Maxed out! I'm coming home!!!

Well. I was coming home anyway, as y'all know. But on Saturday, when the old ATM took um bridge with my MasterCard and spat it back out minus required funds, well I figured home time isn't a minute too soon.
Not that I'm not nervous or anything. It was Geordie Jonnie who described being so nervous that 'me bottom was puttin' like a donkeys nostrils...' If that's me (and I'm not saying it is because I'm a Laydeeeeeeee) then it could be nerves or the spicy beef salad and curry me and the Jayster have just had as a farewell meal...
Arrh. Just said my goodbyes to him (again) as that lucky sod gets xmas with his family in Western Australia this year due to Big Sister marrying out there. But that just means I have two weeks ahead of him to adjust to being depressed in a UK winter...

So I'm in Bangkoks Subywhatzit brand-spanking-new airport writing my last travelly post. Are you sad? Ahhh dont be, will go out with a few more tit bits I promise. After I got back from Vietnam the 2 weeks just razzed by in a blur of Bangkok Christmas shopping and more free nights out. We did manage another trip to Kohpangan for the Monster Raving Full Moony Party with A&D which was a total mission to get to. After Andrew dared us to get a bus ticket, J and I found ourselves meeting him outside a travel agent at 18.30 to get the bus. Due to it being the Kings Birthday (and I have told you, they lurrrve their King) the city streets were RAMMED and so was Koh San. There were yellow t-shirted Thais everywhere, and even a huge firework display over the city, and of course, lots of traffic. We set off very late but still managed to arrive very early in the morning in the dark at the catamaran pier. As we get off the bus it starts to rain. Quite heavy, in the dark. Everyone is grumpy, cold and tired. I get stung on the knee by a wasp and didn't realise that wasn't the only thing attacking me, as the mozzie bites on my legs the next day testified. As the dawn broke, we could see the sea was choppy as you like, and the little 'made out of toothpicks' pier was looking more than a little overcome. Nevertheless the catamaran operators (who had access to weather reports and knew a typhoon was coming) insisted the boat was coming and that we would be taken.
In the mists of the morning we could see the boat lurching towards the jetty, and as it pulled alongside the huge mob of us waited to get on the gangway, bracing ourselves against the rain. As the deck hands tried to dock, we were allowed up the wooden gangway towards the boat- the deck was literally bending under us and the waves unexpectedly picked up pace again. The rope the deckhands had just managed to tie to the pier suddenly ripped off one of the jetty's massive metal support posts. The Thais started shouting 'Go back!! Go back!!!' and everyone in the lashing down storm had to to turn back lest we all ended up in the sea. Then the catamaran sped off and left us all there....
Cut to the chase it took us another hour sitting in the port to realise we were not getting that catamaran. Then we had a 3 hour drive in a mini bus to get to the TOWN of someplace near the large ferry port, then a fight with the minibus driver much to Andrews embarrassment, then new tickets to the other ferry, then, i dunno, 5 hours on the ferry until finally we touched down on Kohpangnan around 7pm and then we were expected to party. The most annoying and unbelievable thing about all of this was Decha arrived about half an hour after us and he'd only set off from Bangkok that morning. Arrrgh!!
So the full moon party (part deux for moi) was a different kettle of fish than when I went in April. We grabbed a posh expensive beach house that had a king sized bed in, splitting the cost between us 3 and a couple we met on the ferry (French bird and Aussie bloke) so that we could shower and get changed and have somewhere to stay. Decha, like the pet party animal he is, appeared after monies were sorted..... Then we walked through the WALL OF SOUND that was the main trance and techno tent on the beach and got wrecked. Memories of that night are hazy... but as the sun rose over the beach, despite it being littered with freaks of all shapes and sizes dancing away amongst the party debris in their dayglow body paints and fisherman pants, the hills, sea, rocks and colours still managed to be really beautiful. No kidding. Due to my ear drums being near perforated by the insanely loud sound systems of the beach, I was pretty much deaf by sunrise and had a bit of a 'Saving Private Ryan; beaches of Normandy' moment when everything was muffled and my party shocked eyes roamed across the beach spectacle; two girls with their trousers rolled up, sitting on plastic chairs and chatting away, oblivious to the tide swamping them; a man being washed around the tide in his clothes- until his mate finds him and gives him an earful before hugging him and dragging him to safety; the people swimming and dancing in the sea, and the people on the beach who were dancing dancing dancing so hard as if the world would stop if they did. And some ridiculously ripped German looking geezer with stripy green cycling shorts on,a bare chest and hair like Vanilla Ice, tribal dancing like the Haka to his mates whose brains had dribbled out off their ears earlier on and were helpless to do anything but be forced to watch....
Man, it was a total freak fest. Ace.

So then. Our last night and a final farewell night to Andrew & Decha. It was sad. We got some Tiger beers from a little shop and mingled with the Koh San Road massive, swigging whilst sitting on the kerb watching the human circus pass by. I thought about how I was going to miss never having to take a jacket out with me, and the habit of warm weather clothes. Was going to miss the street food, and the endless supply of random people you meet when travelling. The most important plans revolving around having fun, finding somewhere great to visit, and discovering the gems of my own; favourite restaurants, bars, beaches, cities, countries, people and romance. I knew it was going to be hard to go back. But Id been homesick for a while, even though I knew it was mad to feel so. But normal life is what keeps a trip like this magical, you know, gives it some perspective. So I guess there was nothing else for it but to get on the plane to Manchester....

A Rant about Roomies and the Lovely Vietnam

So, like I said, I was supposed to head off to Vietnam via the Mekong Delta the day before I actually managed it but the mini bus didn’t come. So I resigned myself to a wasted day on a tight schedule and decided on what should have been a restful early night. Except my temporary 'room mate' put paid to that. The aussie girl the boys and I had teamed up with was a bit of a mixed bag really. Kate is 24, fairly quiet, travelling alone like myself, and had actually just come out of a 3 year relationship. This of course meant that she seemed to get plastered on most of the nights since I had met her due to 'relationship-kickback'. We've all been there and done it. But this is Cambodia, not Butlins. As for us, well it wasn't as if we'd 'hit it off' but rather it was convenient for us girls to share a room for costs. Once or twice the Irish lads had to more or less watch over her while other 'sharkier' blokes spotted the easy meat, but they were very understanding, laid back gents and didn't get annoyed at her at all. I probably wasn’t as understanding as they, as on her penultimate binge she'd lost my second pair of Habianna flip flops when she was dancing in front of the tuk tuk drivers outside the guesthouse at 3am, and had kind of pissed me off. Anyway the night we went to the FCC Kate had not gone back to our room. She'd left at 9am that morning and now it was 6pm. I thought; 'Well, she’s a big girl, I'll leave her a note and she can find us if she likes'. We get back at 11.30 and the room was as I'd left it and she'd been out for 15 hours. Sounding a bit of a worry wart I got one of the boys who had her number to text her and ask her to text us back to let us know she was fine. She didn't. I thought 'If that girl is not back by the morning I'm not going to be able to catch my boat because I'll have to check she's okay'. It was 5am when she smashed into the room, pin wheeling and swaying with 2 Cambodian guesthouse staff following her in. I’m lying only wrapped in a sarong on my bed. I sit up with a start as she snaps on and off lights and slurs something about the staff not believing she was staying there. So I hiss at them that she does, this is my friend now get out. They salaam, and apologise walking backwards out of the door. I'm annoyed but roll over. She gets up and staggers out of the room. The same thing happens, in fact twice more over a 30 minute period where I am not sleeping at all due to random Cambodia staff walking in, plus the light switching on and off and Kate staggering about the room. I seriously want to punch her in the face. In the end the sun is up and coming through the window. Kate staggers in, still crossed eyed drunk, and lies down and I think 'Good, I might get 30 winks before I have to rise'. Then I hear a soft 'click' of our door opening and I look up to see a Cambodian man- not staff- creeping into our room! I just shout/scream 'FUCKING GET OUT NOW' and he looks horrified and waggles Kate’s leg and whispers 'I want to go home now'. She gets up and leaves the room again and the penny drops that she'd been trying to sneak some guy she'd met godknowswhere into our room. I mean Christ, aside from the fact that we have lots of stuff worth nicking, aside from AIDS factors and other nasty surprises pulling a bloke like this might have, how fecking rude to behave like that in a room share with someone you hardly know? There’s a certain amount of trust you have to give into sometimes when travelling but she had totally taken the cake. She then came back into the room, slurred something incomprehensible and passed out on her bed like a star fish. I got up, showered and packed, and went to the lobby to wait for the pick up. I was fuming so much I told Fop, then Kev, then Steve the story, ranting and raving until Steve asked me when I was going to shut up. I had a proper 'McGlynn' temper on me that morning and was glad to see the back of her. But still, I was about to get on the Mekong baby! No time for whinging. When the mini bus got us to the boat for the border river crossing, the iron barge in front of us didn’t hold much promise. We were told it was just for one ride- it looked like that might be all it had in it. We get to the checkpoint, stamp out of Cambodia and then hand our passports to our new Vietnamese guide San so she could do I dontknowwhat to them. As soon as we were on Vietnam soil I spied beautiful Vietnamese girls and children hawking stuff, the girls in the wide cone hats and slacks. We sit down at a restaurant to wait for the passports back and order some bowls of Pho Bo (beef noodle soup), only to be surrounded by children all offering massages- well not offering- doing in hope of some payment. After that we were on the Mekong, sailing past the the riverside dwellers doing their fishing, washing and going about their daily business. They ALL waved. The children would run out of their houses- or across bridges and waved- or jumped into the river to show off- then wave. The fishermen and women all seemed quite pleased at the boat going past and I realised after travelling for so long that you just don’t get that kind of response from other foreign countries. Usually yes they want your money, but yes they then want you to piss off pretty soon. Or else you can only have a photo opportunity for money. But not here. My arm ached from waving so much- I know how the queen feels now. When we arrived at the village of Chau Doc I was knackered and had to have a sleep rather than explore. Fop went for a walk and was chased around the town by excited children shouting ‘Hullloooo! Hullo funny man!!’ I guess down this way, tourists are still a novelty but it was really charming nevertheless.
Over the three days we visited riverside villages selling silk wares, a floating fish farm and the floating markets. These markets sold everything from fruit and veg to …coffins! Small boats would pull alongside selling coca cola and there were general stores and well, everything. Floating. Very good. Then we went down a small river under many monkey bridges (just poles and rope to cling onto as you cross the pole) and then to a vermicelli factory. Felt like I was on a school trip, snapping away and being very impressed. On our last night we four got a little lairy in a French café over looking the river on the local beers. Steve and Kev burst into their usual rendition of Pink Floyds ‘Wish You Were Here’ and in one bar a very camp young Vietnamese guy asked if I knew ‘Sealed Wi’ A Kiss’. I was like ‘Jason Donovan???’ and he grinned and nodded madly. I was drunk, so I agreed. He then requested Celine Dion. I told him I was drunk, not mental. Then we ended up in some ‘Fast Show’ style Karaoke bar but luckily it was closing as we got there. So we screeched back via an overburdened rickshaw and got in some z’s.

We got to Ho Chi Minh City, aka Saigon, late Friday evening. We get some digs, and head out for a bit of food, minus Steve who showed his age and crashed out ;) To be fair we were all a bit bushed. The next morning I headed off for my half day tour with ‘Happy Tours’ to the Vietcong tunnels museum. Ace. First they showed you a film of how ‘The Great Vietnamese People Won the Oppressing Americans’ and also how they lived underground, how they took American weapons and used them for their own use, how everyone in Vietnam was part of the effort and how a small country could resist such a powerful country as America- i.e; with cunning and determination. It was mildly amusing- as was my guide Mr Juan. He joked, he told many stories and ‘ooh-la-la’ed his way through the day. At one point he showed us a small rectangular hole in the floor- about the size of a box of chocolates. Apparently this was big enough for a man to fit in. Yeah right. Then some Vietnamese man sits down, puts his legs, then hips, and finally, whole body into the hole. Then he takes a little wooden lid with leaves stuck to it and covers the whole- effectively disappearing. After he pops out again Mr Juan is like ‘Who wants to be a hero?! You Miss!?’ He points to me and I’m like ‘NO WAY, my arse will truly get trapped’. Everyone is staring- so I reluctantly go and try. To my surprise I fit! It was cool- if not a little spooky. Then lots of people have a go and the only geezer to have a problem is some stocky Aussie bloke. After that we check out the booby traps (yikes) and sample some of the local potato (minging). Eventful. Then we get to crawl thought the VERY claustrophobic tunnels that become pitch black as soon as you leave the entrance. TINY!!! ue to my fear of guns I passed on the offer of firing an AK47 at the museums firing range. It was SO LOUD. I couldnt bear it. Made my bones shake. After getting back I have a spot of lunch, am harassed into buying a book of a very insistent and rude pirate book hawker and then go back to the guesthouse.

That night I meet the boys for dinner. As we walk along the road we amazingly bump into Kate. Greeeeeeeeat. I think the lads thought I was going to be horrible and ignore her, or say something about her disgusting behaviour. But what can you do? I was vaguely pleased she hadn’t got herself killed and tried to show willing by asking her if she wanted to join us for some food. She did, and after that we ended up in some dubious Siagon bar (whooooers bar Fop called it) where after a few too many vodkas I told Kate she needed to sort her act out if she was going to travel alone. I wasn’t mean, but I did get the point across and can only hope she’s since switched her brain on. Anyway wont go on about that again….

I had a plane to Hanoi to catch that lunchtime so Fop accompanied me to the War Remnants Museum. I know I had a hangover, and that it was hot. And that I lacked sleep. But that place- its evidence of brutality and absolute lunacy that occurred in the Vietnam war actually made me go the ladies and be sick. A couple of times. It made me dizzy so I had to sit down. Photos of suffering due to ‘Agent Orange’, photos of slaughtered communites, two baby feotus’ in glass jars (deformed due to Agent O) and account after account of war crime and slaughter. Too, too much. South East Asia has seen some dark times this past 50 years and no mistake. Eventually Fop suggested I should call it a day and have a lie down before my flight, so we moto cycled back and then I said my goodbyes to the boys, the Northern Irish Gents, who had become my firm friends. They were probably glad to get some rest for their ears as it was pointed out more than once that I do not shut up.

So what can I tell you about Hanoi- seeing as I was only there two days. Well it has an ace Night Market on a Monday with some great food stalls. I sat down for a bowl of the lovely Pho with another local beer when I was joined by an old couple from Brighton. I cant recall the lady’s name, but Spud, the husband was an MOD worker with white hair and large Michael Cain black rimmed specs. They were lovely! After chatting with them about this and that Spud paid for my soup and beer and sent me on my way. It was like having temporary parents turn up out of the blue! I spent my last day strolling around pretty Hanoi, window shopping and taking the odd moto cycle around town to see what was to be seen before taking up a lakeside bench and reading my book. Hanoi is really, really pretty. That night I ended up befriending Nick the Aussie in a rooftop restaurant. He was stranded in Vietnam because his girlfriend had come to visit him and then flew off to Hongkong with his passport by mistake. So poor old Nick was hanging around waiting for it to turn up in the post and by now his visa had expired. Rather him than me- Vietnam is a pain in the arse when it comes to Visas. But still, had a bit of company and didn’t feel a sad loser in a restaurant on me own ;)

And so that was that! The next morning I flew back to Bangkok and realised that I only had to weeks left before heading home…. My God….

War and Peace

The night before I head to Cambodia J was away with a job, so I went out for a few beers with Andrew. Headed down to Koh San road to do a bit of farang spotting and it was weird to see westerners again. All different shapes and sizes, and hair colours; it was a bit fascinating to watch after living in the sticks with the locals and dark skinned, dark haired models.
Anyway a Thai friend of Andys, Decha turned up to take us for a few beers with his mates. The place we went to was actually a petrol station around the corner from Koh San, with tables all over the forecourt with little candles on the tables. Hmmmm. Anyway the beers turned into 'buckets' of Thai whiskey and Redbull, then we were drunk and didn't want to go home so ended up on a 'street bar' which was just some floor mats on the pavement and then some geezer would run off to get the alcohol for us. Ended up chatting away with the very charismatic and very Gay Decha, and various travellers, locals and tramps til 5am when I realised that it wasn't really worth sleeping before getting my bus. So the three of us ended up back in Towintow, rowdy as you like trying to pack my backpack between swigs of whiskey and shouting nonsense to Jason down the phone.

6.30 am and I leave Andrew and Decha in my bed watching My Name Is Earl on the DVD player, and grab me a cab back to Koh San which is 45 mins away. I fall asleep in the cab, catching flies, and the kind cabbie didn't rip me off at all. Just woke me at up on arrival and the fare was good. As I stagger into a McDonalds and order a Big Mac for breakfast I'm vaguely aware that I'm still pissed. Hey ho, I sit on my backpack on the street, stuffing my mouth with burger and wait for my bus. And wait. And wait. The bus was due at 8am and by 8.30 the shop where Id booked the ticket opened. The guy opening the shutters makes some calls and by 9am I'm walked, not to the big double decker airconned-with-toilet-bus that I'd booked, but to a 10 seater mini van stuffed with people, the majority of which, were Polish. I plop myself down, fix my sunnies on my face and proceed to suffer and feel shite.
We eventually come to a town stop where we have a toilet break and fill in our Cambodian Visa applications. I claim a chair on the pavement and marvel at a couple who have two huge backpacks on, plus other luggage attatched to the two PUSHCHAIRS with their children in. I make some comment of this to a guy sitting across from me and have a brief chat with Rob from Sunderland. On a visa run, he'd been living in Bangkok playing in a band and organising club nights. 24 years old, had been living in Leeds the previous six years so we exchanged the usual 'do you know, I know, do you go/work/live' conversations. He was one of the skinniest boys I've ever met, and actually had TWO pairs of tight fitting jeans on- in the baking heat. My God.

Anyway after the chats we had a 20 minute drive to the border, and then went through all of the usual border crossing palarva. Then we are led to our DOOM. I mean our 'new bus'. This thing was so shonky, it looked like something out of a 'Carry On Up The 3rd World Country' film. At around 13.30/14.00 we climb into this.. bus... and notice a) the lack of air con, b) how bloody cramped and tiny it is, and c) everything was covered in an orange dust. I reckon they took the chickens out of it before we got on. And then, for the next six hours or so bumped, rocked, and shook our way to Siem Reap. I was wedged in at the back, next to an open window and and a guy from Northern Ireland called Steve. Even though we were basically 'off roading' in this bloody bus, I still managed to sleep some of the way due to total hungover exhaustion. To underline how bad this road was, we arrived in the dark at about 9pm and the distance covered was....150 km. I mean what the hell?
Theres a conspiracy theory regarding this road actually. They say the only airline who flys direct from Bangkok to Siem Reap pays the Cambodian government NOT to fix it up so that they can make flying there a more attractive proposition. It seriously was one of the worst roads in Cambodia, and considering the crossing to Bangkok is one of the their MAJOR checkpoints, I'm willing to believe this is true.
Anyway, I grab a room and look in the bathroom mirror and think 'Wow Les, how tanned are you?' and then get in the shower to lose all of my ORANGE tan in the shower. Everything on that bus had come out orange, and sitting near the window had turned me into an Oompahlumpah. Sigh.
That night I meet Steves two travelling pals, Kev and Fop and resolve to follow them about for the next two weeks ;) The next morning me and 'the lads' hire bikes and head off to the temples. We actually hit Angkor Wat first- the main event of several Wats- and after parking our bikes and wading through the multitude of beautiful little hawker street children we take in the scene. Well. It was really, really beautiful. 11,000 years old and so... imposing. Took a million pics and let Fop- the human guide book, talk us through the histories. Angkor Wat was the capital of Cambodia and the Angkor people between the 9th and 13th centuries and to cut n' paste from the Irish fellas blog (he was a machine!!):
"Cambodian devaraja (God-Kings) strove to better their ancestors in size, scale and symmetry, culminating in the world's largest religious building Angkor Wat. To put this in perspective, at this time the Angkor capital boasted a city of over a million people while London had a population of only 50,000." *Fopstevekev 2006

Also I should mention that Fop, whose about 30 years old, had never left the UK until 5 weeks previous. His first city abroad was Bangkok and his second city Cambodia. Talk about diving straight in hahaha!

Anyway after lunch, and the usual mobbing of children (helllo ladyeee you by my postcardstenforonedollar helloooooyoubuymyheadscarvesforonedollaaaar) we headed to Bayon Wat til sundown, which was smaller and had rather funky face carvings all over it. On the way I'm accosted by a yound Cambodian school boy of about 14 on his bike. He cycles next to me smiling away. They all smile actually, so friendly, strangers on bikes, children, adults etc. I guess tourism is still so comparatively new here that they welcome the 'Barang' (not hostile like some Thai are to farang). Anyway he asks me how old I am. I say 28. He looks shocked (I'll take that as a compliment) and when I ask his he says 19. My eye. Ah bless. Also saw some families of wild monkeys who seemed totally unconcerned with us.

Then just before home Steves bike first cannot be unlocked because the key snapped in the lock. Then once unlocked (joint effort of us, Cambodian security and finally, a pair of pliers) we head on up the path where his back tire then blows. I turn around to see Steve kicking his bike and generally loosing his rag, so cycle off to get him a tuk tuk so he can get back and have a row about it. Kev goes with him (*joke, how do you get two Irish fellas and two bikes in a tuk tuk. answer...) and Fop and myself have an uneasy ride back to the guesthouse in the dark. This was our first introduction to Cambodian traffic but will get to that soon enough. That night I begin to follow Jo-from-the-outbacks Guide to Cambodia and we eat in a place called the Red Piano before bumping into a couple of girls from the deathbus, Australian Kate and Hongkong Chinese Ariel. We all end up more than merry in Siem Reaps loudest bar dancing to Indie tunes til 5am. Some of them even carry on getting plastered down by the river but I crashed and burned.
In the end Kev and Steve slept the day away whilst Fop and myself dutifully tuktuked around the remaining Wats, but to be fair we'd seen the best of them and we were very hot and hungover. Again. Still the last one we saw was very Lara Croft- jungle crawling all over it and I got some very cool photos. That night I decided to move guesthouse. The aussie girl Kate was staying in a room on her own cos the Hongkong girl had left- her guesthouse was nicer and more central so I moved seeing as I was in a room on my own (and it felt a bit dodge). Then the 3 Irish amigos followed cos Fop said when he got back to his room someone had been in it and also left a key in the door. Another dodgy story is one of the other two, Kev, was wandering back from the river pissed and he got lost and apparently got a gun pointed in his face by some big black woman??? He just said he was lost and wanted to find D&D guest house, and she was like 'Ohhh, D-an-Deee okay' and left him alone?! Anyway that night we headed to the main strip and bumped into another Irish guy and an American we'd met on the bus here so they came with us for dinner. Had THE BEST Indian curry since that one Id had in New Zealand!!! They even sold Chapaitis - it was called Karma Sutra and I got so full so quickly- just not used to that kind of food anymore :( Still was so nice (I had a dopiaza) and tried to have one beer after it but gave it away and went to bed with my book cos was knackered.

Anyway staying an extra day in Siem Reap was more a decision of physical exhaustion. Really I should have moved on but the extra day meant a trip to the Landmine Museum. This place was founded by a guy called Aki Ra, who is ex Khymer Rouge and laid many landmines himself during the 70's. Then he fought against them when he was captured by the Vietnamese. Anyway knowing the mess he was a part of, he now dedicates his life to clearing the mines and to the schooling of children who have been victims of landmines. One such victim was our guide, Hak, who lost his brother and sister, and his own leg at the age of eight. Now a very handsome softly spoken 19 year old, he took us around the shack/museum telling us how various bombs were made (and by whom; such as China, Germany, and chiefly America) and showing us them. Old bazookas, Bouncing Bettys, handgrenades, the place is full of demined shells,B52 bullets- the lot, are piled up for inspection. And children all playing with them. This museum was originally shut down and the artifacts confiscated by the Cambodian government so that they could open their own museum. They eventually had to return these and let Ra open again due to, I presume, bad publicity. Aki Ra clears his mines with a pocket mine and a stick. This is still the most effective method to date.

Eventually we (that is me, the lads and aussie Kate) get a boat to Phnom Phen. It was a really hot and sunny and was a whole day taking in the riverside scenes. Lovely. Then as we dock in PP and go to get our bags I rest my hand on the boats engine chimney and burn my hand. Cue stifled crying and frantic search for ice. In the end the five of us grab lunch in the restaurant immediately next to the dock so I can sit with some ice and then we grab two tuk tuks to the lakeside where we think we've found a nice guesthouse. Largely due to my fault we end up staying in a place that has a nice verandah and the worst room I've stayed in on my whole epic trip. Hot, stuffy, dodgy bedding, and a cupboard with a sink, toilet and shower in it. And the sinks plumbing was missing- the plughole led to nothing so it spattered straight down to the shower plug in the floor. And also SOMETHING RAN ACROSS ME IN THE NIGHT!!! I leapt off my bed to see some shadow run off the bed and under. Urrghh, I'm hoping it was a gecko. Thats all I'm saying. The next morning we tried to book into the relatively swanky Boddhi Tree guesthouse that is opposite the Genocide Museum but it was full so ended up in place called Spring Guesthouse which was a palace compared with Floating Guesthouse. That should have been 'Floater' guesthouse really.

So on a more sombre note we head to Toul Sleng Genocide Museum. Woah this place was grim. I know you will think 'Duh, of course its grim, its a genocide museum' but this isn't even quite like when I visited Austwitz, because it's presentation is so naked. Toul Sleng, or 'S-21' used to be a secondary school. Then when Pol Pot and the Khymer Rough took control in 1975 they turned it into their premier prison and torture facility. The place, as best as it can be, has been left as it was found. There are black brown marks and flecks on the staircase walls that can be taken has blood splatters. There are dark stained patches on the coffee and cream checkered floor tiles that run throughout the 'school'. 20,000 people were detained here over a three year period. 7 people survived. We watched a video that told the story of one female inmate, and her autobiography from 1970 onwards. Even before the KR took control, she had suffered rape at the hands of the previous government. The saddest part of her story was that the day she was incarcerated, she never even knew her husband was brought in the same day. She was tortured until confession after confession were dragged out of her (all of course, false) by children aged between 10 and 15 years of age and then both she and her husband were executed on the same day. And they never knew. Aside from the recorded 20'000 people (all photographed, documented, then tortured over a prolonged period of time and then, at last, bludgeoned to death) there were also the children of the inmates, numbered at approximately 2,000, who were also bludgeoned to death.
The museum has large boards with photo after photo of inmates- terrified looking men, women and beautiful children. It has cabinets with torture instruments on display, and glass fronted book shelves filled with human skulls. There is art work from one of the seven who survived of the tortures that occurred at the hands of children instructed by the devil Pol Pot himself. There are the cells. The grimmest of all were the torture rooms. 14 rooms in one of the buildings have been kept spartan save for one bed frame in each room. It was here when the the KR fled S-21 that 14 people were discovered still strapped to the steel, mattress-less beds, dead. The rooms have been scrubbed but you can still see the dark stains on the cream coloured tiles below the bed. In each room there is a black and white photograph of the bodies as they were found and you can see that the beds in front of you are the beds that are in the photograph. These 14 bodies, one of which was a woman, were given a special burial plot within the grounds of s-21, 14 white, unmarked sarcoghacus. Which is more than can be said for the dead of the Killing Fields...

We went to the Killing Fields the next day. 5 of us squeezed into a tuk tuk that had to cover terrain almost as bad as our bus trip. And let me tell you something about travel in Cambodia, and in particular Phnom Phen. IT IS CRAZY. We were heading down a main road, a busy main road a bit like a dual carriageway when we see a car driving towards us. I mean just slicing up the traffic on the wrong side of the road and the traffic going the right way weaving around it. I swear we all just sat there open mouthed. It seems if you need to pull out of a side street to the opposite road, then instead of driving to the middle and then turning, instead you just drive up the wrong way, looking apologetic but determined until you slowly veer off to the correct side! And this happens all the time!!! And sometimes its big trucks heading towards you! And sometimes its YOUR TUK TUK DRIVER who decides to take a trip up the road the wrong way so you have all the traffic coming at you and very little to protect you. Seriously it was mental.

So five of us were wedged into a tuktuk with 'Bo' our driver at the helm. I think we even got as fast as 20 miles an hour at one point (or the traffic may have been going faster the other way) and then the main road to the fields turned into mud. Bo persevered but eventually we had to get out so that he could get himself out of it. We get there and razz past a lot of tour buses (mainly Japanese tourists) who stare at us as if we are mad and indeed really tightfisted to have so many squeezed into one tin can on wheels. We finish our Phnom Phen morbid-a-thon on a very warm and peaceful day, strolling past the death pits that have now more or less healed over with green grasses. It was the crater shapes in the land, as much as the sign posts next to them, that reminded me I was walking across land that had seen one of the most evil atrocites to man, woman, and child kind. Nine thousand bodies were exhumed and then just as many in mass graves have been left in peace. The Charnel is the weirdest and bluntest tribute to the dead found on these lands. A temple made of glass, standing maybe about 60 feet high with four large glass walls and doors, with white pillars to keep it together- and it's filled to the top with human skulls. And you can walk in and around it and be altogether far to close to the subject matter. I wondered why they hadn't buried these skulls? Blessed them for the families?

What I do know is Cambodia SOLD the Killing Fields to the Japanese in 2005. I have heard that the Japanese also own the Angkor Wat heritage site. So profits of Camboidas greatest achievement and greatest atrocity do not even directly benefit this country. Cambodia is one of the poorest I have ever visited. There is a lot of begging. In a riverside cafe in PP the Irish boys were heard chatting and this old couple (in their 60's) were also from Ireland. While we chatted a street girl of about 8 came in and asked if she could finished their meals and then proceeded to eat the blokes left over salad and chips- which put his wife off her pasta because it was so sad. Then the girl polished off the spag bol- all the time looking over her shoulder. She must have been starving. I've never seen that before. Everyone begs. You get off a tuk tuk or bike and a cap is shoved in your face by an old man with one leg- or burnt face - or one eye, begging for a dollar for some 'yum'. Or its a street kid (5 street kids) with a baby tied to her front. Its at once infuriating and heartbreaking. You cant give to all- and say no to one, really you have to say no to all and it wore me down as I continuously felt shit saying no. All of these things make me count my blessings all the more.

So! Anyway lets get back to the lighter parts of the trip. Got a few bargains in the Russian Markets, went to a few funky places such as 'Elsewhere' bar, Java Cafe and even The FCC (Foreign Correspondents Club) where the Irish fellas bought me dinner to cheer me up because my planned trip up the Mekong Delta was messed up when the tour company didn't pick me up on time. We also went to a lovely restaurant called 'Friends' that is very cute, gives great food and service and is an ex NGO project training street kids to chef or customer service. The staff either have 'Teacher' in red t-shirts or 'Student' in blue and it was so good we ate there twice. On my last night (the real last and not the last where I did'nt leave PP) the boys also bought a Mekong Delta ticket, which meant they hadn't got rid of me or me them, and we had a relatively quite one before the early start for the 3 day river trip...

Back to Bangkok with De-lick Zoo-rander

So the reason my boyfriend had to love 'n leave me in Australia was because he'd been head hunted for modeling in Bangkok. J had signed up to a Sydney 'extras' agency nearly a year ago and had financed some of his traveling being in commercials- crowd shots etc- for easy money. Tellingly, he had actually 'featured' in two adverts in Korea that he has never seen, one for Dunkin Donuts and one, hilariously, for a dandruff shampoo ad. Anyway being reasonably embarrassed by this it was something of an 'in joke' and I loved winding him up about it. It stopped being funny when one day on the snow slopes his mobile phone came into reception and the agency rang with an interesting proposition. Would Jason fancy living in Bangkok for 3 months modeling and audtioning for ads? He could make a lot of money from his 'look' because the Thais love 'mixes' and he was a mix of half English, with a dash of Chinese, Portuguese and Filipino. He's from East Ham- sounds about the norm really.
Anyway he was a bit torn because of plans already laid out for traveling up to Broome together and then Vietnam and Cambodia before heading to Thailand. He asked me what I would do. I said (reluctantly) that I would take the modeling and so should he....
So offski he went whilst I finished the last part of Aus. It was actually a surprisingly hard couple of weeks for the pair of us- we'd been glued together for seven months after all. Anyway I decided to visit him in Bangkok for a while before heading to Vietnam and got a ridiculously cheap flight from Darwin to Bangkok for 180 quid! I was landing on the 16th and I knew J had a job in Malaysia for a night and a day on the 17th, so we'd have a night to see each other- then he'd have to go.
I got pretty hammered on my last night in Darwin, thinking that I'd sleep the whole way to my connection flight to Singapore. Not really though, and then when my cheapie flight got me to Singapore I realised my skintflintness cost me in that I was stuck in the 'budget' departures lounge for SIX HOURS. It was the most boring six hours of my life I swear- and not helped by my slight hangover. Anyway jumped the plane for my two hour flight to Bangkok, got changed in the toilets and freshened up, was even a little nervous about seeing J again... Would he still fancy me after 2 weeks of being shoulder to shoulder with the leggy models? Would I look like road kill after 20 hours on the go?
Grabbed my bag and skipped through the gate to see a million Thai faces looking for loved ones etc. Couldn't see my loved one at all... I wandered around the arrivals gate for ten minutes but it was total madness- couldn't see him anywhere and my mobile didn't work so couldn't call him- or have an address etc. Eventually I found a western guy with his typically thai tiny bird and asked if I could be cheeky enough to use his mobile. He let me and I called J only to find he was about ten metres from me- it was that mental in there.
Anyway total relief, massive hugs n' kisses and slight surprise because I'd kind of forgotten what he looked like! He said the same- both of us nicely surprised. Then, after more massive hugs he said 'I've got some bad news'.
I looked at him and was like 'You have to go to Malaysia today don't you.'
He nodded.
When?
'Ah man, in like, 45 minutes. They told me this morning and I've been running around sorting it out- I've been panicking thinking you would turn up, Id be on the flight and you'd be stuck in the airport'.
There was nothing for it- I just burst out crying like a complete girl. We had 30 mins standing in an arrivals gate hugging, crying, and shushing before he had to give me some Thai baht, directions to his apartment and his agency phone number. Then he was off and I was alone in another dodgy Bangkok cab heading to the Thai suburb of Town in Town.
Or Towwwwintowwww as the thais say.
Got to 'Towintow' and was dumped outside JIMS model agency to be greeted by J's agent and booker, Pavie and Nikki.
'Hulllo! Hullo Jaysons gir-fren'!' I was dragged into the agency, shown to the office and talked about in Thai for 5 minutes before Pavie mercifully dropped my off at the apartment.
Hell.
But, when the boy in question turned up the next night it was worth it. Happy happy joy joy.
So that was over two weeks ago and theres a few things I could tell you about the 'model lifestyle' of Bangkok....
For some reason, club and bar promoters in Bangkok think getting models into their gaff will mean the instant success of the club night. So bars such as 'Koi' give out 10 free drink tickets per model on production of a 'Model headshot' card, plus a free meal from the 'Models Menu'. Presumably because half the girls there look like they need feeding up. Then other bars such as Escudo, and clubs like Santika, Flicks or Black & White also give out free drinks tickets. The beautiful spawny bastards need not spend anything but the cab fare all night. Or the girlfriend of one hahaha. On Halloween me, J and 4 of the more sound males models went to Santika and they didn't even ask for a card. So one of the lads (Texan Thai) Justin says 'Hey, look Lesley just sign up' so I did, got my free 10 drinks even though I was six inches shorter and two stone heavier than any other girl model that night- hahaha wayyyy!! I was destroyed the next day.
So my liver is hurting from too many of these nights out. Intimidating at first, I wasn't keen to go 'hang out' with a load of models but actually its quite funny to check it out. The majority of the blokes wear white 'wife beater' vests so you can see their muscles and the girls are all about 17-21, beautiful, and horribly drunk. They are all so good looking that non of them really stand out. Bit sad really. We made a mate in the form of 20 yr old Andrew, a Thai American from Washington, DC. Originally over in SE Asia for a Tsunami project, he looked up his brother living in Bangkok, whos girlfriend was a model in JIMS and suggested he join. Although he hasn't had an assignment yet he has made great use of everything free he can get his hands on and just human pinballs his way around nightclubs and bars, wrecked on gin and tequila, hating other models. He's pretty switched on and I liked him immediately. He confessed his horror at sitting in a casting one day and having to listen to one male model talk about hair gel for ten minutes. The 'Derek Zoolander' thing is more on the mark than you would know and I comfort myself with the thought that J has at least got a degree in Natural Sciences....

The agency keeps picking on Andrew to gain weight and to act 'more manly'. Conversely when J arrived he was told he was too fat (70kg and 5'10) and that he had to get a six pack in 2 weeks. Jesus. The first time I went on a night out with his agency lot, his booker Nikki took me aside and told me I should get on the dieting pills like herself. 'Yeah, Lesssleee, I lost 15 kilos in 6 months!' Well, what could I say? I thought about 'Piss off you cheeky cow' but choose a diplomatic silence....
Anyway aside from that, due to the length of time here and that we are living in the Thai version of Hollywood (or Bollywood if you know what I mean) it means not so many people speak English and so we've had to get stuck into learning a few words. Got my directions and pleasantries down- and numbers! Jason is more tenatious at practicing though and gets his point across. And the food, oh yum, the food is frickin great! The street stall stuff is so good and with good recommendations you can find stuff better than in the restaurants. Noodle soups, curries, although ordering a plate of mixed green vegetables has taken us 3 weeks to figure out. Only managed that today. Average meal costs about 35 baht- 50 pence. If you get take away they give it to you in small knotted plastic bags, and if you want a drink with ice in then that also comes in a plastic bag- you have to hold it till its finished.
Other than that I have been to most markets and malls here; Platinum, MBK, Siam Discovery, and also the Night Bizarre (cool, and great food) and the Godfather of all monster markets- Chatuchack, a claustrophobic maze of clothes stalls, food stalls and niknaks. Went to MBK to pick up a pair of jeans and MY GOD, shopping away from Koh San Road has its problems for your 'curvy' Farang (western) lady. The Thais are so thai-ny! You look at a dress or skirt and they'll shout out 'noooo, lady yoo tooo big!!' My first week of this was, well, shit to be quite frank with you. But Im getting used to it. Remember my near fight with the Chickboy in April? Bloody rude. Sometimes I have gotten really upset about it and it's Jason who sorts my head out and tells me to let it wash over me. So I found a Zara in one of the shopping centres, found a size meduim skirt that fitted me just fine and felt better about the whole thing. Bloody midgets. They haven't got any boobs either so there.
To get away from the mentalness, J and I took a weekend trip to Koh Samet, an island 3 hours drive south of Bangkok and had a fantastic time. I thought, with the island being in such close proximity to Bangkok, that it would be rubbish- but it was lovely!! Went down to the relatively quiet beach of Ao Vong Duan and got a villa for three nights, right next to the beach. It was chilled, the water was warm and greeny blue and we just blissed out. Lovely.
So still have a few things on the list to 'tick', Mhuy Thai boxing match, Thai cooking course, and Timo Mass playing in a 'non model endorsed' venue on Wednesday which should be great. In the meantime I have to confess I've been getting into Yoga and hurt all over. It's harder than it looks... Should be one bendy brown thing by time I get home for xmas....

Shoo fly, don't bother me! Ah don't want yo' c'pany!

I got on the bus, found a double seat behind the driver and concentrated on ignoring my hangover. We had a three hour drive through Clare Valley to Alligator Gorge in which time I managed to discrace myself by having to ask the driver to pull over so I could go and be surreptisously sick behind the van. Im 28 years of age now for chrissake, when will this ever end?! Climed back on the bus and could see 14 sympathetic strangers, and Jonny, all looking at the 'poor girl who must get travel sick'. It was like being back on the Brazil tour again and that was a year ago. Anyway we get to the Gorge for a 2km walk which was the frickin last thing I wanted to do in the BAKING heat, and so powered walked through it to get it over with (it was, in retrospect, very beautiful) and then upon getting back to the van held my breath for 5 minutes so I could use the disgusting 'non flush decompossing toilets' which made me retch. Then we got back on the bus to the railway township of Quorn for lunch, and had only travelled 5 minutes when I had to get the van to stop AGAIN so I could throw up the litre and a half of water I'd necked on the walk. Sheepish? Well of course.
At Quorn we tried to set up for lunch and were immediatley set upon by a BAZILLION flies. It was pretty gross trying to get a sandwich in your mouth without getting a fly in it- or in your salad or whatever. And they just want to get in your eyes, ears, nose and mouth and are so PERSISTENT. Everyone just sat around the picnic tables trying to eat their sandwich whilst perfoming weird martial art hand movements to get them away. Jonny just stuck his fingers up his nostrils and in his ears....
Just a side point... You may or may not know that Australia has had something of a banana crop crisis since the cyclones in March took out lots of the crops in N. Queensland. Well anyway bananas have soared in price and have been pretty crap- yellowy brown freckled stumpy things for astronomical sums. I hadnt had a banana since then but in Quorn there were some massive, greeny yellow healthy looking ones so I picked one off and took it to the counter. I was excited! Until of course she rang up that ONE BANANA for the princely sum of $4.50!!!!! Thats nearly TWO QUID for a banana!! I wanted to chuck it at the tillies head- but instead checked my hungover, fly infested temper and gave it back.
We set off to the Yourallumba Caves on the way to Parachilna to check out some real Aboriginal rock art (you really have to hike to see this stuff- it's all hidden in caves miles off the beaten track) we took the photos and then arrived at the weirdy beardy little, town? Village? Street of Parachilna that has a population of five people. It has a road, a school (why a school I have no idea) some little set up for tourists and of course, the Aussie House of Worship : The Pub.
The village has been used in a few famous Aussie films, most notably, Rabbit Proof Fence and survives on this and the tourist trade. It has Australias longest running stretch of railway running along it and so we sat on the platform, looking out onto real aussie outback, and watched the big orange fire ball drop into sunset before having a BBQ of Emu burgers, Camel sausages and Kangaroo steak. The steak wasnt too bad but the the burgers and bangers just tasted all wrong....
The next day we headed to the Flinders Rangers to check out Wilemena Pound. This included a tricky 3 hour hike up Mt Ohlessen-Bagge that resulted in amazing views of the desert and Lake Torrens. Then we arrived at Rawnsley Park sheep station for dinner and a campfire before bed.
Coober Pedy
It was a looooooong long drive to our next destination of Coober Pedy. We had to set off at 6am for this 8 hour drive and on the way stopped at the salt lake Lake Heart. It was a bit like the ones I saw in Bolivia and was a bit weird walking on the salt flats again on a different continent. It used to be used as a bomb testing site by the British (of course) and so we had to stay behind recommended guidelines lest we blew ourselves up. We eventually got to Coober - which is an outback town famous for the mining of Opals, and also for the unique way the people live there. Before WWII many blokes had decided to chance their luck at mining for opal in this harsh land that can reach temperatures of up to 50 degrees. After the war, many ex soldiers realised after living in cold clammy trenches that this would be a cooler way to live while they 'noodled' for the stones and so dug trenches to live and keep cool. The result is a town that lives underground in 'dugout houses' that keep a temperture all year round of 25 degrees. There's a church, a pub, you name it- it can be found underground. We had an opal tour and had to watch an AWFUL film on the history of opal mining before being turned loose for pizza and a beer in the underground pub. One thing I can say about Coober is that it has a reputation for undesirables wanting to live there- of stories of people 'dissappearing' there and that if someone arrives at Coober Pedy, they must have something they want to get away from. Our guide gave us about 100 sq metres that she would prefer we roamed in lest we got hasselled by boozy Aborigines and it all added to the feeling that Coober was a place you could go for a night only. It's a pretty strange place.
Uluru
We set off at the ungodly hour of 5am to travel towards Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park passing the odd Red Kangaroo but sadly no Thorney Devils. This tour was not for wimps. On the way there, Arnie, our bus driver, pointed out a lump in the distance and asked 'Is that Uluru??' and we all got a bit excited. But it wasn't- it was just some moutain range that looked a bit like a toothbrush when you got to see it properly. The guides nickname it 'Fool-aru'. Har har. When we eventually did see Uluru in the distance there was no mistaking it. Having made good time we immeditatley set off on the Walpa Gorge walk to Kata Tjuta (aka The Olgas) which were bloody amazing! Everyone yaps on about Uluru but Kata Tjuta had a a real 'red planet' weirdy beardy feel to it. It's hard to explain what seeing these things up close is like. It's like being on Mars. And also, The Olgas in the distance look abit like Homer Simpson lying down.... We then drove to the Uluru sunset point with hundreds of other tourists and got ourselves a good spot to watch the rock blaze red before sunset with a glass of bubbly in hand. Everyone was quite moved- I thought Jonny was going to cry- because it's not like The Eiffel Tower, or the Statue of Liberty or any other man made thing. Uluru is imposing nature and deserves the word Awesome. We camped in swags that night around the campfire (the mozzies were as persistent as the flies and I got stung on my nose- about the only thing poking out of my swag.) The next morning at 4AM we all had to get up for Uluru sunrise and I was only a little perturbed to find Dingo footprints all around my, and everyones elses swags. On the bus everyone was quiet due to TOTAL knackeredness and Arnie set the mood playing digeridoo music. We stopped behind Uluru to take photos of the shilouette (really good- probably my favourate view of Uluru and we had many) and then we went to the 'sunrise' point to get a view of Uluru waking up. The skies were pink and vanilla, stretching off across the desert and there was a spate of Dingo howls for a few minutes. Then the sun came up and we all oohed n arrhed. Are you going to ask me 'Did you climb it?' Well I had decided along with a few others on the tour not to. The Aboriginal people hate anyone climbing it and when they were given the rights to the land back by the government, they were forced to still let the rock be open for climbing. Being of great significance to the people spiritually the equivalent of climbing it is probably doing the Can-Can inside St Peters Cathedral. Anyway they have posters and t-shirts all over the gaff asking people 'not to climb'. The Aboriginal word for people who climb it is... Mingers! Mingers are 'ants that climb up the rock'. So if you climb it your a minger hahaha. Anyway I opted for the 3 hour walk around it (its heeeeeowj) and the others who wanted to climb it, after all that, couldnt because it was closed due to high winds.....
Kings Canyon
We razzed over to Kings Canyon for bedtime campfire swaggy business where I had a few too many 'Goon wines' and then in the morning set up for our hike of the day. I was going to be fitter than Anneka Rice at this rate. The Canyon rim walk was 7.2 Km long beginning with Heartattack Hill- 150m of rocky uneven steps and through 'Prescillas Crack'. The Aussie film Prescilla: Queen of the Desert filmed scenes here and apparently once a year some of Australias finest transvestites stagger the walk in their size 9 stilletoes. We then began clambering down to the Garden of Eden which is in the shaded part of the canyon and has tropical plants growing there and a rain pool. In this desert. And for some unknown reason a duck swims around in the pool and no one knows how a duck ended up there....
Alice Springs
As you can imagine after a week of hiking and 4/5am wake up calls we were all completely bushed when we got to Alice and the knees up the group planned just didnt really happen because the bar was kerrrr-ap. Spent the next 3 days chilling, shopping in the Sunday markets and saying goodbye to half of the tour that wasnt heading to Kakadu. Had a bit of night down in the Bojangles pub, a bit of 'saloon' style pub that has cameras in it linked to the internet. Myself, Jo And Vix (off tour) all watched Jonny cavort infront of the cameras so his brother in Durham could have a laugh at him 12,ooo miles away. Then the next day it was sad goodbyes to Jo who was flying to Sydney (she was one hilarious bird) and then Jonny, Vix and myself had to meet the group that would be heading to Kakadu.
The next three days were fairly chilled affairs as between Alice and Darwin there isnt so much to see- you just have to clock up some miles to get there. However Adventure Tours made a good effort that saw us stop at the offical line of The Tropic of Capricorn (Im a Capricorn so had the compulsory photo) and then a stop off at the Devils Marbles- huge great boulders of red granite strewn about the desert in a weird Salvador Dali-esque landscape. By this point I'd seen enough red rocks so I was getting abit 'Oh yeah. Weird. Drive on please' and was also nearly passing out from the heat. We stayed at Banka Banka cattle station that night in Helen Springs and had an entertaining talk on cattle farming from Will, the guy who ran it. The next day we headed to Katherine Gorge via the infamous Daly Waters Pub- the oldest pub in the Northern Territories. This place really was in the middle of nowhere and yet there was still a couple working behind the bar from Liverpool! Ha! The pub was covered with all kinds of backpacker paraphanalia- t-shirts, bras, pants, flip flops- all with peoples names and countries on- people left bank notes, ID cards, police badges- you name it, it was stapled to a wall in the pub. I even graffitied a bit of wall myself... then we headed to Matarkana to swim in the thermal pools- really lovely if you didnt mind the hundreds of Flying Fox bats hanging in the trees above hehe.
Lesley Moment #153'550
So we all end up around another campfire and I have a couple of Smirnoff Ices. Everyone is getting along nicely and a few group photos are taken. I set the camera on timer so that I can also get in the campside picture and leg it through the dark and smash straight into a massive rock- bashing my right shin, left knee, cutting my left hand and scraping my forearm. The pain was sickening and I had to be carried off to the food hut to have first aid... and I have a lovely picture of the whole group looking behind themselves to see a girl crashing into a rock. My legs were a mess :( I am irredemably a biff.
Katherine Gorge and some of the group
Was lovely. Big rivers running through 'Crocadile Dunndee' style landscapes, and so we had a bit of a canoe down the Freshwater Crocodile waters in the morning, mooring on a little beach for a swim with the crocs and the catfish before heading to Darwin for the night. I have to mention a very special couple at this point. When we aquired our new group three days previously, we got a 19 year old German boy and 29 year old Dutch guy, 2 Japanese girls, 3 german girls, a nurse from Perth, a waitress from Sydney, an aussie couple expecting their first child.... and then Harold and Barbara from Melbourne, aged 72 and 77 respectively. When these two clambered onto the van I thought 'Jesus Christ, what the hell are they on this tour for???' I'm a fairly fit individual- the tour brochure demands a certain level of fitness to complete it and after the first week I could see why. But these two were OLD. However after a couple of days with them it became apparent that these two were going to be very entertaining. True Blue Aussies, Harold and Barbs bickered their way up the red centre, always doing every hike and always looking on the verge of a heart attack. When Sanders, the Dutch dude, got in the front of the 4WD he grabbed the mic and asked Harold to tell the group about Barbera and vice versa.
Harold: ' Well I tried me bladdy hardest to come on me own on this tour. And if Id have known there was gonna be so many beautiful girls on it Id have tried a lot harder! I cook, I clean, I have no bladdy idea what she does but I cant seem to get rid of her' - then much cackling.
Barbs just shrugged and giggled. In between them sat a poor Japanese girl who had no English and had to mediate between the two of them for the last three days in Kakadu.
Litchfield National Park
So we get a new tour guide, Jamie and she takes us towards the Park via some MASSIVE termite mounds. I know you are probably thinking 'Why would you want to see these things' but they were massive- one had the nickname The Cathedral and there were so many it looked like some weird cemetary- just thousands of stone coloured mounds for miles. Then we went to Florence Falls and Buley Falls for a swim in some magical waterfalls. At one point Harold took a bit of a turn and we thought maybe he really was having a heart attack. It scared the bejesus out of Jamie and attracted alot of attention. he was fine eventually but despite being a lovely guy- whoever had booked this couple onto such a strenuos tour should have been shot- it just wasnt suitable for them. Anyway we were taken to a much more relaxing activity- a river cruise on the Mary River to go Saltwater and Freshwater croc spotting. Again, it reminded me of being in the Pantanal in Brazil- with many tropical birds as well as the crocs. Lovely lovely.
The next day we went to Maguk (Barramundi Gorge) for a swim in the rock pools- big blue skies, red rocks and green fauna, the cool waters were just the ticket for my aching tush- those 4WD on the dirt tracks just rattle your bones I swear. Jamie showed us some underwater caves to swim under but I wimped out. We went to Ubirr for another nature walk- saw the most impressive Abo rock art on the trip and then climbed the lookout point to look at the plains- that looked like the Serengeti. It was a scene used in Crocodile Dundee, when Mick D says 'Welcome to my office'. We sat off and watched another amazing sunset...
Jim Jim Falls and Twin Falls
The most tricky of the hikes, but most fun, was Jim Jim. You had to clamber over huge boulders and rocks like an 8 year old and poor old Harold had to stay behind- but stubborn Barbs insisted on coming. Oh it was a worry. Eventually we made it to the canyon where the falls would 'fall' in the rainey season, but for now we were rewarded with a white beach around a lake, in the canyon. There was no way you could pass up a swim after the effort of getting there so we did. Then we clambered back over the boulders (took about half an hour) and headed to Twin Falls. Twin Falls was only accessible by a boat service and you couldnt swim in it because it was Salty Croc infested- but my was it beautiful. The sand was so hot it burned your feet but it was like something out of The Beach. On the way back you could get drenched by a shower before getting on the boat- which was a good idea after basking in that heat and not being able to swim in it. All in, Kakadu was the best part of the out back. You get the red earth and the blue skies, but you also get the water, as well as really good rock art and all of the 'roos and possums etc. Everyone felt refreshed, happy, and it was the end of the tour- and a great way to spend my last day in Australia after 10 and a half months here! We all went out in Darwin, got a bit twisted, and then after saying sad goodbyes to a great crew, and adopted brother Jonny, I jumped a rickshaw (yep- in Darwin) to the hostel, grabbed my stuff and headed for my plane to Bangkok.

Razzin around like a Tassie Devil

Oh its happened again. I keep meaning to log in and tell y'all about it and then loads happens, I'm a busy bee and have no effing time to type it down. Oh well, as my mate Scouse Mick once said, lifes for living, not writing about....

So I was in the Aussie 'Snow' having a bit of culture shock to living in a tiny snow village with a load of mad aussies. Once published, that last blog entry recieved mixed reviews about how harsh I'd been on the old Aussie humour and looking back- it was a bit scathing. I made some great mates there and was sad to say goodbye to the 'Stillwell Posse' that was my lodge. It was by far the best lodge to work in, best food and best craic. The village, a bit like Emmerdale with snow, had it 'all going on'. We had a sexual harrasment charge, and assault charge with police on ski mobilies turning up the next day. Got barred from the only pub in the village a few times. Blagged on the lifts and never bought a season pass... Ended the whole season with an infamous group staying at Stillwell called the 'Funhoggs' who drank Bloody Marys with their breakfast and were pished for the whole week. Every night after dinner they and all staff had to go out into the cold snowy night and shout 'Some MITTY! Some TITTY! Sooooome SUCK! -SUCK SUCK!' and neck a Schnapps- on the house by them. As staff we were knackered after a week of that. Jason aquired the nickname 'Seagull' for being a greedy bastard and had to explain to customers that the cookie jar saying 'Not For Seagulls' was actually a deterent for him- and no their were not any seagulls near Mt Kosiosko even though some 'basic' customers got a bit confused at the sign. Brooke would just cackle 'Nah, we used to have a crow turn up for scraps but now we've got a seagull upstairs that scared him away hahaha'.

So, with a mixture of relief (it was a small place) and sadness (goodbye little sister Brooke you alchie, Michal you love, and Bree you bossy boots) Jason and I headed back briefly to Sydney to pack up some stuff and say goodbye to the depleted Sydney gang of Heather, Chris & Kerry, Samuel and also Matt n Marcus, before flying off to the cheeky little Island/State of Tasmania!
We'd made a bit of a friend at the beginning of the snow season in 23 year old Patrick. Patrick is as dry as a desert and funny too, and probably regretted the casual invite to look after us when we emailed him and said we were coming. Pat likes to pick up other peoples slang words and use them in Tassie convo. His favourite when we stayed was 'you mong'.

Tasmania
Now every mainlander Aussie who heard we were going to Tassie asked 'What the bloody hell for?!!' but with hand on heart it was one of the most hospitable and friendly places I've visited. Patrick and his girlfriend Jackie picked us up from the airport with the aid of their friend Cass and her car and then took us to Hobart. Then we were introduced to Dan over nachos in a cafe in Salamanca waterfront. Then Pat n' Jacks had to go to work so Dan, who we'd only known 30 minutes, took us on a tour of Hobart! Pat and Jackie lived in a self contained flat within Jackies parents bungalow (Australia loves bunglows!) so effectively we were staying with Jackies parents and we had only really just met her also. Her parents Ian and Glenwyn were absolutley lovely and I could have stolen the family pet dog Moe who had a 'Gap' hoodie and was just one cute pooch.
We stayed a week and packed so much in. That first night, with our hosts working late, Cass and Dan picked us up and took us to Cassies beachside Clifton home for a roast dinner, complete with her neices giving us a bit of a show and also getting to meet a MENTAL Chiauaua called Diesel. Then when Pat & Jacks turned up we all went down to Clifton beach to check out the stars which were amazing. On the Friday we mountain biked down Mount Wellington, complete with geeky crash helmets and had a nose at the old Cascade Brewery- the oldest one in Australia. We went to the 'infamous' Salamanca markets on the Saturday and then took a tour to Port Arthur. You know how we joke that Australia was Englands biggest prison 200 years ago? Well if you were a 'crim' who wouldnt learn in NSW then you got deported to Port Arthur in Tasmania which at that time was probably the arse end of the world for an English man. The place is now a heritage site with many of the buildings preserved and after dark you can go on a 'Ghost Tour' which we did. Didnt see any ghosts unfortuantley but was a good laugh all the same. You had to feel for the poor buggers who served there- it was just a wretched place.
We took a day trip to Freycinet National park so we could check out Wineglass Bay- which was picture perfect. Then we took a 3 hour hike around the Peninsula which just knackered us out.
Jackie and Pat were a pair of 'musos' and had tickets to a Blues festival/concert type thingy and we were lucky, along with Dan, to be able to get in. This thing wasnt in a big arena, or field though. It was held in a kind of country Roadhouse cum pub in the middle of nowhere and was jam packed. We got to see Australias prevelent Bluesman Ash Grunwald, who was amusing as well as very good. I even bought a cd.
To round off the trip we took a tour to Russell Falls and the surrounding nature walks which reminded me alot of New Zealand and then we headed to The Sanctuary to see some real live Tassie Devils! I have to say, I thought they were quite cute- a bit like pot bellied pigs but with MASSIVE chompers. These ones didnt seem too scary as they were in captivity and seemed to like the ready supply of meat the warden chucked them. You would'nt want a bite off them though- you would definately lose your fingers. We also checked out all the small Wallabies, Euros (little Kangaroos) Possems and a very groovy, very chilled, and very HEEEE-OWJ Koala.
So yeah, Tassie in a week was jam packed. After a week our hosts must have breathed a sigh of relief that they had actually got rid of us but I hope when P&J (who start a RTW trip in November) land in the Uk they will let us repay the favour. They were feckin' brilliant.
And after all that, we flew to Melbourne.

Melbourne
We landed in Melbourne and decided to treat ourselves to a double room in a budget hotel rather than hostelling it for the first night. We checked out the cinema (Nacho Libre- ummm not that good) and had some nice Japanese grub before turning in. The next day we headed to the suburb of St Kilda so I could see it for myself after watching The Secret Life of Us years ago. Such a fan. Anyway St Kilda, in fact Melbourne, is very quirky and has a distinctly funkier feel than Sydney. We met another 'Ex Snow Bunny' in the shape of Amy from Sussex who took us to a club with the dubious name Brown Alley. Anyway, I didnt rate it- J thought it was alright. Next day we met up with Jonny Bancroft, a Geordie we also met in the snow. The original plan was for the three of us to head up the red centre together, but with Jason having to go to Thailand on the 2nd October it meant Jonny and I would be doing that together instead. Anyway due to not living in Melbourne, or even knowing anyone in the know (my hotmail had locked me out so couldnt email any of the melbourne mates I had lined up) we had a bit of a haphazard night out that took us from one side of the city to the other. We started in a too cool for school bar in Brunswick, then ended up in the deadest club ever near St Kilda- even though it had really good music. Was late, we spent a lot, but again not the best night out I've had.
Sunday roamed abit more of the city- mainly looking for some Adidas jacket Jonny wanted; 'Ive been dreaming about it man' but the only thing we aquired was sore feet. Chilled out and waited in anticipation for Neighbours Night!

Neighbours Night...
Ahhhh. It all went a bit loopy this one. On the bill for celeb meeting was Janel and Dylan (only vaguely know them) Toadie(!) and we had a special night because the band playing at the pub that night, 'Waiting Room', was fronted by none other than DR.CARL.KENNEEEEDYYYYYY!!!
We got there nice and early and you couldnt help but notice that the room was full of women- so bloke backpackers take note- a great pulling ground of Brit backpackers. Probably explains why Jason, before we started going out, had stayed in Melbourne for 3 weeks and went to the neighbours night every week. This was his fourth Neighbours Night, the sad individual.
We sat on a table with a couple, and three girls from Scotland and got very, very pissed. On a large screen various Neighbours 'Weddings' including Daphanies and Charleens played to the crowd and got us in the mood. There was a quiz (ridiculously hard) and then the 'stars' came out to do a Q&A. Then they roamed around so you could have your picture taken with them- each had a bouncer and they would only stay with you for a pic- they wouldnt sign anything or, even when I chased Toadie around the pub, speak to your mates on the phone. So I called him a wanker. But I was, um, a bit worse for wear. One of the Scottish girls was like "I cant beleive Toadies married!! Apparently before he was married he slept with all the fans. I canne agree with sleepin wie' a married man but I would def shag Toadie!!"
I was aghast!!! I mean a) that she wanted to sleep with some poor girls husband and b) that it was repulsive Toadie. Backpackers, man. Some sluts out there and no mistake.
By the time Dr. Carl came on I was wasted. They started with The Killers 'Somebody Told Me' and the way I ran onto the dancefloor to dance right in front of him you would have thought it was The Killers Brandon Flowers and not some middle aged soap actor. While I was shaking my thing Jason had to continually tell some persistent bird that that the mess on the dancefloor was infact his girlfriend, thankyou very much, and then eventually I had to be practically carried out of the pub. If anyone recieved a messy phonecall from Jason that night (or myself, I cant really remember) then apologies from both of us. Such a mess.... we needed an extra day to recover before we picked up our hire car for the Great Ocean Road.

The Great Ocean Road
This was all about a bit of scenic culture. It took three days and two nights and in it we covered the Twelve Apostles- we stopped and had a cheeky helicopter ride above them and I was actually a bit scared again. Seems my fear of flying is returning- will have to jump out of another plane to get rid of it. We passed countless beautiful beaches and if it were Aussie summer we would have gone for a swim- but it was sunny, not warm. Also I have to say that south Victoria and Southern Australia has some stunning countryside- very like the rolling hills of the UK- it was a surprise. The second day we headed to the Grampians National Park to check out The Balconies and take a few scenic pics. Alot of forestation had been burnt in the New Years bush fires so some areas where sectioned off. When we got to the Balconies (unusual cliff edges like, well, a balcony) we waited until there were no tourists/rangers about before climbing over the safety rail and posing on the said cliff edges for photos. It was safe Ma dont worry...
Had a night in a YHA ecological hostel (all solar powered and quite swanky for a hostel) and cooked and then headed to Adelaide.

Adelaide
Not lots to tell as I wind this one up. Adelaide is a small fairly cute city. Bits of it reminded me of Hobart and it was just chilled. We stayed in a St Kilda-esque seaside area called Glenelg in a bit of a ropey backpackers that was full of sport students and then realised that the tour Jonny and I were supposed to be joining wouldnt pick us up from that area. On the Saturday night we three went to visit Jason's Auntie Juliette and her family. She cooked us a traditional Indian curry which was delish, and her husband Aussie Uncle Rob 'showed' us the garden which was just an excuse for this Aussie ex smoker to bum a cig off Jonny- only to be caught later by his wife. He also rummaged around under his window ledges so we could see some Red Back spiders. Honestly my skin was crawling just looking. Then the whole family, thats Aunt, Uncle and 3 children drove us up to Windy Point to have a night time view of Adelaide- lovely.
Sunday was my last day with Jason before he headed to Thailand. We moved hostels to the city, and went to a Chinese resturant before heading to some random club that had a Hed Kandi DJ on. I had met some FrenchMaurituius bird on the tram that day so she came out too.It was very late, and the next day I was in a very hungover, foul mood as I hugged my boyfriend goodbye and climbed on a tour bus to the outback.

Stackin' it a year on...

Yes it really has been THAT long. One whole year ago I stepped onto a flight to Rio and now… I’m in Australia’s highest resort- Charlotte Pass. Got here about a month ago and it seems like I’ve been in this weird time warp forever. Mentioned in the last blog that J and myself were headed here to work a ski season and save some spondulies for the trip homeward. I have gone from Tropical Cairns and Queensland to the Snowy Mountains of New South Wales. Its freezing and I no longer have a tan- unlike the UK, I hear, which is uncharacteristically ROASTING.
Anyway this is the deal :
Charlotte Pass is only accessible by snowcat. So we bussed it from Sydney to Jindabyne, got a ‘snow tube’ to Perisher Valley and then the snowcat to Charlotte Pass.
Charlotte Pass has…
11 lodges
1 Office
2 Restaurants
1 Pub
1 Road
5 Ski Lifts (2 of them closed)

Anyway this has all been a bit of a culture shock for a city slicker ‘mover on-er’ like myself. We have literally been stranded here and I can say this is the first time in 7 months of living in Australia that I have been truly immersed in Aussie culture. I am one of only five Brits living in the village, aside from J, there is Richard the Essex boy Chef and another girl from Sussex. On Tuesday night there was much excitement at the arrival of Geordie John. Family orientated, Charlotte Pass is not the hive of activity that Ski resorts Perisher or Thredbo are.
But it has its underbelly.
The Pulpit Pub is the place everybody slinks into regardless of if they like it or not. Amongst the instructors, ‘lifties’, chefs, admin and chalet staff, there are negotiations of free lessons, selling of second hand gear and of course the total incestuous ness of all the little snow skanks trying to pull each other, talk about the pulling of each other, and the heart breaks of those who should not be pulling each other. It did throw a good 80's Fancy dress party though.

A new discovery, that might get me stoned by some, is that a lot of that Famous Aussie Humour is well, rather basic. Irony and sarcasm seem to go right over their heads in a very American way and the main source of amusement seems to be repeating the ‘in’ catchphrases ‘Feed it’ ‘Drill it’ and ‘It’s all going on’. This can also be verified by the question ‘Is it all going on?’ and I wonder why it’s asked so much because clearly in our little village, alot it isn’t.
Our head Chef, Shooter, is currently wearing me down by repeating all of that lot while I’m doing the dishes and also constantly asking me, to every song played on Australia’s beloved Triple J radio station, ‘This is your favourite song isn’t Lesley?’ I think with the aim of driving effing crazy. Sometimes he sneaks up on me when I’m in the chiller getting something and SCREAMS to scare the bejesus out of me. I snuck up on him the other day with a metal dome thing and spoon and banged the hell out of it til he probably got tinnitus and had a heart attack. Bloody loon.
Also I have noticed that while Aussie blokes generally have ‘normal’ names like Steve and Michael (our Chef, Manager and Dishie respectively) the girls in our lodge are called Bree, Brooke, Michal… not a Jane or Jenny amongst them. There is even a Liftie, lovely geezer though he is, called Chanse. Anyway I digress, but you know what I mean don’t you?

So, having had a month to adjust to all of that, I can honestly say I’m really enjoying myself here. Got me a snowboard and boots dontcha know and by jove, I think I’ve got it. Spent the first two or three attempts going down the slopes on feet and shoulder blades- a bit like a crab- dismayed and despairing- because I just could not stand up on the thing. In my defence I have never been on a piece of snow sport equipment in my life but God it was frustrating. But now, well I can heel to toe like a MoFo and I’m really getting into it. It’s funny because I thought Id learn to surf in Aus, not snowboard, and I’m surprised at the amount of Aussies who are really into the snow. Mental note to self: I really need to get me some travel insurance. Ha. I am COVERED with bruises- once I banana slipped on ice outside the lodge and landed on my head, once I stacked it really bad. And landed on my head.

So to end my ‘One Year On The Road’ anniversary blog entry I can say that the old homesickness has crept in a fair bit this month, and I miss y’all heaps. Seen a fair old bit around the globe but it’s true that it’s the people you meet, who make the experiences so much better. Holly & Siri in Brazil, Ben, Claire and Nick in Bolivia, Mish in Peru, Phil, Jacinda, James, Anne, Aisling, Joe, Jean, Lynn, Ross and Alan and Irish David(!) in Argentina, the ‘Christopher’s’ (French and Bavarian) in Chile, Claire (Amsterdam) Rachel, Sophie and all of the Kiwi Ex bus in New Zealand, Thanks to James Le Sarg and Marcus ‘Dirty Sanchez’ for the free digs and laughs and thank my LUCK for the ‘Sydney Crew’; Lucy, Heather, Ian, Sam, Mark, Onlika, Matt, Marcus, Kerry & Chris and Mark the Hairdresser plus the call centre slave pals Janine and Irish David AGAIN.
And Jason, of course.
What’s lovely about this lot is that I’m going to see them all again- mostly in England. Then trips to Scotland, Ireland, Holland and Sweden to see the rest, when I can afford…
But to my lovely pals and family at home I can tell you it’s where my heart is, and you know who you are. But for now and for the next 5 months, I’ll just keep on doing it for the fans…