H: We’re back! And it wasn’t raining at Heathrow when we landed which I think is a first for us! It was great to see my family again, and we’re looking forward to catching up with Greg’s family, our friends, and all their babies that have been born this last 13 months!

The boxes we shipped home from NZ arrived the day before we did, which is a huge relief as our one pair of trousers and shoes each we travelled with weren’t going to cut it in this horrible cold weather.

We are celebrating being home by emptying everything we own from our storage unit and binning or selling it all. Yes, before you say anything we should have done this last summer once we knew we were going to be away for more than another year, but you live and learn :o)

It’s been an amazing adventure; there are some moments we’d like to forget (Mr ANS being one of them) but so many more to remember :o) I’m not going to go all philosophical (will leave that to G :o) ) but I don’t have the usual “end-of-holiday-feel” – I’m really looking forward to some family time and then our next adventure will begin in the new year. Life is good!

H: I had a big moment of reverse culture shock today. We wanted to catch a bus somewhere so went to the bus stop, and just as we got there the bus pulled away. I thought he hadn’t seen us, and the bus looked nearly empty so I banged on the door to get him to stop, but he just carried on. So I had a bit of a rant about mean bus drivers. Until Greg pointed out that we’re in a more “Western” (zzzz) country and that all the seats were taken and they weren’t allowed to take people standing. Hmph.

H:
We fortunately escaped Bangkok before the protests re-shut the airport - lucky timing for once! I had been to Hong Kong a couple of years ago, and it was again nice to go back to another city I already vaguely knew. We spent a few days trying to get everything on my sister's shopping lists; for anyone else going through Asia - make a note that the HK night market is the most expensive of all the Asian ones!

We caught up with Tash, a friend that I volunteered with in Sri Lanka and now lives in HK. She did the sponsored 42 mile Lyke Wake walk with us 3 years ago - it has taken her that long to forgive us. We also met some friends from uni at the races, where we won a whole $20 on three races based on choosing the horse with the nicest name... :o)

H: We have come through Bangkok to fly to Hong Kong, but we were both looking forward to coming back to where we first experienced Asia 5 years ago.

I remember waking up the first morning in Bangkok in 2003 and wondering what we’d got ourselves in to. It was our first trip to Asia and Bangkok was noisy, busy, smelly, dirty, the traffic bad and the driving worse, and I’m sure I remember thinking that I never wanted to come back here. The only good thing about it was the tuk-tuks which I loved from the start.

Now we’re back and I don’t know what I was thinking before. I think we have changed a lot in 5 years - it now feels pretty tame! It’s really not that busy, and the smells are pretty normal now. I don’t flinch when walking past piles or rubbish, we can cross streets without stopping to pray before we venture into the road, we step over chickens and around cows without thinking, put loo paper in a bin rather than the loo, haggle and the tuk-tuks don’t drive fast enough for me anymore.

In keeping with our usual great timing, the funeral of the King’s sister is taking place. This isn’t a normal funeral – it’s on a Princess Di scale and lasts for 3 days. We are here for the same 3 days. We tried to go to the Grand Palace today, having read that the funeral was yesterday and so should be quieter today. But something is still happening and we soon found ourselves walking alongside thousands of Thai’s dressed in black, dotted with all sorts of guards and army people. This is OK, but we had been trying to avoid all public gatherings because of all the fighting recently.

We get near to the Grand Palace and realize that there’s no way it’s going to be open today. A bit of a disappointment but we have seen it before so never mind. But we need to get out of the mourners fast - the roads are all shut off and we have a plane to catch at lunchtime and we really don’t want to get stuck here! We turn back and walk quickly back.

Suddenly everyone becomes quiet and stands up. We figure now’s the time to stop walking and silently stand while the Thai national anthem is played. As soon as that’s finished we carry on our way out and the guards let us back through the railings – phew!

We haven’t done much else while we’ve been here. We’re staying just off Kho San Road and have don’t lots of shopping - making the most of the cheap clothes and souvenirs on sale. We just have one more flight to do where the weight will have to be sneaked in our hand luggage. Really hope they don’t weigh our hand luggage this time!

One more stop in Hong Kong then home!

G: Bangkok... 5 years ago this was our first step into Asia... we didn't warm to it... in my memory this place has been a smelly, dirty, busy, hole of a city... 5 years on something has changed...

3 days ago we arrived back here, and immediately felt at home... in fact I'm worried that when we return to England in a few days time that I will suffer a severe attack of reverse culture shock! The air will seem clean, there will be no heaps of rubbish on the street, no tuk tuks carving up traffic, no toxic fumes eminating from leaded petrol engines, in short it may seem just a little dull!

The truth is, we have changed so much since our first trip to Bangkok. Since then we've been to Sri Lanka twice, through South America and now spent 3 months seeing more of Asia. The dirt, smells and fumes have become normal to us. We just accept them as the locals do, they're nothing more than we expect any more.

We haven't actually done much whilst we've been here. Its been pretty cool coming back to a city where we've seen all the sites already and just being able to absorb life here. We've eaten cheap on the streets and shopped cheap on Khoa San Road... filling our rucksacks to bulging point knowing we only have one more journey before boarding our final flight home... I just have time to go and enjoy some more spring rolls, before getting our flight to Hong Kong for our last stop.

H: We have made our way to Sihanoukville, a seaside town on the southern coast of Cambodia, for a few days of peace and quiet in a beachside bungalow somewhere. We clearly hadn’t done our research.

We got there late after another full day on a few buses, to be confronted with about 2 metres of sand (tide must be in?) and a never-ending line of bars and restaurants. Hmmm. After asking a bar owner where a place was, he suggested once we got rid of our bags, we joined him “for a drink and a joint”. Nice. There was no chance of finding a peaceful beachside bungalow and instead got a bungalow stuck halfway up a hill next to lots of others, albeit with a lovely view!

The quiet days on the beach were impossible. Even when the tide is out there is still only about 3 metres of sand, and lots of sun loungers – and I really really hate being on the beach with lots of people! Its worse when there are hundreds of sellers trying to sell you sunglasses and fruit. Even worse is the women that come round and suggest you could use a different colour nail varnish on your feet. And the icing on the cake is when they stand and inspect your legs, find a 1mm hair you've missed, tut, and suggest that you might like the "threading" treatment - some hair removal treatment I'd never heard of before. Leave me alone!

So instead we went for a walk along the beach and were greeted with some really cool (hmmm) bars – including the “f*$k yeah bar”, the “Gourmet Ganja” bar and the “Happy Herb Pizza” restaurant. Great – this is just what we had in mind for our last few days away!

This is the first time that I’ve felt old too. We had gone for some drinks (avoiding the “f*$k yeah bar) with some people we’d met – all apart from me were 30+. And along come a group of early-20s lads, who stumble along the sand. One was very excited cos one of the couples we were with was from Canada and so was he (wow how amazing). And then in the next few sentences managed to tell us that he’d just come from Vang Vieng (party capital of Laos), today had spent all day on a booze cruise and had drunk a bottle of whiskey. Wow isn’t he cool? Then his mate threw up. And we left.


It all sounds worse than it was though to be fair. We had hammocks on our balcony, and found a couple of sun loungers on the quiet end of the beach and it was more relaxing than I’d thought it would be!

H: More temples, and more children offering us souvenirs. I am even more impressed with them today. They asked where we were from, and after saying England, the 4 of them in chorus say “England, capital city London”. What do you say to that? We asked the capital of New Zealand – pretty sure that even if they had heard of NZ (they’re very young), they’ll think the capital’s Auckland. But their answer was “New Zealand, capital city Wellington”. Ok so we try a harder one – Peru. Answer – Lima. And finally Mongolia – and I don’t remember what they said, but they all answered immediately. We don’t know the answer to this one!

H: There are lots of enterprising children at all the temples, trying to sell drinks, postcards and books. Their grasp of English is very impressive – they even tell you that if you don’t buy from them they’re going to cry. And their language doesn’t stop at English. One girl counted to 10 in about 8 different languages in the attempt to sell us a book. When that failed, she challenged G to a game of tic tac toe. And yes G did loose to a 6 year old which she thought meant that we now had to buy a book…

Even though smaller than Angkor Wat, the other temples are equally as impressive, if not more so. There are ruins dotted around the jungle, and in some cases the jungle is reclaiming the land, meaning there are some seriously huge trees now growing out of the ruins!

There are also much fewer tourists here which is lovely!

H: We have made it to Siem Reap about a week earlier than planned, but perfect timing for G’s 30th. A 30th birthday isn’t reason enough for a lie in, so by 5.30 we were standing in the dark in front of Angkor Wat, waiting for the sun to come up.

Angkor Wat is pretty beautiful, the sunrise was lovely and the picture-postcard reflection in the lake in front of it is great. I must admit though once inside I wasn’t as amazed by it as I thought I was going to be. You’re going to think I’m very uncultured, but inside, it’s just another ruins. Borobudur was much more amazing. Plus there were far too many loud and stupid tourists also watching the sunrise!

G: Wow. Its hard to believe I am 30 and yet its also hard to believe I am only 30! The last ten years of my life has been jam packed with great times and amazing friends. So many great memories.... At the start of my 3rd decade I was still at University, wearing some awful shirts, racking up debts and eating plenty of curry and pizza. So little has changed then... here I am at the end of my 3rd decade, still no sense of fashion, homeless, unemployed, and the last three nights I have eaten pizza, pizza and curry!

Thanks to everyone who's texted, e-mailed, written on my Facebook wall or just sent an old fashioned card (scanned in of course - this is the 21st century you know). It really made me smile this morning to have so many messages and good wishes to read. It would have been great to see you all and celebrate it, but its also been amazing and quite fitting to spend the day with Heather, adventuring around as we have done so much of in the last few years! Thanks for making everything so special H - you're a star!

We were up at 4am this morning and on the back of a tuk tuk by 5am heading for sunrise at Angkor Wat. Its a sight we've both wanted to see for some time, and it didn't disappoint. The scale of the place is incredible. After some time dodging the early crowds at Angkor Wat, we kept with our tuk tuk driver and did a tour of several other equally impressive temples nearby. There are so many to see near here, some small, some big, all crumbling in some way, and all very very eye catching. The jungle is trying its best to reclaim some of the temples, and they are my favourites. Seeing trees growing through, over, into and around all manner of stone buildings is very Indian Jones... you can almost hear the theme tune playing as you walk around!

Time for me to go and enjoy a cold Angkor beer and perhaps another curry? Before another hard days adventuring starts tomorrow... I'm starting this decade as I mean it to continue!

H: Our first days sightseeing here involved a trip to the Tropical Disease clinic, who after a few blood tests, have confirmed that G has Dengue fever. I have since apologised for any man-flu jokes. Fortunately though it appears that he’s got off very lightly – it sounds like it could have been much much worse than it was for him.

We then went to Choeung Ek (also known as the Killing Fields) and to S21 (the Toul Sleng Genocide Museum) which were both very harrowing places to go. The museum was originally a school that was taken over by the Khmer Rouge regime and turned into a prison and place of torture. The cells still remain, as do the bed frames, some of the equipment used in the interrogation, and the bodies that were found there. There are walls and walls of photographs of the poor people that were imprisoned here, the photographs having been taken when they were “booked in”. It was really horrifying.

The visit was made worse (if possible) by two stupid Americans who having seen the “no laughing” signs (that are put up to make sure we visitors treat the place with the respect it deserves), say very loudly that that must be why no-one in the photos are smiling. I had to leave before I said something not too nice…

The killing fields are also an upsetting place to be. They have uncovered numerous mass graves here and still are finding bones in the fields. There is a monument filled from top to bottom with human skulls that have been found in the fields.

Makes you realise how lucky we are doesn’t it? My desire for a 3* hotel seems a bit selfish now.

H: Another border crossing and this one pretty smooth! We paid the $1 “fee” to leave Laos and then enter Cambodia. The officials at this crossing are more enterprising though – there was a sign up showing the “övertime” hours – which means their charge of $5 after hours is more official!

Once across the border, our new bus had planks of wood down the aisle instead of plastic seats and more people!

H: The man-flu is very serious now. He is feverish again and his legs are aching and I am beginning to be convinced it’s not man-flu as he’s now got a rash on his legs... We were going to be on Don Khone for a few days so we could celebrate his birthday here, but it’s looking like we’re going to have to move on a bit sooner than that. The lack of electricity (and therefore air con) isn’t helping his temperature and he seems to be in need of more than egg fried rice for tea!

What we saw of Don Khone was lovely, and we ventured across to see the backpacker haven of Don Det, and were glad we chose the quiet Don Khone instead!

H: From Champasak it was an easy journey to Don Khong, one of the largest of the 4000 islands which sit on the border of Laos and Cambodia. Don Khong is one of the few of these islands with full-time electricity, but is still beautifully peaceful and seemingly pretty untouched by tourism.

We spent a lovely day cycling round the southern part of the island, through beautiful villages and alongside miles of bright green paddy fields.

G hadn’t been feeling too well in Champasak but we thought he was getting better. However by the time we got back from the bike ride he was starting to feel pretty crook again. Must be that man flu coming back...

H: A phrase from the Lonely Planet sums up Laos, and especially Southern Laos perfectly.

“Were Thailand, Vietnam and Laos tuk-tuk drivers, the Thai driver would take you to your destination via a silk shop, the Vietnamese driver would run you down in trying to get your business, and you would probably have to go and find the Lao driver, wake him up and then ask him to take you to where you want to go”.

Champasak is a tiny quiet town in the South if Laos. It has one street, lined with guest houses and little shops. We’re just at the start of the high season and there’s no-one around. Having crossed the river on a boat (a raft basically!) we saw no cars, a few minivans and hundreds of school children on bikes – often way too big for them and with friends sitting on the seat on the back wheel.

So many of them can’t sit on the seat and reach the pedals so stand to pedal instead. Some can’t do the full circle of the pedals even standing, and instead do half circles forward and back like a step machine, and still manage to keep up with their friends.
We saw another really cute girl of about 6 whose chain had just fallen off. She knew exactly what to do to get it back on, but the bike was too big for her and she could hardly hold it upright let along fiddle with the chain! G went to her rescue.

There’s no hassle here at all and the locals are so so friendly, shouting Sabahdee (hello) as you pass, and all wearing big smiles, seemingly tohave no cares in the world. I think a lot of people (me included) have got a lot to learn from these people.

We are proper locals now and hired bikes that were too big/too small to cycle to see Wat Phu, the World Heritage ruins in Champasak. G has even mastered the art of riding while holding an umbrella to block out the sun!

H: Our next stop is Champasak via Pakse, 660kms away. We have 3 choices of transport, all with their dangers:

Night Bus - the most popular transport for travelers, 10 hours on a sleeper bus. Problem – The FCO warns against travel at night due to wandering livestock and locals not using headlights.

Public Bus – the only bus that goes in the day, overcrowded and dangerous and could take between 16-18 hours. Problem - no air con and overcrowding means 16-18 hours could be pretty horrible. Plus we’ve been warned to avoid local buses on long journeys (again because of safety).

Fly - an hours flight. Problem – very expensive, and although getting better, Lao’s domestic flight safety record has been pretty poor. As proved by two ladies from our Halong Bay trip, who just recently flew the route we’re wanting to do and their plane overshot the runway and was stuck in mud for 4 hours.

We looked round on the internet and our best option was the overnight bus. The road is flat and surely our bus would use its headlights? The LP says the safest seats are in the middle of the bus and in the middle or right hand side. We managed to book two “safe” sleeper seats.


We got to the bus station and found our bus, and realized that we really shouldn’t have worried about anything.

Our bus looks totally out of place in Laos – I’ve never seen one like this anywhere before, and certainly wouldn’t have thought Laos would have them! We’re standing in front of a monster of a bus, complete with a flashing LCD screen on the front saying “King Of Bus” in English and Lao.

It’s absolutely massive, easily 1½ times the size of a normal double-decker bus. It’s new and painted in bright colours. The inside is better still, even with the pink curtains, pink walls, pink everything. We have done a short hop on a sleeper bus in Vietnam which was a cramped chair that reclines nearly-but-not-quite flat.

Our sleeper seats on this bus however was a double bunk, complete with pink duvet and pink pillows. It wasn’t quite long enough for Greg, and a bit awkward for the two guys traveling solo that got lumped together behind us, but perfect for me :o)

I don’t think even a collision with a normal bus would have dented this giant! Our other horrible overnight bus journeys seem a thing of the past now, no more overnight slightly-reclining lumpy seats for H and G!

H: Vientiane was a bit of a let down after Luang Prabang, it’s definitely nowhere near as pretty. But it was littered with temples, a beautiful golden monument called Pha That Luang, and a very bizarre Buddha Park (Xieng Khuan), full of weird and wonderful Buddhist and Hindu sculptures.

We also had our most successful visa attempt – we got our Cambodian visas in a day, with no waiting and no extra charges!

H: Having seen monks on the internet, listening to ipods, riding motorbikes, wearing aviator sunglasses, walking with a swagger and having a smoke, I am not sure I have the same respect for them that I used to. This isn’t helped by the fact that most males in Thailand and Laos are monks at some point in their lives, but many only for as little as 15 days of their lives – often to earn their family respect and buy “credits” for the future…

Just recently the Buddhist laws have been relaxed so that they can now handle money, which I think the above shows they are making the most of!

Yet still the traditional Arms-giving is carried out in Luang Prabang. Arms-giving is the tradition where early in the morning, the monks file out from the temples with a bowl, in which the locals give offerings of food. This food is what the monks then eat for the day as they do not have their own money to be able to buy food.

However the current ceremony involves lines of tourist groups who have all bought a pot of sticky rice from the vendors, and as the monks file past, they put some rice into each of their bowls. We were already questioning the authenticity of this given that the monks can now have money. But even more so when the monks got to a break in the section, they proceeded to unceremoniously dump half the food that they had been given into a plastic basket, which the local kids carry off to “take to the temple” for the monks. Maybe unfairly, I reckon this rice is just sold back to the vendors who sell it to the new tour groups the following day!

Maybe I’m being a bit mean, and I’m sure there are a lot of monks who take it very seriously. But some of the young ones I don’t reckon do!

G: So we made it to Laos. After an amazing two day journey from Vietnam, across the border, through small villages, on buses and boats, we arrived into Luang Prabang 3 days ago now...

After over 2 weeks of the constant hustle bustle and con tricks of Northern Vietnam, the relaxed and friendly people of Laos are just the tonic we needed. Here the sky is blue, there are scams, and crossing the road doesn't require 360 degree vision! We're not really far from Vietnam, but these two countries are worlds apart.

Luang Prabang is a beautiful place. A UNESCO World Heritage listed town, littered with Buddhist temples, all covered in gold and red paint. Orange robe clad monks wander the streets with black umbrellas, and bright green trees line the road side... it's a complete feast of colour!

But it's the food here that is the most beautiful thing to me. Our first night in Laos was spent in the small village of Muang Khau, only 75Kms from Vietnam. Hardly touched by tourism, with only a handful of guest houses and restaurants. But the fried rice and vegetables was to die for! In Vietnam, fried rice and vegetables invariably meant one vegetable (often carrot or a green spinach look-a-like imaginatively called "Asian green vegetable") and not much flavour... in Laos, where life seemingly revolves around food (see why I love it so?), fried rice means a taste sensation, packed with countless different vegetables and spices.

As we continued the journey towards Luang Prabang, one of the mini buses we travelled on was hailed down by a friend of the driver. After a few minutes chat, the friend returned to his house and asked us (the four Westerners on the bus) to join him for a quick snack. So we, along with the driver and some of his other friends all sat by the road side and ate some vegetables, cooked in sweet chillies and oil... very simple food, but so tasty!

Since we arrived here we've had several more amazing meals. There's definitely some French influence left over from the colonial days... baguettes and croissants are easy to come by. But a lot of the food is like slightly less spicy, slightly more flavoured Thai food... lots of lemon grass, coriander and garlic, throw in some basil and chillies and you have yourself a gorgeous Laos stir fry.

After a few days here, already in love with Laos cuisine, it seemed only natural to book onto a cooking course for a day and learn how to do it for myself! The course was great, most of the dishes are very straight forward, and packed with flavour... the best part though, was the end of the day when we got to eat everything we'd made! Worth the price of the course in itself!

H: We were already pretty fond of Laos before we got to Luang Prabang but this has topped it off. It’s such a pretty little town, littered with beautiful golden temples and trees. The roads are quiet, and when we wake up in the morning, the first thing we hear are the geckos, not the motorbike horns. There are bright orange-robed monks wandering the streets and the locals are really friendly, and apart from the odd tuk-tuk driver asking if we want to go to a waterfall, no-one is trying to sell us anything. Amusingly, we have seen plenty of monks using the internet, listening to iPods as they walk down the street and generally monk-eying around.

I got rid of G for a day while he went to learn how to cook even better, and we have hired bikes and cycled the back roads. I love it here.

H: We wimped out of going on the “Hell Bus” to Laos and found another border crossing we could use, that hopefully wouldn’t be as bad. The Tay Trang-Shop Houn border only opened last year and after trying to phone Laos Embassies across the world, we finally got through to one in Paris, who confirmed it was open and that we could get a visa on arrival. Good start.

We couldn’t afford to fly into Laos, but splashed out on a flight from Hanoi to Dien Bien on the border which saved us a 16 hour bus journey.

Buses across the border from Dien Bien (Vietnam) into Laos only go 4 times a week – Sunday, Monday, Wednesday and Friday. We flew to Dien Bien on Saturday and went straight to the bus station to buy a ticket for the Sunday bus. The lady’s English was good enough to say “Bus Broken”. Oh no. We tried to buy a ticket for Monday’s bus (really hope it’s fixed by then) but she said we’d have to come back the next day.

Now we’re a bit anxious; we’re running out of time and there’s really not a lot to see in Dien Bien. It got worse when someone else said that it was the road that was broken, not the bus. There had been a landslide and the buses couldn’t get through. And even worse, that no bus had got through for the last week.

Oh no, we’re really running out of time, and don’t want to be stuck in this random frontier town for days, nor do we want to pay to fly back to Hanoi and then into Laos!

We return to the bus station on Sunday and to our surprise they sell us a ticket. In theory that should mean that both the road and the bus are mended but we’re not holding our breath.

They said the journey to Muang Khau should take around 5 hours, which seems quite excessive given it’s only 100kms away, but maybe the border takes a lot of time? We’re hoping to get a bus from Muang Khau to Udomoxi that afternoon (four hours), and if all goes to plan, on to Luang Prabang if possible (another four hours).


Monday

5:00am we’re on the bus, happy to see that it exists and at least looks like they’re getting ready to go.

5:30 on the dot we pull out of the bus station – right on time.

5:40 the driver realises he probably shouldn’t have skipped breakfast and stops at a little street restaurant for his breakfast.

6:00 we set off again.

6:05 we pull into a driveway and the locals pile off the bus and get comfy outside. The seven locals follow their lead.

6:30 still waiting.

7:00 still in the same driveway… waiting… what for?

7:30 still waiting.

7:40 everyone gets back on the bus and we set off (again). We are none the wiser as to what the stop was for. We’ve been on the bus 2 ½ hours and have done 10kms. The 5 hours is starting to look realistic now.

8:35 we’ve gone through some beautiful scenery and are now up in the hills close to the border. The bus stops and the driver and a few locals get out. They go to a tree and some start to climb up it. Others throw their shoes at it. Some fruits fall down (not sure what) and they run to eat them. Don’t think they’re ripe tho because they all seem to eat one and give it up as a bad job.

8:40 we get to the Vietnamese border. It takes them 30 minutes to give all our passports a stamp. They seemed to fill in a lot of forms. A lot of times. But they didn’t charge us the $1 “commission/overtime/service” fee that we had been warned about.

9:15 get to the Laos border. 6 of us need visas on arrival but they’ve run out of forms. We’re all given a sheet of blank paper and a template copy of the form, and we all go away to trace it and make our own visa form. There are no computers and a lot of writing in books.

11:15 we’ve all got the visas and stamps that we need (having paid a $2 “special” fee each – maybe for the privilege of designing our own visa form?) and get back on the bus. We’re nearly an hour over the estimated journey time already and still have 75kms to go.

11:16 we stop and wait. Again, no idea what for. We’re not going to get to Luang Prabang today, but Udomoxi is fine…

11:30 we’re moving again. We’re now in Laos and the scenery is stunning. We’d read reports from the Hell Bus that as soon as you cross the border into Laos it’s beautiful – and they were right. We’re passing lovely little villages and it’s quiet and peaceful. Think we’re going to like Laos.

11:32 the sealed road has disintegrated to a mud track.

12:30 there’s a truck blocking the road. The truck’s drivers are just standing around the truck. Perfect time for a lunch stop thinks our driver. Which is alright for them because they have lunch with them. We have snacks but were expecting to be in Muang Khua by now.

13:00 we’re on the “road” again.

14:00 we stop at a tiny village and the locals get off the bus. We notice that the driver is siphoning the petrol out of our bus. While smoking. Tourists get off bus and move a long way away.

14:20 we’re moving and think surely we must be getting close to Muang Khua. We’re now realising we’re not even going to get to Udomoxi today.

15:30 we arrive at the side of a river and can see Muang Khau the other side. It looks like a gorgeous little town.

15:40 the tourists have successfully reduced the extortionate price of the river taxi to a sensible price given that it’s a 30 second journey over the river. We all cross over.



Although a wee bit longer than we expected (11 hours instead of 5), today has been really good. The scenery and the tiny rural villages are lovely and the continuous stops is a real part of Asian travel!

Muang Khua is so lovely. The border crossing we’ve just done is very new and so the town is so untouched by tourism. I’m sure it’ll change but it was amazing to see it as it is now. There's only a few guesthouses and the electricity is only turned on for a few hours at night. We found a little bamboo guest house and got some well earnt sleep.

Another couple are also trying to get to Luang Prabang and instead of taking the bus round, we catch a boat to Nong Kiaw and we’re going to get a bus from there.

First we think they’re going to take us in a boat full of oranges, but that wasn’t going to be until after they had sold them all. We finally found another boat that would take us and would leave soon (sometime that morning).

The 4 hours along the river were stunning. More beautiful scenery and we’re on a really local boat. The boat is stopping at little villages along the way and people are getting on and off. This is real rural Laos and you could pay a fortune for a tour-group tour of this. It’s awesome to be doing it ourselves.

From Nong Kiaw we found a mini bus willing to take us to Luang Prabang. It’s not too safe to travel on the roads at night in Laos (apparently a lot of Lao people have yet to find their headlight switch) so we pay a little extra so the driver would leave “now” – Lao for sometime in the next hour.

This journey is beautiful too, again through little rural villages where the bus stops to pick up and drop off villagers. We stopped at the drivers’ friend’s house and were invited to share their meal – a VERY spicy bamboo salad, of which I ate one shoot before deciding I couldn’t manage any more.

G: Having turned down the option of the "Hell Bus" from Hanoi to Vientianne (see Heather's earlier post) we decided to fly to Dien Bien Phu in the North West corner of Vietnam, only 35km from the Laos border. There isn't much to see here, we are here purely to get to Laos... at least that was the plan.

Having arrived in town at about 2pm yesterday, we found somewhere to stay for the night and headed to the bus station, passports in hand, ready to book our passage to Moung Khau in Northern Loas, a town only 100km from here by road.

We know there's supposed to be a bus leaving here at 5:30am for Muang Khau on Sunday, Monday, Wednesday and Friday. But when we tried to buy tickets, yesterday, for today's bus (it's now Sunday) we were told, as far as we could tell from the little English the lady spoke, that the bus was broken, and to try again tomorrow. Ok we thought, not too bad, it sounds like we might be able to catch the bus in one day's time...

Later yesterday, we were asking around a hotel to try and hire some bicycles so we could go off exploring. We mentioned that we hadn't been able to get bus tickets and the guy told us he thought the road into Laos was currently closed because of a land slide... great!

At that point we started to worry a little more. We're only here to cross the border, and if the border road is closed then we're pretty stuck. We were even talking about flying back to Hanoi, then flying on to Luang Prabang, the main town in Northern Laos we are trying to get to. That wouldn't be cheap, but we only have about 4 weeks left to see Laos and some of Cambodia, so the thought of spending an unknown number of days here waiting for the bus to Laos is not appealing.

After a slightly broken nights sleep last night, wondering if we would ever get to Laos, I got up this morning wandered back to the bus station in the vain hope that things might have changed... success! To my complete surprise the lady at the bus station sold me the tickets, no broken bus, no land slide, just "yes, tomorrow, 5:30". Wow! I couldn't believe my luck! Actually I really could barely believe it... I started to wonder if perhaps this lady didn't know the road was closed... and even now, as we're passing the day by catching up on e-mails and the like, I'm still harbouring thoughts of getting to the border tomorrow and being turned back... I don't think this adventure is over yet, but another hurdle has definitely been, well, hurdled!

The next step is to catch the bus in the morning, will it even be there? Then we have to get out of Vietnam, as we understand it, probably having to pay the border officials "overtime" to stamp our passports. Then somehow get into Loas... again probably having to pay the border officials. We're told, including the time at the border it could take 5 hours to make the 100km journey from here to Muang Khau. That is of course, if the road is actually open, and the bus can make it through the remains of the land slide. Hopefully we will get there early enough to catch another 5 hour bus onto the slightly larger town of Udamoxi where we'll probably have to spend the night. Once there, Luang Prabang is only a 4 hour bus ride away... right now it feels like its on the other side of the world!

H: We’re out of the busy cities again so hired bikes for the day and set off to Tam Coc, known as “Halong Bay on the rice paddies”. As soon as we turned off the (scary) main road it was immediately peaceful and so beautiful. The sun is out and we’re not being harrassed and we’re on our own (the last 3 days with a tour guide, being told where to go/do/sit was abit too much!). We can’t hear the main road and there’s no longer the constant zoom of motorbikes that we seem to have heard for the last 2 months.

We pay for a boat trip and a mother and her son row us along the river and through the scenery. It’s really pretty, and very different from Halong Bay, even though the karsts are the same.

The trusty Lonely Planet has warned us about a few scams here so we’re prepared. It warns that at the far end of the river before they turn back, row boat sellers row up and try to sell you drinks. Then they ask if you want to buy one for “Madame”, and I reckon most people at this point already feel guilty that they’re rowing hard and you’re just sitting and watching. The scam is that “Madame” will then immediately sell the drink back to the row boat seller for half the price.

So not long after we set off from the dock, we offer “Madame” and her son some of our water. “Madama” I reckon has read the LP and knows that this is what it suggests to do. She has wisened up to this and says no thanks, but that she could murder a beer.

At the far end, the row boat sellers do just as the LP said they would and just so happen to sell beer. We sucumb to the guilt and buy them one. But G being the true gentleman he (sometimes) is, opened it for them. There’s no selling it back now!

And as the LP promises, on the way back “Madame” stops rowing, and instead spends the journey back trying to sell us all sorts of horrible tea towels, table clothes and shirts and then tried suggesting the table cloths would look lovely as and when we got married. Hmmm. She topped all this off by asking for a tip, way before we were back at the dock.

We spent the afternoon cycling the country roads of Ninh Binh, and it’s one of the simplest but most enjoyable things we’ve done this trip. The scenery is still beautiful and we’re completely off the tourist trail. We’re in real rural vietnam, and so many people are working on the harvesting of the rice. Everyone is smiling and happy and there are loads of school children around shouting hello. Life is good :o)

H: Cycling started off in true Vietnamese style too, the bikes are crap which we reckon was so you’re tempted to pay to hire a motorbike instead. Impressively everyone perseveres on the bikes, even tho gears are crunching and chains are falling off. I don’t have any gears (making hills hard) and my stand keeps falling down. I’m surprised no-one tried to charge us extra for brakes.

Other than that the ride is beautiful. It’s so so pretty and peaceful, away from the hustle and bustle of the cities.

We walked up to “Hospital Cave”, where a make-shift hospital was built during the Vietnamese war for the wounded soliders. I can’t imagine how awful it would have been for the soliders fighting in this terrain and in the humidity…

Cycling was followed by kayacking around the bay and to a gorgeous sheltered lagoon, with high karst walls and an awesome echo!

The evening was spent on Cat Ba Island, in a hotel nearly as luxurious as our Hanoi hotel. Apart from the small issue with hot water – there was none. Which for us was Ok, we’ve had a lot of places without hot water. Others called up someone from reception who apparently just laughed.

At tea our useless guide asked us if we’d all had a good shower. The whole group shook their heads. That’s when he explained that there’s a button outside that we should have switched on. Now I’m fairly sure we’re not the first group to have given him this answer. Maybe that’s something they can tell everyone at check in?

H: We had heard and read a fair few nightmare stories about trips to Halong Bay so it was a bit of a gamble which tour agency to go with. The basic rule seemed to be that you get what you pay for. So we splashed out and paid for a “VIP” tour, keen to see the bay without memories of scams and trouble.

We had heard that some boats won’t let you bring your own water on board, and sell it at 3x the normal price. We didn’t know if that was true for our boat so smuggled a few bottles on. It all started off well. The boat is lovely, the view is stunning and our group are really friendly. Two of us are vegetarians and they are feeding us up, most of the dishes coming out we were told were “for two people”. The others are thinking about becoming veggie...

It’s pretty cloudy which is a shame, but the 1000 boats at the dock soon disappear behind the huge limestone karsts that rise up from the sea. It’s really impressive. Being on the sea is refreshing, there’s a cool breeze and the water is lovely and warm to swim in.

Given it’s a VIP tour, we’re the only 2 backpackers on board, and are very impressed with the room. The sheets look clean, the floor has been swept and we even get towels. The bathroom is the standard very-wetroom and the fact that the bathroom door doesn’t close isn’t a biggie. For the others though, they’re not too impressed. The rooms are really tiny and they’re not used to having to put the loo roll somewhere dry so it doesn’t get wet with the rest of the bathroom as soon as you have a shower.

They are even more unimpressed by morning time after they have been kept up all night by the rats in the ceiling above the cabins. G and I have slept pretty well :o) Plus in the true Vietnamese style of trying to make money and cut corners, the promised air-con is controlled by a masterswitch, and it only works just as we were going to bed and was turned off before we got up the next morning. Hmmm.

They won’t let us buy drinks from the sellers in the row boats on the water and the guide doesn’t seem impressed when in turn, none of us will buy drinks from his boat.

H: Every Sunday villagers (and tourists) trek to Bac Ha for the weekend market. The market is really busy and very colourful, as most of the villagers are wearing their traditional tribal dress. It’s so interesting to see the women crowd round stalls looking for new clothes (in their tribal colours), combs and clips for their hair – it’s the same the world over eh?!

We think we were nearly caught out when 2 vietnamese guys were asking us questions about a watch on Greg’s rucsac while a woman came round the back to mine… From then on our bags were on our fronts where they should have been!

H: We had a professional motorbike ride today, we hired 2 guys to bike us to Ta Phin village, home of the Red Dzao tribe.

We walked through the village to the cave where the young boys of the village show they're picking up the tourist scams fast. They stand by the entrance to the cave offering torches to rent. The guy in front of us hired one. The caves are fully lit!

After buying a purse from one girl and getting shouted at by another for not buying from her, we escaped into the hills for another days walk. All pretty blissful until G found a humungous leech attached to his back...

H: The weather is crap today so we hire a motorbike and head to the Tram Ton pass. This is the highest road pass in Vietnam and separates Sapa (the coldest place in Vietnam) and Lai Chau (the hottest place in Vietnam). And sure enough, as we reach the pass the weather turns from a misty fog to a bright blue sky.

Motorbiking a second time is a little easier, helped by slightly better roads and crash hats...

H: After a very painless overnight on the train, we arrive in Lao Cai, a town on the Vietnamese/Chinese border. We are greeted from the train by someone offering us a minibus up to Sapa for 50,000 each. We say no and keep on walking - we're going to get to the front and find our own bus, which is more likely to be at the real price! After ignoring him come down to 45,000, 40,000 (we've not said anything since our first no) eventually he gets to 30,000. This sounds right according to the LP so say yes. Just as we walk past a HUGE official sign saying buses to Sapa should cost 30,000. How many people are going to then pay 50,000?

Anyway we get on the bus. We are one of the last out so there aren't many other tourists around for our driver to get on his bus. They do find a hapless older Aussie couple, who are staying at a 5* resort in Sapa but whose transport hasn't shown up. Our driver comes running around before them and tell us not to tell them how much we're paying. We say we're not going to do that, and tell them. They are being charged 150,000 EACH! This is so so mean. They argue for a bit but look too tired to persue it. They pay, demand a receipt and are hoping the hotel will refund them. Seriously though, I just cannot understand how anybody can think it's OK to do this. It makes me really mad and I feel really sorry for the couple.

The ride up to Sapa is beautiful. The scenery is stunning, with rice-terraced hills and mountains surrounding the road, and villagers walking down the side of the road and working in the fields in their tribal dress. Our room has a beautiful view - on the few occassions that you can see it. Sapa and it's valley are normally covered in a great wall of mist...

There are 100s of Black H'mong girls in the town. They have a routine where a few of them befriend you, and ask you lots of very exciting questions (eg where do you come from, how many sisters do you have, how old are you). They follow you around until they get tired/bored (which is normally a long time after you've reached this point) and then get to the real reason they're talking to you - "you buy from me?" To which the tourists normally reply "maybe later". Then the following day they're waiting outside your hotel and ask if you remember them (this is when you smile and hope they don't ask you if you remember their name cos you met loads of them yesterday), and then they remind you that you promised to buy something today.

Another good tactic is for the stall owners to put a shawl round your neck while you're walking so you have to turn round and walk back to their stall to give it back. Which they hope means you'll look and maybe buy...

We make the most of the fresh air (no humidity), blue sky and hills and armed with a pretty useless map, set off to Cat Cat. Cat Cat is the closest village to Sapa where the Black H'mong live. We loose our "tail" quite quickly as the path goes down steeply and I don't think she could be bothered to walk down. The walk is great, it is so so good to be out in the countryside.

H: Just when we thought our luck was changing. We have booked an 18hr bus to Laos from Hanoi for 2 weeks time, using the Cau Treo border crossing. We were promised it stops often. We missed the following chapter in the Lonely Planet before we booked...

"This is no picnic. In fact it's a set menu from hell. The journey takes about 24 hours and the buses get progressively more dangerous and overcrowded. The bus hardly stops for bathrooms or meals, but stops randomly when the driver fancies a sleep. Invariably the bus arrives at the border at an ungodly hour. Almost everyone ends up wishing they had flown! If you are a sucker for punishment, travel agents can set you up (literally) with a ticket".

SHITE!

We googled the crossing to see what other travellers had found, and whether we should still go. Here are some extracts...

"When we got on bus in HA NOI were told we would have one change of bus on entire trip and it would take about 24 hours so we reckoned that was OK, long story short we were dumped off bus in VINH ,had to wait 2 hours in middle of night outside a dodgy café.

We were put on a shitty local bus to another town, then had to change to an even worse bus, when we got to border driver said we all would be met on Laos side by the ‘good’ bus, but shock of all shocks there was NO bus there at all."


"Never again and AAAAAAAAAAAAArgh"


"I would rather sell my soul to the devil than do that trip again. Took 26 hours with few stops... Valuim saved me, drugs are good!!! If you have the money fly dont be a hero."


Here's a good one...

"24 hours? no. try somewhere in the range of 36hrs. the bus left vientiane in the evening. one night spent driving to some parking lot near the boarder - we got there at 4am or so. when the sun came up we headed off to the actual boarder. it still wasn't open. when it eventually did open it was mayham. be prepared for long waits, no knowledge of what's going on and having to pay the occasional dollar or two to get your passport back (typical forigners fee). By the time our bus was through the border it was close to midday but we still weren't leaving. turns out some business man on the bus couldn't pay his taxes. boarder closed for lunch.

We wait another two hours or so. By the way there's no real food or anything at the border... bring snacks. prawn crackers get old quick. finally border opens up agian and we soon get on our way.

45 mins later.... bus stops. we're out of gas. Some guys go off and return later with petrol in a plastic jug and we're off.

Couple hours later, we're pulled over at a military stop somewhere in rural vietnam. everyone off the bus. We're there for a while... finally figure out that someone was smuggling tiger paws on the bus. they say the bus is going to be confiscated.

Then for whatever reason we get back on the bus a couple hours later and we're off. oh and in between all this you're travelling on a fully loaded bus with your leg room taken up by rice bags and other random objects placed in your lap.

An experience? yes. would i do it agian? hell no"


And another...

"Then, we switched... in the middle of the night... to this crummy smelly bus, half packed with giant boxes and sealed bodybags of goodness knows what (the border-cross busses here have a bit of a reputation, so we hear, for smuggling illicit goods. excellent)... our bus driver had to stop every like... 10 minutes to let it cool down, or make an offering to Buddha, light some incense - the usual stuff...had to pay a special $1 charge to whoever was dealing with our passports. After all, it was a Saturday... they'd rather not be at work!"


There's more...

"Well, the death-bus ride certainly tried its best to live up to its reputation... once in Laos, we were on a twisting, incredibly scenic road - until one of the tires exploded. I wonder how often this happens, because the drivers had the tire changed in less than half an hour. Were back on teh road. Until it disappeared under water, with currents ranging from still to scary. We didn't feel any better when we saw our bus's tiwn at an awkward angle beside the "road", half submerged under water."


And finally...

"Two hours into the ride, the gently blow of airconditioning stopped. Every so often, the bus would make a show of stopping at the shoulder of the road. Someone would run outside and look for something. Petrol? Tire? Water? Not only we didn't have cool air, we didn't have air at all! The windows on the bus don't open... I didn't want to drink a lot because there was no toiled on board. No meal stopovers. About 11pm we stopped somewhere and some local commuters were let in, including a well-dressed Vietnamese lady who had 15 crates of huge empty containers, 2 sacks of rice, an LPG gas tank, some plastic stools and a sack of something. They tookl their time to carry every single itom on to the top of the bus using pulleys and ropes.

I can't remember the last time I was this hungry and weak, I wouldn't wish this on anybody."



Oh crap. I'm not sure either of us can face this? Maybe at the start of the trip but not now! Time for a rethink!

H: Hanoi is a really cool city. We stayed in the old quarter, which is a busy area full of hotels, guest houses, restaurants, tourist handicraft shops and endless shops full of rip-off DVDs. The streets are filled with street vendors, overspill from shops, motorcyclists, people selling fruit, postcards, impressively real but fake (photocopied) Lonely Planets and people offering cyclo and motorbike taxis. The streets are narrow but tall, and is a real mish mash of architecture. It’s a really great place. We’re feeling a bit recovered now though which is helping!

We went to the Mausoleum of Mr Ho Chi Minh (also known on a sign as Uncle Ho). Apparently he goes on holiday to Russia for 3 months every year for spa and beauty treatments but the guards still guard it as if he’s inside. The rules appear to be that you can’t walk let alone breathe within 20ms of where the body normally is. And certainly not if you’re wearing green or anything made of cotton (or other stupid rules that we’re not sure about - there was a lot of whistle blowing!). We passed the Palace where we got whistled at by the guards for standing next to the gate - it seems you have to stand a few metres back from the gate. I wasn’t brave enough to suggest that they move the gates back instead. I also wanted to suggest that the guards time may be used better in policing the pirated book and DVD trade but wimped out at that too…

We went to a really fab water puppet show. Sounds weird (it is) but was a really impressive show where the puppeteers stand in the water behind a screen, and manoeuvre intricate puppets on the water in front of them.

We have got much more confidence now when crossing roads. We check for serious things (like buses or big cars) and if there aren’t any coming then we have taken to just walking slowly but steadily across, and hoping the bikes zoom either side of us. So far so good.

G is getting bored of being continually asked if we want a motorbike ride. Now when they wave us over to their bikes he just waves back…

H: Hanoi. The second half of our trip and we’re hoping our luck turns a bit. We’re also going to find some luxury for a few nights. Time to re-coup I think.

But not yet.

First we’ve got to get a public bus into town from the airport. On this bus we meet the lovely ticket collector. Who massively short changes us for our tickets (ie only gives us 2/3 of what it should be), thinks it’s funny and walks away. We are not impressed and are really really fed up of all this. We call him back and explain the math to him (a bit hard given we don’t know any Vietnamese). By now the other locals around us are sniggering and I am getting really mad. Especially with the ugly guy next to me. I might have got a bit angry and called him a jerk. I kinda hope he understood it but guess he didn’t. He must have got my tone though. We finally get all but 2,000 dong (7p) of our change. He can keep the 7p - I hope he buys some fried rice with it and gets food poisoning.

Then the really ugly guy next to me (the one I called a jerk) starts and gets a bit closer. And then a bit closer still. Nice. I’m not too bothered for myself - if he gets off on touching my arm and leg then you’ve got to feel sorry for him. But I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, so moved my big rucsac between me and him. It’s big so he definitely can’t reach me now. Grrrr.

This isn’t a great start to our recuperation!

I have however just read our friend’s blog who are traveling in India and it pretty much reads the same as ours. Smelly, dirty, hot, tired, cons, traffic, suicidal driving, saying no to endless rickshaw/taxi/motorbike offers, credit card company stopping their cards, food poisoning… and they’ve just flown to Goa for a 5* break.

We haven’t managed 5* but we did manage 2*. And it’s total bliss. The bathroom is spotless and there’s actually a screen between the toilet and the shower. And there’s hot water. And a toilet that flushes (that you don’t have to flush yourself with a pan of water). There’s a proper solid bed, with clean sheets and best of all, a duvet. Which combined with the silent (so can leave it on) air conditioner is bliss. As is the telly with cable TV (watching a movie in bed has been great, the football that G’s found - not so much…). There’s a mini bar so we’re using all extra space to chill juice and some real cheddar cheese. And a computer with internet in our room. And there’s no ants, mozzies, cockroaches or other horrible bugs. We think we have a resident gecko but that’s fine, they’re cute.

We’ve opened the next rationing of Cadburys to celebrate :o)

G: I think we've earned it... 7 weeks on the road to date, and its definitely time for a short rest. Just take a look below at our list of mishaps and I don't think anyone can argue that we are entitled to a short stint of R&R.

So, armed with the first installment of our special luxury budget we arrived in Hanoi 3 days ago and promptly booked ourselves into a 3* hotel. Its still costing us less than £20 a night, but its a large cut above anywhere else we've stayed on the trip.

I think my definition of luxury is somewhat different than it would have been a few years ago before Heather and I first started travelling the globe... back then I'd have probably said things like jacuzzi bath, plasma screen tv and chilled champagne on arrival... now I'm satisfied with simply hot water on demand, a toilet that flushes at the press of a button and air con quieter than a boeing 747! As an added bonus we do actually have cable Tv and computer in the room... I won't say no (although I'm sure Heather would give up the cable tv if it meant she didn't have to listen to football commentary any more).

We're staying in Hanoi's Old Quarter. It's real tourist-ville here, but that doesn't detract from it. It's a fantastic area of narrow streets teaming with street vendors and small shops selling everything from fried rice and fresh fruit to the ubiquitous tourist souvenirs of carved ornaments and chopsticks. Each time I step out of the hotel onto the street it's like stepping into a different world. From the relative peace and quiet and cool of the room, stepping into the hustle bustle 100mph world of Hanoi's back streets is an awesome experience. Scooters shoot past; ladies run with fruit hanging from both shoulders ("Pineapple sir?" - I'd say yes, but she's run past me and on to the next tourist before I get chance); rickshaws lounge on every corner ("Where are you going?" - I don't know, but I'm loving every minute of it); and dodgy DVD salesman lurk in the darkness (actually not so much in the darkness here - ripped of DVDs seem to be sold in shops more than on the street). Its a different world, and it's endlessly exciting!

Of course with all the tourists come the scams. I would say, even after just 3 days here, that this is the worst (best?) place we've been for scams. Everyone is trying something... scams come in all shapes and sizes... from the conductor on the airport bus who gave us tickets which said 5000 Dong and tried to charge us 20000 Dong for each one, to the hotels which copy the names of well known hotels and just put a 2 or 3 after them... you really have to be on your toes here.

So far we are doing ok, but then we haven't ventured too far... yesterday we checked out Ho Chi Minh's Mausoleum (although he is Russia at the moment getting his annual maintenance) and the Literature Temple (built around the time of Confuscious). Tonight we're going to the water puppet theatre... I'm not sure what to expect, perhaps it will just be like an episode of Stingray - an underwater Thunderbirds for anyone too old, too young, or simply not hip enough to remember Stingray!

Aside from that we have made a lot of use of the hotel room... we're here to relax after all. Long lie ins in the mornings. Watching the odd movie on HBO. I watched a football match yesterday. We've also eaten very well in the local tourist restaurants... pasta, pizza, curry tonight, as well as a bit of local fayre - deep fried shrimps, fried spring rolls and various unknowns from the street vendors!

Having recharged the batteries for a few days its time to leave tomorrow... from here we head North into the mountains for a few days. Then back to Hanoi and out to Halong Bay. From there we're not sure... most likely (for now) is that we'll head across into Laos and make our way south through Laos into Cambodia, then across to Bangkok before flying to Hong Kong... but we're flexible, who knows where we'll be 3 or 4 weeks from now!

Right now, I'm getting peckish... time to hit the streets and try to catch that pineapple lady... I'll have to be quick!

H: We’re half way through now and our trip is going really fast. We’ve seen some really amazing sights – the Orangutans especially were awesome.

But it’s been really tough going, harder than South America and much harder than we expected. We’ve had visas to sort out, getting ill wasn’t pleasant and traveling on a budget and staying in some fairly grotty places hasn’t helped! In 7 weeks we’ve done 9 flights, 5 ferries, an average of a weekly bus journey of at least 10 hours and an average of 3 or 4 different beds a week. The heat and humidity are tiring, as are the constant attempts by the locals to charge over the odds or get you to go/stay somewhere so they get a commission. We’d forgotten how exhausting that can be.

We’re in need of some time out and a nicer place to stay!


I know most of you won’t feel sorry for us, I wouldn’t if I was in your shoes. But for those that want a little giggle at our misfortune, or to feel a bit smug about being in an air-conditioned office, having come from a clean house in a car on busy but not lethal roads, here are 25 of our “Most Unfortunate Events”.

1. Running very late with our packing and our last minute shipping... we sealed the boxes moments before setting off for the airport


2. Synching our ipod just before we set off, only to find it’s wiped it clean. Then having to leave late waiting for it to copy all 30GB of music back on


3. Getting to the airport in Christchurch WITHOUT our passports

(please note at this point we’ve not even left NZ yet)


4. Walking in circles at Brunei airport trying to find the airport bus


5. Big-time sunburn in KK


6. Mt Kinabalu shut for the annual climbathon at the exact weekend that we want to climb it


7. Getting to the airport for our first Air Asia (budget) flight and being over the weight limit and having to repack at the airport (exploiting the system by putting all excess weight into our cabin baggage)


8. Awful tooth ache, dentist visit and subsequent agony


9. Gs epic walk and taxi journey around Kuching in an effort to get two Indonesian visas before the office closed


10. Getting a virus on our camera memory cards and our USB data keys


11. Pontianak


12. Power cut in internet café, half way through trying to sort corrupt memory cards/website


13. Extortionate taxi to the airport in Pontianak to pick up tickets, to find the office is closed and there was another office one block from our hotel


14. Barclaycard putting on stop (yet again) our Visa card for “suspect usage”. Are now left trying to get 11m Rps in 24 hours out to pay the orangutan people - with an ATM limit of 1.25m each time, and a daily limit of 4m each


15. Greg not being dressed smart enough for the Indonesian Embassy


16. Not realizing not all embassys can issue visas in 2 days, and having to pay double to get our Vietnamese visas before we left town


17. The ATM in KK charging us for money it didn't give us, twice!


18. Mammoth motorbike ride around Samosir island on Lake Toba, with increasingly crap roads, ending in the mud swamp road works and log bridge


19. Big-time food poisoning at Lake Toba


20. Mr A.N.S Official Agent


21. Paying 60% fee to delay buses because we were too ill to travel


22. Ramadhan (undoubtedly an interesting time to travel, but with the downside of delayed, full and expensive buses... plus lots of places closed)


23. Gs fever relapse in Yogyakarta


24. Managing to book a mini van as an overnight bus


25. Paying a pound a minute to listen to Barclaycard’s automated system to get the card reactivated.

H: From Bromo we went to Surabaya where we spent a couple of days before our mammoth journey from Indonesia to Vietnam, via Malaysia again.

In Surabaya we didn’t do much, we were knackered by the time we found a hotel with a shower. It seems we’re off the tourist trail here (although we’ve hardly seen any the whole time we’ve been away), and that the locals don’t shower the normal way… Finding said hotel meant asking the police stand by the bus stop where we are. 5 police and fingers all over the map later, they finally agree on a vague spot in the middle. It’s amazing how many people can’t read maps… and these were all guys.

Walking round Surabaya meant lots of photos being taken of us, which should be flattering but I don’t reckon we’re the best examples of a Western couple. G needs his hair cut and I am definitely not at my best (which even then isn't great)!

We’re flying with Air Asia again which is a great airline, but they have a 15kg limit on baggage. We’re traveling with about 18kg each (plus a day sack) but are managing to exploit a flaw in the system. They don’t weigh the day sacks. So everything heavy (books, walking shoes and Cadburys) is going into our 2 small rucsacs. Fortunately they haven’t yet noticed our muscles straining more to lift the smaller than the bigger bags up...

H: In true H and G holiday style, the alarm went off at 3.15, when we got up and into one of about 100 jeeps that cross the sand sea and climb the crater wall the opposite side for sunrise. At the top we’re greeted by hundreds of motorcyclists offering (for a fee) to drive you the last 300m, and a scary number of people took them!

The sunrise is beautiful, especially with the mist over the crater, and a huge volcano in the distance that started erupting with smoke while we were there.

The jeeps then convoyed to the base of the Bromo crater where we joined the hoards and climbed up again. I was hoping as people came past on their horses and saw us trudging through sand that they felt lazy. But if I'm totally honest with myself I'd have to admit that if they were cheaper I would have got on one! Although having said that maybe not, I'm not sure they're treated that nicely... there's some really large people on some really small horses...

H: Next we're off to Gunung Bromo, a volcano in East Java. Which you won't be surprised to hear is about 10 hours away. This journey though we're doing in the day.

I didn't think it could be possible, but the bus is even worse than the others we've done.

It's another minivan which ordinarily should be fine. We were last to be picked up though so are in the front. Which is bad for two reasons. Firstly, the seats aren't comfy. I start in the middle of the front, where the seat is raised and the fan unit is where your legs should go. Half an hour in and my back is stuffed.

The second (and much worse) reason, is that you can see the horrors of the driving, as it happens. I have never come so close to the backs of trucks/lorries/cars/motorbikes before. I'm very impatient in most things - so I approve of not wasting time. However there are a few exceptions to the rule and driving is one of them. Our driver however doesn't think so.

While watching it is scary, I'm also getting used to it. They all seem to know how it works - basically the bigger you are the better you are. Somehow though we have yet to see an accident. I reckon all police and ambulance drivers should get their training in Asia. Talking about police cars, one overtook us with their blue lights flashing. But clearly the driver hadn't learnt in Asia - 5 minutes later and we overtook it again!

We get to Bromo safely and pay an extortionate amount for a very basic room with awful bathroom. We're at 2,300m so it's pretty cool and there's no heater. We've asked for another blanket cos G still isn't well but apparently they don't have any... hopefully it will be warm when the sun comes out...

And it is. The view from outside the hotel is pretty amazing. We're on the edge of a giant crater, which in turn has a couple more volcano's inside - one which is feverishly smoking. We're going to climb that one.

We’ve not had much chance to get out and walking yet which we’re both really missing. So we set off to walk across the sand sea and up to the Bromo crater rim. The walk is lovely, if you discount the endless offers of motorbike/jeep/horse transport. Most tourists apparently arrive late at night like we did, do the sunrise tour the next day and leave at breakfast... so there’s hardly anyone around during the day – which is lovely :o)

There’s a Hindu temple at the bottom and then a very steep climb in sand up to the rim. Now the horses are appealing...

I don’t think I’ve ever looked down into an active volcano before. It’s really fascinating, especially with the smoke bubbling up from the bottom. We walked round the crater rim on a little path and apart from the wind following us round and blowing the fumes and dust straight to us, it was a great walk.

H: G really isn't well. He's got a big fever but is shivering and is under blankets... Think it's time for a day in bed for him. I decide to leave him to it to get some culture, so head for the Kraton (palace) and the Taman Sari (water palace).

I shouldn't have bothered. I got to the Kraton at 12.15. It closed at 12 "because of Ramadhan". Grrrr. So I set off to the water palace, with my very colourful but not-very-accurate or useful map from the tourist information centre. I manage to go an almost direct route though and am looking forward to seeing what in pictures I've seen, looks pretty cool.

However it's missing what I consider to be a very important ingredient for a water palace. Water. Let me guess - cos of Ramadhan??

H: By lunchtime, G is a bit chirpier so we make our way out to Prambanan. This is another ancient monument, this time a Hindu one. And as with Borobudur, it's really impressive.

It has been damaged by a recent earthquake too and they're still being put back together. But really pretty still. I have no idea how they managed to build them so long ago. I reckon we make boring buildings in comparison.

In the evening we stayed to see the open air Ramayana ballet at the temple. We'd hoped to be able to get a cheap feed by the theatre but there's only one restaurant, offering an extortionate buffet (4 whole pounds each), which we couldn't really afford. So instead made do with a bag of crisps and mini pack of cookies between us. Healthy eh?

The Indonesian-style ballet is good, especially the bit when they set fire to half the stage. Not totally sure on the story, there was a screen with English subtitles but I think they were a bit lost in translation!

G isn't doing too good by the end. It's 30 degrees and humid and he's in a fleece...

H: Our 3.30 alarm this morning wasn't very nice, although it had been good to get some sleep in a proper bed. By 4 we were in yet another minivan, but this time only for the hour it takes to get to Borobudur.

It's a huge, ancient Buddhist monument, which although has been damaged by earthquakes, is still very impressive. We had a lovely few hours wondering around. I'm not sure why it's a sunrise trip, given that you arrive after sunrise but it's still nice to be there before it's too hot.

The touts here are funny. They started by trying to sell us a metre long blow pipe (now if I was in to blow pipes, how would I get it in my rucsac?). When we declined this, they offered us a Vietnamese-style hat. When we turned this down they changed tactics and suggested a puppet...

By the time we left, Greg had started to get a bit feverish again. The overnight buses, grotty hostels and early alarm clocks I think are maybe taking their toll. Either that or it's a food poisoning relapse without the diahorrea. And I think I am convinced that it isn't man-flu, he really doesn't seem well. By evening we're thinking we may have to find a doctor...

H: As G has described, the 18 hour bus journey from Parapat to Padang was not the most comfortable we've been on. Infact it bought a whole new meaning to the stomach cramps and fear for our lives that we'd had during the food poisoning incident. Our stomaches did a full workout for 18 hours as we tried to stay upright in the face of oncoming vehicles...

We then had a couple of days in Padang before our plane to Jakarta. Padang is a place that I could highly recommend for film producers, looking for somewhere to shoot a pyschadellic drug rush, or a nightmare-just-before-you-wake-up scene.

It was quite like the lovely Pontianak - big, dirty (although this time with the added bonus of rats), thousands of motorbikes, and another added extra; opulets - mini-bus style taxi's, painting in psychedelic colours, each with a different, loud and unusual horn/sound.

The "pyschadellic drug rush" scene bit came at night when we were walking back to our hovel (this one perhaps the worst we've stayed in)...

It's dark and muggy. Rats are using the pavements so we're using the side of the road. It's so noisy - every driver seems to have their hand permanently on the horn. Motorbikes and cars whizzing past, many of which seem to have had boy-racer exhausts put in and are fitted with flashing lights, inside and out of the cars. Then there's the opulets, in their bright colours and crazy designs and even crazier horns. This is all interlaced with the Mosque's "Call to Prayers" which echo over the city, and the passing yells of "hello Miiiister", "where you going", and "where are you from", which every person I reckon must be taught at school to yell out whenever they see a white person. There isn't much room on the road for us with all the other traffic, and we're not totally sure of the way home.

Which is how we ended up on the sea front, where there must have been a few hundred cars and motorbikes all lined up "Fast and Furious" style along the sides of the road. Then there's the zooms of another group of cars, all lit up, "parading" down the street.

It was absolutely fascinating. A bit intimidating, so we didn't get the camera out. But we walked all the way home without being bothered once, other than the "hello"'s and "where are you from"'s. And we also noticed by the end, that we hadn't seen any alcohol, there was no fighting and no trouble; just all the teenagers in Padang out having peaceful (although noisy!) fun on a Saturday night.


We took the easy route to Jakarta - we flew. Getting to the airport however wasn't easy. We took one of the crazy Opulets to the bus station where we were hoping to get a bus to the airport. The opulets work like taxi's - they have a vague route, fill up (and over) with people who get on and off when they want. We must have been the only ones wanting the bus station though and our driver seemingly couldn't be bothered to take us, so dropped us out on a random street and points in a vague direction to the bus stop we need. Which clearly isn't anywhere near where we are so we find another Opulet and try again...

I'm afraid to say we didn't do too much in Jakarta. Instead we were lazy and got a tuk tuk to a great big air-conditioned mall. Roads were a little busy (ie not moving) but no matter - it appears in times of awful traffic, pavements count as another lane.

At the mall we had a western fix, Pizza Express (yep, a real one, only in Jakarta) for dinner, a Krispy Kreme for desert, followed by a movie.

And we topped this all off with another overnight bus journey. And one that was no less interesting or uncomfy as all the others we've done.

At 6.30 we get on a minivan that's going to take us to the bus stop, for a bus at 7 to Yogyakarta.

By 6.50 we'd picked up a couple more people, and were starting to wonder if we'd get there on time.

By 7.30 and a couple more people later, we figured we must have got the time wrong. Maybe the main bus leaves at 8? It's Ramadhan after all, things are different at this time of year.

By 8.30, a couple more people and a very very long tiki tour of what must be most of Jakarta, and we've given up working out what time our bus is. Our Indonesian and the driver and other passenger's English isn't good enough for us to ask.

By 10.00 we hit a road without houses and the driver accelerated even more. By this point, we'd clicked that maybe we'd misunderstood, and were going all the way in this van.

Oh no.

12 hours more and we arrived in Yogya with severe back ache (no reclining seats), smelly (no aircon), and numb bums (a bump in the middle of the seats), and very tired (no chance of sleep).

Why do we do this?

G: The Trans Sumatran Highway stretches nearly 2500km from the Banda Aceh in the North to Bandar Lampung in the South of Sumatra, the world's sixth largest island.

Sounds impressive doesn't it? Don't believe the hype! At its best, this road resembles a Cornish back lane, lined with jungle instead of hedge rows. At its worst it's nothing more than a farm track.

Of course we weren't expecting the A1, but when we booked our 17 hour overnight "executive, A/C and toilet" bus tickets (through "Mr A.N.S Official Agent - see Heather's oh so complimentary thoughts on that fella below) from Parapat to Padang, we had expected a reasonably comfortable trip. Not so... as the road winds through village after village, between paddy fields and through jungle the bus starts to feel more like a fairground ride than a form of transport.

Of course, we were the lucky ones. We had tickets and therefor a seat. Anyone who's been to Asia will know that buses here rarely stick to their ticketed passengers. As we drove through some of the towns, various people flagged down the bus and were handed a small plastic stool to sit on in the asile, or worse a piece of cardboard to lay down on. I started to feel quite a snob in my reclining seat.

As the journey wore on, I began to compare the Trans Sumatra Highway with my favourite of all UK roads... the beloved A1. I came up with a few differences...

* The A1 varies from two lanes, up to nearly 10 lanes if you count the section where it joins with the M1. The Trans Sumatra Highway (TSH from here on) varies between half a lane and 1 and a half lanes! I don't think I saw a single white line!

* The A1 has armco barries to stop cars leaving the road. The TSH has houses and jungle to stop cars leaving the road.

* The A1 has EARS (a.k.a Ekesley Accident Reduction Scheme). The TSH just has accidents.

* On the A1 you have to stop or slow down for the odd roundabout. on the TSH you have to stop or slow down as you squeeze past every single oncoming bus, bike and truck.

* The A1 is flanked from north to south by historic market towns... The TSH is flanked from north to south by jungles and paddy fields. Beautiful!

* The A1 is, let's be honest, dull... The TSH is anything but dull!

G: Sumatra hasn't quite been what we hoped or expected. We're in Tuk Tuk, a small village on the island of Samosir in Lake Toba. It's absolutely gorgeous here, very quiet and the people are incredibly friendly - that is what we hoped for, and expected. But we didn't expect to still be here nearly a week after arriving, and only 2 days before we have to catch a plane from Padang (which is 17 hours by bus from here), to Jakarta.

It was all going so smoothly, the ferry from Malaysia to the port of Dumai was slow, but it made it accross the waters without being attacked by pirates (it happens). We managed to get our Indonesian visas on arrival this time, with somewhat less hassle than we had for our last Indonesian visas. We even managed to catch an overnight bus from Dumai straight to Lake Toba, which didn't think was going to be possible. Then 3 days ago, the day before we intended to leave Lake Toba and head South towards Padang we BOTH came down with a rather nasty bout of food poisoning!

We're not sure what caused it. It could have been some dodgy bottled water, or the vegetable fried rice we shared for lunch... but whatever it was, it took a hold and wasn't in any hurry to let go. Several visits from the local doctor, countless bottles of water, endless toilet rolls, two bus cancellations and a few sleepless nights later we're now fine... By yesterday we were actually eating again; after not eating for nearly 48 hours simple food has never tasted so good - banana porridge is a winner!

In truth, we couldn't have asked for a much nicer place to be ill. Lake Toba is a beautiful crater lake formed 70 odd thousand years ago when what's thought to be one of the world largest ever volcanoes erupted for two weeks, changing the earths climate for over a millenium, and wiping out most human beings alive at the time, and we think we have climate change problems? But there's no sign of volcanoes here now, its beautifully green, the sun shines and the water shimmers. We'll try and get some photos up soon!

We had planned to visit 2 or 3 places on Sumatra before island hopping South to Java, but it seems it wasn't to be. In a few hours we're going to jump on the overnight bus to Padang and spend one night there before flying to Jakarta, one of the worlds largest cities, a far cry from our current serene surroundings...

H: It all happened pretty fast. One minute I was fine, the next I was running for the loo, shivering uncontrollably and everything aches. Then it was Greg’s turn to get acquainted with the loo pretty fast and he is now also shivering. We think we must have sun stroke, or food poisoning. We’re really hoping it’s not bird flu.

The next 12 hours are filled with increasingly-urgent relay races to the toilet and little if any sleep. To add to the horribleness of it all, the water (and therefore flush) stops working. By morning G manages to be away from the bathroom long enough to go and get a doctor. The doctor is lovely and fortunately speaks pretty good English. She looks a bit worried though and gives us heaps of medicine and saline drink to get us re-hydrated. She leaves us to it, promising to come back that night.

The day isn’t very pleasant either. The Imodium G has taken is working, but it’s not working for me. We now both have very lovely stomach cramps and G has a pretty high fever. Life is not good. We are however in a lovely place to be ill, we can lie in bed and can see and hear the lake lapping at the bottom of the garden.

We do have another problem too, we’re meant to be on a 17 hour bus to Bukittinggi this afternoon and there’s no way we can go. Which means poor G has to phone Mr A.N.S. to try and change our tickets. We delay it by 2 days (for a mere 30% admin fee)- we must be OK by then?

The doctor comes back that evening and still doesn’t look too happy. She’s telling us to drink lots or is threatening to put us on a drip tomorrow. That’s enough to get me drinking plenty of this horrible saline stuff.

Another awful night and by morning G is feeling much better. This whole trip he has been pretty lovely and has been going out in the morning to get juice and fruit for breakfast (big ahhh). The last couple of days however he’s just returned with water and more toilet rolls.

The doctor comes back again and it seems we’ve escaped the drip. She thinks we should eat so G attempts some porridge and is fine. I try some too and am not fine. Three Imodiums and a lot of stomach cramp later and I manage some toast. By now we’re both pretty starving so get a pizza for tea. I know that doesn’t sound like the best food to have when ill but let me explain.

The choice is limited. The porridge is minging. We think we got the food poisoning from some bad egg fried rice. So fried rice is out, as are eggs and omelettes. The tomato pasta I had on the first night was sweet so that’s out. Chicken we’re not eating much of (because of bird flu risks), and I don’t eat much other meat. And we didn’t want anything spicy. So pizza really was the only option. It went down fine though and we had a whole night without toilet issues :o)

By the third morning we’re feeling much better. Pretty weak but the worst is definitely over. The Doc is happy with us now, but doesn’t want us traveling today. Which means another phone call to Mr A.N.S. And now I am going to have to be a tiny bit nice about him, because he very kindly said he would catch the ferry over to come and see us and change our tickets (for another 30% fee). But I’m lying in bed and I can hear him arrive and talking to Greg outside and his voice is making me shiver again. But to be fair he does have the guts to tell us we have found somewhere very nice to stay and hasn’t yet mentioned the guys from Essex. We have to catch the bus tomorrow because the rest after that are booked so we’ve got a day to get ourselves right. We’re going to have to miss Bukittinggi though and go straight to Padang to catch our flight on to Jakarta on Sunday which is a shame.

We spend our last day on the island taking it easy and eating bits we could – and that included another pizza I’m afraid. We’re feeling much better though and are as ready as we’re ever going to be to catch a 17 hour bus ride…

We catch a ferry back to the mainland and go to Mr A.N.S.’s office, who is going to take us to the bus stop. G asks him how he came to be at the bus stop we arrived at that first morning, and forgetting he’d told me that he was there visiting family, he said that if a tourist gets on a bus in Dumai, his mate rings him and tells him to be there when it arrives. Didn’t see that one coming eh?! I am trying to be kind though, he was nice to us about changing our tickets.

That was until a bus goes by outside and there’s a white face at the back. It was so funny, Mr A.N.S. stopped mid sentence and you could see the $$ signs ringing in his eyes. And I am not joking – suddenly he is gone, and we can see (and hear) him chasing after the bus screaming “tourist” and trying to get the bus to stop! Honestly that about made my week!

H: Today we decided to up our game, and rented a motorbike. Greg has had a go once when we was 12. Given he’s approaching middle-aged-ness, that’s a long time ago. I’ve never driven one. We get a 3 minute lesson and we’re off. I drive first. Making it go seems easy, I'm much less confident about stopping! There are no helmets but I’m not so concerned about that - we’re not going to be going fast and there are so few cars on these roads. I am more worried about the size of the bike and the risk it might fall on my legs. I had expected a scooter but this is a huge bike and I reckon could crush us without too much trouble.

It’s really fun though, we keep swapping driving and watching the scenery and the sun is out. We stop at a little place along the side of the road that just sells egg fried rice. Little did we know as we were eating it what it might cause later. We set off again and made it round to the other side of the island from Tuk Tuk.

The sun is no longer out now and the clouds are coming in. But we should be ok because the rain hasn’t come until the early evening for the last few days. Now there are spits of rain and we’re a long way from home. With an umbrella – for all the good that’s going to do.

The rain however is the least of our problems. The fully sealed road that we have been on all morning is starting to not be so fully sealed. Infact there are some really large potholes. And as we carry on, there’s more unsealed than sealed. By now Greg is driving. I really don’t feel in control enough to be going slowly and over big bumps.

Now we’re starting to go up. And up and up and up. We have a map that looks like it’s been drawn by a 10 year old. We have no idea if this is right but there are so few roads it’s hard to see where we could have gone wrong. That aside though, it’s really pretty up here. The little villages and houses are so lovely and are surrounded by paddy fields.

Three hours and not much further on and it’s getting a bit trying. G is still driving, I can only hold the bike up on the flat, not the uphill bumps. The back seat is pretty uncomfy but as G’s doing all the hard work I’m not going to complain. It’s starting to get late though and the daylight isn’t going to last too much longer. It’s feeling a bit of a chore right now.

A couple more hours and it still feels like we’ve not made much progress. The road has all but gone, we’re now on a track. And a very bumpy one at that. I’m walking quite a few bad patches as the bike is getting stuck in bits of mud. And it’s totally clouded over and spitting with rain and is pretty cold. We’re starting to get really fed up but we don’t have much choice but to carry on. Really hope the downhill isn’t like this as it’ll be pretty skiddy and probably not very safe…

We persevere and start to feel like we’re coming over the hill and can’t be that far away from home. G must be knackered, he’s been driving for the last few hours over really horrible tracks and I can tell he’s had enough too. Things are about to get a lot worse though.

The road now doesn’t exist. Infact all that is in front of us is 150m of churned up mud. And a digger. How the hell are we going to get over this? I get off and squelch through the mud. G attempts to take the bike slowly over. However something goes wrong and the back wheel spins out and the bike nearly goes over. A guy by the digger runs over to help and they right it, get it facing forward again and G gets it safely over. And we are rewarded with some sealed road. And we can finally see Tuk Tuk again! It feels like we're on the home straight now :o)

Hang on though! We're not out of the woods yet. We come to a bridge. But there’s not really a bridge. There’s a few logs next to each other and we’ve somehow got to get this huge heavy bike over. Oh this is just brilliant. Couldn’t we have hired push bikes instead? However G is feeling strong and pushes it between the middle of 2 logs while he balances on another.

Now, finally we’re on the home straight. It’s all sealed and a steady incline down. Easy going, apart from the fact that it’s late, nearly dark and we’re freezing. Now it’s a proper road I can drive again and give G a rest. The last few kms go pretty quickly. And the rain comes.

We give the bike back safely, feel like we’ve just done a marathon and go back or a hot shower and a lovely meal, cooked by a 9yr old girl because her mum was away. I am afraid to say (although you won’t be surprised to hear), that her cooking was leagues ahead of mine!

H: Now I finally start to relax. The ferry takes us to Tuk Tuk, a little village on the island. Tuk Tuk is a tiny peninsula with hotels dotted along it. The ferry stops at jetty’s the whole way along, and we stop at the jetty the furthest away from the Essex lad’s hotel and the place where Mr ANS is singing that night. We find a small simple hotel by the lakeside. Our room is big and there’s a small garden leading to the lakeside. It’s quiet, there’s only one other person staying there.

We walk the loop of the peninsula and bump into a group of school children who want to practice their English. More questions about schools and favourite subjects and why we like Lake Toba and we’re on our way again. Only to meet another group of children just round the corner who also want to practice their English. With the same questions. 5 groups later and we’re back, in need of a bit more rest.

We spend a couple more days doing not much, relaxing and enjoying the peace. There are hardly any tourists here and very few cars on the road. The little village is cute, locals really friendly and the temperature perfect. It’s at 1000m so there’s no humidity, it’s warm day and night and there’s no need for aircon. We sit by the lake and you can hear the laughter from the local children and can see the locals bathing, washing and cleaning clothes in the lake.

Sounds like bliss doesn’t it?

H: We’re catching the ferry to Indonesia so started our trip by catching a bus to Melaka, on the West coast of the Malaysian peninsula. The journey was 4 hours on the M1 of Malaysia – complete with motorway service stations and bridges over the road.

From Melaka we caught a ferry over the Straights of Melaka to Dumai in Indonesia. I’m glad we did it in the daylight because at night the straights apparently struggle with pirates creeping up on big cargo ships...

So far so good.

In Dumai it’s not quite so organised but somebody takes our passports and some money and disappear to get us a visa. In the meantime there’s a couple of locals asking lots of questions and it turns out one of them works for a bus company that travels to Lake Toba (where we want to go that night) and they’re the only company that go and there’s definitely no economy busses. He insists the only way to get to the ticket place because of Ramadan (common excuse) is by taxi and that he will come with us. I hate being taken/followed places and being told there’s only one bus and we have to get it, but he’s waving an official looking badge around so off we go. On the way he says he’s called his brother who’s an English teacher who is going to come and say hello to us. This seems a little strange but if the guy’s got time then fair enough...

The bus company confirms that there’s no economy bus and no other bus companies going, so we pay the fee and get the tickets. At which point the English teacher and his wife arrive on a motorbike and start talking to us straight away. He’s very friendly and I’m starting to pick up words like “come with me”, “this afternoon”, “lesson”. I am initially a bit unsure, he’s just a random bloke that happens to be the brother of the guy who happened to be at the ferry terminal when we arrived today.

Then his daughter arrives on another moped and the teacher, seeing my concern says “killing time not killing tourists” at which point we figured it was probably ok. Greg gets on the teacher’s scooter and I get on the daughter’s. (The wife it seems is left to find her own way back). He hands us a helmet each “incase the police are out”. Mine doesn’t do up but that’s not the point of a helmet in Indonesia – people only wear them so they don’t get fined. As we set off, the teacher said to his daughter that she had to drive slowly because “they don’t drive in Europe like we do in Indonesia”. That’s the understatement of the year – for a start Europeans mostly know where their indicators and brakes are.

Being on a scooter is fun, and fortunately Dumai’s roads aren’t as crazy as Pontianak’s so it’s not too scary. Plus we’re going slowly so if she starts going somewhere dodgy I can jump off. We arrive at their house, and it clearly is an English school. G had needed to get some money out but the dad/teacher had bought him to the house first to prove to us everything was ok – turns out he has 4 daughters too so understood my initial unease.

Another traveller arrives, she too went to the ticket shop and ended up at the school! Then the pupils arrive (it’s a private class), about 25 kids aged between 10 and 15 and they all speak very good English. They all have mobile phones they’re mucking around with – and much newer and more sophisticated than ours. Each pupil introduces themselves in turn and the next hour is spent bombarding us with questions.

It turns out to be a great afternoon, and a brilliant way for the pupils and the teacher to practice their English.

Now we’ve got a 12 hour overnight bus to Lake Toba, on our AC’d bus with fully reclining seats as promised by the ticket agent who said there were no economy buses. We get on the bus and one of our seats is bolt upright and the lever is stuck. The other is slightly-but-not-properly reclined, and the lever is missing.

We set off and the road is not straight, and certainly not smooth. It doesn’t take long to realise that this is going to be a very long night. I don’t sleep well at the best of times, and there’s no chance of me getting much now. Even if I could get comfy, I could only sleep for the 30 seconds it takes between the drivers emergency stops which each time, if I’m not holding on tight, fling me off my seat.

It’s 5am, 12 hours and virtually no sleep later, we arrive at somewhere random where we’re told we have to change buses for the last hour. So just what we don’t want is to meet Samuel, who within seconds of the bus stopping and opening the doors, is telling us (there’s one other western girl on our bus with us) we must follow him. It’s a necessary evil with traveling to have touts bother you all the time. And sometimes it’s useful, but often it’s just annoying. Today it was by far the latter. He says he has just been visiting friends but I don’t believe him for a second, my money is that as soon as the bus company in Dumai sells a ticket to a tourist – they phone him and tell him to be waiting for us. Well if it’s any compensation to us, at least he had to get up really early to meet us.

He spends the next 30 minutes while we wait for the next bus telling us that he is the “sole official agent of A.N.S.” – the only bus company that can take us to Bukitinggi (where all 3 of us are hoping to go next) and that we have to book it immediately because it’s nearly Idul Fitri, the end of Ramadam so all buses will be full and the world is going to end. And he didn’t just tell us it once. And he has an unusually loud and irritating voice. The other girl booked a ticket (maybe to shut him up?) but we are holding out.

Next he starts on accommodation at Lake Toba. He gives us a book full of photos of the place he thinks is best (ie where he gets his biggest cut). He attempts to seal the deal by telling us that 3 lads from Essex went their yesterday. I’m not sure in what way that was aimed to convert us – all it did was put a big X through it for us.

The other girl mentioned she planned to stay at a different hostel. Seeing as we weren’t interested in his first one, this one now becomes the best place to stay and he knows the owner and we must go there. The deal sealer this time was that he was playing his guitar and singing there that night.

G and I have just mentally crossed that from our list of potentials too, but are smiling saying we’ll think about it.

Time for the next bus, and unfortunately he’s coming with us. By now I am extremely fed up of him. I can’t believe how much he’s going on and the rubbish he’s coming out with (repeatedly) – “sit here, drink this, do this, go here”. The second bus is a chicken bus. For those of you who haven’t heard of this before, it’s a term used to describe a small minibus that take about 4x the number of passengers that look possible. It’s empty when we get on it though so I take a seat behind the driver next to the window, about the best seat there is – the back is really claustrophobic once it’s full! With G alongside me, Mr “Sole Official Agent A.N.S.” goes in the row behind. It fills up. What would seat 9 people without bags in the Uk, has now got 15 people, our rucsacs, everyone else’s luggage, and wait for it – a real live chicken. Which proceeded to squark and flap it’s wings the whole way (probably was trying to distract itself from the boom of Mr A.N.S.’s voice.) It doesn’t matter how bumpy the road is now, we’re packed in so tight we’re not going anywhere.

The other girl has sneakily pretended to be asleep so the jerk shouts at us for the next 90 minutes. He’s now telling us the names of the Essex lads as if that is going to tempt us. And is going through the music he’s going to sing that night. My answers to his questions are getting shorter and shorter, as is my temper. I’m not sure how it came up but G told him I used to be a Special Police Officer. I think he thought that was funny and it’s a good job I’m wedged in so tight, I’m itching to have a go at remembering the defence tactics that we were taught…

I don’t normally take such a dislike to someone as this. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep. But now he’s telling us to watch out on the ferry over to the island incase there are touts – “because they just want your business”. Pot. Kettle. Black?

Finally we arrive at Parapat, the jumping off point to the island of Samosir in the crater lake of Lake Toba. Mr A.N.S. tells us we’re getting the 8.30 ferry. We have had enough and tell him we’re not, and that we’ll go when we’re ready. We then spend the next half hour walking around Parapat trying to find another bus company we can go with, anything other than A.N.S. please! One lady said she would just get her husband who could tell us about the buses. She phones him and says he’s on his way. And yes you’ve guessed it, along comes Mr ANS. It seems like maybe he is the “Sole Official Agent” after all. We book a ticket and escape to the ferry and away from Mr ANS who I now hope I never have to see (and definitely not hear) again.

H: KL is a really fab, vibrant city and we found a lovely guesthouse right in the middle of the Golden Triangle area. In and among some chores (which I shall come to shortly), we had a lovely few days wandering around – we went up to the skybridge at the Petronas Towers and walked through Chinatown and Little India.

G had a 5 minute fish foot spa, which involved putting his feet in a pool where loads of fish (which the sign says are toothless) come and bite you (which the sign says is painless) and get rid of your dead skin. It gave me the creeps – I could hardly look let alone put my feet in but G was brave and went for it. Apparently it was just tickly and weird, and he’ll have no idea if his feet are any better for it!

Now for the chores. We have decided on a ‘small’ detour to the Indonesian islands of Sumatra and Java.

Now it would have been helpful if we had decided this before we applied for our 1st Indonesian visa to see the orangutans, because we could have got a multiple-entry visa. Never mind, at least we know the process now. So with 3 days before we were to leave KL (they had wanted it overnight last time), we traipsed to the Indonesian Embassy, armed with our passports and more critically, the all-important proof of our ticket to leave Indonesia.

When we arrive at the Embassy security let me through but not Greg. Instead they point at a sign on the gates showing a shirt, trousers and closed shoes. G is in a t-shirt, shorts and flip-flops. Now personally I think this is quite ridiculous, it’s 35 degrees and we just want a visa - but these guys have got guns and I’m not going to argue. So G has to wait outside with the other scruffs (they won’t even let him through the gate so he can stand in the shade) and I go in to try and sort our visas.

The lady at the visa counter doesn’t seem too sure, but thinks we can get a visa on entry when we arrive at the border. I try to explain that last time we had to get one in advance, but this confused her even more so although I’m not filled with confidence, it looks like we don’t need to worry. And didn’t need to have booked our onward travel so soon but never mind.

Encouraged by that success, the following day we decide to be very organised and sort our Vietnamese visas. We’re not going for a few weeks but it’s probably the easiest place to get them. We trudge the few kms to the Vietnamese Embassy (none are near any metro stations). G is risking it in shorts and flip flops again. I can’t believe that the home of Miss Saigon will care...

Trouble again though – they may let you in in shorts and flip-flops, but they take 5 days in which to do it. We only have 2. There is an express service though at a whopping 50% fee and that takes 3 days. Fortunately we’re blessed with a public holiday on the 3rd day so they say they can do it for us for last thing tomorrow. So now we’re broke (again) but have all the visas we need for the next few weeks at least...

H: Another day, two more feedings and we’re still not getting bored. To get so close to them and see the baby’s learning to climb trees (and fall off) is something else. We saw Anuk and her baby Avril at what must be the nursery tree. I reckon for a good half hour we watched Avril climb the tree, a branch up fall off head over heels into her mother's lap, and then try again. It's funny to watch them try to get in to buildings, steal keys when they see them (apparently once they've got them they keep them until no one is around to see where they're breaking in). There were also a few that our guide was careful when they came near us, they have a habit of grabbing whatever they can get from tourists...

And just as we go to leave for the last time, there’s Kasasi. The legend of the Orangutan world and the old king.

Ok so maybe the toothache/muscle pain/visa nightmare/computer virus/early starts were worth it. This is one of the most amazing experiences we’ve ever had. And I really really want a baby one.

G: It's raining, again. Not an uncommon event in the tropical jungles of Borneo. But it doesn't matter. Safely under the open sided roof of our klotok we're just relaxing after another giant lunch before we head into the jungle again.

This "klotok" has been our home for the last 3 days. It's not luxurious or modern, but it's an amazing place to live. A 15m long, 4m wide barge is probably the best way to describe it. The deck is our domain - our lounge during the day, our bedroom at night, we have a roof in case it rains, and a mosquito net to keep the bugs out while we sleep to the relaxing sounds of tree frogs and crickets.

It's raining, and it has done on and off since we arrived by plane into the small town of Pangkalan Bun and boarded our home. The journey was long. 10 hours on a bus from Kuching. A day of waiting in Pontianak, trying to dodge the myriad of scooters and taxis that dart endlessy, seemingly aimlessly, around the sprawling streets of this bustling commercial port. Add in a 5am start, a 2 hour plane ride, and an hour by taxi to get to the boat. Finally a relaxing 5 hour journey by boat up river to Camp Leakey in the heart of Tanjung Puting National Park.

That was all a couple of days ago. We're back at Camp leakey now, for the third and, sadly, final time. We came here to see Orangutans (literally "Forest Man"). This was the reason we came to Borneo.

As we left the boat 2 days ago I expected the Orangutans to be amazing. I hoped we'd see a few and be able to get close enough to observe them propery. I couldn't possible have imagined the most amazing wildlife experience of my life was waiting for me just minutes away.

Camp Leakey was set up in 1971 as a rehabilitation centre for orphaned (due to hunting) and homeless (due to logging) Orangutans to be released back to the wild and protected. Over 200 Orangutans have been rehabilitated here. This area is now "full" and this camp doesn't take on new Orangutans. But they still provide supplementary food to some of the Orangutans who have never quite become fully rehabilitated, finding it easier to live freely in the vacinity of the camp.

As we walked into the camp for the first time we rounded a corner to find 4 or 5 Orangutans sitting, climbing and lounging around. Instantly I was hooked. You can't take your eyes off the small orange people! We were surrounded by them. I couldn't believe how close we were to them; they just walk about like we're not even there.

Fast forward 48 hours to now. We've spent a lot of time with these special animals, and I'm still in awe. They're just so human! The men are mostly big and hairy. The ladies thnner with friendly faces. Most of the females carry a child with them. Or rather the child hangs on to some part of its mother as she swings effortlessly through the trees. But the adolescents are the funniest. Still following mum, but not holding on anymore, they seem intent on causing mayhem. Every now and then annoying mum with a tap on the shoulder or trying to wrestle baby brother. Watch your bags around these little fellas!

Today is our 3rd day in the park. We're about to visit Camp Leakey for the final time. It's going to be sad to leave these amazing creatures behind. But I feel privileged to have had chance to spend time with them. In just a few short hours we'll be back on our boat, heading towards civilization again at the start of our long journey from here to Kuala Lumpur (boat, taxi, plane, bus, plane, bus, monorail should jsut about get us there!)

We've only been on the road 3 weeks. This is definitely the highlight so far, and I wouldn't be surprised if I'm still saying that at Christmas. Truely an unforgettable experience.

H: We go back to Camp Leakey for the second day and are greeted at the docks, and even pulled in, by Princess - an incredible, cute and clever orangutan who has learnt numerous sign language words. Apparently she also got clever at pinching the ranger’s boats and paddling herself down the river. The rangers got wise to this and starting filling the boats with water so she couldn’t get them. They underestimated her. Enlisting the help of fellow Orangutans, they now know how to tip the water out, and she’s on her way. Along with Princess, is Peta (her baby) and Percy (her son). Percy definitely takes after his mother. He spent the whole time we were there climbing through trees hoping no-one would notice so he could get onto our boat.

I have been dreaming of a hug for ages but having heard of a Japanese tourist who got too close, was challenged to a duel, and had both his arms broken by an orangutan, I think I may keep my distance.

However all my Christmases came at once when Samson, an old orangutan with a dodgy hip came to G and I and lay down next to us. OMG. We’d been very close to lots but this was amazing. And even more so when he tried to undo my shoelace. Oh wow oh wow oh wow.

Our captain seems to have cottoned on to the toilet/shower issue and we are now having showers when the boat is moving. Just so long as it moves faster than the current we should be ok.

H: I’ve been looking forward to this for so long. 3 days on a boat seeing real wild (albeit rehabilitated) Orangutans at Tanjung Putting National Park, in the Borneon rainforest.

After the stress of the last few days it is a relief to get on our Klotock, a simple wooden boat, along with a guide, chef, captain and assistant captain. I am armed with a bag of food because they normally cook scary things that I can’t/won’t eat. I am still having nightmares about the sliced avocado after the 6 day trek in the Andes.

We set off and it’s beautiful. There’s the odd local boat passing us but nothing else. Jungle either side and a breeze while the boat moves which relieves from the humidity.

We get to Camp Leakey in time to see the afternoon feeding. Camp Leakey is run by Dr. Birute Galdikas, one of the famous trio of women who studied the primates (the others being Dian Fossey (Gorillas) and Jane Goodall (Chimpanzee's)). I can’t wait to glimpse an Orangutan or two, a few if we're lucky.

I’m not expecting to see the massive sprawl of orange fur draped across the picnic table at the camp. This it turns out is Tom, the King of the camp who has clearly had a few too many bananas in recent months. He is huge.
Then I’m aware of more all around me and seriously, they are truly amazing. The big ones are so big, and the babies are so cute. And all very very human. I hadn’t realised they shared 97% of our DNA.

We then trek into the jungle to the feeding platform. Although all the Orangutans are wild and live in the jungle, some still come to the feeding platform for their daily banana intake. Others are happy based around camp and the people that have looked after them.

The bananas go down and suddenly all around are orange balls of fur, seemingly flying through the trees to get to the bananas. Others take the lazy approach and climb down the tree they were in, and walk across the forest floor to the platform. Seemingly oblivious that there are 20 humans in awe of them centimetres away.

We watch for ages, understanding why they are called the Orangutans – Indonesian for “man of the jungle”.

The boat docks downstream for the night and we’re left with the noises of the jungle. The food it turns out is excellent, at last a chef that understands that veggies don’t just want an avocado for tea (meat is too scary when we travel, there's far too much skin and bones in it). It’s looking scary for G though, he got served a whole fish covered in batter. Urgk. I had been a bit uneasy when we'd first got on the boat as I hate feeling like I'm being waited on. (G if you're reading this then you're the one exception. Please keep cooking for me.) The team is great though and haven't made me feel like that.

We even have a shower and toilet on the boat. There are two problems though. One - that the floor is made of wooden slats and we know there are crocodiles in the river. Can they get your feet? The second slight issue being mid shower I realized that the water was just coming from the river by the boat, exactly where the loo “flushes” out to. Nice. The view from the shower is great though - you can see over the sides to the jungle...

H: OK I reckon we just earnt about a weeks worth of easy-day credits given the nightmare of the last few days!

Before we start I would like to point out that I am still struggling with stairs, or even kerbs/slopes for that matter. My legs are really not happy with me following the mountain a couple of days ago.

Then a few days ago one of my wisdom teeth decided it wanted to do some research into Malaysian dentistry. I finally succumbed to the pain and found the least scary dentist I could, who proceeded to numb and clean it, and cause me great agony for the next few days. It put me off eating even chocolate, it was that bad.

Then we try to get our visas for Indonesia. Having not taken into account the weekend and a bank holiday (Malaysian Independence Day), we were left with a day to get it sorted. We arrived at the Embassy in Kuching at 12.15. It turned out that they closed for new applications at 1.00, and would need proof of leaving Indonesia (eg a bus ticket) before they would let us have a visa. Plus they would need to process it overnight. We have no bus tickets booked yet, and our plane to the jungle leaves at 8am the next working day of the Embassy.
Uh oh.

The woman fortunately takes pity on us and says she can push it through in a day. Greg gets ready to race through town, buy the bus tickets and be back before they close at 1. The lady takes one look at him, clearly doesn’t fancy his chances, and kindly says if he’s back by 2 we should be ok.
I am in too much tooth and leg pain to contemplate this trip. I sit in the air-conditioned embassy, read the Lonely Planet and wish for the first time in ages that I had a jumper with me. Considering G reckoned he could be back by 1, I am starting to get a little worried when he’s not back by 2. Especially as there is a huge thunderstorm, with each roll of thunder sounding like a bomb had gone off. I kept looking round to see if it was time to evacuate but no one else seemed concerned.

G arrives back at 2.15, looking like he has just been through a war. Apparently the bus station weren’t able to sell him the return leg of the journey (the most important part as far as the Indonesian Embassy were concerned), so he had to get to the out of town bus station a few Kms out of town. Now he is very grateful that Borneon taxi drivers drive as fast and recklessly as they do!

Then after going to just about every internet café in town to find a DVD burner so we can back up and upload our photos, we finally find one computer with a burner. And half way through realize that it also has a nasty virus. And now so do our memory cards and data key. Oh great.

Then there’s the 6am start to catch the 10hr bus to Pontianak in Indonesia where we can then fly to the jungle from. The journey goes fast and is very pretty.

Pontianak on the other hand is a hell hole. I quite enjoy noisy, busy, dirty Asian cities. I draw the line however when it comes to Pontianak; complete with a million scooters that all seem to have been fitted with boy-racer exhausts, no pavements and sewers in place of rivers. Walking along the side of the road is life threatening. On one side is a disease ridden stagnant sewer/river. On the other is death-by-scooter. I’m not sure which way I’d rather go.

We then find an internet café in Pontianak to sort out the photos that didn’t upload to our website because of the virus. Half way through, before anything is saved, there is a powercut with no sign of electricity being restored this week.

Then to top it all off, the tour people said we had to go to the airport to collect our tickets for our 6.30am flight to the jungle tomorrow. There’s no bus to the airport (a recurring theme in Borneo) and we have to spend a small fortune getting a taxi. We get there and the office says “open” but I reckon it’s said that for the last decade and no-one has been there since. 5 phone calls later and we are told that there is an office in the centre of town. Right by our hostel as a matter of fact. Grrr.

The only blessing was a very kind girl in the powerless internet café who offered to drive us to the equator monument (which may I just say was rubbish, with just a monument and nothing gimmicky showing you where the northern and southern hemisphere line is). After realizing she wasn’t in it to rob or kill us we relaxed in her huge air conditioned jeep. Man it was nice to see but not hear those scooters.

I’d better get a bloody big hug from Mr Orangutan.

H: We got up early again and made our way to the bus stop to catch a bus and then a boat to Bako National Park in the jungle. The bus ended up being an hour late, and when it did turn up, turned out to be the most uncomfortable bus I've ever been on. The plastic seats were slightly reclined, and the base of the seat was raised in the middle, making it virtually impossible to maintain any sort of balance for the hours journey. It was raining very hard but the driver seemed not to have learnt the driving rule about reducing speed to match the conditions. Or maybe he had done, in which case I'm glad we weren't on the bus when it wasn't raining. There was one point when everyone at the front of the bus screamed, but fortunately we were oblivious at the back to what was going on.

We then caught a boat to the national park which was a lovely trip along the river. The only slightly unnerving thing was the "beware or crocodile" signs. I hope this boat doesn't capsize. I also hope the crocodiles don't come close to land because the boat driver can't get the boat all the way in so we're going to have to paddle to shore... Greg has covered himself in deet, he is already covered in mozzie bites. I don't need deet, as long as I am near Greg the mozzie's aren't interested in me. :o)

The national park is amazing though, as soon as we get off the beach to the park HQs there are bearded pigs eating grass by us. Within minutes the monkeys arrive just as I am changing into my trainers to go for a walk. It happened in slow motion - the monkey eye balls me, then my open bag, and then me again, knowing full well that he's a lot quicker than me (especially given that i am still struggling to walk because of the mountain). I am too slow and the monkey has got my socks. Fortunately, they don't taste edible so he dropped them, although far enough away for him to watch me limp to pick them up.

There are monkeys everywhere and we learnt very quickly to hold on tight to all our stuff. We set off on a walk, the flattest one we could find as I can do the flat OK but up and down is still a bit traumatic. Just round the corner from the HQs we have to cross a bridge. Suddenly there's about 5 monkeys lining the side of it and honestly it felt like we were just about to be mugged. They took pity on us though, looked at all the mozzie bites G had already collected, and left us in peace.

This jungle is really great, there's heaps of trails that you can walk on without a guide. We walked through the jungle to the beach and saw a few of the very ugly and elusive Probiscus monkeys. We then walked up to a lookout to watch sunset. The sunset was lovely. The walk back through the jungle in the near dark was pretty scary even with a torch. Some of those animals make really scary noises - plus there's a chance/risk we might see a clouded leopard which would be exciting and scary...

The next day we did a long loop round the NP. Lots more monkeys and miles of ant highways (yuk). Then we come to a clearing and just behind a bush walks a 4 legged ginger animal with a long tail. We're not sure whether to run or not and both reach for the cameras...
then out of the other side of a bush comes a very ugly face with a horrible big nose and it turns out to be a Probiscus monkey. Bugger. But we're not safe yet, we come to a long plank over a boggy bit and right across the path is a black and yellow snake. Now apparently the only dangerous snakes are green (Pit Vipers - of which there are 2 behind reception.) but that really doesn't help me not feel a bit panicked. Especially as it kept disappearing underneath the plank, but it's tail would stay on one side and then its head would pop up the other side. G eventually stepped over it and I pegged it behind him, prooving that however bad my muscles felt, they could still move fast if they needed to!

Just as we were waiting for our boat back, about 10 adult monkeys and 20 babies turned up. They quickly ransack the bin and it was really amazing to see them unscrew the top of a bottle to drink it, hold a can to drink from and get into the corner of a packet of crisps for the crumbs. We went to take some pictures of them and suddenly there's a scuffle. I had to look twice, but sure enough there's a monkey coming out of one of the huts, walking on his 2 back legs carrying a shopping bag and baguette. Closely followed by a guy who is clearly a bit peeved about loosing his trip's food, followed by his wife, who had been asleep when said monkey let himself in and stole the food.

Then this monkey somehow gets the whole shopping bag and baguette up a tree, and then proceeds to have a feast all on his own, while other monkeys try to get close and the guy whose food it is looks on in dismay. Then a bag of crisps falls out of the tree. Monkeys and man race for it. The monkeys win, climb another tree, open them and proceed to eat the bag, before throwing the rubbish onto the jungle floor. Honestly it's just awesome to watch, it was a shame we had to catch the boat. I knew they were very human-like but I had no idea that they could be more coordinated than I am...

H: Not far from Koto Kinabalu is Mount Kinabalu, a mere 4,100m mountain. We felt in need of some exercise and a challenge so decided to climb it. So in true holiday style, we set the alarm for 5.30 to catch a bus to the mountain base. We end up in a mini van with another couple of walkers, a few locals and a driver who seemed to know the size of his van to within a few millimetres. We made it in very quick time.

The walk starts at 1850m (I know that seems like a cheat but 2,250m is still a long way). We hired a compulsory guide and set off. The first day is a climb up to 3,300m, so an ascent of 1,450m (Ben Nevis is 1,300m). This is done in 6.5kms, so we climb a metre in height in every 4.5m. I reckon that’s pretty steep…

The first 3 or 4 kms were fine, tough but not too bad - apart from the majority of it being steps that weren't designed with a 5'2" girl in mind. Then the rain came, but it didn't just rain, it was proper jungle rain. But it was still hot so we're now walking in hot sticky rain with rain jackets on that were making it hotter and stickier. Eventually I succumbed and changed out of my Teva flip flops (which sound bad but honestly are perfect for walking in) and put horrible trainers on (have given up on walking boots, my feet don't like them).

Our guide turns out not really to be a guide but a chaperone. He walked behind us the whole way, and didn't seem to know the answers to many of our questions (eg how high was the place we were walking to) so we gave up asking. There were signs every half km showing how far we'd walked and what height we were at. This was both depressing and encouraging depending what we were feeling as we passed them.

By 3,000m we were getting tired and really starting to notice a decrease in oxygen. We both had a headache and our legs were getting pretty wooden. Mine worse than Greg's. Which I think meant that he should have carried some stuff from my bag but never mind.

It was a relief to see the resthouse at 3,300m. It'd taken us 5 hours including a pretty long stop for the rain so that's not too bad. My head was pounding but other than that my feet and muscles were fine once we'd stopped. We (surprisingly) were doing it budget style so while everyone else tucked into a RM40 buffet (£8 each), we shared a bowl of fried rice and some fries (£4). Luckily there was only space in the heated dorm room and so I didn't have to wear everything I'd taken up and spend all night shivering, which is very unusual for me.

Sleep wasn't good. It's not that easy to sleep at altitude, and also not at 7pm. And a lack of sleep was just what we needed when the alarm went off at 2.30 the next morning (seriously I get more sleep when I'm working rather than on holiday). We set off up the remainder of the mountain (another 800m/3kms) with head torches. Greg's legs are sore but altitude-wise he's not doing too badly. I don't think my legs are sore, but can't really tell because the headache/nausea is too strong to notice much else. By 3,400m I start and wonder if I can make it - which is very unusual for me. The climb up didn't worry me too much, it was the thought of the descent that scared me. My knees aren't that good. But had better not think about that yet.

The start of the climb this morning was demanding - it involved a lot more of the giant steps. But soon it turned to a relatively sheer granite cliff that you haul yourself up using ropes, which was much easier than the steps. And the pitch black darkness just added to the atmosphere (and hid the steepness). Eventually it leveled out ever so slightly before the final 100m near-vertical scramble to the top.

I spent a lot of the climb wondering why we do this. I mean the sunrise should be good, but is it really worth it? Yesterday was tough; the rain meant we couldn't see much. And this morning’s was tough again and it's pitch black so still can't see anything. I could do this much exercise in an air conditioned gym without the altitude affects? There's the old saying about making you a stronger person but I swear at the time I feel like it's breaking me rather than making me stronger! Maybe if I could just walk up mountains and get a chairlift down that’d be OK?

Our timing to the top 3 hours later was perfect. The sun was just starting to come up. It was cold, but not freezing. And we had some UK Galaxy Minstrals with us (I'd used up my NZ/UK Cadburys quota for this month for my birthday). I'm sure it's only a matter of time but my legs don't hurt yet. And by the time I'd rested at the top the nausea had gone too.

The sunrise was amazing. We got some pictures and now it was time for the descent of a mere 2,250m. In one day. Having already got up at 2.30am and climbed 800m. The only good thing is that we'll loose altitude and should feel better. That and I'm so looking forward to a shower and lying down and sleeping. I hate downhills.

The first bit of the descent is ok. The ropes we'd used to climb up made it very easy to come down fast without hurting your knees too much, as long as you held on tight and didn't really look down. Then we're back to the giant stairs. Now my knees are starting to hurt. Not a good sign with at least 2,000m more to get down.

We get back to the resthouse OK, my knees hurt but after an hours sit down (while we eat dried cheese biscuits and everyone else tucks into their posh cooked buffet breakfast) they feel fine. The soles of my feet however are not happy. I put a 3rd pair of socks on to try and cushion them some more. And yes I'm afraid I went as far as begging them to be nice to me.

After our yummy breakfast we set off on the last 1,450m descent. Our guide reckoned it'd take 4 hours. We're keen to get it over and done with so aim to cover a half km every 15mins with a few 5 min breaks. I was fully expecting to be in severe pain and close to tears very quickly. Maybe Greg's right about me getting old, but my knees really really don't like going downhill. And it's not just my officially gammy knee that hurts, my other one does too. And the soles of my feet always always hurt after a long walk unless I’ve worn flip flops. I think I shouldn't be made to carry a bag, don't you?

A short rest every km really helped the knees recover and the first 3kms down were really ok. The sun stayed out and everything seemed different going down. Plus, passing the next day's walkers on their way up made me feel a real mix of smugness and pity.

The last 3kms were harder. My feet were really not happy with me and my knees had given up trying to recover. At 2kms to go I changed back into my Teva's which gave my feet the burst of life they needed to get me down. My knees however had given up and would either stay locked or bent but really weren't good at doing the bit in the middle. The end was a relief to see, although the sadistic 20 steps UP to the end seemed a bit unnecessary.

We managed to find a local bus to take us back to KK which in contrast to our transport on the way there, was very slow and seemed to go round half of Borneo before it go back to KK. At one point a family of 6 got on and all pointed at us and said something in Malay. I don't know if that was because we were Western or because of the state we looked but I was too tired to care.

We found somewhere to stay that had been cleaned and had aircon (above our budget but we'd earnt it??). I am pretty sure the guy checking us in had a smirk on his face when he told us we were on the third floor. There's no lift...

G: So, finally, after a lot of waiting, a lot of eating in preparation, and a lot of anticipation, we finally got to climb Mt Kinabalu! And what a climb is was, well worth the wait... the scenery was breathtaking, as was the altitude (almost literally), and the physical challenge of the whole thing was very rewarding.

But let me back track a little... after 4 days of "waiting" (read, eating and sleeping) in KK we finally packed up our bags on Sunday evening, set the alarm for 6am and allowed ourselves to be distracted with dreams of glorious mountain top sunrises which, all being well, would be ours in a little under 36 hours later.

Our plan, which followed a fairly standard way to ascend Mt Kinabalu, was to catch an early bus from KK to the park headquarters where you pay the park entrance fee, buy a climbing permit, hire the compulsory guide, pay the climbing insurance, and pay for a return mini bus ride to the start of the walk proper (is this mountain of ours a money tree, I hear the locals cry).

So having managed to get up in time to catch the bus, and paid all our fees, we "met" our guide. The meeting was more of him pointing at the mini bus we were meant to jump into. No introductions, no small talk, just get in and don't talk to me please. Through some gentle questioning we learnt that he could indeed talk, and speak English, he even had a name! Over the next two days we came to think of Felix as much more of a chaperone than a guide. He was friendly enough, just not really much of a talker.

The standard ascent of Kinabalu is to climb 1450m up, in just 6Kms, from the Timphon Gate to the resthouse at Laban Rata (in fact they won't let you on the mountain without a bed booked at the rest house) on day 1, then get up very early (around 2 or 3am) on day 2 to climb the final 800m up to the top, in just 3Kms this time, to watch the sunrise over Borneo. Then on the same day, a knee wrenching descent all the way back to the gate at the bottom.

So, a short bus hop later, trying desperately to find out if our guide is mute, deaf, or both, we were at the Timphon Gate and ready to start the walk proper. There's an encouraging(?) notice board at the gate showing the times of last years climbathon champion. He did the whole thing, up and down, in 3 hours... we were going to be lucky to back here in 30 hours!

I actually thought the whole thing was going to be reasonably straight forward. After all, we've done plenty of mountain climbs before, including several in South America at altitudes higher than this... and we even get to sleep half way up this one - what more could you ask for?

And sure enough, the first day was not too bad... the altitude did start to affect us, our pace was pretty slow when we were nearing Laban Rata, which at 3300m would be our home for the night. We'd also had a reasonble amount of monsoon rain on the way up, forcing us to take cover for half an hour at one point. My legs were definitely feeling the burn with the very steep route, which is more like a stair case in many places. They don't seem to believe in switch backs up a mountain here... just straight up, shortest route possible. Heather was struggling a little too, but all in all we were in pretty good shape I thought.

We'd opted for the cheap approach to life at Laban Rata. Where most people had paid the extorionate prices for an all inclusive bed and food deal, we'd just paid for the bed... and carried with us a whole host of appetising food.. cheese biscuits, oreo's, bread, cheese spread, crisps... yes, really filling stuff, not at all dry... my mouth really wasn't watering at all as I watched all the flashpackers around me tucking into the rice and curry!

Bed came early that night, although at over 3300m, and with the thought of getting up at 2:30, sleep didn't come easily. We both had pretty broken sleep and before I knew it it was time to pack the bare essentials into a rucsac and strap on the head torch for the climb to the top. We met our chaperone at 2:45, the time we guessed he would be waiting for us at, and set off, pretty much the last people to leave.

We were soon gasping as the path started off as steep as it intended to continue. Back onto the giant staircase to heaven? It sure didn't feel like that was where we headed. We overtook quite a few people who were struggling more than us, but Heather wasn't doing great. She'd slept less than I had, and we really hadn't eaten all that well the day before, energy levels were low. But she did awesome! Despite being near stopping at one point early on, she just kept on trucking up. As usual her determination to be beaten by nothing (not even a 4100m monster of a mountain) was the winner and by 6am we were nearing the summit and an amazing sunrise.

And what a sunrise. The clouds in this part of the world seem to explode upwards in amazing erruptions. With the sun rising up behind them they almost look like more mountains. In the other direction the shadow of the mountain that stands head and shoulders above everything near by was starting to be cast out over the jungle and the ocean.. and in the half light we could now see the summit plateau that we'd crossed with such difficulty our way to the top... a stunning barren moonscape of giant grey rock.

At that moment, 5 days of waiting was worth it. 9 hours of walking was worth it. I feel like I'm travelling again... the trip has finally started!

Now, just the small matter of 2300m of descent, an awkwardly silent farewell with Felix, a 2 hour bus journey back to KK and we can help ourselves to a well earned shower and a cold beer!

H: On to country no. 2 – Malaysia (still on Borneo though). We caught a ferry to Palau Lauban and then another on to Koto Kinabula in time for my birthday.

Unfortunately even a birthday isn’t a good enough reason to upgrade to anywhere that has been cleaned in the last month, and we certainly can't upgrade in the first 3 days of our trip. But we did find somewhere that looked like they had at least changed the sheets.

For my birthday (after celebrating with some NZ Cadburys (which I must confess I am getting very partial too but am not yet willing to say is better than UK Cadburys)) we caught a boat to the little islands of Mamotick and Sapi for a day on the beach.

The morning on Mamotick was blissful, lots of sun, sea and snorkeling. By lunchtime however we’d become very pink. Which is embarrassing as there is nothing that makes me cringe more when we’re traveling than seeing sunburnt Pommy’s (actually worse is sunburnt Pommy’s wearing England football shirts but fortunately there’s not too many of those).

So we spent the afternoon walking round Sapi in the shade which was lovely until we came across a mini crocodile. Which turned out to be a Monitor Lizard but scary none the less.

G is getting plenty of turning old jokes in but that’s fine. He’s just trying make himself feel better about turning the ancient age of 30 in less than 3 months. That's a good enough reason to get a clean hotel I think!

G: After a couple of days relaxing in Brunei, following our Herculean last minute packing efforts in New Zealand, we caught a couple of ferry's up the coast to arrive the city of Kota Kinabalu, in one of the two Malaysian parts of Borneo - the North Eastern state of Sabah.

We arrived in "KK" (yes, we is locals now!) the day before Heather's birthday... after much hunting I found us a beautiful hotel to stay in... it's a little over our usual budget but it is her birthday after all... we're staying on the 7th floor with a view over the city and even have A/C and an en suite bathroom. Luxury!

Ok, so that's a bit of a stretch... technically we do have an en suite bathroom, but in true Asian style its basically a giant shower with a toilet. As soon as you turn on the shower the entire room, including the toilet and wash basin, gets completely soaked. But hey, at least the shower works, and we even seem to get hot water most of the time.

Our main reason for heading up in this direction is to climb Mt Kinabalu, which at 4095m is one of the tallest peaks in South East Asia. Unfortunately we've arrived to find that due to an international climb-athon taking place on the mountain we won't be able to climb until the 25th...

That means we're going to be in KK for a few days now. There isn't a great number of "attractions" here, but it'll be great to just soak up the local culture for a few days.. besides, I'm actually quite glad of the rest after some busy last weeks in NZ.

H: We made it to Brunei without any more traumas. At least not until we tried to find a bus into town from the airport. I hadn’t bought half the clothes I wanted, yet still my back isn’t happy to carry my rucsac (btw my rucsac is equally as heavy as Gs). I’m going to try and trash my rucsac this trip so I can buy one of the new ones with wheels. G says it’s cheating but I reckon once he realizes how much it cuts down the moaning he’ll soon change his mind.

The first person we asked pointed us to the upper level to the bus stop. So on go the rucsacs (one each front and back) and we climb upstairs. Bear in mind that this is in 30ºc heat, near 90% humidity and we are jet lagged.

And there is definitely no bus stop. Only posh hotel buses - wish we were staying at one of those. So we asked someone else who pointed across the car park and down the hill. I'm starting to get worried the Cadburys in my rucsac will melt. I appreciate that given we’re traveling through Asia it’s unlikely to stay too solid, but melting it on the first day would be a bad start.

On go the rucsacs again (well mine, G is tough and keeps his on. I take mine off whenever I can because if I don’t lean forward with it on I reckon it could tip me over backwards) and we set off to the bus stop ½km away.

Which we find no problems. Apart from I don’t reckon it’s seen a bus or a car in decades judging from the weeds growing through the tarmac. So we give in and set off to find a taxi, resigning ourselves to bread and water for tea to balance the taxi splurge.

We walked for ages before finding a taxi, and a few minutes after we're finally on our way, we overtake the sodding airport bus. It is Cadbury coloured though…

The main town of Brunei, Bandar Seri Begawan, is pretty nondescript, but the jungle that surround it looks pretty exciting. We didn’t have much time to venture out of the city, although we did see some very ugly Probiscus monkeys and a really intriguing village on stilts, whose school bus is a boat…

H: Packing this time was much more painful than the last few times. Or maybe it was just that we left it too late. It's now the 4th time that we've shipped our boxes and we are getting very bored of having to make a list of what's in each and how much it would cost to replace each item. Actually it's one of the few times I'd wished I had less clothes.

We moved out of our apartment on Tuesday and stayed for a few days with Tash and Joris and their gorgeous 2 week old baby Caleb. We had hoped to have a calm weekend, get the packing done and go for one last walk in NZ before we left :o(

Nothing went to plan.

Our last day was spent trying to finish our packing, scan in the things we needed for the trip, complete the shipping documents and (worse) trying to work out what we didn't have room for in our rucsacs. The packing took ages, the scanner didn't work (so we have resorted to taking photos), the shipping documents were for Australia rather than the UK (so we are now going to have to find somewhere in Brunei to print and scan once they send us the right ones), and we (well I) couldn't fit everything I wanted to take into my rucsac. Then to add to the lovely day, we synched our ipod just before putting the laptop in the container, and it wiped it clear. So with 45 mins to go we had to de-select the songs we didn't want (it won't all fit on the ipod) and set it synching again.

Luckily it finished in time to get the laptop in the boxes, seal them up and get to the airport. We made it to the airport just a few minutes early after a really long stressful day and were feeling pretty knackered, and ready to sleep and relax.

Unfortunately that wasn't going to happen. Greg went to get the passports out to go through security. They weren't where they should be. Infact worse than that, they were still at Tash and Joris's in the broken scanner. By some miracle our internal flight to Auckland had been delayed, which gave poor Joris just long enough to drive through Chch with our passports.

Great start?! Hope the next 3 months get better!

G: It's midday on our last day in New Zealand. We fly from Christchurch to Auckland at 9:30 tonight, then from Auckland to Brunei at 3am tomorrow morning... It's going to be a long day! Nothing that a good book won't solve though.

Leaving New Zealand behind, probably for a long time this time, is very difficult. We've had an amazing couple of years here; made some great friends; and been immersed in some truly awe inspiring scenery. Best of all we've made some very lasting memories.

But heading off on the road again is also very exciting! It's been nearly two years since we arrived here from South America and gleefully unpacked our rucsacs for the last time. But our feet are starting to itch again and it's time to hit the back packer trail once more.

As with life in general, the next three months is sure to hold many highs and (as any of you who've travelled will testify to) a few lows too. But that's half the fun... travelling wouldn't be the same without the missed train journeys, the occasionally uninhabitable hostel, and the hour long attempts to book a bus ticket in some local Chinese dialect that even the locals seem to struggle to communicate in!

That's looking ahead. For now, the rucsacs have been dusted off and are now starting to bulge with clothes and cameras again. Clearly everything isn't going to fit... it's time for me to go and start culling some boxer shorts. Surely I can get away just 3 or 4 pairs for 3 months? Heather thinks not!