And the golden raspberry goes to...

...the one day Mekong Delta tour for being possibly the worst trip we have ever been on. Our reasons behind booking it were motivated by a desire to see the fertile plains and also, well lets face it, it has one of the coolest name in history. So on that rather ropey rationale we sat on a bus without air conditioning travelling to an area that whilst fertile, looked more boggy than rice paddy-like and arrived in a town that was as unremarkable as the River Mekong and the Delta itself. A boat trip on the murky brown waters took us to an island inhabitated only by a coconut candy production line. The candy itself was delicous admittedly and Beth purchased coconut skewers to try and salvage something good from the frankly disappointing start of the trip. Always the optimists, we looked forward to the rowing boat trip which was next on the agenda. This was atually the best part of the day as a lady wearing a tradional conical hat paddled along a narrow river channel surrounded by coconut palms on each side. Our enjoyment was short-lived however as we were taken to watch the waitresses, who had just served us a meagre portion of rice with vegetables that had obviously seen better days, sing traditional songs. Call us culture ignoramouses but since when did wailing hopelessly out of tune to music played by untalented muscians, teamed with a tourist who insited on playing his newly purchased coconut castanets to a non-existent rhythm, constitute easy listening? Don't believe us?? Watch the video here!

Giving ourselves a caffeine boost with the incredibly strong, incredibly sweet Vietnamese coffee we grimly waited to be taken back to Ho Chi Minh. But there was more in store for us. We were told to look round a bonsai garden but frankly the caged monkeys were a sad sight and we certainly didn't want to show any signs of encouragement to the owners. Glumly and after what seemed like a year, we were picked up and taken back, breathing a sigh of relief as we reached the safety of our hotel. After a delicous meal at what had become our local restaurant, our hangovers finally kicked in after two weeks of fun, frivolity and drinking with Will and Katie. We took to our beds and got an early night ready for our bus journey that heralded the start of our travels northward towards the capital of Vietnam, Hanoi via Dalat, Nha Trang, Hue, and Hoi An.

Vietnam: A Country, Not A War

'Vietnam: a country, not a war' is the famous association that the Government would prefer as they continue their appeal to the tourist market. But Vietnam is a country that was at war for so long and with so many countries; Cambodia, France, China and the US to name a few, that the two are synonomous. Sadly but inevitably, the wars have made the country, the people, the legends and the culture.

We knew little of the American war in Vietnam, only that America attacked North Vietnam in collusion with the non-communist South Vietnam to stamp out the spread of communism in Asia. What we learnt was that it obviously didn't matter to the US that the South Vietnamese Government was horribly corrupt anyway and perhaps weren't a viable option to govern a united Vietnam. Instead of tackling the problem by helping to stabalise the existing South Vietnamese Government and employing diplomacy with the North to argue against communism, they attacked North Vietnam. Over a period of five years, America dropped 1.2million tonnes of bombs a year, for good measure, an additional five million tonnes of Agent Orange to destroy fertility of land, which has since demonstrated it's connection to deformities and cancer in generations to follow. Decimating areas with Nepalm that burns between 800-1200 degrees centigrade inflicted further horrors on both land and people alike. Ironically, the weapons that America deployed in such quantity and with such devasting effects are the pretext they used for invading Iraq.

In a political move to align themselves with the US, ANZAC troops (Australia and New Zealand) joined in the fighting but are alledged to have treated the communists of the North with compassion, responding by educating to stop communism at source. A sharp contrast to the 'fight now and talk later' approach that the American administration employ time and time again.

The war remnant museum was shocking. One of the rooms displayed photographs taken by war correspondants - many who ultimately paid with the loss of their life to deliver such vivid reports of the war. The most shocking? An image of an American solider holding the decapitated head of a Vietnamese man and laughing. An image of one of the only female war photographers boarding an aircraft and then pictured dying in a ditch after an attack. Massacred families and terrified Prisoners of war. The photographs shared such violence, documented such acts of terror and captured so much that many made very difficult viewing, A second room showed the effects of NePalm (the infamous 'girl in the picture' running for her life after being horribly burnt and which generated such international horror) and photographs of the gross deformities of the victims of Agent Orange. The malformed feotuses preserved in jars made us sick to our stomachs that this war could have taken place. Of course, the museum did not document the atrocities commited by the communists against the Americans and South Vietnamese as the communist government of Vietnam would never allow that, but our experience at Chu Chi tunnels, 70km outside Ho Chi Minh did to an extent.

The undergroud network of 250km tunnels ranging from 3-10metres beneath ground and stretching to the Cambodian border, was the base for the Communists (or Viet Cong as they became known) fighting in South Vietnam. The resilient Viet Congs lived in the tunnels even housing hospitals, kitchens and meeting rooms below ground and however much America bombed the area, the tunnels were so far beneath they largely remained preserved. But the price that the Viet Cong paid was huge. We went through the tunnels only for 30 metres and it felt like an eternity. The tunnels are very small and we had to crawl through on our hands and knees (the average Viet Cong was only 5ft 5in) and it was utterly pitch black. Beth found herself panicing badly in such an enclosed space, trapped in small musty tunnels with no light and no end in sight. The thought of the Viet Congs living beneath ground for ten years was incredible enough but the really frightening thought was what the Viet Cong feared more on the outside that was more frightening than living underground for a decade. saw the communists based in South Vietnam wage guerilla warfare on the Americans.

We couldn't help but feel sorry for the American 'tunnel rats' who were sent in to the tunnels to scout around. Their fear and panic at such containment must have been terryfying but falling on sharpened bamboo doused in cobra venom then dying alone in such conditions does not bear thinking about. The Americans were out-witted, out-maneorved and out-of-their-depth with the guerilla tactics employed by the Viet Cong inlcuding turning unexploded bombs into landmines and shrapnel from the bombs into horrific booby traps that created terrible injuries to the S.Vietnamese army and the Americans.

To finish our 'tour' we were taken to a shooting range where Steve and Will had a go at shooting rifles and handguns. The noise was louder than anything we had ever heard and it didn't seem right that we had been taken there after seeing what damage these weapons can inflict.

One of the saddest sights of the day was a photograph of the communist Government awarding the Viet Congs with medals for being 'great American killers'. We lost some faith in human nature that day. So now the communist regime holds Vietnam after America negotiated it's way out of the war it had waged which makes the war in Vietnam even more pointless than war already is - with or without the benefit of hindsight.

* 'The Girl in the Picture' is a great book to read for a run down on the war in Vietnam and how the history interacts with communism around the globe. Kim Phuc's story is both horrifying and heart-warming.

Saigon Days

Our trip to the Cambodia/Vietnam border was uncomfortable but bearable. That is until we got to the border itself. If we thought the beauracy at Thailand/Cambodia border was bad, it had nothing on the long drawn out three hour wait we spent sweating under the midday sun whilst carrying the equivalent of a five stone child on our backs. It really was horrendous and we were pretty disgruntled as we set foot on Vietnam soil - even more so when we realised that our bus had gone without us. Left with no option, we paid a second bus to take us to Saigon or Ho Chi Minh city as it is now known. Tired and grubby the four of us decided we would treat ourselves and stayed in the nicest, cleanest and most expensive hotel any of us had stayed in since we had been travelling. At $14 it was a bargain with hot water, flushing toilets, white grouting (details, details), balcony, comfy beds and yes, it even had a television! It was a big expenditure on our budget but worth every penny (or Dong as the currency is in Vietnam). Showered and clean we spent a lovely evening sampling our first Vietnamese cusine - largely stir-fried meat with rice a little like upmarket Chinese food but with less flavour than Cambodia and less strength then Thailand. If truth be told, it was a little bland for our chilli-converted palettes - particularly for Beth who even has to put chilli sauce on her breakfast! We spent the following morning exploring the crazy city of Ho Chi Minh - chaotic but very vibrant. We took in sights like the Ben Thanh market and went into a frenzy of handicraft purchases. Returning by cyclo (a seat on the front of a large bicycle peddled by a Vietnamese man) we spent most of the journey with our eyes shut as motorbikes seemed to come straight at us from all directions blaring their horns - a sound we were to become used to as we travelled through Vietnam.

Saigon/Ho Chi Minh is in defiant contrast with the communist rule - instead the pavements pound to the vibrant beat of free market practices: trade and enterprise. The streets are alive with the latest Nokia mobile phones, ring tunes and scooters that seem to outnumber people. As our first foray into a communist country, Ho Chi Minh, the capital of the South seemed anything but. As our guidebook acknowledges, the only communism in evidence in this city is the traffic system where everyone relies on each other to avoid being hit. It seems to work too...most of the time!

Our final night together after a brilliant two weeks spent with Katie and Will was a posh one. We felt the least we deserved was a slap up meal before the next time we met up again for a dinner party in England! We started off with dinner at the glamourous 'Lemongrass' restaurant which served wonderful Vietnamese food and even bottles of wine which we hadn't drunk since Australia. We finished off at the Rex Hotel roof top terrace where we drank cocktails in the bar famous during war-time for it's American solider presence - dining ladies, smoking opium and generally relaxing after a hard day fighting. That's the American officers, not us of course. In a surreal setting with caged birds and a rotating crown we supped our 'Miss Saigon' and 'Morning Saigon' cocktails whilst toasting our good fortune of having met such like-minded people and had the opportunity to travel with each other for two weeks. It was a sad goodbye to Katie and Will the following morning and Saigon just wasn't going to be the same without them...although their legacy lives on as we continue to crave beer in the early afternoon!

The Green Cross Code - Ho Chi Minh City style

1. Shuffle to edge of pavement. Observe the rows of traffic, no system, few traffic lights and the fact they use horns instead of indicators but SHOW NO FEAR.
2. Walk off pavement and onto road - inevitably into hordes of motorbikes, cyclos, mopeds and cars. SHOW NO FEAR.
3. SHOW NO FEAR whilst talking to your companion in joyful and relaxed manner.
4. Studiously avoid eye contact with 16 motor cyclists gunning for you whilst SHOWING NO FEAR.
5. Walk in a straight line determinedly and precisely. Zig-zagging means almost certain death.
6. In a measured style, walk at a consistent speed across what will seem like the Hanger Lane Gyratory and SHOW NO FEAR.
7. When you finally reach the other side of what feels like eight lanes of the M1, stumble to the nearest bar, consume a bottle of Saigon Beer and only then feel free to show your fear.

NB. Basically the golden rule when crossing the road in Ho Chi Minh city is DON'T stop, DON'T look and DON'T listen.

Friends in Phnom Penh

Katie, Will and us spent our last night in Cambodia's capital, Phnom Penh, in a hotel overlooking the river. A little nervously it must be said as the lack of gun laws and tax make it home to gangsters from all over Asia. Even the hotel warned us to leave weapons in the hotel safe and not take them into the rooms. To steady our nerves (good excuse as any) the four of us had lunchtime beers in the lovely Riverside Restaurant. After walking along the river and admiring the Grand Palace for a while, we became thirsty again and headed to the Foreign Correspondance Club, now an expensive bar, for a cocktail as we watched the sun go down from the balcony. After seeing night fall over a very hectic Phnom Penh we headed for the Friends restaurant which is a little llike Jamie Oliver's concept for his restaurant '15' in London. It is run by teenagers formerly of the street and now trained as chefs and waiters and the only difference between Jamie Oliver's concept and the Cambodian formula seemed to be that the Cambodian children capatalise on the opportunity and embrace it with enthusiasm unlike the English street children in the documentary. The food, Asian tapas, was wonderful and with 15 dishes between the four of us, we demolished such delights as Cambodian chicken curry, fish salad and mango chicken with as much enthusiasm as we had - which for Cambodian food, is lots! It turned out to be the best meal we had eaten in Cambodia and as all the profits went to a good cause, the digestion was easier than normal too. We were really sad to leave Cambodia which had turned out to be an unexpected gem in our Asian journey's crown to date and is certainly a country that we would love to visit again. So with that, we waved a goodbye to the couregeous and lovely Cambodian people and caught our 6am bus to Vietnam.

Sunny in Silhanoukville

Cambodia had proved to date to be one of the most interesting countries we had visited but we weren't sure what to expect from a Cambodian beach break. On arrival in Silhanoukville we were not disappointed as the beautifully tropical Serendipity Beach was lined with open-air eateries illuminated by fairy lights and the people who worked there friendly and affectionate.

As we lazed on the beach, children and women wondered up and down the beach trying to sell us fresh prawns in boxes or BBQ lobster, wooden bracelets or fruit, manicures or massage - most of which we bought! We became almost permanent fixtures on the beach with some of the children seeing the four of us and putting down the baskets balanced on their heads to hug us, play with Katie and Beth's hair, fight with the boys in the sea and just sit with us for hours as we read. After lazing most days with them in front of Sunny Bar, we would then watch the sun set over the sea while consuming more of the Cambodian cuisine; Amoke, Loc Lac (lime sauce and meat), seafood curries and noodle soup. More often than not, we would have lots of beers*, put the World to rights or as in the case of one rather raucous night, drink into the early hours.

The only blur on an otherwise fantastic few days was seeing the sex tourists, who having picked up girls in Phnom Penh, had travelled to the coast for their idea of fun and frolics. The girls in Eden bar that we went to one evening seemed under age and when one collapsed in a drunken heap and was promptly carried away by a big butch American, we felt sickened. With Will and Beth feeding her water in an attempt to sober her up, she told us she was from Phnom Penh but became abusive when we asked if she was okay to go with the man who was by now unceremoniously loading her onto a nearby motorbike taxi. There was little we could do and the girl refused any help. Maybe she was fine, maybe she had no choice, maybe she wanted to do this. Maybe we'll never know but it was very sad.

So the mayhem of our lazy fun-filled days continued and in the children we made friends that we were sad to leave. After four days we left Silhanoukville armed with at least three friendship bracelets each and fully relaxed ready for our last night in Phnom Penh.

*Will's influence - 'beer o'clock' could easily be as early as 4pm.

Our Revenge will be the Laughter of our Children

"Our Revenge will be the Laughter of our Children" was first coined by an Irish republican however it could have almost been written by the Cambodians. Suddenly our simple travel updates have taken on a new edge and after what we have learnt in Phnom Penh, we feel a responsibility to the Cambodians who suffered at the hands of the Khmer Rouge - Pol Pot's regime from 1975-1979. If, like us, you are unaware of one of the biggest human tragedies of last century that actually happened within most of our lifetimes (if you are over 26), then you will be as stunned, disgusted and saddened as we were by the history.

After a long civil war fought between the (largely corrupt) Government of the time and the communist organisation, Khmer Rouge, the latter gained victory. It was the following day that their brutal intent became clear: create a purely agrarian society through 'purification' of the existing Cambodian population. Possessing an education, working as professionals, being handicapped, ill or even wearing glasses was considered a crime and a threat to a communist agrarian society, so out of fear from rebellion they murdered 2,000,000 people. Men, women and children. Many of the murdered were tortured, particularly ex-Government officials, and families were separated as they were forced to work from morning until night in hard labour camps. Mass extermination programmes existed against a backdrop of starvation, disease and malnutrition.

The displays at Tuol Sleng, a school turned into the S21 prison camp where of 17,000 inmates only 3 survived, showed the atrocities committed by the Khmer Rouge. Original torture instruments still haunt the rooms with photographs of the people in pain during their use. Old blood patches that have stained the floor serve as a reminder that all this was horribly real. Photographs or 'mug shots' as the Khmer Rouge called them line the rooms, row after row and 1000's upon 1000's of people before they were taken to the killing fields, faces full of fear and defiance, hatred and resignation.

The killing fields 15km outside Phnom Penh still have the deep holes which were once the site of mass burials - 17,000 men, women and children died in total. The skulls piled five metres high are heart-wrenching and are all that is left of the broken bodies that once filled the fields. The beautiful rice paddies, water buffaloes and sparkling lake that today form the backdrop make it hard to ever imagine terrified people blindfolded, forced to kneel, bludgeoned to death and then buried, sometimes alive, under the next victims.

The Khmer Rouge were eventually overthrown by the Vietnamese but Pol Pot was never brought to justice, eventually cheating the Cambodian people of both answers and justice when he died in 1998. Every Cambodian has been effected by the period and even the young motorbike drivers who took us to the museum shared some horrific tales that their city-based family had suffered. Even now, some cannot speak of the experience.

Possessing the knowledge of the atrocity that occurred here is only compounded by the fact that it is happening again in Rwanda. Only with the awareness of these experiences can we learn from them and influence a world that closes it's ears to the cries of help. The knowledge gives us the chance to influence people in power to be motivated by humanitarian issues and not by political agenda.

Today, the Cambodian people are healing physically, mentally and economically: they smile and joke, work and play, but the sweetest sound is hearing the children laugh.

* For further information and to read accounts from people who survived the Khmer Rouge era, we can recommend 'First they killed my Father' written by Loung Ung and 'When broken glass floats' by Canrithy Him. Both are harrowing but well written and a page-turning read.

The Temples of Angkor

Before dusk fell we headed out on a tuktuk towards Angkor to see the temples during sunset. Our first glimpse of the majestic Angkor Wat, the largest religious stone-constructed building in the world, simply took our breathe away. Turning to the tuktuk next to us, we saw that Katie and Will were stunned too. The imposing entrance was reflected in the moat making it seem even bigger and the temple's towers rose behind to give us a tantalising peek at what we could expect at sunrise in the morning. We continued, passing other ruined remnants within the central Angkor Thom route until we arrived at Phnom Bakheag Wat. The hill climb was daunting and many of the (sensible!) tourists were taking a leisurely elephant trip to the summit. We however climbed (scrambled would describe our ascent more accurately) and suffered distinct flashbacks to the Inca trail as our feet struggled to find footholes in the sandy rock, but it was worth it when we arrived. The temple stood proud, shrugging off the ruined areas by holding its intact towers proud and we all watched as the burning sun set over the jungle landscape below. As darkness began to fall we all cracked over cans of Angkor Beer and drank to the ancient Cambodians who had built such a magical place. Another evening of Angkor beer, delicious Khmer food and the company of Katie and Will followed and we all got a late night ready for our 5am start the following morning.

The tuktuk ride in the early morning was a chilly affair and certainly blew away the cobwebs that had settled from the night before. We headed straight for Angkor Wat to see the sunrise and battled our way through the hordes of tourists to the causeway beyond the entrance. Even in the dark there was no mistaking the serated edges of the five towers, making a statement on the landscape which has stood the test of time and the ravages of war since the 11th century. We felt privileged to see such a site and humbled in it's presence - without a doubt the most incredible man-made sight we have ever seen. We settled in front of the 'northern reflecting pool' for sunrise and watched in wonder as the rising sun cast pinks, yellows and reds over the towers which reflected their glory in the water. It was a such a magical moment and the world seemed to stop spinning as we drank in the colours of the incredible light show and stunning backdrop. Thousands of photographs and a steaming hot cup of coffee later we saved the delights of exploring Angkor Wat for later and headed to the next Wat called Bayon. The second most famous next to Angkor Wat, Bayon was also spectacular with at least 20 remaining towers each with a stone Buddha face carved in each side and looking out in each direction. We climbed through the ruin exploring the maze of corridors and higgeldy-piggeldy architecture that saw walls overlap and intricate bas-relief (stone carvings on the wall) hidden amongst pillars and towers. Meeting an elderly woman in the centre we joined her in lighting incense sticks and thanked her Buddha statue three times in Khmer (ou kuoen Buddha), English and French. She covers all her bases we suppose!

From Bayon we visited a host of other temples, all beautiful in their own right, including the Terrace of the Elephants featuring the most intricate of carvings and three-dimensional models of elephants; The Terrace of the Leper King with dancing bas-relief and a rare naked Buddha - the alleged Leper King - surrounded by a hundred Japanese tourists clicking away as if their lives depended on it. The highlight of these secondary temples was Ta Prohm which is recognisable as the temple featured in TombRaider. The ruined temple itself was similar to others we had seen but it was the influence of nature that made this one so special and introduced a different dimension of beauty. After the first near-destruction of the temples centuries ago and then the dark Khmer Rouge years where they robbed the people of hope by preventing Buddhist worship at the temples, the jungle truly took hold of Ta Prohm - both splitting it open and holding it together. As the branches have grown through the temple they also wrap around the stones to hold it in place and withstand the test of time. It was a beautiful place and despite the crowds of tourists, there was still space to quietly contemplate in the twisting mazes that lined the centre. The compulsory Lara Croft style photos were taken here but without the hotpants, gadgets and Lucozade of course!

On our way out we listened for a while to a band busking - no ordinary group but victims of landmines with horrible scars, some blind, other maimed. It was heart breaking to see but they were making lovely music in an attempt to live their lives again after the Khmer Rouge regime that spared not an inch of the country and very few people. We fought our way through the children selling books and jewelry all with the same pitch: "where are you from sir?". "England" we would reply only to be told the population, the capital and the name of the Queen followed by an expectant face and up-turned hand. We couldn't help but admire their entrepreneurship but after the 30th approach it started to wear thin and we started claiming we were from the North Pole which flummoxed them long enough for us to escape!

At sunset we sat in the same place as we had 12 hours previously and supped some well deserved beer before taking more photographs of Angkor Wat in a very different light - this time the towers cast green and blue shadows over the pool as the sun set in the opposite direction. As we left the complex of the ancient temples, we were sweaty, exhausted and covered with sand from head to toe but somehow felt rested as if the imposing temples had cast a spell over us. As we waved goodbye to the temples we knew the sight of sunrise at Angkor Wat would stay with us forever - with or without our beautiful photographs.

A Taste of Cambodia

Our first impression of Cambodia was chaos, total and utter chaos. We queued at the border for two hours for our visa and then queued for another two hours as we exited Thailand and entered Cambodia. In the blazing sun and with backpacks on it was fortunate we met Katie and Will, lovely English travellers of the same age, or we would have been very grumpy by the time we hopped onto the next bus.

Whoever said that the journey is more important than the destination, obviously has not travelled on the road from the Thailand border to Siem Reap in Cambodia. Although it was only 200km, the journey, in a rickety old bus with little air conditioning, took six hours. Six hours of feeling like we were on a toning table. Six hours that to scratch our faces meant poking ourselves in the eye. Six hours that sports bra manufacturers would do well to test their products on. For a while though it was light and we took in the dry lands of Cambodia - in total contrast to what we had imagined of lush green fields. Instead we saw dry burnt looking expanses of land, so flat that it makes Norfolk look hilly. Then we realised it was dry season so instead we drank in the details like the wooden huts on stilts in small settlements with pits of stagnant water full of children bathing, laughing as they untangled themselves from the weeds. When night fell, the horizon was punctuated with fires as the peasants burnt the rice plants to encourage regrowth.

After 15 hours in total, the bus finally arrived in Siem Reap at 10.30pm and dropped as off a little outside the centre at the Soc San Guesthouse - obviously an organisation that gives the bus company commission. We were determined not to be cajoled into staying there but the warm welcoming smiles of the Cambodians, the great rooms with hot water and our own bathroom of a standard far higher than Bangkok, combined with the fact that it was only $5 for the night saw us readily agree. After our first taste of Khmer food - less spicy than Thai but richer with pineapple and coconut flavours like the lovely 'amoke' dish - and several Angkor beers later with Katie and Will, we collapsed into bed.

The following morning we set out to explore the town of Siem Reap. As a small town the market forms the centre where they sell everything from rancid meat and colourful fruit to traditional 'karma' scarves and books on the Khmer Rouge era. We soon realised that compared to Thailand, Cambodia was going to be expensive as their currency, the Reil, is weak and therefore prices are charged in the de facto currency - US$. Not so great for bartering because the denominations are in smaller units and they don't use cents. Mind you, after what they have suffered we couldn't blame them really.

Wats on outside Bangkok

Partly to escape the heat and grime of the city out for a trip to the country. At 6am we had breakfast on the Kao San Road and watched the beautiful ladyboys returning from a night out - at that time in the morning we struggled to tell their sex so we pitied the men on the pull with their beer goggles on the night before! We also witnessed what we deemed to be the Buddhist Monk protection racket. It seems that at 6am the monks wonder from restaurant to restaurant, silently taking breakfast from the restaurant owner who is often bowing so low you fear he will head-butt the floor, tuck the offering under their fiery orange robes and then move to the next cafe, disguising their stash beneath their robes. We are only surprised that backpackers have not found a way to disguise themselves as monks and copy the practice!

Kao San road seemed a little sorry for itself at this time in the morning, full of litter and devoid of the normal stalls that make the hustle and bustle an intricate part of Bangkok. When we eventually got collected by the tour company, our first stop was to see how the Thai's made coconut sugar. It was too sweet for even the sweet-toothed Steve but it certainly gave us more energy to tackle the heat which even at 7am was becoming unbearable. The next stop was the famous floating market of Damnoen Saduak - 70km outside Bangkok city but one of the only genuine markets remaining and the largest of it's kind in Thailand. Feeling like we were in a James Bond movie we were taken at high speed through a channel of water until we reached the canal system where wooden huts border the water edge and old Thai ladies sat on the jetties washing or making flower chains for shrines.

The floating market itself opens for trade at 4.30am with the floating traders selling mainly food stuffs to the locals. By 8pm the hats, fans and pineapple on sticks come out for the tourists. We spent an hour being paddled through the floating stalls, admiring the colourful fruits and wooden carvings for sale. The surrounding 'dry' markets were nothing special though and the goods were overpriced in comparison to central Bangkok. After a lunch stop we sweated on the bus in 40 degrees heat until we arrived at the second world war cemetery commemorating 6000 mainly English soldiers who were captured by the Japanese defending Thailand and worked as POW on the Burmese-Thailand railway and the now famous bridge over the River Kwai. The war museum was equally moving and we came away with a much greater knowledge of how the second world war required such huge sacrifices from these men - mostly in the form of their life. Finally we walked over the construction bridging the river Kwai and a little of the 'death railway' - so named as it is said that as many men died during the construction as sleepers on the track. We had already seen the film location on our honeymoon in Sri Lanka but it was a million times more powerful seeing it for real.

Our second day trip from Bangkok was to the ancient city of Ayuthaya - Thailand's capital before it was almost destroyed by the Burmese centuries ago. Our tour guide (who we never quite worked out whether was a male or female) took us to the ancient city where we were stunned by the tombs and walls tumbling down into an orgy of broken Buddhas and crumbling heritage. Many, many wats later we finally came to the picture-postcard shot - a Buddha's head supported by tree roots and caressed into place by the branches. It was a long day but worth every minute - particularly to gain a greater understanding and appreciation of the Thai's religious roots of Buddhism.

One for the ladies: if you pay peanuts...

Thai hairdressers are not to be recommended. After eight months without a hair cut I thought I would pay the 1.50GBP to have it cut in Bangkok. Big mistake, huge. The 'butcher' didn't actually use scissors but a razor and I now have a two inch layer on the right side and four inch on the left. Where is Toni & Guy when you need them?

I got back to our guest house, sobbing into a lock that she had hacked off and to cheer myself up attempted to dye it back to my natural colour. Unfortunately the instructions for the hair dye were in Thai and I must have left it on too long as my hair is now the colour of mahogony. After having long blond hair, to having it braided in Bangkok and finally to a short brown bob, I have an identity crisis and Steve doesn't recognise me anymore. 'Having a bad hair day' has really taken on a whole new meaning!

Buzzing Bangkok

Arriving in Bangkok was actually very disorienting - largely because for the first time in our travelling career our bus arrived early. This was a shock in itself but to find ourselves in Bangkok at 3am, surrounded by taxi drivers, tuktuk drivers and guest house touts when you are still rubbing the sleep from your eyes is a surreal feeling. After strenuous haggling with the tuktuk driver we eventually arrived at a guest house recommended by Tasha and James, which was, typically, full. On the street and after wondering around with our backpacks for an hour, we settled in a backpacker lodge that was straight out of the 'Beach'. Basically, the walls were paper thin, cracks had posters over them, the sheets had never seen a washing machine let alone been inside one and the fan had the same effect as someone blowing on us. Fortunately we were too tired to care and moved to Kao San Rd, travellers centre, the next morning. It was extremely noisy at night but we didn't care as we just couldn't get enough of Bangkok - Kao San Road in particular. The atmosphere was crazy, chaotic and often oppressive with its heat and grime but it has far more character than, say, Kuala Lumpur and has much more on offer. We truly believed that you could buy and barter for anything in Kao San Road from fake passports to buddha heads, live locust stirfry to antibiotics. At night, the streets were filled with entertaining street acts which were illuminated under the lights of neon signs and the sweet smells of Thai paste from the food stalls lazily drifted over the street diners.

Without doubt, the saddest sight in Bangkok was the display of faces and names of missing people from the Tsunami exhibited at the end of the Kao San Road. Flowers framed photographs of children, adults and elderly people alike that the worried authorities and desperate relatives had posted in an effort to track them down. We prayed with all our might that some at least may be found alive although survivor stories from the dreadful event have become thin on the ground in recent weeks.

One day we took a boat taxi down the river and then the new skytrain with its air conditioning and sterile environment - a sharp contrast to the bustling city below - and travelled to Silom Road for the big shopping centres. At MBK centre we indulged in a retail frenzy of DVD and CD purchasing which saw Steve foaming at the mouth at the sight of all the electronic equipment on display. It took all Beth's strength to literally drag him from the candy shop and into Kao San Road where she replaced the entire contents of her backpack and the actual backpack (which had pretty much fallen apart after 8 months). The whole experience was made even more exciting when Steve discovered a skill for bartering. Standing back, Beth watched as Steve turned into a wheeler dealer, securing brilliant prices that drew admiring glances from many travellers and had Beth wondering whether she had married Del Boy.

Our evenings in Bangkok were spent lazily eating at street diners in Kao San Road absorbing the atmosphere over a couple of Chang beers and some of the most delicious Thai curries we have ever tasted. Our diet largely consisted of street food - very cheap, more than delicious and made in front of you: Pad Thai (noodles and beansprouts), bbq meat on sticks and succulent corn-on-the-cob. One evening we ventured into Pat Pong Street - the infamous light district in Bangkok. After a scary journey with a tuktuk driver harbouring ambitions to become a stunt double for Eddie Kid, we entered a club where the men and women danced on stage whilst managing to look both incredibly bored and very cross with the audience (as you would in that profession we suppose). An hour later, after we had witnessed women doing things with bananas, bottle tops, ping pong balls and razor blades that we feel too scarred (not literally fortunately) to talk about, we danced the night away at the Lava Club. After many Changs we wobbled out into the night when the club closed at 1am only for Steve to express a desire to eat a locust. Which he did much to Beth's disgust. We hasten to add that it was battered in sweet and sour sauce and from a food stall - not the gutter!

The following day we saw the Golden Palace - a complex covering a huge expanse of central Bangkok and full of huge golden temples (does what it says on the tin) housing such national treasures as the emerald Buddha. The sight, although gaudy at the least and ostentatious at the worst, was magnificent and sunglasses were definitely required to reduce the sparkle from the thousands of gems set into the temples. This to us captured the essence of Bangkok; larger than life, gaudy and bright but full of character and often surprisingly beautiful.