Phonsovan

Phonsovan is not renowned for being an award winner when it comes to tourism. It's visited because of it's quirky 'plain of jars' but I found it far more interesting as a place that allowed me to begin to understand just how remarkable the Laos people are. I suppose you could say it was an 'explosive' few days.

First things first. Phonsovan was freezing cold. One thousand three hundred meters or so above sea level meant that at night, temperatures dipped into minus numbers. The down jacket was back out, something I did not expect to happen again on this trip. Fortunately the place I stayed at had a bonfire going throughout the day and night. This not only provided warmth but also a great atmosphere, aided by the entertainer himself Mr Kong. By far the most interesting bonfire moment was when he found a very serious side and talked at great length about the 'Secret War' that took place in Laos. It was one of many moments of my stay in Phonsovan that made it so fascinating on a historical and political level.

On the journey from Luang Prabang I met Ben and Mel, both teachers in Thailand. The following day we set off with another Ben and Carly on a tour around the local area. The reason to come to Phonsovan was for the 'plain of jars' however quickly on the tour I realised that this would not be my main memory of the area.

Time for a few (meaning a lot) contextual facts. Laos is the most heavily bombed country in the entire history of warfare. America dropped more bombs on it then it did on Germany and Japan combined during WW2. Every eight minutes, twenty four hours a day for over seven years, the Americans dropped a bomb on Laos. According to the Geneva Peace treaty, Laos was a neutral country. Despite Phonsovan and the surrounding area being so heavily bombed it is nowhere near the Ho Chi Minh trail. America at the time, officially denied that they had ever dropped a bomb on her. Among the twentieth poorest countries in the world, Laos is still desperately suffering. Since the bombings stopped, 13,000 people have died, half of which are children due to the unexploded ordinance (UXO) that litter the landscape. It's a heart wrenching story and shows no sign of improving with many families relying upon the trade in scrap metal to make a living. Their choices are based around risking their life to make enough money to get by.



After a brief stop at the local market where we selected food amongst, dead wild cats, bats, ferrets and a number of animals that none of us could name, we made our way towards the first site, a bomb crater village. Mr Kong's uncle and tour driver for the day, drove the truck across the field with no hesitation before stopping and giving us time to look around the craters that are a permanent scar on the landscape. As I got out I asked him if it was safe to walk around as you are advised in Laos to always stick to the path. "No bombies here" he proclaimed. After wondering around the large number of craters we were then grabbed by our tour guide who exclaimed "bombie, come look!" Sure enough marked by a rock, awaiting detonation there sat a cluster bomb. So well camouflaged to the ground and so similar to a ball it is so easy to see how people in-inadvertently end up exploding them.



From there we visited a lovely village whose people couldn't have been friendlier. It was a fascinating place where they have made practical use of the bombs that have fallen on their country. Whether it be as foundations for houses, bins, plant pots or work tools, their village is a permanent reminder of just how many bombs fell on Laos. After looking around the village we went to a local waterfall. Nice enough, it was the walk back, clambering up other waterfalls and across rivers that made it a great laugh.



Our last stop was the 'plain of jars' site one. I think the best explanation was offered by Ben who described it as Laos answer to Stonehenge in the sense that the mystery surrounding it is far more interesting than the actual viewing itself. Despite being the primary tourist site around Phonsovan the area is still riddled with bombs. There is a narrow path that has been formed. The white side means its safe whilst the red side means that there are probably bombs under the surface that have yet to be found. If the tourist attractions have not been fully cleared then it puts it into perspective the risk that the everyday people in Laos are taking when farming or say visiting their local school.



Outside of the tour we watched a number of films which outlined the bombardment of Laos and the wonderful work of the MAG charity. It was very thought provoking stuff.

The final day in Phonsovan was a mixed affair. When we arrived Mr Kong had told us about a local festival happening in a village outside of Phonsovan. He invited us to watch the home made rocket launching part of the festivities. Unfortunately he had got the date wrong and it wasn't happening until the following day. Instead he invited Ben, Mel and me around to his Uncles house to show us how to build a rocket! So in the morning Ben went to the local market and bought the key ingredient...bat excretion. It resembled foxes mints. We wondered over to the house and were greeted by the extended family. As it turns out the couple of hours we spent there was not as we had hoped in that whilst we were shown how to make gunpowder, mixing sulphur and bat excretion we didn't build a rocket. Instead we ate food, decorated their stupidly big home made rocket and drank beer with them all following their customs of the pourer has to down it and then everyone else does the same. At ten or so in the morning thats hard going. It was really nice though to see the women as much a part of the drinking comradeship as the men! Cold and with Ben's sickness not being helped by the partaking in the family customs, we made our excuses and headed back to the guest house. For the rest of the day we sat by the fire attempting to recover from the feezing cold temperatures.

Phonsovan was one of the most thought provoking places I have gone to on this trip. I left it the polar opposite. Vang Vien.

Luang Prabang

The slow boat from Huay Xai to Luang Prabang is a journey of epic proportions, taking in two days along the Mekong! Despite it's name the slow boat is actually not that slow, sailing along at around thirty to forty miles an hour. Rather it should be called the long boat as it stretches quite a distance from font to back. Rather conveniently this allows them to fit more tourists on board and boy do they do that! That said however it was not nearly as bad as I had expected. Turning up early meant I got a good seat with leg room of sorts. For those who turned up late, well what did you expect?



The journey itself was picturesque with rolling hills, vast forests and jagged rocks emerging from the murky brown waters. The thing that struck me most however was the vast emptiness along the riverbank. I had expected the ride to be similar to the eight hour one i did in Kerela. Yet surprisingly the Mekong did not appear to be as central to the people of Laos as say the backwaters or the Ganges are to India. There were a few wooden villages, some bathing and washing but always sporadic. I guess in hindsight it isn't so much not making the most of the Mekong river but rather that Lao has such a tiny population.

The first day was enjoyable. The scenery beautiful. We arrived in a place called Pakbeng as the sun set. It's a strange place as it seems to exist solely to provide accommodation and baguettes to tourists coming from and going to Huay Xai. Not a lot happens there. The second day I found more painful as I found myself counting the minutes rather than admiring the scenery as much. It still went relatively quickly though and after eight or so tiring hours we arrived to a welcoming party of hotel owners. I jumped on the back of a motorbike with one of them and sped to an absolute bargain.



Luang Prabang is a world heritage site. It's incredibly green and very relaxed. I liked it a lot although that may well have been a result of the all you can eat night market that has sprung up. Fill your plate as high as you can for less than a pound. I was in heaven.

Two memories stick in mind of my time in Luang Prabang. The first was the small boat I climbed into and crossed the Mekong to the other side. On arrival I went and visited a few of the temples. By far the best was Wat Long Khun. It had nice murals but that was not the reason for me enjoying it so much. Rather it was the family perched on the stone outside who asked "would you like to see a cave?" Why not I thought. The father promptly pointed to the key bearer, an eight year old girl and told me to follow her. My teacher hat firmly on, I wanted to ask why she was not in school but judging by her standard of English i guessed that she must be a fairly regular attendee. To get to the entrance we climbed a series of degrading steps before we reached the door. It reminded me of Moria from Lord of the Rings. The girl passed me a torch and we entered. Inside was a series of Buddhas all decapitated lined up along the edge of the cave wall. Nice enough but nothing particularly special. Ready to leave I noticed that my guide had disappeared further into the cave through a narrow channel. Following we passed stalagmites and many other Buddhas before coming across a large wooden eagle deep in the cave. It was quite a sight!



The other memory was waking up at 5am in the morning (I had tried the previous morning and not woken up) and stumbling out onto the road to witness the monks receiving their alms. I had expected to have to walk to the temples to see it but no there in front of me sat five or so women and one man standing waiting to give food to the twenty or so monks that approached. I watched the exchange before making my way into the center to see the more established place to witness it. I was passed by two tour jeeps and saw lots of flash photography, tourists were everywhere. I headed back to the hostel pleased to have seen such an ancient ceremony at it's purist.

In between visiting other temples and watching recent film releases in the evening, my time in Luang Prabang soon vanished. From there I took a mini bus and sped through the mountains towards Phonsovan. By far the most interesting part of the journey outside of the scenery was the food stop we had. On one of the stalls selling various items was a large jar filled with liquid. Inside was a chopped up bear, minus its head. Lovely!

Part Two - The Gibbon Experience

We left the village and made our way over the river and across farm land. In front of us stood a domineering barrier of green as trees battled for space and sunlight. As we entered i was struck by just how congested the area was with vegetation. We trekked for several hours with a brief stop for lunch before we reached a hut where we were given harnesses and told to put them on like we would a dipper. Helpful.

The guides then placed us into groups and allocated tree-houses. There was one group of six already and a couple who had the 'honeymoon' house so it left me to join Joyce, Jill and Ki-Ki in tree house number three. At first I felt like I could have done with a bit of male company but it couldn't have worked out better. The groups that knew each other had various tensions whilst i was fortunate to be in a group where everyone liked trekking, wanted to be up early to see wildlife and of course loved zip lining. Our two guides came over and introduced themselves as Ty Lee and Ty Shon. They were both from the local villages and spoke enough English to be able to converse. The Gibbon Experience is sometimes criticised for its guides but these two were superb. Enthusiastic and dedicated to their job they made the three days that much better!



We separated into our groups and left for our tree-houses. Within minutes we had our first zip line. Climbing a wooden platform I clipped my two carabiners in, heard the "OK" from the other side of the valley and tentatively walked over the edge. The feeling as the overgrowth was left behind and instead a huge drop down to the trees below and stunning views of the surrounding mountains reavealed itself. It was incredible. As i sped along with the wind across my face it truly felt like flying. The excitement only rescinded when I found myself coming to a halt ten meters from the end. Turning backwards and leaning back I clambered my way along the rope to the end, exhausted but buzzing. Failing to get to the end would become an all to common event. Surprisingly zip lining the sort of distances that we were doing is quite a skill!



The tree houses are only accessible by zip lining in. They are quite literally the stuff of dreams being around forty of so meters above the ground. From our tree house we had an unobstructed view across the jungle. With peaks in the distance and thousands of acres of trees it is one of the most dramatic and spectacular views I have ever seen. After ditching our stuff our guides drew us a map and told us to go and have fun! They would be back for tea at six. Three zip lines had qualified us to take care of ourselves. It is the sort of safety pre cautions that some would label as reckless but to me it was an ideal model of how health and safety should work. We had been shown how to do it and now it was down to us to take responsibility. That said it didn't make the first line any less scary. Just how much trust do i have in myself? As it turns out enough. We zip lined for a couple of hours over one hundred meter drops admiring the breathtaking views. One of the nice touches of the experience is that you get to enjoy the jungle by trekking through it looking for the next line, rather than just having them all linked together. Tired and aching we returned, one minute late for tea, ate an impressive meal considering where we were, watched a beautiful sunset and then collapsed into bed. A full moon rose from behind the trees where i was sleeping. The animal, bird and insect noises went into absolute overdrive. At twelve i awoke and marvelled at the fog that clung to the valley below us whilst the stars shone above. At four am I awoke to the most pesky cat imaginable trying to climb onto my head. It lives in the tree house to scare away rats but come night it was an absolute nuisance. It was evicted the following day. Zip lined out it's amazing how quickly a cat can learn to have the obedience of a dog when it is alone in the middle of the jungle! It followed us for half an hour rarely stopping.



On the second day we awoke at six in the morning and zip lined out with Ty Shon. We were going on a gibbon hunt! He listened intently to the noises echoing around the trees. Eventually Ty Shon led us down a path and deeper into the overgrowth. With the rain that had fallen the previous few days, the ground was difficult to say the least, as we slid all over the place gripping trees for dear life. It was great fun although seeing Ty Shon doing it in flip flops (he was still sliding thankfully) did put our troubles into slight proportion!




I've done a couple of animal hunts to date but nothing was as exciting as this, which was surprising considering a gibbon sighting was not very high on my must see animal list. As amazing as Yale was in Sri Lanka it is all based around luck. Here however we were with a tracker using the sounds of the jungle to guide him. After half an hour we paused and crouched down. "Monkey" he whispered, his face lighting up. And sure enough, a few minutes later, swinging from branch to branch above us flew one. It's agility and rhythm left us all in awe as it came over our heads. It was a hairs on the back of your neck moment. "Lucky, lucky lucky" Ty Shon kept repeating as we headed back for breakfast. It wasn't a gibbon but it was quite a spectacular sighting seeing it so close. And then just as we were nearing the tree house a noise, louder than the others started. Ty Shon turned around and started running back into the trees, we followed confused. The one sound turned into dozens. The gibbons were signing. It is a sound that will stay with me forever. Much like a series of broken police car sirens it's volume and intensity set the heart rate pounding. Unfortunately we were not to see one in the flesh. The closest we got was a branch shaking and a streak of black disappearing. We were seconds to late. Being surrounded by the signing however made it all worth it. After a fifteen or so minute burst, the jungle returned to it's normal noises, and we returned for breakfast.



After food we headed out with Ty Lee and buzzed around the zip lines up to tree house number five. It was here that I attempted my first videoed zip. It wasn't the best idea considering it was by far the most nerve wrecking of all the lines. On most you have a little run off before the big drop happens. This gives you time to have confidence that your clips and ropes are all going to work for you. However on this one you stepped off the platform to one of the longest drops. With this in mind then my nerves hit home and I managed to get my hand stuck in the roller leaving me trapped ten meters or so from the start of the line. Dangling with the drop below and no sight on where I was heading, the video is that much more dramatic. Eventually I pulled myself back a bit and freed my hand before whizzing across the valley. Safe and with only a minor rope burn I was quite lucky as it could have been much worse. After lunch in tree house seven we spent the rest of the afternoon on the loop. A series of four dramatic and huge zip lines which take you around in a circle. It was great fun! By the end of the day I had successfully mastered how to zip line making the platforms nearly all of the time. Most of it was down to the reality that if I didn't make it I wasn't confident my arms would be able to pull me in!

The following day it was time to leave. We were up early again hunting gibbons but to no avail. There was no singing, which made us even more appreciative of the previous day. A couple more rounds of the loop was all we had time for which was quite fortunate really because I was starting to get a little to good. The final zip line I did had Ty Lee in stitches as even the break could not slow me down as I thundered into the platform trapping my fingers in the process. It's a miracle I still have them in one piece! We then trekked back to the village, sad at having to finally leave.



All in all it was a superb three days although I will say for anyone considering doing it it is a project that fluctuates in terms of its quality. The other groups whilst overall enjoying it had more mixed reactions to the experience. It showed me just how lucky I was to not just get the weather right but also the group, the tree house and the guides. It made for an unforgettable experience.

Part One: End of Thailand and start of Laos

The Gibbon Experience is a conservation project that provides a three day trip with exclusive access to the Bokeo Nature Reserve, one of the last remaining habitats of the black crested gibbon, previously thought to be extinct. It is also an adrenalin junkies dream with extensive zip lines installed across the canopy. For memories sake there is a lot to write and if anyone can be bothered, a lot to read so I'll split it into two posts. The first will be the end of Thailand and getting to the Bokeo Nature reserve, whilst the second will deal with the fun within it.

I was thinking the other day about my one highlight in each country i have visited so far. Answers reached i decided that I would save them for the end of the blog, however I can exclusively reveal that the Laos award may already have been won. And yet if luck had not been on my side, it could have been so very different.

From Pai I rang the Gibbon Experience. A disastrous Skype/Lao line made the conversation difficult however i gathered that they had a place on the 14th March. A day earlier than I would have liked but sacrifices have to be made. However just as I was about to say yes the line went dead. On calling back the place had gone and I would have to wait another four days until they had space! Not ideal considering I was getting bored by Thailand but I had been aiming to do the Gibbon Experience for months so needs must. To fill the time I headed to Chiang Rai and planed a series of day trips.

It all started so well. Chiang Rai has a lovely small night market with a huge array of bargain food, even if most are deep fried! Deep fried vegetables anyone? The whole place had a superb atmosphere, without the tourist centric domination that has taken over a lot of Thailand. But then the rain started. Whether it was the result of a typhoon, the Japanese earthquake or something else, it was torrential and non stop for my time left in Thailand. Venturing out was occasionally done for food and a bit of sight seeing here or there but always with the same result, drenched and freezing cold. I don't know how the temperature dropped so fast (from over thirty degrees to around ten apparently).



Eventually the day came to leave Thailand. I caught a bus to Chiang Kong and then a boat over the Mekong (the tenth longest river in the world) and arrived in Huay Xai, Laos. The moment i stepped foot in Lao the rain subsided...and then just when myself and a dutch guy marvelled at the coincidence it started again. I went to sleep with the rain thundering down cursing my luck and woke up on the morning of the 18th with birds signing and blue sky!

I made my way down to Gibbon Hq with a spring in my step. After meeting fellow adventurers we sat and watched a number of films on the conservation project and safety information. We signed contracts that devolved the project from any responsibilities in regards to our safety. My favourite paragraph was the one covering bear attacks. We were going to be entering a different world. From there the twelve of us piled into two open topped four by fours and sped three hours outside of Huay Xai.




The journey was smooth up until we veered off the main road and onto a small mud track. After passing the park entrance to the Bokeo nature reserve we stopped at a lake that had formed over the road. With no further hesitation the jeeps sank into it before reemerging at the other end. Now the jeeps may have survived the aquatic lifestyle but the rain had made the mud tracks frankly lethal with our jeeps sliding all over the place. A number of times we had to jump out and push it up the hills as it thanked us by spraying mud everywhere. The group that set off on the 14th had had to walk an additional six hours due to the weather. Our drivers had thankfully deemed the roads recovered enough but it must have been a very close decision. On one our driver decided that the navigation of an abandoned vehicle to dangerous for us to be a part of. The decision for us to stand on the side of the road and watch was called into question as it slid out of control and veered towards the scarpering onlooking tourists!



Amazingly we arrived in one piece at a scenic local village. All the houses were made of wood and a small stream ran along the bottom. Mothers carried chickens to sell or be cooked, whilst kids dragged/carried babies, it was a village well used to seeing tourists but in no way compromising their lives to adapt to it. A lovely start to what would be an incredible three days.

Chiang Mai and a slice of Pai

With a moat surrounding it, a crumbling city wall and numerous temples, Chiang Mai is pleasant but will not stop you in your tracks. So it may seem a bit of a mystery why nearly every tourist to Thailand ends up visiting it with many going direct from Bangkok, only to return a couple of days later. It's with this in mind that Chiang Mai deserves a lot of credit, because where she is lacking in standout sights, she has instead transformed herself into the adventure capital of Thailand. A quick browse through the brochures at my hostel showed: 'trekking', white water rafting, elephant rides and sanctuaries, zip lining, cooking classes, mountain biking, tribal village visits and so much more. It's not the best place to do these activities but I doubt you can find many places in the world that makes such a range so accessible. It's a place that made me feel inactive and guilty, only completing one activity, that being another cooking class. It was good though, a one to one class, where I got my very own certificate, signed by the directer no less!

Thankfully unlike the grief some hostels give, I was encouraged to do little more than sit around, read a book, chat, and drink fruit smoothies (they were very good and very cheap. Coffee with banana was a surprise hit!) For the first time in six months it was great to stay in a place that matched a proper hostel definition, with a stupid number of dorm rooms and a superb social area. As over twenty of us left the hostel one evening, the token German and fellow traveller of India kept repeating how different it all was from India. How correct he was! In the hostel I met up again with Richard, a fellow actor in the Bollywood film I did and a host of other people whose names came and went as they dispersed in every possible direction across Thailand and Asia. It made for a great time!

On one night a number of us went to watch some Thai boxing. Disappointingly it turned out to be your typical tourist affair, with the only proper fights happening between teenagers (most I am quite sure on a huge concoction of drugs). However, whilst the fights were not as skilled as I guess the adults would be, the atmosphere from their coaches and families did make for an enjoyable time. At the end of the night, as people began to leave, there were some 'grown up' fights but these were shockingly choreographed. The one redeming adult fight was the three person blind boxing which was hilarious. Surrounding the ring was a huge array of bars all being run by the Thailand circus that is the lady boys. It's a continuing confusion why in such a conservative society, it is such a common place pretty much everywhere you go.

Chiang Mai was a great place for a few days but tired of having to sleep in a ten person dorm every night and with the hostel having such a huge turn over of people, I decided to leave a day or so early for Pai. Now if there is one enduring fact about Thailand it is that everyone loves Pai. An old hippy enclave in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by various hills and a with a cooler temperature, it's a town of ten thousand people, all mostly running guest houses or restaurants and bars. It's nice enough, very chilled with everything you could want within a few square meters however it symbolised a lot of the issues I have with Thailand. I am convinced that if my first Asian country was Thailand then I would have been more impressed that I have been to date, but as it turns out, its not. Which means that I can't help but look upon Pai, for example, as a poor mans Manali or Ella, to name a couple. It doesn't mean that it has not been enjoyable, its just with the exception of Ayutthaya, Thailand has not been able to compete with other places I have been on this trip and subsequently fallen a little flat. I'm hoping when I head down south in a few months time, it has something a little more to offer. But anyway, I digress. Pai was ok, except for when I decided to rent a bike rather than a scooter. In the heat of the day, on a full 'American' breakfast, cycling uphill was a rather silly idea.

In hindsight I should have stayed in Chiang Mai a little longer because due to booking complications (i.e. they were fully booked) with the rather exciting Gibbon experience in Lao, it didn't make a lot of sense to cross the border until the 17th if March. I've been very lucky to date that I've always had something to do or somewhere to go and not had to burn any length of time. Unfortunately though as I headed up to Chiang Rai, near the border, that is what I would end up having to do.

Kanchanaburi and somewhere beginning with A!

I could think of no better way to recover from Bangkok than by visiting a railway museum. It had come to that! It was a short journey by bus to Kanchanaburi. It's a place that probably wont ring a lot of bells but it's actually a place by association that I am pretty sure everyone knows. You see there was a very famous film (which I haven't seen) based on the events in and surrounding this town. I'll give you a clue. There's a river and a bridge.

I was ashamed as I flicked through the guidebook that I knew so little about the bridge over the river Kwai. It's one of those places that I find so familiar but was absolutely devoid of any information. That's where the wonderful Thailand-Burma railway museum came in. It's not for everyone, in fact I seemed to be one of the few people who really liked it (I'm thinking it may have had something to do with the free coffee!) Sure it could do with some interactive displays but the information it contained was at the perfect level. It was informing but never overbearing. Reading the stories of the suffering of the thousands of people who worked on the railway line between Thailand and Burma was at times deeply moving, especially when looking at the conditions of the men and what they had to work in from 1942 to the end of the war. This is heightened when walking around the small war cemetery. Situated amongst the traffic, it feels a world away from the chaos that surrounds it. Beautifully kept, peaceful and respectful, it's a real credit to the Thai people. As for the bridge itself...well it's a bridge with a lot of history behind it. I walked over the top of it, being careful to jump out of the way of passing trains and then walked back again. It's not spectacular in fact you would glance twice at it but in context, it's an incredible piece of history.



From Kanchanaburi I went to a place which unashamedly I still do not know the name of, except it begins with the letter a. I am really struggling at the moment to remember the names of places in Thailand. A quick flick through the guide book tells me I went to Aytthaya, the center of power in Thailand between 1350 and 1767 before the Burmese came and ransacked it. The capital then moved to Bangkok. The Burmese were so ruthless in their attack that much of the gold and jewels vanished. What is left is a huge number of crumbling temples all within a bustling modern day city. It's very strange to see a huge tower beautifully crafted poking out from behind a local convenience store. I really liked Aytthaya, some of the temples and Buddhas were spectacular and one can only imagine what the city must have been like in its day. Unfortunately despite being impressed by the sights, my enduring memory of Aytthaya is at the other end of the scale. When attempting to exit Wat Yai Chai Mongkon I became very thankful for having a rabies jab. Some will suggest it was the result of bad karma, considering that I had only paid (not deliberately, it's just that their entrance gates are even worse than Nepal) for the entrance to two temples, however I say it's a case of sheer stupidity allowing out of control animals to roam the streets. It's all well and good looking after and caring for every conceivable animal, but a monk in charge of a aggressive/rabid dog is probably not the best mix. So I was obviously unimpressed when I saw a monk shouting at a dog, which I only became aware of when its jaws were lunging at my right thigh. Fortunately call it a warning bite or not, a gust of wind blew my shorts enough that it caught a chunk of them rather than my leg. That was rather lucky because it was one very angry dog. I then put in all my Cesar Millan training into action (there was a chapter on him in a book by Malcolm Gladwell) and stood still rather than run. It seemed to do the trick as the dog snarled and backed off. I didn't hang around to have a debate with the monk as I decided for all I knew he may not have been trying to control the dog but rather had told it to attack, I was going out of the wrong exit after all!

Bangkok

For the record I wrote this post whilst sat on an air conditioned bus. I bought my bus ticket on level three of the bus station, which has grown into a shopping centre. Within ten minutes of the bus starting I was given a complimentary water to go with my ample leg room!

From the moment I stepped off the plane I was aware that I had reached a new stage of my trip. It's hard not to look for similarities and differences to the Indian subcontinent, but other than touts, it felt like I had entered a new world. And it was this in mind that Bangkok felt intimidating. The size of it is nothing in comparison to other cities i have visited on this trip, but when you get so used to the disorganised it strangely became hard to get used to the organised. An airport bus straight to the main backpackers area was the first surprise. The next was the backpacker area! I remember Grant in Nepal saying that you can't describe Th Khao San road, rather you had to see it to believe it. It was a frustrating description but I now fully understand. The first backpackers must sit open mouthed at what they started. A once quiet street has transformed into the 'ultimate' tourist haven. I've never seen a place like it. Pahar ganj in Delhi is the closest, but amongst it all, everyday Indian life continues, not every shop and person is out to provide a service to Westerners. Its crowded, loud, eccentric and for the first day sitting having a cold beer, fun! However by the time I left I honestly find it hard to look at it in any way other than a monstrosity! Thankfully my sanity was saved by staying in a lovely bargain hotel down a backstreet and away from the chaos. 

In terms of sights Bangkok comes up trumps. The Wat Phra Kaew is one of the most spectacular sites I have seen to date. I hadn't got a clue what to expect when I entered, along with Mirolovsky and Max, who i had met at various points in Bangkok but it knocked us all for six. The stupas, temples and other buildings are remarkable. They just kept coming! Just down from the complex is Wat Pho, featuring Thailands largest reclining Buddha and boy is it big! 46m long and 15m high, finished in gold leaf. Stupidly extravagant and utterly breathtaking. From there we took the boat along the canal and then the sky train to Siam square. I sat with my jaw wide open in awe at the sky train. Air conditioned carriages, clean, stations named clearly over the speakers and on the tv, huge sky scrapers out of the window, it really is a different world! Siam square was a very different part of the city and fascinating to see, huge shopping centres, everyone dressed as if they were going to a fashion show, it was superb people watching material and showed off just how modern Bangkok is. In the evening back in the area of Khao San road, the lights were turned on, the volume pumped up and it prepared to party long into the night. It was whilst sat in a bar chatting away that I decided that i would leave the following day. From the brief stay, Bangkok is a city of many faces. Despite desperately wanting to view it as positively as many of the sights I had seen there, it was hard to look past the dark undercurrent that seemed to be wrapped up with them. I suppose I just could'nt reconcile the feeling that Bangkok had sold out to tourism. Sure thats a huge and largely unjust generalisation but despite having a good time there and with plenty more to see, i found myself desperate to escape it!

Midigama and Colombo for Sri Lanka vs Pakistan

From Tissa we returned to Midigama to settle some unfinished business. And settle it we did, after another two days getting smacked around by the waves, I can officially announce that i can surf! Well to a point. The main contention to my statement was discovered on the second day when the swells produced the biggest waves that i have ever witnessed. I would love to say at this point how I took to the challenge bravely and with no hesitation but in reality I found myself praying that I would avoid them when paddling out. The first misjudgment on my part, meaning the wave broke where i was attempting to get as far away from it as possible, left me clinging on for dear life. The look of sheer fear across my face, eroded any sort of cool points I was generating on the smaller waves. There was no chance I was even going to attempt to get up on the board before he broke, instead I gripped the board as strongly as I could as I hurtled towards the ground at break neck speed. Quite literally in those split seconds i felt as if my whole life flashed before my eyes. Next thing I knew I was stood up, riding it into the beach. An adrenalin rush like no other. Roller coasters pale in comparison! Unfortunately the other two big waves i caught sent me into the washing machine, leaving me disorientated and swallowing a lot of water. It's all good fun though once your sure the board is not coming down on your head!

When we were not surfing we were snorkeling. The clear visibility off the beach made for some memorable moments of swimming through shoals of tropical fish. The best sighting though was of a huge stingray attempting to hide in the sand. The stinger was huge! The amusement of seeing the strong currents pull Alex dancing toward it was soon vanquished when remembering what happened to Steve Irwin! We didn't leave it to chance and quickly swam away.

We then left for Colombo for the Sri Lanka vs Pakistan game. The stadium was far more organised and as soon as we saw it we got the impression that this was a number of notches up from Hanbamtota. The view from the terraces was that much better due to it being steeper. Whilst we made plenty of friends for the day, the attention was less frantic, which was a relief! The one time we did find ourselves posing for numerous photos was our own doing as we sprinted down to have a photo taken with the Sri Lanka cheerleader...Percy. He's been watching them since the 1940's and walks around the pitch, waving the national flag in the most unaminted way possible, giving the impression that he is not sure where he is! That said though the Sri Lankans love him and as it turns out so did we! In Hanbamtota, watching live cricket seemed a total novelty as was seeing and meeting Westerners. In Colombo, there was a much more cricket focussed crowd, which made for a superb atmosphere and even a Mexican wave that circled the stadium over ten times. Those Hanbamtotans will learn someday! The crowd were as mad as you would expect. At one point I stood in amazement at the whole crowd dancing. A local was surprised to hear that we don't tend to celebrate wickets in England in the same way. As for the game it was full of ups and downs, not least the hilarious run out where there were all number of mis throws. Fortunately for Sri Lanka, the Pakistani batsman was oblivious to the fielding chaos. I think he had reached the rope by the time the bails came off!

And that brought an end to Sri Lanka, prompting the question, where did the month go? I can't speak more positively about the country and the people, it lived up to all my expectations and then some. Also in good news I still have the east coast to explore in a summer holiday one year, so I know i will be back! Now it is time to leave the Indian subcontinent and head for Thailad!

Sri Lanka vs Canada

Major sporting events are following me on my travels at the moment. First there was the Commonwealth Games in India and then after Pakistan lost the right to co-host the cricket world cup, Sri Lanka took over the role. Perfect timing. With tickets for Sri Lanka vs Pakistan as well, the game verses Canada was very much a warm up to the big game in our eyes. I think it is now safe to say that we underestimated it. A brilliant day was to ensue but I will give a health warning at the start of this post. As great a day as it was, it's impossible to blog about it without slipping into many a rant as seems to be the case when watching sporting events in third world countries.

So the recurring question of the day is quite simply 'is there anyone in the world who knows where the Mahinda Rajapaksa Cricket Stadium is?' Sri Lanka has a number of stadiums that meet international standards but they haven't got the prints of the President, Mahinda Rajapaksa (see what he did there?) on them, so of course he has to build a new one, dedicated to him, in the middle of nowhere. Ok, we could handle that but not when no one seems to know where the middle of nowhere exactly is!

We traveled to Hambanbtota, the Presidents home town, as it stated on the tickets. This tiny finishing village, has a brand new international airport, thanks to their favourite son, so we felt safe in the knowledge that he would not have thought twice about building a cricket stadium there too. Except the locals claimed it was over thirty kilometers away. The tickets were referring to Hambantota the district not the town. We weren't the only ones to make the mistake, the Canadian team were also in residence in pretty much the only hotel in town! We searched the internet for clues. The official websites directions suggested it was one kilometer outside Matara (a long way from Hambantota), Google maps placed it five kilometers outside Tissa (where we had just come from!) No one had a clue! We eventually settled on a return to Tissa. So jumping back on the bus we traveled back and sorted out a jeep with Nirlin to take us to the ground.

So at 10am the following morning, myself, Alex, Tom and Gen, all in Sri Lanka shirts and draped in the flag, piled into the back of an open jeep, with a number of locals and a crate of beer. The sun was blazing hot. Things were looking up! The journey was one of the coolest I have done. Cars, vans, bikes and buses all went mad as we went past them. Horns sounded, flags flew and wigs were quickly put on behind the driving wheel, it was mad! The 5 kilometer Google maps journey took nearly two hours! Where's the middle of nowhere again? The one downside to the journey was witnessing one of those things that would never make it onto the news but left you pretty shocked. Just as we were about to enter the 'car park', the Canada team bus decided to ignore the police escort and plowed straight into the motorbike next to us, knocking the man and woman flying. Thankfully they got up but there was a fair bit of blood. The team bus continued as if nothing happened.

We arrived at the ground one hour in advance of the game. The 'car park' does not exist but is rather a dirt track, whilst the stadium itself has around three of it's stands missing, but hey those are minor issues and add to the fun of the occasion! Getting into the ground however was not so fun because the Stadium did not understand what an e-ticket was. We walked for an hour, up and down dirt banks to each gate hoping someone would welcome us in rather than devolve responsibility to another random entrance. Asking every policeman, soldier, official organisers, even an elephant (yes one did stroll in for a look before returning to the trees) where we could get our tickets. Every person was as polite as we had come to expect from Sri Lankans but they just hadn't got a clue in regards to these tickets. In the end we put up a fuss and got an escort by a policeman to a guy hidden under a tree who gave us four tickets. We got to the gate and found that this quiet low key game happened to be a sell out and then some. 35,000 attendance, no chance! They let half the country onto the grass banks (where the stands should have been!) and boy was it fun.

People wonder what it is like to feel like a celebrity. The answer is tiring. After the solid Sri Lankan innings, we collapsed on the fence by the bar in exhaustion. We were adopted by so many supporters it was an amazing experience. A minute didn't go by without someone introducing themselves, their mates, their family etc. Photos in their hundreds were taken. Our voices were being lost due to the number of conversations being had. The atmosphere was unforgettable. Passionate and sporadic, but it was missing something...a Mexican wave! Now we thought every country understood a Mexican wave but not the people of Hambantota. Whilst as knowledgeable as anyone on cricket, the stadium was pretty much full of people watching their first ever live cricket game! That didn't stop us trying to get one started. We spread ourselves around the grass bank and got pockets going but they seemed far more fond of our song build-up than the wave itself.

With Sri Lanka setting such a big total, the game was dead, although everyone was surprised at quite how bad Canada's Indian team was. On driving out of the ground the roads were lethal. The Sri Lankan's took the party into their cars. We asked each other 'what makes such a sensible nation go so crazy?' The answer is pretty simple. It's called cricket and arrack!

The following day we left Tissa and returned to Midigama. On the way through we passed Hambantota and then a long time after, the ground (but nowhere near Matara). We are still none the wiser as to where it is but we can pretty much rule out all the options considered. Brilliant day!