Sihanoukville, Barracuda and the pufferfish

26/02
We checked out of Mushroom Point after one last delicious breakfast of muesli, fresh fruit and Vietnamese coffee.A tuk tuk driver had spotted us half an hour before with our back packs and had arranged an unspoken agreement; we had our transportation to the port.

I was sad to leave Otres beach, but we now had our next four nights arranged on Lonely Beach.
We arrived at the small port. I had been told via email correspondence that a guy named Dani would meet us and the boat would be easily recognisable named Lonely Beach. We walked the length of the port. No boat. I asked the staff at the bar, they had no notion of a Lonely Beach. It was now 12:45, the boat left at 13:00. When we realised where the correct port was we knew we didn't have time to get there. I looked around for our tuk-tuk driver but he was nowhere to be seen.We stood at the bottom of Serendipity beach in the sweltering heat with our backpacks deciding what to do. Behind us was a huge modern looking hotel. I had joked about checking in for a few nights of luxury. We walked through the big glass doors and into an air-conditioned reception. I could see a huge pool to the right with sun loungers. We paid $32 for a night. We were escorted to our room. It was heaven: Air-conditioning, hot water, bath, decent water pressure, our own clean towels, and a toilet you could discard toilet paper down with a proper flush!

Blair had read of a well rated Japanese restaurant just up the road. We walked up  to Happa and were seated under a huge fan. The second I saw that they offered sashimi I was sold. So I drank away at coke and ordered the sashimi (which I was told was barracuda, I'd never tried it before so was excited for another food first). My sashimi arrived and it was delicious. I ordered a second place and Blair was digging into his tepenyaki prepared dish of gayoza dumplings.
I was tired after my night out at the full moon party so we headed back down to the hotel. In about forty minutes I wasn't feeling right. In another hour I felt awful. All I remember of that night and the following day was running back and forth to the bathroom.
Blair had paid for another night at the hotel, so I could get the food poisoning out of my system before we returned to our budget hosteling. He had booked a guesthouse up the road for us for two nights with the intention then of leaving Sihanouk Ville and heading to Phnom Penh and the north to the temples.
I don't recall the two nights we spent at the Sunday Guesthouse. The food poisoning was obviously worse than we thought, and I wasn't going to recover as quickly as Blair had in kep.It didn't help that the room was on the third floor, six flights of stairs up, and was bakingly warm. Or as Blair has come to name ridiculously warm rooms - a sweat box.
While I was M.I.A, Blair walked around Sihanouk Ville, finding all the best places to eat. He went to Holy Cow and tried Khmer foods, Gelatto Italiano and he tried to find The Starfish Project Bakery but thankfully I was back to my normal self on the second and successful attempt.
He also reported back on a hair salon that used a huge poster of Peirce Brosnan as their promo pull. This is clearly where Blair was going to get his hair cut.

02/03
We moved back into the lovely Serendipity Beach Hotel and paid for five nights. This luxury was justified by firstly being under our weekly budget for three weeks running by an average of $110, and secondly Blair realised that I hadn't exactly had a relaxing time there before.
We had a pool view this time and huge patio doors. Blair was lured out of the air-con room and away from the TV offering the History channel, National Geographic and a constant film Channel thanks to the pool.That Saturday afternoon we walked to Led Zephyr - a bar we would frequent because of their brilliant internet connection. I hadn't eaten for four days and was famished. Blair ordered a pork bap and a large bottle of water and I went for Crazy Larry's 400g tear off the bone BBQ pork ribs, with fries, polenta balls, salad, cheesy garlic bread and two cokes. The waiter chuckled and wanted to ensure that I was fully aware of what I was ordering was in fact a very large meal. I nodded my head and ensured him that I was starving.I am pleased to report that I finished all the ribs myself, picked on a few chips and ate half of the garlic cheesy bread and of course the cokes....Blair bear finished the rest!
Blair had spotted an electronic shop that sold music and films seriously cheaply. It wasn't long before we bought a load of films and had a night in with pizza, chocolate and a film. The pizzas were bought from the Happy Herb Pizza place (which Sihanouk ville had its fair share of) minus the happy herbs obviously! Next to it was a bar who's promotional pull was 'happy hour every hour'! I wondered if happy hour would ever catch on Cambodia; every bar had happy hour sessions of at least three hours!
We went on a hunt for The Starfish Project Bakery. It was tucked away down an alleyway in the city. All we saw at first were overgrown plots weeds spread over plots of land fenced in by rusty gates. We began doubting ourselves and feared it had closed down. We finally came to an opening where trees and shrubs sheltered a gravelled walkway. We passed a stone fountain where fish swam. We walked passed little workshops and the starfish project shop itself and at the very end was the patio area to the bakery. A short but incredibly happy Khmer man greeted us. He welcomed us in with a huge smile, good English and an infectious giggle that would be heard every few minutes, anybody within hearing distance would be compelled to giggle quietly to themselves. The menu was lovely. After we had ordered our breakfasts of eggs, bacon, freshly baked rye bread, coffee and freshly squeezed fruit juices, he thanked us for coming to the cafe - all profit was donated to the NGO charity based cafe and shop. It was so peaceful and quiet. It had a real French feel to it. Despite being listed in the LP guide, it wasn't brimming with westerners at all, due to the fact it was a little tricky to find.We donated some riel into the charity boxes, thanked the kind man - who's name we never  learnt - and bought our postcards and souvenirs from the shop.

06/03 This was to be our 'day off', whereby we could do what ever we wanted and not have to compromise in any way. I woke up early and went up the road for breakfast at Monkey Republic , leaving Blair fast asleep in bed. I made my way over to Otres beach and reached the very end of it. I had been told by the blonde man from Mushroom Point that if you kept on walking beyond the beach, walked/swam through a river and walked through some woodland you would end up at a completely deserted beach; no beggars, no-one offering to sell such glasses, or massages or threading treatments, or bracelets or island tours. I did as he said. At the end of Otres beach I was cut off by some rocks so I headed inland and past a small gathering of fishing huts. Families were sitting around in hammocks watching the little kids run around barefoot. Another family were seeing to some newly born chicks and chasing the cockerels around the yard. I came to the river which was very low at that time. Up stream of colorful wooden fishing boats were tied to small wooden sheds. This was a non-tourist area. It was rural village- living Cambodia. As soon as I was seen the children stopped and waved, shouting "Hello!", or practicing any English they knew. Three children accompanied me while I waded through the shallow river holding my bag above my head. They stayed with me until I reached the woodland. They all scampered off bare footed passed a small pond while I treaded carefully through the greenary and over the rocks. Then I came to an opening to the beach. It was stunning. It was completely deserted. An entire stretch of beach to myself. Instead of bars, hostels or sun loungers lining the back were beautiful green trees. Their canopy offered shade from the sun. There wasn't a cloud in sight and he sky was crystal clear. I went swimming and then walked on until I found the perfect spot to lie in the shade. I read, listened to music and watched the occasional fishing boat float by. A father was teaching his son the art of fishing.
I had water and ate fresh fruit. I had no phone, tablet, watch, so had no idea of the time. It was so relaxing.As the sun began to dip I walked back slowly and just as I reached the river I met the same children who had accompanied me earlier. This time their elder brother was herding cows through the river. I stood and watched the skinny white cows lazily paddle, spurred on by the bamboo stick swung by the teenage boy. They continued walking aimlessly  along the beach. I followed suit and crossed with the children who splashed around and laughed. I was greeted with very much the same sight of the families as earlier but with bigger waves and smiles. I stopped by the first bar and had a drink before making it back into town.
I stopped by a local Khmer restaurant. There were no other Westerners there, and I was invited to try their special dish. Brought to the table was a bowl of raw vegetables, a seafood stew, and a small plate of flavourings to add to the stew; chilli, nuts and other spices. Then a large plate of finely sliced beef. I was told to dip the beef into the stew, which I was to season how I saw fit, and enjoy. It was delicious. I hadn't had anything like it since I'd been in Cambodia. I was so glad I took the chance of walking into what looked like an old shack furnished with mismatching tables and chairs. I even sampled their Angkor beer, which was light and really cold.
I wandered on back to the hotel, stopping by to look at some of the stalls and markets, resisting the temptation to buy!I knocked on the door, and a smiley Blair opened the door and told me he'd only got in himself. I was excited to hear about his day and what he'd been up to. He woke at 11:00ish and watched some TV. He went out to get his hair cut (although didn't look anything like Peirce Brosnan) and some lunch, then for an afternoon nap. He had then found himself the Taj Mahal, run by an Indian man and offered the thali dish that Blair had enjoyed so much in Mumbai.
The only thing I regret about that day was that I didn't have a camera!

07/03
During one of our nights stay at Serendipity Beach Hotel, we walked along the beach in search for Sokha beach. According to the LP guide we were a short 400m away from a beautiful secluded stretch of private beach, which for a small fee you could settle on a sun lounger for the day.
It was the perfect getaway from the beggars and sellers of Serendipity beach.
A 100m into the walk, we realised this walk wasn't going to be easy, and far longer than 400m. We began clambering rocks and jumping across pools of sea. After ten minutes we came across a father and his son fishing on the outer most rocks of the shore. The young boy, who looked no older than nine, jumped across the rocks towards us after I had waved to him. He then proceeded to guide us to the beach. It took further climbing and ducking under huge rocks and negotiating our away through some steep jungle pathways until we finally reached the beach. Before we came to the stretch of beach described in the guide we came across a small cove that was seemingly used exclusively by the Malibu Bungalows; dotted on the slope above, each overlooking the ocean and jungle. It was beautiful.
We spent the evening on the beach. We sat our selves at a bar set on the beach And ordered some cocktails. Whilst Blair was happily sitting sipping on his second pina colada, I dug out the bat and ball from my bag and ran to the young boy where I preceded to lose every game against him; in true Catrin style! He knew very little English, and I only a few Khmer phrases, yet we managed to play and understand each others jokes through facial expressions for around forty-five minutes.It was after nine and dark when we left the beach and decided to walk along the road back to Serendipity Road (which we found to be much quicker ).
On an impulse, I walked up the dirt road that lead to the Malibu Bungalows and asked about availability. Five minutes later, I walked out of the reception and informed Blair and the young boy that I had paid for a three night stay at the bungalows: accommodation for the following three nights were sorted!

07/03-09/03
We checked into the Malibu Bungalows and taken to the Papaya Bungalow, which was a stone throw away from the beach.We had a big double bed with a mozi net and to Blair's relief, two big fans. We had our own bathroom as well as a third single bed which I  claimed straight away by sprawling all my clothes across it. The room also included a tv with the HBO Chanel showing films 24/7 and a fridge full of drink.We spent our time lounging around on the private beach, which had big double beds and cushions, sheltered by tall trees.

The second night we were moved to the Pepper Bungalow, placed higher up the hill. We discovered that the dirt track that lead off to the left in fact was the 400m walk into town that we had intended to take on Thursday! The first night we walked along it we spotted our first firefly!

09/03-12/03
Our eight days of luxury had come to an end and we were now back in budget mode. We checked into The Big Easy and paid $11 a night for a bungalow.We returned to The Starfish Bakery for a long lunch and were greeted with an even bigger smile and gratitude than before. We spent three hours there. After finishing our brunch I began writing postcards to friends and family and we continued ordering fresh fruit juices, stunning banana and chocolate ice cream milkshakes and deserts (apple pie and chocolate brownies).
On our way back to the hostel we dropped by a PADI diving shop and booked a snorkelling trip to the island of Koh Rong Samloem. We stopped by a travel agency that had been recommended to us in order to organise a second months visa in Cambodia. Our visas were due to expire on the 15th, and knew we needed longer than a week to travel to Siem Reap and Battambang and to do justice to the temples.
We met at the diving shop at 07:30 the following morning. I picked  some coffee and pain au chocolat for the bus trip to the port.We climbed onto a bus full of young tourists. Blair was unfortunate enough to sit next to an already drunk Frenchman who was guzzling down Bombay Sapphire Gin and Tonics. Despite declining several offers, Blair was repeatedly offered until the drunk man accidentally sloshed a load over Blair and then finally let him be. I walked on to the back where I could see there were seats available, however I arrived to find a seriously hungover and unconscious fat girl splayed over all five seats, mouth open wide, mascara and eyeliner smudged over her face and dribbling....great!I prayed that we weren't going to the same destination. I didn't really understand how the konked out mess in the back could physically walk in a straight line let alone snorkel!
We arrived at the port which was surprisingly big - this was clearly where we were meant to catch the boat out to the Lonely Beach resort.We were called aside by the Khmer boy who had met us at the diving shop. He introduced us to an English diving instructed who would travel with us to the island. He walked us to the boat and helped us on. He commented on how lucky we were to have the trip and island to ourselves. We could see the rest of the bus load were clambering onto a much bigger boat that was sailing to Koh Rong island.

Another two Khmer men joined the boat. Fresh pineapple was laid out for us as well as coffee, tea and water. We were told the trip would take two and a half hours.It was already warm, although overcast, so we were hoping the sun would burn through by the time we arrived.We spotted a large yacht on the horizon. The instructor informed us that it was once owned by Russian tycoon Abramavich, but had been given as a gift to a business partner. The boat had been in Cambodia since the 2nd of February, and the area was brimming with speculation behind the owners reasons for being in the country for so long. The instructor quickly got the boats specs up on his laptop. On the deck was a 40 foot yacht and a 25 foot speed boat. It had all the high tech equipment possible, this part went straight over my head whilst Blair soaked it all up.
Two hours later we pulled up to a long harbour. The island was covered in jungle apart from a small strip of beach where five wooden huts were being built. The water was stunning: perfectly clear and a light turquoise in colour. We climbed off the boat and along the tall harbour and met another two members of the diving team; an English couple who had worked for the company for the last eight months.We were shown to the restaurant where our lunch would later be served.  The spot looked over a secluded fishing village, approximately three kilometres away. The huts and boats were multi-coloured and were home to the most rural of Khmer's.

Two tiny puppies came running to us and played at our feet. We decided to wait a little before going snorkelling to see if the skies would brighten a little.We walked along the beach and spotted some fish in the sea and crabs walking the sand. There were hammocks tied up to the trees nearest to the beach. I lay in one and started swinging, whilst Blair tackled the hammock next to me. He hadn't been in one before, and had been too nervous to try the ones in Mushroom Point for fear of breaking them. He stood in a squatting position for a while, trying to work out the best way to negotiate his first move. He finally sat and wriggled until he had succeeded. He lay quietly rocking with a big grin on his face at his victory. I took  a photo of him in all his glory, when we heard a snap. Blair's expression has never changed so dramatically! He looked over at me just in time for the second and final snap of the hammock, and slammed his feet down to the ground to save himself ! Needless to say I was doubled up in a laughing fit!

It was finally time to jump back onto the boat and go for our first snorkelling trip. We were given our masks and flippers. We sat and fitted them as the boat drove us to a tiny island directly in front of the harbour. We were offered wetsuits, but declined. We pulled up and anchored.Although it was still slightly overcast it was surprisingly clear under water. Blair had his Sony video can in hand and recorded for avoid while, capturing a lot of the coral and fish we spotted.There was a poster of all sea life in the cove, and we were challenged to spot as many a we could.
We were dropped in for an hour, and it flew by. It didn't take too long for us to become comfortable and confident enough to dive down and further away from the cove.We were soon called back in to the boat and taken in for lunch. The workers building the bungalows joined us for a feast of rice, Khmer chicken, chips and vegetables. We played again with the dogs and Blair avoided the hammocks as we waited for our food to settle. Before long we had itchy feet and ready to dive again, particularly as the sun was now out and the sea was crystal clear.
I had gone off on my own search, when Blair swam beside me and got my attention. I knew it was something good when I saw the speed at which he swam away from me. I swam after him and once he stopped and pointed I followed his finger and noticed a giant clam. We swam to the surface and wondered whether it held a big pearl inside. We decided it best to leave the clam, maybe somebody else got lucky! As I swam away I am pleased to announce that I made the best spot of the day! I noticed a scared pufferfish hiding beneath a rock. He would swim out tentatively and then quickly digress. This happened a few times, so we stayed as still as we possibly could. Now each time he poked his head out, his huge bulbous eyes only invoked in me an infinite sympathy.
Everything in the afternoon was so much more vivid, this resulted in more fish having surfaced, due to the sun making a very grateful appearance. I'm hoping Blair will attach the videos for you, not only to see what we spotted but also the beautiful sight of us in masks.
Our afternoon session flew by even quicker, and by that time we had mastered diving down and regulating the pressure in our ears so we could investigate even further.We didn't spot everything on the boats chart, although we definitely spotted most of the coral life. We spotted maybe a third of the other marine life. We had been told we wouldn't see any turtles, because they had been driven away by fishermen, we may have spotted some small species of shark, but I genuinely thanked everything that is holy that we didn't!We did however spot needle fish, parrot fish, angel fish, clams, crabs, loads of urchins, clown fish, 'Dory's' from 'Finding Nemo' and many others that I can't remember the names of!
We showered off the seawater and dressed, waved farewell and thanked the crew for our amazing day of fun. We walked 'the plank' onto the boat's deck for the final time and sailed away from Koh Rong Samloem, beginning our three hour journey back to mainland Cambodia.

12/03-15/03
We checked out of The Big Easy and walked the kilometre walk down the road to our home for the next three nights: Motel 7. Blair suffered with a bad stomach for most of our time, which meant I spent most of time walking, sleeping or swimming at the beach.The second afternoon we made it for our final visit to the Starfish Bakery. Following a very warm and giggly (on the owner's part) welcome, we sat and ordered our breakfast without even consulting the menus. Within ten minutes Blair had not only noticed the stripey legged, dengue fever carrying mosquitoes, but he had been bitten over ten times. The owner had noticed Blair's preoccupation with swatting ( or attempting to anyway!), and immediately marched out armed with the ultimate mosquito killer. Blair held what appeared to him a neon coloured plastic tennis  racket. He soon noticed the button on the side of the handle. It was comedy gold; Blair held the racket still and pressed the button, when a mosquito flew into it, letting out a loud crackling and a small whisp of smoke. The realisation of what he held in his hands had struck! A huge grin spread across his face, he looked like the Grinch at Christmas. He sank further into the cushions of the chair and waited for his next victim.Its fair to say, that for the rest of that meal I lost Blair to a battle against any flying insect in the area! Although it provided great entertainment, not only for the owner, who produced a hysterical giggle every now and again, but all other customers. I did take a video of him deeply engrossed, electric neon tennis racket in hand, but unfortunately for you readers, I highly doubt he'll upload it.

Our final meal was spent in Sandan, a restaurant and school who train street kids in hospitality and cooking. It was recommended on trip advisor and had gained great reviews on most websites. We visited their shop aswell, M'lop Tapang, an NGO based shop selling products designed and created by he children in arts and textiles workshops.
The restaurant offered traditional Khmer cuisine, and the atmosphere was relaxing- a beautiful and romantic last night.The afternoon of the fifteenth finally arrived. We collected our passports complete with extended Cambodian visas, and the reason for us staying in Sihanouk Ville for almost a month.
We arranged a bus journey from the city back to Phnom Penh. We were to be collected at 09:00 the following morning from Motel 7, taken to the bus station, and would begin the five hour journey back to the capital. Its fair to say that by this point, we were more than ready to get back to some culture, sightseeing and distancing ourselves from tourists and experience the real Cambodia.That evening we checked into The White Rabbit, as the Mad Monkey was fully booked. The journey had taken much longer than anticipated, and any plans to do some sight seeing around the city once we arrived just went out of the window.
Our stay revolved in ordering food, booking a bus to Siem Reap the following day, showering and going to bed.

Mushroom Point

We were driven down via tuk-tuk to the spot where the coach had dropped us off just three days earlier. We were now waiting for a mini bus to drive us eastwards along the coast to SihanoukVille. The journey was estimated to take two and a half hours. However, since our journey from Phnom Penh to Kep had taken two hours longer than expected, we anticipated a slightly longer journey to our next destination. The mini bus arrived later than the scheduled departure time of 10:30. While we waited we discussed possible accommodation; we had agreed on the area of Otres Beach. SihanoukVille was now very popular with backpackers who were in search of a boozy beachy break. Serendipity beach offered booze boat trips and its nightlife boomed. We had had enough of Gangnam Style waking us up at 7am in Kaho San. Otres beach was a huge strip of white sand, warm shallow aqua waters and a choice of quiet, friendly and well rated guesthouses. So we had decided on our accommodation, Blair had bought a large bottle of water for the journey: we were all set to go.
Our attention was drawn to a mini bus on our right hand side. The so-called boot had been packed tightly with suitcases and backpacks of all sizes. The back door would no longer close, so all luggage was secured by some blue string which was being tugged to within an inch of snapping by the local driver. He smiled at the passengers (all Westerners), he was clearly proud of his accomplishment. They all climbed in ready to set off. A couple sitting over at the next table watched on too, and shared the joke quietly between them as Blair and I had been: Thank God that's not our luggage! The woman instantly stopped laughing and asked the organiser (around Khmer woman with good English but a serious face) where this particular bus was heading. I can't recall its destination, but seeing the couples reaction when they realised that they were meant to be on it and hadn't been informed was quite hilarious. I guess you could liken it to a fat spoilt kid being told he could no longer have his colossal sized chocolate cake. She had no time to be angry with the organiser. In one swift movement she angrily  stubbed out her cigarette, launched forward for her luggage and lunged for the mini bus driver to pack their cases also. Blair and I exchanged looks; there was no way their luggage was going to fit! The driver reluctantly untied his blue string, it took three men to lean against the luggage to keep it in place and they placed the luggage as strategically as they could. They re-tightened the string and tied it. By now the luggage was protruding so much, the back door was at a 45° angle. We now kept our eyes peeled for our own bus, we were not prepared to miss our ride.
When I bus arrived, it only had a few passengers, again all of whom were Westerners. Our backpacks were slid under the back seats and the back door completely closed. Phew, at least our luggage was safe. We climbed in an were in the row from the very back seats. Blair just about fit in, his knees pressed into the seat in front of him and he spilled over onto my seat; its about the only time he's glad that I'm small! All in all we were comfortable enough, although it was sweltering. We headed off to our next stop. We collected another three passengers who were squeezed into the back. The two men had their knees pressed inches from their chests and the lady was wedged in between various bags. We were now at full capacity. Everyone joked how this was going to be far from comfortable, and the air ventilation gave very little relief. 
The passengers weren't laughing for long though when they realised we had another stop and another two passengers to collect. The driver opened the sliding door, and we could see his eyes searching for a solution. A Frenchman sitting at the very front began accusing the driver of selling too many tickets and rallied all other passengers to protest. Blair sat oblivious to the whole thing, the only thing he cared about was keeping cool and hydrated, he still wasn't feeling great so there was no way I was going to ask him to move seats to make room. The driver had sorted a seat for one of the passengers. He now asked a few of the passengers to climb out of the bus and he desperately negotiated with the passengers. He suggested that a fourth passenger joined the three crammed people in the back row. Everyone he asked refused. He laughed at himself, I think it was an attempt to diffuse some of the tension, but there was no quietening the bus load. The Swiss lady at the back was now complaining how she was feeling claustrophobic, she was adamant no-one else was joining them. In all honesty I felt bad for the driver;  Yes he'd over sold two tickets, and yes it was a sixteen seater bus, but for people my size, not sixteen people any bigger than me and definitely not when you had men the size of Blair coming along for the journey. The driver turned to everyone and pleaded them to take the fourth seat, he was met with angry hostility. I sized up the back seat. I offered my seat to the claustrophobic Swiss lady, who was far taller than I was. This allowed the seatless American man the fourth spot on the back. The rest objected to this complete injustice. We had been told that four passengers were to disembark in Kampot, a twenty to thirty minute ride. I hadn't said anything until now, but I was annoyed at the squabbling and using me as some kind of martyr, I told them it was only a short drive and I'd be fine. I wanted to ask them what else did they expect? They were in a fairly rural part of Cambodia, one of the poorest countries in SE Asia. They weren't in Europe anymore.
The couple sitting in front of Blair were hilarious, a characature of middle class central Europeans. They were in their sixties; her dyed black hair revealed silver roots and had purple penciled eyebrows, her husband had eyebrow issues also, they were so bushy, they looked like he'd tonged them - they would have made great cigar holders!The wife started arguing with the Swiss lady sat beside Blair. The Swiss lady wanted the window open, and 'purple eyebrows' didn't, Blair had it open anyway and was relishing the breeze. The wife turned around sharply and barked at the Swiss lady what she must have thought was the killer blow of all comebacks: " You are not the boss!". Brilliant. I giggled to myself as I listened to my iPod and took in the Cambodian countryside in a bid to forget I was squeezed between two sweaty men.By this time it was almost 12:30 and we had only arrived in Kampot. I was relieved of my duty in the back seat and returned next to Blair.
The road conditions were far worse here. The roads had now changed to a deep terracotta colour dirt, we were surrounded by tall hills of jungle and whenever we drove through a village it would be a collection of corrugated iron stalls lining the dirt track roads.We stopped in one village, next to a small stall selling fresh fruit and drinks. The mini bus was immediately surrounded by fruit dollars, many of them children. Most of us shook our head and politely declined, apart from the 'eyebrow couple' sat in front of us. They ignored everyone, and if they did make eye contact they raised their heads so they were physically looking town their noses at them. A young girl came over to our side offering bags of mango. She held up the bags, smiled and greeted us with "hello, mango?". When she didn't get a reaction from the couple, she repeated. Still no reaction. Looking slightly confused she poked the man's arm; perhaps they were deaf? I could see the furry eyebrows raise even though I was sitting behind him. The young girl reacted to their ignorance as any other person would; I applauded her determination. She was rewarded with a sharp glance from the woman and a scowl for on the man. Unphased she stepped back from the bus with a proud look on her face; she had succeeded in offering everybody on the bus some mango, despite no sale.
We arrived in Sihanouk Ville an hour later. We drove passed the Angkor beer factory, the national beer bearing the national pride of Cambodia: the Angkor Wat Temples. We dipped down to a view of the sea and drove through the busy town. The mini bus pulled to the side of the road. Before we had even fully stopped the bus was enveloped by tuk tuk drivers. According to the Lonely Planet Sihanouk Ville was notorious for the drivers to shout you down as soon as you were spotted, and for overcharging. I managed to worm through all the haggling drivers and waited for Blair. We located our luggage and jumped into a tuk tuk and headed off to Otres Beach.The dirt roads were a stunning colour against the green fields.
After a fifteen minute ride we arrived at the beach. Both sides of the track were lined with guesthouses and bungalows.We pulled up to Mushroom Point. Walking towards us was a tall blonde man who shook his head before he spoke. He jumped into the tuk tuk with us and told us they had no room. My disappointment must have shown. He instructed the driver to continue down the road, he suggested their might be room at the other point. We jumped out on white sand and I looked up at the big mushroom shaped hut in front of us. We walked in to a reception desk to the right and a bar, and to the left was a raised level where three hammocks, games, books and a TV.  Behind were glass tables , chairs and the menu was colourfully chalked on a huge blackboard. They had one bed left in the dorm, no bungalows. They offered to show us the dorm before we decided. I had already made up my mind though. I really liked mushroom point. The dorm didn't disappoint either. We walked up to a space above the bar, reception and 'chill out' and 'feeding point'. There were seven round mattresses that circled the room. Mosquito nets hung above each one. We each had giant wicker baskets to hold our belongings, fans, plenty of electrical sockets and good WiFi. All for $10 a night. Sold!
We walked over to the beach. The sand squeaked under your feet and the water was beautiful, warm and shallow. We walked away from the bars and found a quiet patch of beach. We swam, spotted some fish and sat watching the sunset. We noticed that as soon as we were motionless the sand came alive. Tens of industrious little crabs cautiously continued digging their holes and scuttling to the sea. It was gorgeous here, the perfect beach spot!
Next morning we came downstairs for breakfast and were brought two glasses of juice and old fashioned champagne glasses filled with fresh fruit; mango, Papua, guava, banana, dragon fruit. My eyes almost popped out of my head when I saw that they offered muesli! They did the most stunning Vietnamese coffee.
 I made my way to the beach, while Blair stayed in the comfort of the dorms shade, there he contently set up camp in front of the fan with his kindle, tablet and phone to entertain him.
We lunched and dined at Mushroom Point, they had a great menu and their food was yummy. 
The following day we went to the beach together, and after no more than three hours I was bright pink. We made our way back for lunch and I didn't venture into the sun for another day and a half. I had forgotten how much closer again we were to the equator.
I had noticed that the Khmer people covered every part of their body they could, they even wore socks that accommodated the slit in the flip flop. The irony was that I had only wanted half a day in the sun so my skin could adjust to the strength! Sun-1 Cat - 0.
We extended our original  three nights in the mushroom point to six. We had decided to go to the Lonely Each resort on Koh Rong Samloem. Blair had noticed that a storm was due to hit Sihanouk Ville and so we didn't fancy a three hour boat crossing or even being on a deserted resort on an island while a thunder storm was passing. 
We spent that week relaxing on the beach, eating some great food and soaking up the sun and quietness of Otres beach.We were there long enough to spot some regulars on the beach. Otres beaches' own Tarzan deserves a mention. We spotted him on our third day. It was impossible to miss him really. He walked up and down the beach in the tiniest neon pink g-string. He was a deep mahogany, had long scraggly silver hair and painfully thin. He would pass us silently on his walks, and as soon as his back was to us Blair pulled out the camera and snapped some sneaky shots. 
It got dark suprisingly early, around 19:00.
Our last night and Blair was upstairs in the dorm, I decided to head downstairs, ordered a drink and began talking to the people who worked at Mushroom Point. It was run by Slovenians and a few of their workers were Slovenians also, apart from the kitchen and bar staff who were Khmer, and Emily, an English girl who had been travelling for the past two years and had begged for a job there after falling in love with the area. They were all heading to a full moon party on the beach - I had seen posters on the beach but thought nothing of it. So I went along with them (Blair was tired and stayed in the dorm). We stopped by the bar at Mushroom Point Beach and then on to Richie's (a Scottish run bar). There was live music, an English woman with a great voice sang acoustic covers, ranging from Old Blues to current British tunes. The atmosphere was great. We danced on the sand, tables were set up all along beach and we talked as if we'd known each other for years. Although the intense heat of the day had set, it was still a really warm night. There were clear skies and the full moon was beaming down. We went swimming in the sea to cool down. It really was the perfect night to end a beautiful week at Otres Beach and a night I will remember.

Jasmine Valley and the Cambodian jungle

17/02:Our bus journey began at Phnom Penh Central Station, and on bus number 17 we travelled five hours to the south coast. Our destination was Kep; a small fishing town, known for it's crab and pepper.
As soon as we stepped off the bus, we were circled by tuk-tuk drivers. Blair calmly walked through the parroting drivers. A man who had approached us with a laminated map of the peninsula wanted to help us find accommodation. We told him we had reservations at Jasmine Island, his face lit up: "I know dis, I know Jasmine Valley. I take you. Take five minute only". We negotiated a $4 fee. We threw our back packs on one side and climbed in to sit on the opposite. We drove back the way we had come, along the sea and passed a huge statue of a crab. We veered left and began our ascent into the Cambodian jungle.
The website had warned us of the condition of the road. But driving up it in a tuk-tuk was a gas! Blair has it on video; its the closest thing to an earthquake I've ever experienced. I was confident that the driver knew the way and had made this journey on several occasions, because his speed didn't alter accordingly to the craters in the lane.
I did get worried after about ten minutes when he kept turning to look at the back tyre. We came to a particularly steep incline, I couldn't see how we were going to make it. Our driver stopped. Blair was subsequently asked to walk this part of the journey because the tuk-tuk was unable to take his weight. We climbed and after another 500m, we stopped again. This was as far as we could go. Our driver reassured us the reception was close and we only had a short walk ahead. Blair parted with the $4, loaded the backpacks onto our shoulders and walked on.
Ahead of us were two tall hills of green canopies. It was really hot, we wiped the sweat from our foreheads and faces and took in the smells and sounds of the jungle. There was busy rustling in the plants either side of us. The only sounds were birds or muted buzzing of insects. It was beautiful.
We walked passed the open kitchen area and into reception. Friendly faces were there to greet us and promptly checked us in. We were invited to leave our bags next to their counter and take a seat. We were brought freshly made lime juices and cold menthol infused face towels. We were instantly refreshed!
Jasmine Valley is an eco-friendly resort. All buildings were made from mud and stone with thatched roofs. The treetop bungalows were wooden and decorated with pebbles and furnished with hanging wicker seats on the terrace. There was no hot water, and the water was collected rain, so we were asked to use as little as we reasonably could. There was only enough electricity for the bedroom and bathroom light, we were asked to us this sparingly also. In order to charge our phones, camera and tablet we had to take them to reception. We couldn't flush paper down the toilet either. This is actually something I've failed to mention earlier in the blog: I was first introduced to the bum gun (the name given to the small shower head by the Mad Monkey posters) in Abu Dhabi. Instead of using toilet role, you were obligated to use the 'bum gun'. Although in the UAE, you did actually have a choice. Once we had arrived in Mumbai and SE Asia, we were asked not to flush paper down the loos because of the sensitive plumbing system: remember the note in the grotty Rainbow Hostel of Khao San?

We were supplied with clean towels, a huge mozi net suspended from the thatched roof and a large glass jar of drinking water. If your accommodation wasn't enough to remind us that we were in the jungle, we were frequently visited by the creatures that inhabited the surroundings. Our first visitor was Lenny (all names were given by Blair). Lenny, quite frankly scared the absolute shit out of me. I went to lie down on the bed and as I rested my head join the pillow I looked up at the wall, and at the corner were big black eyes on a navy-grey hued head. My fear stemmed from the belief that I was eye to eye with a snake: one of my greatest fears. Blair reassured me it was a lizard and pointed out his arms. As he moved I noticed his body was covered in red spots. Next was Larry, a far more confident lizard, of the same species as Lenny who was lying on our clothes shelves. By the next day Blair had noticed that a huge hornet had started building a nest in the archway to our bathroom.

It was the perfect chill out spot. We spent our time reading, eating and on our second afternoon we went on we treck through the jungle. Jasmine Valley was situated on the outskirts of Kep's National Park. From the top we had a stunning view of the town. We were lucky to see a red squirrel, but not so lucky in that we spotted no monkeys.

We continued walking until we reached the sea and the crab market. We ordered stuffed crab to start and peppered crab and steamed crab as mains. The meal was really tasty, and watching the sunset made it even more idyllic.

When we were served our mains, the waiter immediately read our exchange of smiles as a complete unknowing of how to tackle crab in front of us. He showed us what to do, so we began our feast. The most off putting thing had to be that the table next to us had plaits piled high with crab for five locals. These mountains of crab made our plate of three with side salads look pewny. Blair explained that it was normal for tourists to be given one price list/menu, and locals another. This I understood, but still annoyed that we had paid $25 for a meal and neither of us were full.
We returned to Jasmine Valley where we had a second dinner, this time full fit to burst.

We settled down to watch a film (Lawless, I would seriously recommend it to anyone who hasn't seen it). Blair wasn't settling at all and by the end he was in the bathroom and feeling awful. For the next few hours he endured relentless bouts of diarrhea and sickness. He had the shakes, sweating profusely and exhausted.
When the staff saw me come down for breakfast alone they asked if everything was OK, when I had told them of Blair's food poisoning they couldn't do enough for him. They gave me jars of water and sent up some ginger tea. Blair continued on a diet of ginger tea and solutions of dyrolite until we left.
Blair has since renamed Kep's crab market : Kep's crap market. He has sworn against crab, and has turned away from any 'fish section's' in menus.
Three nights was definitely enough for us. We had had our fill of the incessant ants at mealtimes (the staff were so fed up brushing the ants from the breakfast counter top and fruit bowls, they only did so when they same guests approaching, against nature you will always fight a losing battle) and grassy/earthy smell of the water.

I made the most of the huge breakfast selection. I gorged on bacon baguette, poached eggs, fresh watermelon and pineapple, muesli, water and coffee.
As we made it to reception, our tuk-tuk driver was waiting to take us down to the bus station where we were going to catch the mini-bus to Sihanoukville.
We were now leaving our jungle chapter of Cambodia and on to the beach part.

Phnom penh and the Mad Monkey

15/02: We had touched down in Cambodia and relieved at the fact that we weren't going to be airborne at ridiculous o'clock for a few months. We now had a choice of two currencies; either Riel (4000 to the US$) or the US dollar itself.
It was hot. I had wrapped up in the intensely air-conditioned airport in Bangkok, and quickly stripped off in the 34 degree heat of Phnom Penh.
Driving through you would never have believed this was a capital city. The main roads were tarmacked, and the rest were dirt roads. There was a mix of shacks, half-built building, dilapidated and abandoned French structures and every now and again a pristine and shiny construction.
We were really pleased with The Mad Monkey! It was in a lovely area, felt really safe, staff were really friendly and had loads of social events lined up and day tours. The staff were all local youngsters. The Mad Monkey prided itself on the fact that they could help the local community by offering jobs as opposed to filling the hostels with friends and acquaintances back home from Britain. They were lovely, couldn't do enough for you and smiley!
We opted for a half day tour on the Saturday as opposed to the full day; we paid $16 for our own tuk-tuk driver to take us to the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum followed by an audio tour of Choeung Ek museum; these graveyards were given greater international acclaim by the Hollywood film, and better known as The Killing Fields.
The Friday was an uneventful day with roughly a 24hour viewing of the inside of our eyelids.
We woke up this morning feeling bright eyed and bushy-tailed, up before our 07:00 alarm. We had finally adjusted our body clocks! We showered and indulged in a huge breakfast of a fresh fruit salad with vanilla yoghurt, pancakes and maple syrup, freshly squeezed orange juice and two coffees (me) and a classic american brekki of pancakes, bacon and maple syrup for Blair.
We were set up for a big day of touring the most poignant places in the Capital. It was really hot, we met and shook hands with our tuk-tuk driver; a smiley local. You could sense the friendly competition between the tuk-tuk drivers (all of whom work for the Mad Monkey). As we drove off one of them yelled: "you're driver is crazy!" We all started laughing, and drove off through the streets of the city to Security Prison 21.
It was a short five minute drive. Our driver indicated he would wait for us opposite the museums gates. We paid a $2 entry fee each and picked up a pamphlet.
We walked into a courtyard with a red arrow indicating the beginning of our tour and where to go. Big information boards stood, starting us off on our teachings of the Khmer Rouge: their leaders; intentions; atrocities, torturing and genocide of a third of Cambodians; their own people.

The courtyard had fourteen white toom's, engraved with Khmer writing, we were about to learn that these were the last fourteen prisoners of Pol Pot's secret interrogation prison. They were murdered before the Khmer Rouge guards fled the converted high school from the Vietnamese. These neighbours who had been embroiled in their own war against the giant force of the U.S. came to the aid of the Cambodian people. The Khmer Rouge had ruled with a fanatical Communist ideal to purify the Cambodian race; the ideal being the uneducated prolitariat Cambodian; these were named the 'base'. Currency, postal system, businesses, the educated, free-thinkers, elderly, disabled and babies, children, and family members of any of these were murdered; the reasoning behind the murdering of the young or family members was to avoid revenge later on. This was bolstered by one of many slogan's of Pol Pot and repeated throughout the Khmer Rouge: "to kill the grass one must tear up the roots".

There were three blocks: A, B and C. Each had three floors. Each floor had a specific purpose, mainly the detention, torture and interrogation of people arrested by the Khmer Rouge. What was confusing is that many of the country folk and farmers of Cambodia had fled to the safety of the cities, from their rural hometowns, away from the fighting of the civil war between the Communists (backed by Sihanouk who was greatly loved and admired by the Cambodians), and the Government under Lon Nol , (who's coup overthrew King Sihanouk in 1970). The Cambodians also had endured the overspill of the Vietnamese war, and still to this day have a huge amount of undetonated bombs and land mines. 

The city's veil of safety soon uncovered the dictatorship of Pol Pot's regime. Notable inhabitants of Phnom Penh were arrested, the majority never knew the condition of their charge. They were then tortured by the most horrendous means until they had been broken physically, emotionally and mentally; most confessed to the crimes they had been charged, regardless whether true or not. Pol Pot's paranoia was focused on detecting which of his Cambodian people were infiltrated CIA or KGB agents.

S-21 claimed the lives of 17,000 prisoners. Six of which were foreigners, one Australian, two New Zealanders and three Americans. The Khmer Rouge were meticulous in their records; keeping photographs of prisoners once arrested and once deceased; taking names; heights; ages; occupations; names of family members, spouses and husbands/wives. These old classrooms, were converted into metre wide prisons, and now transformed once again into large spaces, but now of boards displaying hundreds upon hundreds of white photographs of arrested prisoners and again photographed once they had been murdered. Cabinets of skulls revealing causes of death (bullet holes, fractures to the skull indicating huge trauma to the head). Portraits animating the atrocities and methods of torture were the closest thing I could ever describe as the true work of evil. It is one thing to read of history's immoralities, but to see it portrayed in the ways we did today made me truly understand the words of an aesthetic philosopher who said: "to say that a picture paints a thousand words is a fallacy; a picture exercises an entirely different currency".

Accounts of the survivors, Khmer rouge guards and family members of the deceased were protected and translated in plastic folders. I soaked up every word of every board, folder and pamphlet, much to Blair's discomfort of the intense heat. I was immersed in a world of horror. The historic enthusiast in me came to the forefront.
Once we had finished and guzzled some much needed water, we walked in a daze back to the tuk-tuk and our smiling driver.
We drove thirty minutes out of the city to Choeung Ek for our tour of the Killing Fields. With an entrance fee of $5 each, we were given an audio pack, which we controlled as we walked around, posts indicated the number of the talk we were to listen to.
One hundred metres from the entrance stood a beautiful  monumental tribute to the victims of the killing fields under the Khmer Rouge. Before its occupation it had been a Chinese cemetery. The audio tour was given by a survivor of the Khmer Rouge Occupation; a man who had sought refuge in the Cambodian jungles, but had returned to discover only half of his family had survived.

Pieces of cloth, bone and teeth were still surfacing, even on the designated walkways. The harrowing realisation that we were treading on remains was indescribable.

We were instructed to walk to small depressions in the earth; we were told that these were pits where hundreds of people had been thrown to be buried or left to die. Sheds of the chemical DDT was used with dual effect: firstly to extinguish the smell; secondly to kill any of the victims that were still alive. We were shown a large tree where babies were held by their lags and were smashed against its stem. Another tree, a sugar palm, was distinguished as having incredibly sharp and hard properties, such that they were used to slit the throats of victims;  bullets were too expensive. Another of Pol Pot's slogans were quoted to us: "to win you is not a gain,to lose you is not a loss" as well as "Better to execute an innocent by mistake than spare an enemy by mistake". This only bolstered his obsession to exterminate any one believed to be an enemy of the Khmer Rouge regime.

At the end of the tour we were invited to enter the towering memorial. Inside lay seventeen shelves of scientifically sectioned skulls, jaws and teeth of victims. It was explained that caretakers circle the grounds monthly to collect newly resurfaced artifacts. The monument was not large enough to encase all that was discovered.

The last stop was a small museum. The most compelling part for me was the sentences passed on the five superior leader after Pol Pot died under only a years house arrest in 1998. The head of security in S-21, under the alias Duch was sentenced 35 years imprisonment for war crimes, including genocide. This was a minor sentence in a country where possession of drugs renders a sentence of life imprisonment. He was the only senior member of the Khmer Rouge to admit to and acknowledge the atrocities.
Duch was taken to the killing fields and when he was shown the tree used to brutally murder babies and young children he knelt at its roots and wept. This reaction demonstrated how the most senior members of the Khmer Rouge seemed oblivious to the heinous methods their minions were carrying out. The tree now is a shrine for the lives this tree had been used to execute. It was, and still is, covered in wrist bands and bracelets of the thousands of visitors; a gift to the children of the killing fields.
Our driver was waiting for us outside. We drove away from the Killing Fields, the images of what we had seen vivid in our minds. Another difficult thought I found difficult to process fully was that this Holocaust had occurred during the adult lives of our parents and only a decade before we were born.
The paradoxical character of Cambodia could not have been illustrated greater than our next scene. Not even half a kilometer from the killing fields - the deep scar on Cambodia's landscape - was a shooting range. Tourists are offered these tours at every hostel and guest house and viewed as very profitable. You can pay as little as $20 and have your choice of weapon, including an AK-47. For $300 you can shoot a bazooka, throw grenades and even use livestock as targets. A friend told me, if he wished, he could bazooka a cow.
That evening Blair wasn't feeling too great. We cashed in cork coins painted with monkey's faces on them for two free beers. We sat and drank them at the open air bar, two floors up and looked over Phnom Penh. Blair headed up to bed so I stayed, and  was  made the Mad Monkeys own signature cocktail: the love hug. Every time I finished and placed the glass down a new one appeared.
I ams now n my third , enjoying the music and have finished the blog for the day :-)

Up relatively early today. Had another brilliant breakfast before we were taken by tuk-tuk to our bus. We were heading to our second destination in Cambodia: Jasmine Valley. Blair had pre-booked room number seven a few nights ago to avoid disappointment; there is limited availability, a very popular place in Keep.

The unexpected journey

Thursday, and our last night in Bangkok before flying to Phnom Penh. Our hotel was a fifteen minute drive to the airport. We had arranged a wake up call for 04:30 and would take the free bus service to the Bangkok International Airport.
Our bellies were full, we'd managed to do some laundry' which was hanging on the balcony drying, and we were laid in the huge bed of our spacious, clean and air conditioned room. I nodded off to sleep listening to another update on the Blade Runner's arrest, suspected of murdering his model girlfriend.
I was woken up at 01:30. Blair had found a serious flaw in our seemingly flawless plan. There were two airports in Bangkok, the 'old' airport. Our flight was from this 'old' airport that was North of the city. It appeared to be at least an hours drive. He had only realised during a conversation with you Mike....thank you so much for calling, you saved us a flight!
Thank God we had packed the night before. We only had booked one bag to check in, so we had organised toiletries and the collection of clothes appropriately.
We checked out downstairs, cancelled our wake up call and enquired as to the quickest way to get across Bangkok. The staff informed us that the only way to get across to the other airport was by taxi so the receptionist cycled of to flag one down. A few minutes later we were in a taxi with a woman taxi driver; the first we had seen.
We stopped at an ATM and she stopped at MGV, she was running low on gas. It was as she was filling up I noticed gurgling noises. Blair told me that is was literally gas that she was filling the car with, not petrol. He joked about how bad it would be if we were in a car accident, then proceeded to make explosive sounds and hand gestures that all boys learn how to make at the age of three. This was doing nothing to calm my nerves about our situation; were we going to make the flight?!
This little woman, who, according to her registration documents was a man (nobody here had the correct details on their registration cards, and their photos bore no resemblance whatsoever!) was not shy at all! To quote Blair after we arrived at the airport in no more than thirty minutes "she was pretty rapid!".
So, panic averted. We now had three hours to kill before boarding. So we lounged around and used the rest of our baht on breakfast. We merged the best of Eastern and Western cuisine; sashimi and gyoza followed by...Krispy Kreme glazed donughts and coffee. We were definitely all set for our first month away in Cambodia

Bangkok and the three hostels

11/02
07:30 (23:30 GMT/ +7 hours): Our three hour and forty five minute flight from India to Bangkok was over. We were in South East Asia.
We passed through immigration, collected our bags and had our first meal: tasty fried pork and noodles followed by a dunkin' donuts!
We paid for a metro ride, 90 baht for the both of us to travel the entire length of the city line. I was now changing my seven times table for my five: 50 baht converts roughly to a pound. Easy enough you would think, but seriously struggled to form a coherent sentence let alone multiply or divide by five.
We flagged down a taxi at the other side of the metro station. The driver of the blue taxi demanded 200 baht, he entertained no negotiations. We waved him off as the taxis from the airport were charging 300baht, and we had already come two thirds of the way.
We got into a pink taxi with a metre and drove to Khaosan Road: backpacker central. We were on civilised roads, no honking, no sleeping bodies to avoid.
We hadn't been in the country two hours and the most noticeable thin about this city was the gays. Blair quoted the Lonely Planet as soon as I mentioned this, it has to be my favourite line from the book: "Bangkok is very gay, it makes San Fransisco look like rural Texas"!
As soon as we stepped out of the taxi, we were bombarded with hagglers selling everything from getaway trips to the islands, to tailored suits, to ping pong shows, yep, we were in Khaosan. It was a street of stall of RayBan's, LaCoste, Abercrombie and Fitch for a few ponds. Plastic white tables sat outside bars crowded by beer and shot guzzling tourists. Stalls selling you a variety of scorpions on a stick or change you 20p for a photo. People had travelled thousands of miles to do exactly what they could do in Ibiza or Benidorm but for a fraction of the price.
We pushed through and found our hostel round the corner of Khaosan and opposite a Boots and Seven Eleven.
The downstairs of the Rainbow Hostel was an Indian restaurant. We checked in and paid for our two nights stay in a double room and in suite. We handed over a shocking 720 baht ( £14.40).
We climbed two flights of stairs, and walked to the end of the corridor to 206. We unlocked the door, it rebounded off the bed. Hot air and a stale smell hit us. The floor was sticky. The bathroom door hit the sink. There was a notice above the toilet: kindly save energy and put the used tissue papers and sanitary towels in the bin. Above the toilet, a corner of the ceiling tile was black with wet mould, water (presumably) from the above bathroom dripped down ( it looks like something out of the Grudge). We have booked two nights here. We were so tired, we crashed onto the bed ( which was harder than the bed in Mumbai tenfold!) and slept for five hours.
We showered and had dinner at the Peachy Guesthouse. Apart from two ladies, we were the only Westerners there, the rest were all locals.

The menu was pretty cool, sneak and fish head were featured in a few of the Thai delights. I had Tom Yam ribs in a lemon grass soup, and Blair wolfed down his fried pork with rice and Singha beer.

Our walk back showed us Khaosan after the sun goes down. Cheesy music blasted from bars, promo guys stood with signs offering buckets of vodka and red bull, gin and tonic and whiskey with a mixer for £3. Drunken louts walking up and down in search of their next watering hole. We found it funny, but I was trying desperately to grasp my bearings. We have witnessed three worlds opposing entirely in character. Abu Dhabi - Mumbai - Bangkok, we had witnessed a serious case of bipolar in our destinations.
We turned our fan on to the highest setting and fell asleep to some truly horrendous Thai karaoke across the street and blaring tunes from bars close by.

Today we slept in until the afternoon, recovering from jet lag.

We walked to Ann's Sweets, a bakery and patiserrie owned by a Cordon Bleu chef: Ann. I had a triple chocolate mousse with freshly squeezes orange juice and an espresso. Blair had a decadent and generous serving of brownie banana split.
We walked along the river where an intense crazy Thai dance workout was going on. The instructor was a middle aged woman jumping around and doing some complicated footwork and waving her arms around. Blasting from her stereo system was a continuous stream of dance music. In front of her were a group of plump Thai's hopping about, not having a clue what's going on, but sweating bucket loads. Most of them looked like they were about to pass out. Blair and I sat and watched these miserable looking partakers and chuckled at these pained Thai faces with their heavy feet and flailing arms.

We took photos of the gardens and walked along the river. We found our restaurant for dinner, the recommended Hemlock. It was busy, so we were sat upstairs. We had yummy spring rolls as a sharing starter. I had the popular and traditional Pad Thai and Blair had spicy fried rice dish.

We walked back towards Khaosan, when I decided to indulge in a traditional Thai foot massage. Blair made a quick exit and headed back to the hostel. I opted for an hour long reflexology treatment, and paid upfront: £4.40! I had the dust and a days worth of street grime washed from my flip-flop warn feet. I lay down on a mattress in a darkened room of other pamperees. A peppermint scented oil was rubbed into my feet and legs and for the next hour relaxed, hoping this might help induce a in a deep sleep later that night.
I met up with a hot, clammy and disgruntled Blair back at the ridiculously warm hostel room. He was reading up on Cambodia and we've booked a tree top house on stilts for five nights in the southern Cambodian forests! Check out a video of it or Google it if you fancy a tour of the guesthouses by the Australian owner: Jasmine Valley. We've planned also, that after our two nights in the Mad Monkey hostel of Phnom Penh, we'll bus it down to the south. Blair also found the most beautiful island to stay on too, a bit pricier than our budget but it looks like heaven on earth: the lazy beach ( Wyn Williams crew, you'll fall in love with it).

We had the worst night sleep. The noise from the outside street as well as the dripping from the bathroom ceiling only permitted us a few hours.
We were glad to see the back of the Rainbow Hostel and Khaosan Road.

We walked to the river and hopped onto the river boat taking us to our next and hopefully quieter hostel.
It was roasting. Carrying our backpacks around in 35+degree and humid weather was a good workout. Blair was constantly wiping sweat from his forehead and I could feel the straps of my backpack dampening with sweat.

We checked into the cool Chilli Hostel run by locals. We paid 675 baht for a night (£13.50) and my God what a difference. No rebounding doors, air-conditioning, clean bathroom, no mould or dripping or sticky floors or stained walls. We even had a comfy bed. This is what back backing is about, checking in and out of stink holes so you can appreciate the nicer ones that much more!

Wednesday: sunny and 34 degrees.
Today was an easy day, so not much to report. We took the metro to the MBK mall and went to the food court; another Lonely Planet recommendation. Money is paid at a counter and you're given tokens in return to buy food. We both had a king prawn Pad Thai and a Mr. Doughnut for desert. The multilevel mall was packed with shops and stalls of all types.

Tonight we had our first tuk tuk ride up to China town and indulged finally in some street food.

The entire main street was decorated with red and golden lanterns and the place was buzzing. Stalls ran both sides of the road and spilled over onto its perpendicular alleyways.
We sat down on small plastic stools and ordered away: Noodles, duck, rice, beer and freshly squeezed pomegranate juice! We stopped at a little portable stall and watched its owner make pancake-type deserts. Blair ordered from him a gorgeous banana pancake doused in condensed milk. His insatiable sweet tooth couldn't resist another Chinese desert made a few yards further up the street, he described them as deep fried doughnuts and the greasiest thing he had ever eaten.

On our walk home we stopped at can fruit stall, I'd been itching for fresh fruit since we arrived Bangkok and saw all the fruit they had on offer. We were given a big bag of mango, guava and watermelon, for £1! We picked away at it as soon as we arrived back at the Chilli hostel, it was so sweet and refreshing!
Checkout tomorrow is at 12:00. Blair just looked up our accommodation for tomorrow night. He booked somewhere close to the airport because of our early flight Friday morning to Phnom Penh. Costing £16 a night, we'll be checking into a pretty snazzy hotel with a spa. We can check in at 12:00, so as soon as we leave here we'll head on to the Thong Ta Resort and Spa!

Plans over the next few days: Fly tomorrow morning (15th) at 06.55 from Bangkok to Phnom Penh. Check into the Mad Monkey hostel. Spend two nights there. Whilst in Phnom Penh we'll tour the capital and visit the Killing Fields.
We'll bus it down to Kep where we'll spend three nights in the Jasmine Valley, then head down to the coast for beach time!