with our regular waterfall slot, we pay a visit to Mae Sa Waterfall. This is an impressive beast of a waterfall, comprising of ten separate falls which we reach via a pleasant secluded walk. Most people congregate by the 1st to 4th falls, perhaps put off by the length of the walk to get to the 10th fall. Having completed a three hour uphill mountain trek only days earlier, we feel invincible, so a few paltry steps is no mean feat for us. We are compelled to get to the 10th fall, and are rewarded accordingly by a breath-taking sight.

One of Mae Sa’s ten falls.

I’m keen to see the Sunday Walking Street, in which a road becomes pedestrianized from 4pm to midnight with the sole purpose of enabling hawkers to sell their wares. I am not disappointed by the vast array of crafts, and am determined to find a pretty bracelet, but end up buying several, as each one is more colourful and beautiful than the last. They currently all sit at the bottom of my suitcase alongside the abandoned camera.
We’re pleased to discover most products display a clearly marked price tag, which is rare for markets typically frequented by tourists, where the venders tend to double if not treble the price for non Thai folk, and ask for as much baht as they think they can get, regardless of the items’ actual value. The onus is on the buyer to negotiate a more reasonable price, something that Ro is far more proficient at than I.

Dancers entertain the crowds on Sunday Walking Street.

Mae Sa offers much entertainment for the tourist who is not shy about parting with their money. We are riveted by a snake show and sit in a near trance watching the snake handlers dance skillfully past a Python’s darting forked tongue. I quickly realize that Ro appears not to be quite as entranced as I am, when a snake comes flying in our direction. Ro vanishes from his seat in an instant. There’s a puff of dust from his departing shoes, and he beats a hasty retreat to the safety of a seat several rows back. The snake turns out to be a twisted length of rope, but I must draw attention to Ro’s considerate efforts to protect his poor girlfriend from the venom of the Python, leaving me alone in the front row, frozen in shock! He won’t be nominated for any awards for bravery…

Ro is uncertain about his new friend

I’m definitely a cat person, and will always make time to coo over a fluffy long-haired cat, or blue-eyed kitten. However this is the first time big cats have entered the equation. I’m fond of cute cuddly kittens who purr contentedly while having their tummies rubbed, but I have never previously experienced this with a feline who doesn’t fit in my arms. Enter the tiger! Ro and I sign away our lives by entering a tigers’ cage to stroke three large cats. There is a surreal moment beforehand when we are required to sign a disclaimer confirming we will not sue the Tiger Kingdom in the event of injury (mauling by a ferocious cat?) and we take full responsibility for choosing to go into the tigers’ cage. Somehow I can’t imagine our travel insurance paying our medical bills if we get savaged.
We creep hesitantly into the lions’ den so to speak, both trying to stand behind the other lest the tigers feel hungry at that very instant. We’re flanked by three staff from the Tiger Kingdom, who approach the tigers first, and then encourage us to stroke these beautiful creatures. I’m enthralled – I’ve found my perfect Christmas present! Within minutes my fear has evaporated and I’m hugging these giant cats, confident that they’re too busy ripping coconuts to shreds to have time for an Immy sandwich.
Ro is far less comfortable however, and although he touches the cats, he prefers to maintain a safe distance. I’m reminded of his quick reaction to the flying snake, and am under no illusion that I’m on my own if the tiger turns in our direction.

My new pet?

A monkey school is located beside the snake and tiger establishments, so we trot along for a look. It is a horrible experience, and I feel quite upset by the treatment of the monkeys. They are all chained to stakes in the ground and can only move a foot in either direction. The staff at the monkey school assure us they are unchained after 5pm, but I can’t think beyond their daytime confinement. A monkey show comprises of a monkey riding a bicycle and a tuk tuk, pushing a small cart etc, all the time being led around on a chain by its handler. I’m far from impressed. If the monkey were really so well trained there should be no need for these heavy chains. The treatment of a tiny 2 year old monkey who is just undergoing training is abhorrent – the monkey is clearly terrified, and I suspect some pain is being inflicted by the handler. I want to cuddle the monkey, and ensure it has a better quality of life. Can I add a monkey to my Christmas wish list too?

Monkey enduring very restricted movement range

We are going to Hua Hin to relax by the coast with Ro’s friends for a few days before we must part company. My time in Thailand is running out and I will be returning far too soon to the cold winds and rain of London. I have loved my month in the sun with Ro, and I wonder how I will manage without him and the sunshine for the next few weeks. I hope you have enjoyed the brief interlude from Ro’s writing, he will be back with the Hua Hin update and will resume full responsibility for all future blog updates!

Ro continues his adventures alone.

Chiang Mai Part One: 2 day adventure trip *by Immy*

I’m back! Well you didn’t think you’d heard the last of me, did you? Ro and I are spending a week in Chiang Mai, northern Thailand. It has a sleepy friendly vibe in comparison to the constant stream of tourists milling around like ants in Ko Phi Phi, and to the frenetic hustle and bustle of Bangkok. It is very common here to see three people piled onto a motorbike, and on one occasion we see a father bringing his four children to school on his motorbike.

Fried insects make a cheap nutritious snack

We start the week on a typically culturally touristic note, visiting three temples in an afternoon. I remember to dress appropriately this time to avoid causing offence (so no need to borrow an over-sized sweat-stained man’s shirt on this occasion), and I ensure my shoulders, knees and midriff are not exposed.

Ro grits his teeth and heads for the first of three temples on our designated cultural day

Monks meditating inside the temple

Initial searches for an exact replica of Ro’s drowned camera prove unsuccessful so we execute Plan B. My camera is a few years old so I buy a new one for myself which will suffice for our happy snaps until such time as Ro can find this elusive replacement. As you might expect, no sooner have I purchased my camera, Ro locates a store that stocks a replica camera. Well it is in fact some random assortment of letters *don’t ask!* posing as a DMC TZ7 but apparently it is the same thing. Ro is ecstatic! All of his Christmasses have come at once! Holland has won the world cup! Nothing can deter Ro from buying this camera, and he even overlooks it not having an international warranty. My poor camera only gets to enjoy one day in the limelight before being relegated to the depths of my suitcase.

We book ourselves onto a two day adventure trip that boasts a variety of activities. The main attractions for me are the white water rafting and an elephant ride. I can’t say I’m overly enthused by the elephant ride, but it’s a pleasant experience nonetheless, and I get to feed Ellie some bananas. We then embark on a three hour trek into the mountainous hills, the aim is to reach a small hillside tribe nestled into the peak of the hills where we will stay the night.

Cooling off

We were advised to bring warm clothes but nothing prepares us for the arctic conditions we discover on arrival at the village. I’m not adverse to an afternoon of walking and would regard myself as being reasonably active, but this trek is akin to climbing a glacier with no ice pick. It is a steep ascent, with no respite due to it being uphill all the way. Sweat cascades from us like waterfalls. We stagger along clutching our abdomens and gasping for air as though our lives depend on it. Right about now it feels as though I will collapse, and I fear the only way I’ll get off this freakin’ mountain is if I’m carried off it. Eventually, much hotter, damper, and no doubt considerably lighter, we complete the vertical challenge and reach our final destination for the night: the village.

Taking a much needed break from the constant uphill struggle

Immediately after putting our bags down, our guide suggests we pay a small fee for a massage from the local women. The village people used to grow and sell opium which was a substantial part of their income, but they have since been prohibited from using it outside of their village, and would really benefit from additional money, as such us having a massage would be mutually beneficial. 7/10 of our group opt for our weary bones to be massaged back to life. The village women silently emerge from the shadows and set about the task of restoring us to the human race.

Two of the village elders

Never before has the cooking of an evening meal been so riveting! Our entire group of 10 is drawn to the fire like moths to flames in an attempt to elicit some heat from the close bodily contact with others, as well as from the fire licking the cauldron of food. A fire blazes for the rest of the evening, stoked up by a village man with his bare hands. We sit round the fire swapping stories until the early hours of the morning, whilst the more adventurous disappear to a secluded room to smoke opium laced with paracetamol, supplied to them for a small fee by the local villagers.

Multi-talented: tour guide/cook

Enjoying hot food on a cold night

We endure sub zero temperatures during the night… okay okay 10 degrees, but even sleeping fully clothed and under three blankets does little to stave off the cold. For those of us lucky enough to shiver ourselves into some sort of uneasy slumber, we are rudely awakened at some unearthly hour of the night by a cacophony of cockerels with no sense of time, who feel it necessary to make their presence known in the dead of night. This is followed promptly by a pack of dogs baying to the moon. Jeez what does someone need to do to get some sleep around here?

Our freezing sleeping quarters provided no respite from our feathered friends

I wake up feeling bitterly cold and ill. The jury’s still out on the cause, I suspect the food, but our tour guide (and cook) is adamant that the sudden change in temperature caused me to be sick. I feel sorry for myself all morning and actively avoid conversing with anyone, until wallowing in the depths of self-pity motivates me to beg a paracetamol from a kindly American who has brought everything with her except the kitchen sink.

Following my much needed injection of painkillers (perhaps I should have indulged in the paracetamol laced opium last night?) I’m suitably recovered enough to partake in white water rafting on the Mae Taeng river, which is not as turbulent as anticipated, sadly we don’t get to experience any grade five rapids as rainfall has been low recently. It is a fun filled experience, followed by bamboo rafting. Ro fancies himself as a dab hand at steering the bamboo raft, which he discovers is no easy feat when we all stand up and submerge the raft!

Celebrating the end of the 2 day trek with a Margarita

5 Day Andaman road trip: Part 2

Day 2’s ride is shorter than we think. The sun, trees and roadside dogs are encouraging us along the way. Reminds me: Immy confessed that yesterday she nearly dozed off at the back of the bike….
Oumbakowatcha?! Can you believe that? How on earth can you doze off on a motorbike? We wear helmets without windshields, allowing the wind to rush straight into your face making your cheeks look silly and once in a while an unidentified insect is crushed on your nose too. And don’t forget the wind rushes right into the ears as well, making the inside of our helmets sound as if airplanes are taking off constantly. And she is dozing off?! What’s next? FC Twente winning the Dutch league? Mwahaha.

I myself experience a different unexplained bike riding effect. While riding, old songs pop into my head that I haven’t heard or thought of for over 20 years, and I hum these whole damned songs in detail too. Where did they come from? Were they secretly stored in Archived memory somewhere? An example is ‘We Are Growing’ the theme song from an ‘80s TV series Shakazulu. And I didn’t even like the song nor the series. Blimey! My scientific explanation for this is that the wind coming in my face enters my head with such force through my nostrils that it stirs up the grey brain cells at the back, making them drift into the upper brain-flaps where the humming organ resides, as you know. I sure don’t hope my short term memory will be pushed to the back now in a sort of FILO (First In Last Out) system. Anyway, what was I talking about?
Right, Immy dozing off. So now besides watching the traffic, dogs and pits in the road, I also check on occasions whether Immy is still sitting behind me, which for everybody’s peace of mind is reported as ‘Affrmative’ for the whole trip.

We arrive at Laem Son National Park again at a lovely bungalow resort for hardly any money, run by a Dutch guy Boudewijn and his Thai wife Wasana, we immediately feel at home here.

Wasana of Wasana bungalows.

The next day we walk through the National Park, which is literally a walk through the park compared to yesterday’s survival combat. Boudewijn sends us on a lonesome trek that leads past a couple of deserted beaches, mangroves and a birdy forest.

Laem Son National Park, not a soul in sight

High tide adds a tiny bit of action to our day

We haven’t had much luck so far in finding waterfalls. For various reasons we never seem to actually reach one. In the bit of daytime we’ve got left, we hop on our bike au direction du waterfall tres beau.

Annoyed I notice we’re nearly out of petrol but eh, no pain no gain. We make it to the indicated waterfall, but it is such a pitiful excuse for a waterfall that we can’t believe this is right. We decide to climb the stream upwards to find the real waterfall. Again annoyed I notice that Immy is gracefully hopping from stone to stone up the stream as if she were a ballerina dancing on stones. I, on the other hand, am staying far behind breaking my neck and ankles on the slippery stones.


Thailand,s gorgeous waterfalls *&^%$!

The picture above is the highest point of yet another waterfall disillusion and we rush back through the stream and forest, as we nearly get stuck in the dark off-the-beaten-track. Under imaginary applause we find our loyal bike waiting just when dusk falls.

Under imaginary woooh’s and boooh’s our loyal bike stops 10 minutes later demanding fresh petrol. This is one of those experiences that show how welcome you feel in Thailand. In 5 minutes time 4 different people stop to see what’s wrong. They all point us to the same house a little further where we get a liter of petrol from a bottle for half a euro, and we happily pay triple.

Next day we’re riding back to Phuket, back into danger zone.


This way please

Again we have 2 missions here in Phuket.
- Mission 1 – catch a flight to Chiang Mai for more action and a dose of culture
- Mission 2 – pick up my beloved camera, DMC TZ7, which I ordered last week here at Power Buy

I’m happy to report Mission 1 succeeds gloriously. Immy will update you all on the Chiang Mai experiences in the next post.
And not surprisingly Mission 2 fails miserably again. Power Buy told me with pride that they expect the camera Wednesday, the day after our flight. Cap un cap* very much.

* ‘Cap un cap’ means Thank you in Thai

5 Day Andaman road trip: LEECH, LEECH!

Time has come to climb back in the saddle, time is right to hit the road on my two-wheeled friend again. The tires of our rented motorbike should spin around an estimated 700,000 times along 1000km of asphalt and dirt, taking us to two different National Parks in the Andaman Coastal area.
Our intention is to leave Phuket at the crack of dawn with feather light backpacks carrying the bare minimum required for a 5 day trip. The rest of our luggage we’ll leave at the hotel to be collected on our return.

At around 8am we come to the conclusion this bare minimum seems to be around 90% of our entire luggage stack, and never ever will fit on our bike.
At around 9am I convince Immy she does not need 3 dresses, 3 pair of shoes and an extensive set of cosmetics.
At around 10am Immy convinces me the laptop has to go… this hurts.
Eventually the bags fit and off we go!

Road Runners Ready for a Rock ‘n Roll Ride.

Day one’s target is Kao Sok National Park. The roads in Thailand compared to Vietnam are very good and well organized. The ride is a piece of cake with wealthy views which remind me of the trip with Su last month.
 
Kao Sok National Park

We arrive at Kao Lak National Park later than anticipated (not that I took any wrong turns of course, ahem). The bungalow we booked is straight from a fairytale right beside a river stream. The sound of the streaming water and other mysterious jungle sounds make this a memorable stay. Funnily enough we both conclude that the cheaper small scaled places are so much nicer to stay at than the bigger hotels. This place costs us 8 euro per night and floats our boat big time.

Sunset at our riverside bungalow

Talking of jungle sounds… There was one in particular that draws attention.
The Cicada is little sort of bug, a bit like a cricket, which makes such an immense noise that we were convinced initially this was somehow coming from loudspeakers hidden in the jungle (don't ask). It sounds something like when you are vacuum cleaning and then a ball of socks would get stuck in the hoover-pipe: a high hissing sound indicating something is terribly wrong and about to blow up. Got it? So take that sound at roughly 90 decibel for 15 minutes non-stop.
We later learn that the Cicada has only 2 weeks to live and makes this noise from his belly to attract females to do ‘boom boom’ (boom boom is the international term for hanky panky, just as broadly used and understood as the writing sign you make when asking for the bill). In short: we can’t blame the Cicada for making that noise, we would do the same if we could. And anyway they always stop around 7pm (international boom boom time as you know).

After a nights sleep we go on an adventure tour in the park with a group of 6 and get a little more adventure than we bargained for. The relaxing ‘lake cruise’ to watch the jungle wild life is rudely disturbed by a rainstorm. Yes, we see monkeys in the trees but they all seem to be laughing at us.

Rain in the middle of the Kao Sok lake

The cave we rush into is completely dark. Helped by torches we find our way through the alleys and chambers. In some places there is ankle-deep water and we slip and slide our way past mysterious yellow eyes following our moves. The thousands of bats are not very appreciative of our aahhs and awes and especially our flash lights, so flap away annoyed into dark areas unknown to mankind.

Thankfully the rain floated away (I directed it roughly to 52 degrees North Latitude / 5 Eastern Longitude) and after a bit of relaxing and canoeing at a floating oasis it’s time for the jungle trek.

Floating Oasis

During this trek we expected to be skipping joyfully over a jungle path drifting away in our thoughts, but to our shock this is an old skool hard core jungle trek. A guide with a big sword is cutting down the flora in front of us to create a walkway through the dense jungle.
The main worries of our group are not the spiders or the snakes, it is the blood thirsty leeches crawling through the wet leaves.
Ever seen a leech? I thought it was a depressed sort of slug waiting for a lucky break. In fact they are speedy little worms actively chasing you down, they are so thin (without your blood in them) they go straight through the trainers of a Portugese guy in our group, who freaks out and dances around on one leg while cursing in Portugese. Our Thai tour-guide, however, is walking on flip flops and on occasions pulling a leech off his leg to cut it in half. I of course am something similar, indifferently pulling leeches off my legs and swallowing them raw. If anyone ever tells you I was screaming something like ‘LEECH, LEECH, GET IT OFF ME! HELP MAMA’, that obviously is an utter lie.

Thai Rambo leading the way through the jungle

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Exhausted but with most of our blood remaining we return to our cozy bungalow long after dark. A night of tanking energy for tomorrow when we will continue our trip north to Leam Som National Park, hopefully to find a little more Zen.