From Laos to Australia

Hello everyone. Firstly, apologies for not updating our blog sooner, we have been doing better things; however, as I sit in Sydney airport uncomfortably preparing for a night of bad sleep on what appears to be national fire alarm testing night, I can safely say, now is a good time to write a blog entry.

We left you at the end of our Cambodia leg and at the start of our trip to Laos. Many people had raved about Laos and we were also really excited by it. To keep it short, it is the only country we have visited where we felt unwelcome and as such is the only place where we had a largely negative experience. We did have two highlights, a fresh lemongrass sauna in Luang Prabang, and the dirty, horribly bintang-esque activity of tubing down the Vang Vieng river, getting pulled into bars on ropes to drink vodka redbull buckets then zip wiring and sliding into the river on beautifully un-health and safety checked rides. A top day out! (But did we feel our age the next day. Also Alex was mortified to be the only woman on the river wearing a sensible swimming costume). We have no photos but type ‘Vang Vieng tubing’ into Youtube to see what we mean, it’s worth seeing. We also had an interesting experience involving a 20k walk with full kit in 35 degree heat down a motorway passing a man in a full spacesuit, a Minnie Mouse hat, a duck rucksack and Michal Jackson gloves (we didn’t stop to chat, but he still ran after us).

We crossed Laos via the land border to Northern Thailand and immediately felt the atmosphere become much more relaxed and friendly. I forgot to mention that on one of our final days in Northern Laos, Alex and I simultaneously hit what we can only describe as the travelling equivalent of ‘the wall’. We were staying in a sweet little bamboo hut which was serene and pretty by day yet shockingly freezing by night. We woke up one morning both shivering and unable to move. It was almost the 100th room we’d stayed in over the last four months and we were both exhausted. Luckily our hosts were absolutely lovely and were happy for us to sit and read in the garden all day. They took Alex into town to get water and supplies and fed us a delicious Thai green curry to aid our recovery. The reason I say this is that we then made a conscious decision to have a little luxury in Thailand. Don’t get me wrong, we were still in a bamboo hut and had a mattress on the floor but this one also had a 25 metre pool. Job done! We stayed for five days in a university town just outside Chang Rai. The street food was superb, and the night market and food hall were also immense. We were reluctant to leave, but with just fifteen days on our visa (land crossing rules) we had to move on. We took a winding, sick inducing, five hour bus ride to Pai in the far north. Pai was a really relaxing, chilled out place and we were again fortunate to stay in a first rate guesthouse complete with pool and lovely English hosts who would sit and drink with us to while the night away. They even taught us how to ride motorbikes in their garden and then on the road. Again, we were reluctant to leave but the fifteen days were going too quickly. We just had time to spend two nights in Chang Mai before we had to leave Thailand.

At this stage we had no ongoing flight and even less of an idea of where to go. Our initial thought was fly to Burma, stay 5 days then fly back to Thailand for some beach time and a free 30 day Thai visa on air entry, but the red tape and the restrictions on where we could travel within Burma put us off. Where could we go where we did not need to pay for a visa, where flights were dirt cheap and where we would have the most options? So back to Kuala Lumpur we went.

We intended to go to the Perhentian Islands or perhaps Langkawi (both in Malaysia), but yet again the weather got in our way, so where could we go for a couple of weeks to kill a bit of time? Is the cricket world cup in Sri Lanka? Oh yes, so it is. Within 24 hours, after watching the King’s Sp..spp..sppeech, eating a mountain of cheap sushi and staying in a cramped hostel room next to a working lady boy with big feet and very loud flip-flops, we arrived in Sri Lanka.

Never had we met so many kind, interesting and wonderful people as in this amazing country. On ridiculously crowded public buses we were looked after by everyone, told where to go, how to get there, how much to pay and even had people give their seats up for us, though at my stage in life, I was not sure whether I was being mistaken for the elderly, disabled or pregnant lady. We arrived at our guesthouse in Indaruwa, which although noisy from the traffic was a picture with a small pool, leading onto the beach and then the sea (the best sea we have ever had the fortune to swim in). We spent our time eating fresh fruit and fish, watching cricket, drinking Lion beer and Arrack and recovering from drinking Arrack. Sri Lanka was the easiest country to travel in so far as the public transport was dirt cheap and far better than the U.K. and people would chat to you and invite you back to their homes. Some of our favourite memories of Sri Lanka evolved from this.

The best buses in the world. Notice the plaque above the window - it represented both the Hindu gods Shiva, Ganesh and Vishnu, Buddha and Christ. When we asked a local why the religious deities were all mixed up, we got an answer to the effect of 'It's all God, innit?'

We decided to travel the west and south coasts by bus and finally settled in a place called Tangalle. With nowhere to stay, we did the unheard of, we asked a tuk-tuk driver. He took us to place where the cricket world cup sound and lights crew had stayed the previous week. However, it was now totally empty. The manager showed us our potential room with a view to die for (it was actually the view shown on the ‘welcome to Sri Lanka’ ad posters), both pools and the hotel’s 200 metre waterslide, which he said we could use whenever we wished. After looking around we sure of two things: firstly it was the most incredible place we’d ever seen, secondly there was no way on God’s sweet Earth we would be able to afford it. When we told the manager our budget he briefly went whiter than us, then, incredibly, made a huge compromise and in addition offered to halve the cost of the bar and restaurant menus also. Amazingly it just fell within our budget and we were transported from a world of shared showers and toilets, renting bed linen, making our own bed, using our own towels and noisy flip-flop clad lady boy sharing (that doesn’t sound right), to a new world with three course breakfasts and fresh flowers on our bed.

Luckily, the ridiculousness that is health and safety could not have been further away, as we had the run of the waterslide. The guy operating it used the following phrases which I love him for: ‘wear these, you’ll go faster’, ‘try going down head first’, ‘very good, now on your back and head first’ and ‘see if you can catch her up’. It’s a better world.

Us on Marissa beach, surfers paradise with 7 metre waves

Though the hotel had their own taxi service, we felt we owed it to our tuk tuk driver Ruwan to keep in contact and we began to form a friendship. One night Ruwan took us to his house to meet his family and show us their wedding album. His wife then invited us for dinner the following night where the extended family were also in attendance and we were treated like royalty. We brought them our wedding album and we all learned about each other’s cultures and traditions. They too were surprised that a grown man was able to fall asleep head first in a urinal (Bonzo, our friend and wedding photographer).

Andy with Ruwan and the family at their house in Tangalle

Alex with Ruwan's niece

Our friend Lou, a mate of Alex’s from their OTC days, was originally going to meet us in Thailand but we had no intention of going back by this stage as we wanted to spend as much time as we could in Sri Lanka. Fortunately she had not booked her ticket and was able to fly to Sri Lanka instead. We both really like Lou and had a really great few days relaxing by the beach. We then tried to cram a little too much into her week, taking a train to Kandy and then what was to be our least favourite place in Sri Lanka, Nuwara Eliya, where it was cold and miserable, and not even a good buffet could hide its dullness, sorry it was not all fun and games Lou, hope we can meet for drinks upon our return (our round). The day after Lou’s departure we stumbled upon the part of Sri Lanka that Lou would have loved, sod’s law!

News headline: Mini bus crashes in Sri Lanka, 150 dead!

Cup 'o'tea anyone? Our visit to a tea plantation (and Andy proves he hasn't contracted syphilis by crooking his little finger).

Standing room only, the best way to travel

Alex checking our train time at Kandy Station

Just before we left Sri Lanka, we had time to watch Pakistan smash Australia in the world cup, a solid end to any trip in my opinion. The crowd (including us) was mad throughout, the Sri Lankan contingent took their time to learn the Mexican wave, but my god, when they had, they wouldn't stop for love nor money and the sight of inflatable Kangaroos being hijacked and dressed in Pakistani flags was hilarious.

A friendly message for the Aussies

Our Sri Lankan visa was due to expire and we had a week before we had to leave for Sydney, so we decided to spend the week in Bangkok. Many people hate it, we loved it. Bangkok is not all about lady boys and prostitutes, the food is great too. As blasé as that sounds, there is some truth in it. If you stay away from the backpacker crowd there are some amazing places to see and things to do. The reclining gold Buddha was mind blowing, the views across the river were spectacular and the culture among the people of Bangkok was refreshingly non-western.

The reclining Buddha

Bangkok felt more like an eastern city than anywhere else we’d been and it did not adapt for tourists, which was great. Also, the food was better than anything we have ever tasted. Oysters the size of fists, street-made pad thai that was first rate, bbq chicken, squid, fish cakes and fresh fruit all sold from street vendors and all a different league of quality compared to what we are used to, the place is food heaven.

Seafood restaurant, Chinatown

The worlds greatest oysters (Chinatown Bangkok)

We decided not to go to a ping pong show as we’d heard it was quite sad and demeaning, so instead we went to a strip joint in a place called Soi Cowboy. On the plus side the drinks were cheap but it was sad to see all the semi naked, numbered girls being paraded in front of five or six ugly western men, unless you were one of the five or six western men, in which case it was Christmas. We also visited a snake farm, had many massages and explored the city. All in all, we loved Bangkok.

Bangkok snake show

Monks purchasing holy amulets in Bangkok

Our next stop was Australia. On arrival we were shocked by how expensive it was, food cost twice what it does at home and it hit especially hard as our last delicious crab and rice lunch in Bangkok had cost £2 for the two of us (including drinks). Then our mood changed. If someone were to ask what made our time in Australia the amazing experience it was, the answer would be easy: my step uncle, Paul and his wife Rosemary. They met us at the airport in Brisbane, took us to their lovely, tardis-like house on Bribie Island and pulled out all the stops to make sure we had the most amazing time. On our first day we climbed a large mass of hardened lava (just), then we visited a ginger factory and went on the most beautifully Alan Partridge-esque tour I’ve ever seen. Chairman I wish you were there to share it, I knew it was going to be interesting when the lady in charge told us how important the health and safety rules were due to the immense danger that occurs in ginger production. Over the course of the next week we went with Paul and Rosemary to some great beaches, did a bit of surfing in the waves, played some bad golf, fed kangaroos, cuddled Koalas and saw a duckbilled platypus.

Andy does his best Bono impression, complete with Guiness umbrella. The kangaroos weren't convinced, though.

I. WANT. ONE.

We were also treated to a delicious bbq and I met some new relatives that I never knew I had, they were all really good people too, and I look forward to seeing Suzie, David, Daniel and Annalise when they visit London. I also met Tooheys beer and I must say we got on particularly well. Rosemary’s cooking was awesome, and Paul can cook a pretty mean steak too. Their kindness, thoughtfulness, generosity and good company made our trip to Australia so enjoyable. Thanks so much.

We are now headed for New Zealand and intend to travel round both islands in a car or campervan. We’ll keep you updated and hope everyone at home is well. P.S. thanks for all the lovely emails, it is always good to hear from people when we are so far from home.

Hairy legs and bat sandwiches

We had a hectic start to 2011 and spent most of January in Cambodia, though posting this in April it already feels like light years ago. Our most vivid memories are trekking for three days including a 55km day trek, through a jungle where all the trees had spikes, swimming in three secret waterfalls, jumping off of 12 metre rocks into streams and eating delicacies such as tarantula, stick insect and bat to name but a few (well, Andy did and Alex filmed it):




We started in Siem Reap, in a hostel (my arse) recommended by our lovely friend Smeeta, who 'roughed it' here a couple of years earlier. How she survived the indoor heated pool, balcony, bar, pool tables and terrifying private cinema is beyond us. The town itself was touristy but very sweet, with some fantastic Khmer cuisine and the cheapest beer so far on our travels ($0.75 per pint). Outside the town we did the obligatory temple tour in Angkor, the most famous temple region in Cambodia. Ta Prohm was pretty eerie as the trees seemed to merge with the temple to create an awe inspiring sight.

The Bayon’ with four Buddhist faces watching every direction was also a great work of art. Angkor Wat was also very peaceful and calming and showed a great deal of work had gone into it. We were lucky enough (or lazy enough) to catch this temple at sunset rather than sunrise, and had it almost to ourselves, seeing it as it was meant to be - serene and quiet, rather than flashing with the bulbs of a thousand cameras.


After our intense temple tour we decided to relax our aching feet with the latest fad - a fish foot spa. Alex, having ticklish feet, found it a little trying:

We were also very fortunate whilst in Siem Reap to meet an Australian lady named Deborah on our flight into Cambodia. she was a strong willed, good hearted and enigmatic lady who was setting up a school for impoverished village children just outside Siem Reap. Needless to say, we got on very well and arranged to visit the school for a day. The day was fantastic and alllowed us a real insight into the lives of these children. They displayed a keeness to learn that was unlike what I had been used to. They also had developed motor skills that were unbelievable for their age. We had a brilliant time and the visit caused a great deal of thinking about future plans. Ultimately though, despite the temptation to 'do good', we thought that the best thing for Cambodia would actually be to leave it alone from western influences and allow it to develop naturally.

The existing village school, during an Art lesson:

From Siem Reap we took the bus down South to Phnom Penh, the capital, and stayed for a day to get our Laos visas. With only 24 hours there we did manage to see the creepy S21 museum and the Killing Fields, and were glad to leave after that. Then we were back on the bus up to Kratie with the intention of going to Ratanikiri in the North of Cambodia. However, fate struck as our bus overheated and as we stood baking by the hot roadside, it was clear that the bus was not going anywhere soon. Another bus pulled over after about ten minutes and we saw a few locals make the swap, so we looked at each other and quickly decided to take a punt. Three hours later we were in Mondulkiri ‘the wild east’ of Cambodia. It was a dusty windswept place more reminiscent of the Wild West, that did not see many visitors. After a well earned rest we set off the following day on what was to be our hardest trek to date.
On our first day we meet up with our guide, Hong, a local ‘Pnong’ tribesman who lived from the jungle and allowed us a fascinating and rewarding insight into a historic and sadly, dying way of life (can people be classified as endangered? If not they should). On our first day we walked 50k to his village, that’s right, 50k - believe it Ian! We were knackered and after 48km I turned to the third member of our group, a chain-smoking Irish weed addict named Martin who had brought nothing on the trek with him except a box of 200 ciggies and some hand santizer, and said, "I'm done" (or words to that effect) "what I would give for a cold beer." To our amazement, Hong invited us into a little dusty isolated hut just outside his village. It was an offie, and we probably bought more beer that night that they had sold in the last year. It was with great pleasure that we later were invited into Hong's home, built with his own hands from bamboo and elephant grass, containing only 2 wooden platforms and a fire, no chimney, and lots and lots of children and animals.

Hong's home:
Hong's family (mother-in-law in the foreground, with his wife and children behind):
Spending the night there was both disturbing and fascinating. We went to sleep with the entire family staring at us, and woke up with them still staring at us. Alex decamped in the morning to play with the kids, and got to know them a little. Pnong tradition is that girls are not given names at birth, and Hong's three daughters were thus known as 'Ian', 'Mian' and 'Nian' which roughly translates as 'First', 'Second' and 'Third'.

Hong's daughter Ian ('First'), a real sweety:
Next day we trekked through dense forest, stopping for lunch at a secret waterfall unvisited before by white people, where there was a cliff jump over the falls. Hong's safety briefing was, exactly that - brief. If we jumped, it seemed, a few feet too far left or not far enough out, we would die. Otherwise we were fine. As it turns out it was awesome fun.

That evening, we met Hong's 80 year old uncle whose name sounded like 'Pork Loin', who still thatched his own roof and walked two hours a day to fetch water. He had never eaten bread, drunk coffee or seen a white person before, despite being the oldest person we saw in Cambodia. He lived in a small house which he had built himself in the middle of the forest hours walk from any other humans. He grew vegetables to live from and a mountain of the harshest tobacco to smoke. He spoke a language called Hmong that has no written form, and had served as a latrine cleaner for the Khmer Rouge. He chose to live alone since his wife died, and meeting him was an amazing privilege - not only because of his way of life, but because he was probably one of the oldest survivors still living from the Khmer Rouge regime.

Pork Loin outside his home:

The last day of our trek we returned to Hong's village, stopping at a different waterfall. Our food had largely run out by now, but Hong didn't seem to worry. (Here Alex has taken over the script). No he didn't - as about half an hour away from the river we passed through a bamboo forest. Suddenly Hong stopped and listened, then showed us where some little bats had made their day-nest inside a wedge of bamboo. We could just see the little things through the small hole they had climbed in through. Hong seemed very excited and quickly whipping his knife out, chopped the bamboo off, leaving the segment which the bats were in, then stuffed the hole up with grass. He then said 'bat is my favourite'. I thought he meant animal. He didn't. What happened next I am still trying to forget, and forgive Andy for participating in. I did think of rescuing them, I really did, but Hong had a machete and I was a tad frightened that letting his lunch escape might anger him.

Hong 'preparing' lunch:
If anyone is curious as to how to prepare bat (by the way. it's Andy again), I'll let you in to a secret Pnong recipe:
1) Crush the bats skull between your thumb and forefinger
2) Skewer the remaining bat and roast it over a freshly made fire
3) Once crispy, (you will know this as the wings have been fully burnt away), remove bat from the heat.
4) Using a bamboo segment and a stick as a sort of pestle and mortar, crush the bats together with some jungle roots, (salt is optional).
5) Serve and enjoy!

Altogether it was an experience we will treasure, and never forget. At the time we didn't fully appreciate it, but we realise now we were very, very lucky to spend time with such a wonderful people who still live wholly reliant on nature - as close to Avatar as I think you could ever get.

Just to finish, Hong told us a wonderful story of how he had taken Gordon Ramsey to his village and showed him how to collect food from the jungle and how he prepared it - part of a forthcoming television show in the UK apparently though we can't remember what it is called. After the filming Ramsey offered to take Hong up in his Helicopter. Hong refused as he had no money to pay with, but after Ramsey explained it was a gift, he accepted and told us with bulging eyes how he had seen his jungle from the air - all the trees he knew, all the forest he lived in. It almost makes us cry typing it.

The rest of our trip up to the land crossing with Laos was largely uneventful and uncomfortable, but it did not matter as we had such great memories to take with us.

Cabin Fever in Kalimantan

We’re currently writing this from the luxury of shiny happy Singapore about 10 days after the last post was written, so our experience in East Kalimantan has had a chance to sink in. First thoughts are: how on earth did we put up with it and have we got fleas in our baggage? Second thoughts are, actually that was quite good fun, and although it had its ups and downs, it was definitely an extraordinary adventure that fell beyond the limits of the normal traveller routes, proven by the facts that there were only 2 pages in our Lonely Planet guide dedicated to Kalimantan and that we were, for about a week, the only whites in the village.


Despite East Kalimantan being a chunk of the earth that tourism seems to have ignored, we arrived late at night in the noisy, dual-carriagewayed city of Balikpapan to discover that all the guesthouses, hotels and B&Bs were fully booked by local Indonesians. Luckily our taxi driver Yuri was helpful and patient and spent about an hour driving us around the city to enquire at all the various lodgings. At last we were shown two available rooms – one had excrement on the walls and the other had a bin outside which had exploded, several days ago. I think even the roaches had forgone those, so we resigned ourselves to either asking our driver to stay with him, or checking in at the most expensive hotel in town. Then without warning we stumbled upon the Fortuna Hotel – it was cheap, it was open, but most importantly it was CLEAN!!! Really clean – with fresh sheets, white walls and shiny tiles in the bathroom!! I know it must sound like we go on about cleanliness a lot, but seriously we will never take it for granted ever again, especially after having to wash in this bathroom in East Kalimantan’s capital Samarinda:

The next day we investigated what there was to do here and found that the main tourist draw in East Kalimantan was to take a river tour up the mighty Mahakam river, on the way visiting the rainforest and seeing some traditional villages belonging to the indigenous Dayak tribe. This sounded perfect, so we found ourselves a guide and two days later arrived at the port in Samarinda and looked around for our houseboat, on which we were to spend the next two days as we travelled upriver. Somehow or other (mainly thanks to a rich ex-pat’s website) we got the idea that this would be like a pretty little canal boat in the UK. Our boat was a bit larger than that, about 20 tonnes larger, and about 200 other people were also getting on.

Above: our houseboat

Funnier still was when we saw our ‘room’:

Our bed space was about 2’ by 6’ each, with a dirty mattress each to sleep on, and complete strangers to sleep beside. We were fairly lucky – we got a chain smoker on one side and a lady with a baby on the other.


As the boat moved away from the port we got our new sleeping bags out and bedded down on our mattresses, in the process probably ingraining the idea in all the local’s heads that the British are extremely fussy and preoccupied with cleanliness, as we took our mattresses outside and sprayed them with flea killer, and thereafter tried our utmost not to make direct contact with the fabric. We also made the best of what space we had, with a games corner, a strung-up washing line and a larder (mostly containing Tim Tams, delicious biscuits like Penguins only better). Then we noticed everyone else was doing the same in their own fashion. Ladies were hanging makeshift costs from the ceiling, and getting out pre-prepared picnic baskets, kids were using the gangway as a running circuit and others were getting in their pyjamas and snuggling down for the day. It actually started to feel really homely, and when a few people gave us some tentative smiles we started to realise that this was actually a real, local experience and one we were lucky to join in! We also quickly realised after we ventured downstairs that we were in ‘First Class’; some poor souls had seats downstairs, where there were no mattresses, only a plastic mat to sit on, no walls, an unbelievably loud motor engine, all squished in between the cargo – boxes containing everything from chillies to chickens, motorbikes, bicycles and coils of steel.








Next to them was the kitchen, a small table to eat on, and next to the kitchen – right next to the kitchen - were the bathrooms. Imagine a wooden cell about 2 foot square, with a hole and a hose. It was a whole new level of basic, and we didn’t realise until we were well underway that in Kalimantan there is no such thing as ‘sewage treatment’ – everything goes straight into the river, from the boat, the villages and the factories. Andy described the water as ‘brown with white bits’ which made me laugh until I realised this was what we were expected to wash in and drink for the next two weeks of our trip.

Bottoms up!

We arrived safely at the end of the river at a village called Long Bagun, on Christmas Day. After being shown around the village we were a little disappointed that many of the Dayak traditions were a shadow of the past. The great longhouse was empty and only used for the odd ceremonial occasion, sadly not including Christmas, and mobile phones shops and plasma screens seemed to have replaced singing, dancing and storytelling. However, the village still had some unique charms. The children were lovely, bursting with energy and led us a merry race around the village on their bikes:

The village also had many floating houses - basically wooden houses strapped to massive logs, which were designed to rise and fall with the level of the river. Apparently these were favoured over normal land-based houses as if you fell out with your neighbour you could simply float downstream. Genius!

We ate a simple Christmas Dinner of boiled rice, boiled veg and boiled fish, and for the first time really appreciated the English roast dinner, a concept which we couldn't make the Indonesians understand. I think at that point both of us would have drunk some unboiled water in return for a Yorkshire pudding.

Later the same day we took a short canoe trip across to a neighbouring village to see another longhouse, sadly also out of use. But on our way we passed a small Catholic church where a Christmas service was taking place. We were immediately invited inside and listened to the wonderful singing, until the end when everyone turned around and wished us 'Merry Christmas' in English. I think we both had tears in our eyes as they were so welcoming, warm and friendly and at that point we missed home terribly. But we weren't allowed to feel sad for long as a lovely girl called Lia invited us back to her home for some tea and cakes, and to meet her family. At the grand age of 22 she was a retired model from Sulawesi with three children. She was spending Christmas with her husband's family, and here we found our first trace of true Dayak tradition, as her great-grandmother-in-law was over 100 and sported the elongated earlobes which Dayak women used to wear - they nearly reached to her shoulders! (It was too rude to take a picture so we haven't got one to show).

With Lia on Christmas Day

On Boxing Day we took a much longer canoe journey upriver, which was really exciting as we wound along the bendy river, scooting over fallen logs and listening to the screeching of the birds in the treetops above. The canoe (pictured below) had a stick for steering and no daggerboard, which meant that the slightest movement nearly pitched us and our belongings into the river. Luckily we had a highly experienced Dayak guide with us called Thomas, who with some sort of magical instinct could tell where the water was safe and later, when we stopped at a rocky riverbank, built us a simple shelter with his machete. It occured to me that we had allowed ourselves to be driven into the middle of nowhere by a man wielding a giant knife, but fortunately Thomas was lovely, if possibly the most talkative man in Indonesia, with not a word of English in his vocabulary. And our Indonesian didn't extend much beyond 'how much is that' and 'no more rice, please'.

After watching Thomas setup our camp for the night, we ventured on a short trek into the rainforest. Here we were again disappointed, as the forest we were walking through wasn't true rainforest, but secondary, recovering rainforest as the land had been previously cleared years ago by the locals for rice planting. In fact on our canoe journey we saw whole swathes of forest which had been cut and burned to make way for paddy fields, and although on a local scale this is sustainable, on top of this scores of logging, coal and gold-mining companies are clearing the forest at such a rate that 20 years ago you could arrive in Sanmarinda on the coast and be within virgin rainforest within half an hour, whereas we had travelled for nearly 3 days into the heart of Kalimantan and even here it was impossible to find. The reality that Greenpeace haven't got it all covered, and that today's children may not have any real rainforest left to see in this part of the world, was really upsetting. Apparently Malaysian Borneo is far more protected than Kalimantan, but here it seemed to be a free-for-all, and even worse the local Dayaks, in return for money to buy modern conveniences, help the large corporations to discover new areas of virgin forest to chop down. Kalimantan seemed to us to represent one of the world's greatest resource supermarkets and also one of the world's biggest rubbish dumps. For such a beautiful, spellbinding place with such a lovely people this is a real tragedy. And on this realisation we felt we'd seen enough. Although there were many more 'traditional' vilages awaiting us down-stream, we couldn't reconcile the picturesque view of Kalimantan with the ugly reality. So, after a night outdoors beside the river, we packed our things and got back aboard the Big Brother houseboat and sped our way back to Samarinda.

After Samarinda we spent an enjoyable New Year's Eve back in the city of Balikpapan at a Chinese restaurant, and went wild with fruit juices as the city is dry, being largely Muslim.

Altogether I think we'll always remember Kalimantan, and especially the crazy houseboat, as a unique experience. But it's safe to say that Greenpeace now have two new members!

Gili Air

The Gili islands are three small islands off of the coast of Lombok. As the speedboat pulled in to Gili Trawangan it felt like a scene from Shipwrecked, however upon seeing the Bintang singlets we knew something was up; it seemed Gili T began where Kuta left off. We decided to try one more Gili and if it were the same we’d leave for Lombok.


Although only a 30 minute boat ride away, Gili Air was worlds away; it was like walking onto a paradise island. We stayed in an incredible bungalow (£8 per night including breakfast) which deserved a place in the Sunday Times travel magazine. The sea was tranquil, the island was beautifully quiet as there are no motorised vehicles on the Gili’s, and there was absolutely no hassle from touts. Also the fresh fish and juice were delicious. We spent our days diving, cycling around the island, chatting with the locals and eating long slow meals whilst watching the sea. The only drawback was the weather. If it had been hot we would probably have stayed until our visas ran out but unfortunately it was very stormy, so much so that we could not go to our next destination, Flores. So instead after a great week, during which we became advanced, Nitrox enriched air PADI divers, and developed an addiction to some penguin-like biscuits called Tim-Tams, we gave in to the weather and made our way back to Bali to catch our next flight.


We arrived at Denpasar airport not knowing where we wanted to go next, all we knew was that we wanted to leave that day so we went to the flight operator booths, reduced our options to a short list of two, Sulawesi and Kalimantan, neither of which we knew a lot about so with about an hour before both flights left, we flipped a coin, tails it was and Kalimantan was to be our next destination.

Bali

We had both always wanted to go to Bali for years, lured by Kuoni images of rice paddies, strange Indiana Jones temples, exemplary craftsmanship and friendly locals.

We arrived in Kuta – home to a breed of young aussie, identifiable by the close sunken eyes, generally glazed, clueless yet dangerous-if-poked expression and body of sculpted meat that you would associate with ‘Donk’ of Crocodile Dundee fame. In order to identify these creatures, and so that they could identify each other they were all branded with Bintang singlets of various colours. They could generally be found around watering holes that sold cheap beer and Viagra. We found their diet, although largely liquid-based, also consisted of KFC or McDonalds, though it has to be admitted it was the best MackyD’s we ever had. Here was the Shag-a-luf of Indonesia. Our initial reaction was God help us!

Thankfully, we were not alone, and with our new-found friends, Bailey and Kimberly, we decided to apply the old adage, ‘if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em’, and together we set out to earn our singlets.

We walked along a main street until we found a dark bar with full music kit setup, many tattooed and pierced young Indonesians sitting outside and importantly, not a singlet in sight. Our drink of choice was a litre each of ‘jungle juice’ with ‘secret ingredient’. It was a mixture of Arak (a local spirit) and god knows what else, served in a children’s plastic beaker (perhaps this was also done with the aussies in mind). The boys had two litres, the girls had one, in both cases the job was done.

We then proceeded to watch the Indonesians take it in turns to pick up the guitar and play and sing with aplomb. Bailey and I had come to the same conclusion: be it art, dance, craftsmanship or music we were skill-less Westerners. The locals could even address us in our own language and all we could do in return was smile, say thank you and probably, if asked, hit a triangle, although not necessarily in rhythm.

From there we headed to the super-clubs. These were sprawling monstrosities bursting with sweat, adrenaline and herds of alcohol fuelled animals of which we were now a part. Inside there were drinks promotions every 15 minutes which helped Bailey and I pace ourselves whilst Alex and Kimberly danced away. After a few incidents, one involving a distressed Bailey, a disappointed stranger, some public toilets and the prayer position, we left to go home.

The night was over for all of us, except for Alex who decided to go on a night sleepwalk in just her knickers and T-shirt. Her first port of call was the reception area where she got quite aggressive when they wouldn’t let her use their toilet, how dare they try to explain that she had one in her own room. Her next victims were a poor Indonesian family who rather foolishly had not locked their door and after a brief conversation she was told to go back to her room. Whilst this is very un-Alex-like behaviour it did secure her a top two finish in the stories that happened last night competition the next morning.



We spent the next 8 days on a road trip around Bali with Bailey and Kimberly. Having the car and the world’s worst map meant that we travelled most of Bali. We stayed in the most beautiful accommodation in Ubud and also saw some really naughty monkeys at the monkey temple. We dived on the North coast as well as in Amed where we did a wreck dive inside a sunken WWII US cargo ship and stayed where the atmosphere was so much quieter and more traditional.



Miraculously, we returned the only just road worthy rental car on time even after being stopped by the horribly corrupt Bali police force who after a lot of play acting and lying managed to drop all ‘charges’ for a bribe of £6. As beautiful as Bali was, we felt it was now pretty much a tourist island and in the end we were pleased to move on. So the next day we parted with our road trip partners and left by boat for the Gilis.