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A man from Cockshutt.

a travel blog by olliejohnson


This is the story of my journey to Australia, and the erratic wanderings that followed.
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Pandas and hotpot

Chengdu, China


Having already endured some hardship on a 6 day train journey, it was nice to have the comfort of the aeroplane again for this next trip, despite the 4:30am start it required. Had to barter with the taxi driver to get the proper fare to the airport, and he even asked for another 20 as when we arrived (in sign language, as neither of us spoke the other's language.)
"No mate. We agreed before"
He smiled and shrugged he shoulders as if to indicate a "no harm in asking".

Despite Chengdu not being that far from Beijing on a map of China, it was still a 2 1/2 hour flight. Yep, China is massive. The hostel I've stayed at here (Mix backpackers) has been awesome. Much more lively than the one in Beijing, and dead cheap too. You can get a large bottle of beer and a really good meal for just under a pound. Also took advantage of their extensive and impressive pirate DVD collection on a day off from doing/seeing stuff. In truth, I've done pretty much sweet FA in the time I've been here, just relaxed. I did take a quick trip downtown to see their massive Mao statue - that little guy gets everywhere!

And, of course, I went to see the pandas at the research centre. The Chinese absolutely love their pandas. They're so proud that they're the one country that has them naturally, and think everyone thinks that they're amazing for trying to save them. Well, not quite China. We all think it's your fault for killing the poor bastards in the first place (putting aside the creature's basic design faults.) So, you know, just think about that before you start errr, getting all about loving yourselves for it. And stuff. Anyway, They've got something like 70 or 80 pandas there, and they're trying to breed more. They've even got a panda sperm bank, and unnecessarily showed a film about how they got it. It seems Rebecca Loos really will do anything for money.

The one thing we were told at the hostel about the research centre, was that the pandas really didn't do much, but there was one cheeky chap that spends his whole time on show just rubbing his ass against things. Kind of like a panda pole dancer. With this in mind, we set out. The first panda we came to walked about a bit and then just sat in a Tyre and looked at us. He didn't really seem to fit the hippy-ish mantra on the sign by his enclosure: "love me, don't bother me." He looked more likely to say something like: "I've just spent the night being sexually molested by Chinese scientists. I'll be honest, I'm not in the best of moods. I just want to sit in my Tyre. And I want you to f**k off."

Having gleaned this information from his eyes, we moved on. And there he was, already in the midst of his ass-rubbing routine, and with an excitable crowd already gathered. We were there for about 5 minutes, and the whole time he rubbed his ass. I've even got video footage (I know that Murph (T) likes a bit of sexual panda). He began on a tree stump, which had the crowd a little concerned that it may disappear where the sun doesn't shine, before moving onto one of the legs of his climbing/lounging frame. A star is born.

There were also newborn panda twins in an incubator, who were only a few weeks old. Though, as me and Dave (a scouser from my hostel) discussed, they could just be painted rats, displayed to satisfy stupid tourists.

Then, in the evening, came the hotpot. It's apparently a Sichuan speciality (Sichuan being the province that Chengdu is in). I went out for this with an American guy, a Danish girl, and Dave the Scouser. Dave is just about to start a year in China as part of his degree (Oriental Studies at Edinburgh), and so has already done 2 years of Chinese. This made him the orderer. We eventually picked a restaurant, and took a seat. Built into the centre of the table was a massive burner, which would keep the large hotpot wok-thing hot throughout the meal. The way it all worked was that you ordered a bunch of ingredients, a spicy stock was brought out in the wok, accompanied by a few veg, and you then added the ingredients to the hotpot as you wanted them. When they're cooked, you fish something out with your chopsticks, dip it in some sauce, and eat it.

When the menu arrived in Chinese, naturally Dave was entrusted to sort it all out. Our only input was "just normal meat stuff. Maybe beef. Oh and some mushrooms would be good. And no weird things like heads or feet." Had we been able to understand Dave's conversation with our waitress, where he said "what would you recommend," and then went with that without understanding what it actually was, we wouldn't have been quite so surprised when the ingrediants worked their way out. Mushrooms, good; cabbage, ok; spring onions, fine; weird meaty clumps, should be alright; then something greeny brown, smooth one side and spiky on the other.
"WTF is that Dave?"
Dave puffs his cheeks, exhales and shakes his head, before composing himself.
"Looks like stomach lining or something doesn't it?"
"I tell you what it doesn't look like. It doesn't look like beef."
"It could be from a cow. And I think those clumps of meat are beef anyway."
"Don't you know what you ordered?"
"Some of it. I'm still not great understanding the characters. We did more ancient characters at uni. This is more modern stuff."
And then the piece de resistance. Wobbling in on a bed of lettuce, sliced into 4 quarters, a pink, slimy brain.
"Is that what I think it is??!"
"Umm....I'll just check the menu again....Of course, I should have recognised the character for brain. But it says it's brain flower. Not sure what animal that'll be from then. But you've got to try it haven't you."
"Nope."
And I was good to my word. I occasionally bobbed for some of the strange meat, or vegetables, but it was left to Dave and the Dane to eat the brain, and Dave alone to try the weird carpet thing. Both, apparently, were not that great.

The next morning, I set off for Leshan and the Giant Buddha.



permalink written by  olliejohnson on August 19, 2006 from Chengdu, China
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The Giant Buddha

Leshan, China


I was able to leave my actual backpack in Chengdu as I explored the surrounding areas over the next couple of days. I just took everything I needed in my smaller daypack. First stop was Leshan, a small city just 2 hours south of Chengdu by bus. I walked from the bus to the port, from where a boat would, I hoped, take me to the Giant Buddha, carved into the cliff-face across the river. Unfortunately, all we got was a stop right in front of the Buddha for about 5 minutes. This turned out to be enough time for the boat owners to rip some more tourists off by charging them to take photos from a raised platfrom at one end of the boat. It was free just to take your own right next to this, but amazingly, most were happy to pay the extra.

The stop did allow plenty of photo time though, and the view was great, so that was enough for me. As we approached the port on the way back, a crazy old Chinese guy with a cowboy hat came up to me and shouted "En-gerrand!"
"Yep"
"Photo?"
He wanted have his photo taken with me. Flattered, I struck a suitable pose, whilst he jumped excitedly next to me.

I then walked back to the bus station for the half hour bus to Mount Emei (EmeiShan in Chinese), and my accomodation for the night.

permalink written by  olliejohnson on August 21, 2006 from Leshan, China
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Mount Emei

Baoguosi, China


The little village at the base of the mountain is called Baoguo, but that doesn't seem to appear on the map here and this Baoguosi does, so Baoguosi it is. I spent the night before the climb at the Teddy Bear Hotel. This was another really good place, with clean rooms and good cheap food. Plus sound advice from Andy, the hostel owner about the best plan of attack for the mountain the next day. Of course, I knew better, so I listened, then planned my own route.

The mountain is one of 4 Buddhist mountains in China. That is, they are considered holy, and have temples built on them. Emei is the biggest though, and has a staircase all the way from the bottom to the top. It climbs 2,500 metres in the process. It is also famous for containing wild monkeys. These monkeys are something of an icon for the park (in which the mountain is contained) and were pretty much the main attraction for me. I'd heard many tales about them. Described variously as "about the size of pit-bulls" and "vicious little bastards", they are reputedly able to steal the bag off your back, let alone any food you may be carrying in bags in your hands. You are told to be ultra-careful against these little thieves, and the monkey protocol involves opening your hands palms down to show your lack of food. I had not heard, until I stayed at the hostel, that your walking stick could be used as a weapon/form of defence.

Written on the walls of the hostel were words of advice from previous travellers. A few stuck in my mind, such as:
- "there are supposed to be some lovely views. I didn't see any because I was counting steps (I'm autistic). There are 66,321."
- "a good tip for the monkeys: carry a rock with you and pretend to throw it at them. It should send them scurrying for cover. Of course, don't actually throw the rock...."
- and my favourite, written by brits proudly naming their homeland under their signatures, was this: "don't hit the monkeys too hard with your walking sticks. We did, and the poor chap died right in front of us..."

The more I thought about it, the worse it got. Especially the "we" part, which I hadn't even noticed originally. Surely it only takes one person to shoo away a monkey, especially if you're beating it with a stick. But two of you? That sounded more like a gangland killing. And how hard would you have to hit one to kill it??! I now had images of two men wielding their walking sticks like baseball bats, pounding an already wounded and immobile monkey to death on the floor, before kicking it off the path into the undergrowth. Needless to say, my expected encounter with the monkeys had already caught my imagination. And I knew where I'd find them. Andy had helpfully marked the 'joking monkey sections' on the map for me. I just hoped that they wouldn't nick my camera if I got it out to photo them. However, I now had a carte-blanche to beat them with my walking stick. What an opportunity! Just as long as I didn't beat them to death of course. But apparently even then it's ok. Such is the spirit that built an Empire!

I got the first bus the next morning to a section of the mountain that would allow me to get to a temple near to the top by the evening. Of course, Andy didn't recommend this, but what the hell did he know? Due to the nature of the first section of the mountain (going up and down in equal measures) it would still require a climb of well over 2,000 metres. Which sounded like a hell of a lot to me. However, being dropped off with a massive Chinese tour-group spurred me on to a lightning start. But the temple that we were dropped off at would be the last landmark I would recognise. Trusting in the nature of having to go up to reach the top of something, I pressed on regardless. The occasional piece of (hopefully) monkey-shit on the ground got me tense and ready for confrontation. But after 4 hours I'd found nothing.

It was at this point I came across a Chinese student. Desperate to know if I was on the right track, I foolishly asked him where we were on the map. I had apparently now made a binding contract to spend (at least) the rest of my day with him. After telling me I'd already gone 15 km, I thanked him and left, only to discover that he was already right by my side. Though it was nice to have some company for the climb and a translator, the constant stopping to have people take photos of us together had me slightly un-nerved. I conveyed to my new best friend my desire to see the monkeys. Did he have any idea what had happened to them? All he could say was that the monkeys were very bad, and I was lucky to have avoided them. He told me they would try and open my backpack. I proudly tapped the heavy-duty padlock that Mrs J had insisted I take. This impressed him.

Near the top we came to a sign telling us that this was a monkey area and to be very careful. Needless to say, I was ready for them. There was also a temple. I asked my friend what the sign on the temple said. He said he couldn't translate it. Jokingly, I said,"it's the monkeys temple?"
This was met with a deadpan face.
"No, temple for people. Monkeys in trees, people in temple."
"Right, right"
Long pause.
"So, no monkey buddhists then?"
"No. Monkeys in trees."
"Oh, ok."


And then we stumbled across them. What an anticlimax. They were just sitting there eating some fruit or something, with a small crowd of people trying to take photos without risking their cameras. Occasionally, one guy would go to the front with some dried flower, and show it to the monkeys. This, they did not like. Not one bit. They hissed, bared their teeth and backed off. I really, really wanted to get my hands on one of those things, but I had to settle for a few photos and no monkey fighting.

We were that close to the top by this point, that I thought we'd press on and do it all in a day, working our way down the next day. It's probably also worth mentioning the fog. This was so thick, that by the time we did actually reach the top, we couldn't even see the 20 metre high golden statue when we were standing right in front of it. There was just a golden haze. And the fog also meant no panoramic views. I did, however, manage to make a few people's days. By the statue there was a group of about 6 Chinese students - one lad and 5 girls. They wanted a group photo with me. I obliged, and then found out that each wanted 2 solo pictures with me too. So I stood there for about 5 minutes with this fixed grin on my face, while the students each took their turns pulling various poses around me, as though I was some kind of landmark. The usual 'V' peace signs; arms spread wide open; arms up to the sky etc etc. On the way back down, there were no free beds at the nearest temples, so I caught a bus back to the hostel from a nearby stop. The weather was even worse the next day, so I decided to head back to Chengdu.

permalink written by  olliejohnson on August 21, 2006 from Baoguosi, China
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Back in Chengdu

Chengdu, China


Spent the next night in Chengdu to catch a flight to Guilin the next morning, having given up trying to go through China overland. Cheap flights plus 6 days on a train at the start of the trip had killed that idea. Anyway, here is a picture of a Red Panda, which I think looks more like a racoon. See what you make of it.

permalink written by  olliejohnson on August 23, 2006 from Chengdu, China
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The Big Question

Guilin, China


It turned out that the weather wasn't great in Guilin either. Still very humid and hot, but with frequent rainstorms. And there was a powercut at my hostel that would last until 9:30 that evening.

Guilin itself is actually a pretty nice-looking city - with 2 rivers and amazing limestone peaks (large sharp hills jutting up from nowhere) surrouding the city. As I began my search for flights agents to get my flight to Bangkok, I was soon joined by another Chinese student that wanted to practice her English. She translated for me at the agencies, and took me on a guided tour of Guilin's sights. This included a trip around a famous lake, which has bridges across it that are small replicas of famous bridges around the world; such as the Golden Gate bridge, the one that goes across the Grand Canal in Venice, and, bizzarely, the Arc De Triumph.

It was as we wondered around this lake, past one of the numerous street vendors selling live produce in nets or out of bowls of water, that I broached a subject that had been on my mind for some while.
"You see that bag of frogs? Is that for someone to eat?"
She smiled and looked a little embarrassed
"Err...Yes."
"Uh-huh. And what about snails? Do you eat them?"
She nodded, looking a little embarrassed again. But I was on roll. Screw the consequences, I wanted answers. Best get straight to the point.
"Right. What about dogs? Do people eat them?"
Another embarrassed laugh. Followed by a nod! Finally, an admission! Although she was at pains to point out that she had never eaten it, and then pointed out that with our different cultures some things may seem strange to each other, but we should try to understand that the difference is what makes us interesting. All true, but we don't eat man's best friend, and you do.
"And what about scorpions? In Beijing I saw them on sticks. It looked like it's ok to eat anything as long as it's on a stick."
"Scol-pon?"
"You know...", and I began an attempt to create an international sign for Scorpion. This involved using one hand to recreate the body and legs (wiggling fingers to indicate this), and the other to show the tail. I felt it was important to focus on the tail and its ability to sting. I even showed how my hand scorpion might use its tail to attack it's prey.
"....so its tail goes like that, and it kills things with it."
"Maybe if I see it I will know it."
Well I just bloody showed you it! And then it hit me. The pincers. That's why she didn't get it.
"Of course - it's got pincers too." Hands now morphing into pincers. "Pincers...see?"
"Ummm..."

On my return to the hostel, I met an English guy who had actually tried some dog himself in a specialist restaurant in Beijing. He said it tasted like a very tender beef. He'd also tried scorpion, which was apparently just like crunchy fried chicken.

I was just spending the one night in Guilin and was off to Yangshou the next day, where I'd planned to spend the best part of a week chilling out before flying to Bangkok.

permalink written by  olliejohnson on August 24, 2006 from Guilin, China
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Going Neon on bamboo rafts

Yangshuo, China


Apparently, they do things differently in the South. Bus transport up to this point had been nerve-wracking enough, but for the journey to Yangshou another element was added. As there were quite a few spaces on our bus, our driver decided to try and line his pockets some, so drove around Guilin for half an hour at walking pace, with his friend hanging out of the open door shouting for any extra business for a lift to Yangshuo. A quick argument down his Mobile later, we suddenly stopped in the middle of a main road and were shouted at. Apparently we had to get off. Noticing my reluctance to move, his friend grabbed my backpack and ran out of the door with it. He now had my attention. I ran after him, and took the hint when he threw it on a different bus about 20 metres down the road. Luckily this bus did actually take us to Yangshuo (after a few stops on route to pick up extra people).



I soon found a decent hostel in Yangshuo which was in the middle of West Street, which is the main street in the town. The town itself is not that big at all, and it is very westernised, but it was perfect for me. This was definately somewhere I could stay and relax for a while. The bars were pretty busy, some had upstairs lounges where you could watch movies, and aside from all that, the town itself is in a beautiful location. There were lots of day tours to do various activities, or you could just hire a bike and explore on your own.

The main attraction in and around Yangshuo are the massive limestone peaks that dominate this part of the province. The Li River also runs through the town, and old people punt along on bamboo rafts. When I went down to have a look at the river, the road alongside it had been closed off with a heavy police presence. I stuck around to see what was going on, and then a very important-looking man in a suit walked past, clapping the crowd like a footballer coming off in the second half after a great game. Needless to say, I liked this guy's style. I later found out that he was the Vietnamese President.

After having to fish for the dog-eating admission in Guilin, I found that here in Yangshuo they are far more proud about it. I asked some locals about what type of dogs they ate. Apparently, it's not a normal one like Labrador or Poodle, but in fact a type bred especially for it's meat. I'm not sure whether that breed has a name, or whether it's just a 'meat' dog. Whatever it is, it's on the menus in restaurants and everything. In one it had 'Stir Fried dog. (Honest)'. I'm not sure whether this was as in, "Yep, it's dog. But at least we're being honest," or, "Honestly, it's dog." Either which way, I don't think the word 'honest' ever really bodes that well on a menu.

I'd managed to keep a bottle of Russian vodka with me up to this point, but it lasted no longer as me and some of my room-mates decided to sneak it out with us to make the night a bit cheaper, before heading to the night market. This was much like the one in Beijing, but less sanitary, with chickens and fish being variously killed and butchered right next to the woks. Delicacies on offer here included dried River Rat (which looked like a bat), snake, raw chikens' feet, and of course dog. We bought something that looked like an umbilical cord wrapped around a stick. The suspicion is that it might have been a skinned baby eel. Or maybe it was just an actual umbilical cord. It was fairly inedible.

The next day, me and a girl from my dorm decided to go bamboo rafting. We got a day's free bike rent with this to get us to the raft, and for us to explore the area afterwards. Having not ridden a bike for so long, I got pretty saddle sore and fairly terrified having to negate the Chinese roads. And, as I stupidly forgotten to put suncream on, or even bring it with me, I ended up with florescent legs and pin-striped feet. I knew it was happening, but there was no escape.

The trip itself was really cool, and we had a pretty funny driver/punter who started the day the way he meant to go on by necking a beer. After we got off the raft, we headed up to a place called Moon Hill, which has great views of the area.

I'd managed to find a cheap flight to Bangkok, so decided to go there next, and hopefully straight on to Chiang Mai.

permalink written by  olliejohnson on August 25, 2006 from Yangshuo, China
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Notes on China

Yangshuo, China


1. China is massive in every way. Roughly the same size as the 48 States, it has a population of 1.3 billion. That means that 1 in every 5 people on Earth is Chinese.

2. It's the Chinese who should have the reputation as the ones obsessed with tea. They drink it literally all the time. Even young people carry around thermos flasks of tea, just in case they wander too far from somewhere that serves it.

3. On approaching middle age, it becomes essential for Chinese men to pull up their t-shirts to just over their beer belly whenever they are slightly warm.

4. Driving like you want to die is a must for any bus driver who wants to be taken seriously. You must spend equal amounts of time on each side of the road, attempting to over/undertake vehicles that are smaller and faster, regardless of any approaching traffic. Instead of a brake pedal, you sound your horn.


permalink written by  olliejohnson on August 30, 2006 from Yangshuo, China
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One night in Bangkok

Bangkok, Thailand


My flight only got in around 10pm, and by the time I'd got the bus into the city, it was too late and I was too tired to have a look around. It was funny enough to have 2 prostitutes standing there cooing at me as soon as I got off the bus. I quickly found refuge in my hostel, and looked into getting up to Chiang Mai the next day. Found a cheap flight leaving late morning, and booked myself on.

permalink written by  olliejohnson on August 30, 2006 from Bangkok, Thailand
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Drinking moonshine with Jungle Jim

Chiang Mai, Thailand


Before I'd left England, my Dad had given me a compass. My lack of directional sense is acute and well known, so as much as this was a bit of a joke gift, I think we both knew it was actually going to get a fair bit of use. And up till now, it had managed to keep me to roughly where I wanted to be.

I'd heard that Chiang Mai airport was actually quite close to the city itself, so I stupidly decided to walk it when I arrived. Unfortunately, it was pissing down with rain when I arrived, but I decided to press on undeterred. I knew from my map that I had to walk roughly North-East, and I'd eventually come to a moat that pretty much marked the city centre. So I looked at the compass, and then packed it away in my backpack. As it was raining, I couldn't stop and unpack again to double check on route that I was still going in the right direction. But I didn't really see this as a problem, because once you know which way is North, it's not going to suddenly change is it? What I didn't take in to account is roads that bend. Up until now, most had been fairly straight.

An hour and a half later, and I should have hit the city centre by now, but, instead, I'm approaching a mountain with only a couple of shacks around me. Something had gone wrong. Fighting every manly instinct withing me, I swallowed my pride and asked around for directions, and eventually found someone who could understand me. She pointed back in roughly the direction I'd come from. I'd been heading West the whole time. 2 bours later, soaked to the skin, I made it to my destination.

Since then, I've had a great time here in Chiang Mai. I've visited the night market a couple of times, which is absolutley massive, and sells all sorts of things. You can pick up t-shirts for about a pound and trainers and sunglasses for just a bit more. I also spent an afternoon wandering around the temples in the city, and was lucky enough to be in one at a time when the monks had a chanting session (though one was on his Mobile at the start, which looked a little odd.) There was also a monk-school next door, where little wannabe monks learn their trade.



I then booked myself onto a 3 day trek up the mountains to the North of the city. Our guide, introduced as 'Jungle Jim', was an absolute legend, and kept us well entertained on the journey up to the village where we were staying that night. It was on the ridge at the top of a montain and gave some spectacular views. The villagers were really friendly, and we had an absolute feast cooked up for us.

As it began to get dark we were joined by 'Mr Whiskey', who brought what he described as moonshine, and the drinking games began. The main one we played had a penalty of a soot mark on the face as well as a shot, and we all got pretty wasted and covered in soot. Jungle Jim struggled the most, and had to quit about halfway through with various black smears all over his face. Together with his lack of upper front teeth, he would have looked a frightening prospect. This was confirmed soon after, as he wildly stumbled into the other groups' hut, babbling incoherantly and scaring the shit out of the occupants.

Mr Whiskey managed to last the night, and kept us very entertained with stories about being a guide up in the mountains. The best thing about Mr Whiskey was his very particular hatred of a nation. He detested Canadians. Coundn't stand them. He'd had too many experiences to think it was just bad luck. Apparently, it's pretty easy for the guides to make a 1 hour walk into a 5 hour walk, and he'd done this a few times for Canadian tourists. Luckily for us, we were Canadian free. Oleg, a young Israeli chap fresh from finishing his national service, caused great amusement when he thought the mosquito net above his bed was a hammock.

The next day, Jim showed us the village schoolroom, and we played a quick game that's like volleyball, except you use anything apart from your hands, and it's with a ball made from inter-twined bamboo. Then we treked to a couple of waterfalls, had a swim and then lunch. The hamlet we spent our last night at, was at the bottom of a valley, and next to a little river. The 'shower' was a little open-top bamboo cubicle, with a barrel of water and a saucepan. While I was in there, I saw some elephants mooching around in the jungle uphill from me. I suddenly felt like a proper traveller.

Next day we had a small walk to the elephant camp, and got ready for our ride. I'd heard that the ride could be a little uncomfortable if you sat around the neck, as the bristles on an elephant are very thick and wirey, and can cause a serious amount of chaffage. So I was only too happy when Oleg asked to be the one to go on the neck (though I felt a pang of guilt as he slide himself down wearing his 80's style short shorts.) I asked him whether he was comfortable, to which he gave a hesitant "I don't know" as a response.

Our elephant was a young, stubborn and slow female. And her name was Come, which I thought was quite an unusual one. The jungle walk itself led us up some almost vertical ravines, which we would inevitably have to go back down. Oleg suddenly said "I want down" to our guide, and before he even had a chance to reply, Oleg had swung his leg over and jumped off. This seemed to freak Come out a bit, which had me concerned too, as we were on a narrow path with a large drop to one side. I attempted to give her some vocal reassurance. She responded by walking upto and then ramming her head into the elephant in front, which then shat itself. The guides luckily managed to restore order as I was working out how best to survive a fall with an elephant in tow.

After the elephant ride, we got on a raft for some white-water action, which was really cool. Our guide let us out for a swim along a quieter stretch, which we enjoyed until a snake decided to skim across the surface amongst us. Obviously, I screamed like a girl and swore it was coming right for me before scrambling back into the boat.

Found a cheap guesthouse for the next couple of days, and then I'll be off to Laos.

permalink written by  olliejohnson on September 5, 2006 from Chiang Mai, Thailand
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Cruising down the Mekong, Day 1

Chiang Khong, Thailand


The bus journey from Chiang Mai to Chiang Khong was perhaps the funniest one yet. We were all picked up from our guesthouses and taken to the travel companies offices to get the Laos visa sorted there. As it was still only 1500 Baht I went with it. When we all got back on the minibus there was a Thai woman sat in the front, who hadn't been there before. Obviously, she wasn't the driver - not only was she a) a woman, but she b) wasn't behind the wheel. Instead she managed to squeeze snugly in between the poor girl having to ride in the front, and the driver himself.

We stopped soon after, so that madam could hop out for 5 minutes and get the two of them (her and the driver) some snacks for the journey, which she then tenderley fed him, oblivious to the 9 bodies sat right behind them, unable to look anywhere else but directly at them. She snuggled up to him, he put his arm around her, and she nuzzled into his nook. He'd gaze into her eyes, and almost kill us all by veering off the road. Then she began getting a bit fresh. I'll spare you the details, but suffice it to say, the driver was given a bit of light relief. What the hell are you supposed to do with that happening right in front of you?! All I could do was put my Ipod on and pretend to read.

Towards the end of the journey, we made a detour to drop her off at her house, and we all wished her a fond farewell. Eventually we arrived in Chiang Khong, and our guesthouse was right on one side of the Mekong, looking out into Laos. Dinner was an all-you-can-eat buffet, which I, of course took full advantage of, but the Israelis in our group universally hated. We all went out in the evening and ended up at a place called 'Madame's Country Bar'. It was awesome. There was an entire band of ladyboys on stage, and I was gutted I'd left my camera at the guesthoue. Especially so when they responded to the Israeli request of 'play something English' by singing the Nottingham Uni classic 'Numa Numa Yei' (by Macedonian legends Ozone). One of the Israeli girls kept on bugging me saying that I wasn't smiling enough (well, perhaps that's because you keep talking to me) and took it upon herself to attempt to drag me onto the empty dancefloor with her. (Turns out she's doing the same circuit as me, and I'd later have to dodge her in Luang Prabang, Vang Vieng, and probably Krabi too. Damn my irresistable charm.)

There were 2 ghekos in my room, and just as I was about to launch a serious offensive against them, one of the Irish guys from the minibus told me that ghekos are good things to have as they eat insects and mosquitos. Needless to say, the ghekos were then named, and the legends kept me bite free all night.

The next morning we crossed the Mekong in the flimsiest of narrow boats, and made our way to the slow boat departure point. The slow boat really was very slow. The most slow thing about it was the departure. With everyone on board, we all waited for over 2 hours before the driver rocked up, and then for another 1/2 hour before anything approaching movement. It pissed down for the first hour, but after that the journey wasn't too bad. It only took 6 hours (not the 10 that had been rumoured and feared) and we arrived in Pak Beng amidst massive celebratons after some big boat race. Strangely, one boat team was wearing Real Madrid shirts, and another was wearing Man U. Got another guesthouse with gheko in room. Sweet!


permalink written by  olliejohnson on September 7, 2006 from Chiang Khong, Thailand
from the travel blog: A man from Cockshutt.
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