Lizard soup, why monks can never wrong and other tales from Thailand...

After sating my fill of airports and trying to find comfy places to sleep within them it was a relief to finally get to Bangkok, not only because as I emerged from the airport tired and smelling most unfresh I was greeted by no less than three members of staff not wishing to tout me or rip me off but enable me to get to my destination the most efficient and cheapest way, but because I could at last lie down on something that resembled a bed. Having trusted Hiren to booking a room I found that he had hooked up with an Israeli dude in my absence and that the three of us were sharing a room; Hiren and I back to the doublebed routine with him as usual having the side with the easiest access to the toilet to alleviate his nightly bowel movements and lessen the disruption of my sleep by not having to clamber over me, leaving me to lie against the wall. Admittedly it was only noon but there was little chance of me making any kind of sense without a powernap so I settled down to snooze. I was about 10 minutes in to a delicious sleep when it sounded like someone on the other side of the wall I was propped up against was about to bulldoze right through it. In spite of the hammering and drilling the preference to lie there with a pillow over my head and pretend it wasn't happening was infinitely more seductive than having to get up from my horizontal position and so I managed to doze through it...until part of the wall caved in on my leg! The manager was brought up and told us that they were doing some work next door but it would only be for the afternoon so with much reluctance I resigned myself to extending the 36 hours of being awake by another couple of hours.

Fortunately, in comparison to every other place we have been Bangkok is a slick, Westernised city that doesn't require too much hassle or difficulty to navigate as long as you can cope with the humidity and avoid the more crowded parts. I had almost forgotten that traffic control devices existed and was further delighted when our tuk-tuk driver actually stopped to observe red lights and give way signs. It wasn't all plain sailing however as on the way back from our afternoon excursion we had the usual haggling with drivers thinking we had agreed a price with them only two minutes into the journey to find that they had upped it and weren't going to back down resulting in us being turfed out wherever the argument occured and requiring several tuk-tuks to actually getting us back to our hotel.

We stayed in a small, grubby place just off the Khao San Road, perfect for enjoying the delights of touristville with all its bustling street markets, cheap happy hour bars and indomitable ping-pong pushers...I don't know whether it was the tiredness or perhaps a distaste for big cities after the delights of the smaller Indian towns and Nepalese provinces that we had been journeying through but it was the first place on our travels I had a great indifference to, and one which only grew throughout the stay, albeit only a couple of days.

It was also the first marked difference between Hiren and I who was overjoyed to have left the Himalayas and dirt behind him. He was in his element sitting in the cinema at the top of MBK (the huge 7 storey tall shopping centre in Bangkok) eating his McDonalds whilst I was aggravated by the ubiquity of Western chains and the sterilised plasticated environment. Similarly, while Hiren revelled in the cheap bars packed full of Brits-abroad style holiday-makers the last thing I wanted to be doing was drinking English beer in a bar full of, if I can put it politely, people exemplifying the worst traits of being foreigners. I think there is also some truth in the fact that having lived quite fully the "London-lifestyle" for the past 18 months and immersing myself in everything that involves the travelling part of me that had willed this trip did not want to slip back into that way while living on the opposite side of the world with all the new opportunities it afforded.

I was hugely relieved to catch the sleeper train out of Bangkok to head to Chiang Mai, especially as it also meant we finally escaped the building work next door to us which lasted the duration of our stay rather than the one afternoon promised.

By contrast, Chiang Mai (known as the cultural capital of Thailand), was a complete revelation. It is one of those ancient cities small enough to be able to walk around but large enough so that every time you go out you discover a new road, temple or market. It is a bizarre hybrid of the ancient red brick Tha Pae Gate, dating back to 1296, and an ugly square concrete-channeled canal that borders the main square. Off the main square though are hundreds of little streets which you can spend whole days getting lost down, especially amidst the plethora of second-hand bookshops, exploring the various old and new town parts of the city whether that be strolling amongst the daily bazaars held on different roads for different days or emerging onto the neon-lit streets packed with bars and cafes designed for the farang.

The first day was dedicated to temple-exploring; Chiang Mai has the same number of temples as Bangkok but condensed into a much smaller space meaning that every corner you turn you can espy a huge gold-topped pagoda peaking out of the road. All the temples are free to get into (again, unlike Bangkok where they charge extortionate amounts) and are packed with no end of helpful people. Still suffering the hangover from India and Nepal whereby someone approaching you is tantamount to them demanding money and usually ending in raised voices when that money is not forthwith produced it took me a while to realise that when a Thai person approached me they genuinely wanted to help. They could show you things that ordinarily you would miss or not understand because there was no translation and were full of enormously helpful tips on where to go for the best meals, cheapest presents etc and it was such a relief and pleasure to be able to sit down in a leafy garden while the orange-robed monks passed by and just chat to them about their city and country.

Our stay in Chiang Mai was made even more enjoyable by the fantastic Julie's Guesthouse. Tucked away from the main square down a quiet alleyway it a large building with dorms and private rooms situated in the middle of a fantastic garden terrace; in the front there is a very cheap cafe, chilled music flowing from the stereo, pool table, library of books and numerous seats and chairs for everyone to sit in and swap stories (this communal area was something virtually every other place we have stayed in lacked and it was nice to be able to have a space to chill out in that wasn't where we slept!) while the back garden had sun loungers and in addition there was a late-night rooftop terrace for those that didn't want to sleep!

The other brilliant thing about Julie's was that they also organised everything else for us so that you didn't have to go hiking the streets to find the best price or worry about being ripped off - all you had to do was hand over your money. For 1500 of their finest baht (25 pounds) I booked myself into a three day trek through the jungles of the hill-tribe villages. Hiren pulled out at the last moment, scarred still from his nose-vomiting experiences in Pokhara and opted to do the Thai cookery school and so we parted ways for a few days.

The trek is the best thing I have done so far on our travels. There were eight of us from various hostels around Chiang Mai who were lumped into the back of the van to get to know each other, stopping off only at a local market to pick up supplies for the trek, before driving out of the city and being dropped off in Shan village.

The first stage of our trek involved an elephant ride. After the hilarities in Chitwan I was delighted to be reunited with my long-nosed friends but this was like being upgraded to first class on BA when you've travelled Easyjet! Firstly, instead of hauling myself up the trunk and performing an ungainly 180 degrees to pincer myself around its neck we had a sophistocated stage to climb up that placed us level with the elephant's back. Furthermore, a double-seated chair was strapped to the elephant so that in a simple step we were firmly balanced on top of our elephant without any need for worrying about falling off. I shared an elephant with Ben, a massage therapist from Seattle who had come to Thailand to do some more massage courses, and sadly we got lumbered with the greediest of the pack who would walk about two paces before stopping to devour a bush. At one point the guide cut down a small tree that our elephant carried in its trunk and ate along the way but this provided only a few minutes distraction before it was back to its old tricks of curling its trunk over its head towards us expecting the bananas we had first bought for it but which it had already devoured and then being disappointed deciding to go off-piste down sheer cliffs in search of trees!

Finishing the elephant ride we had to lock ourselves into a rusty cage on a zip wire that sent us across the main river and onto the edge of the jungle where we began our trek. The walking was not as demanding as in Pokhara as neither the incline or distance was as great but where in Nepal there were well-trodden tourist paths our trek involved river traversing, using fallen logs to climb across the river and swinging across tree roots and hugging rock faces to cirumnavigate corners! As a group we got on brilliantly and there was plenty of friendly banter batting across the eight of us and two guides so that every time you reached a new challenge that you couldn't possibly attempt as soon as you saw the English girls or the older German couple begin it you knew there was no way you could lose face and so found yourself performing the most hilariously, awkward manoeuvers in order to prevent yourself falling down a sheer rock face or being washed back to where the elephants were playing!

The first day ended with us being caught in another storm that absolutely drenched us for the last half hour and saw most of us taking one step up the mudslide path before slipping the equivalent of several steps back down (usually until you hit someone else to stop you!) When we reached our overnight stay, a small village where the Lahu tribe live, we then had to build and light a fire in (!) our bamboo thatched hut in order to be able to peel off our sodden garments and variously hang them over in order to try and dry them before we could even think about building another one to cook food!

Once the storm had passed though the skies were cleared for the perfect evening. We were etched into the hillside looking across the valley that the river ran through. When it got darker the sky remained cloudless and it felt like if we lifted our hands into the sky we could pluck the stars out they were so bright and seemingly so close. We sat out on the deck with the villagers who had a guitar and variously murdered horrendous karaoke tunes from a collective chorus of Bohemian Rhapsody to trying to learn local Thai songs! It was incredible to be away from any form of distraction and to make your necessities and entertainment simply out of what the environment afforded you. We were also privileged by the fact that our two leaders, Mr Big and Tong, were comedic geniuses: whenever we asked how long something would take the answer always ended in 9 minutes (how much longer to the next village? 59 minutes! how long until the rice is ready? 9 minutes!), their knowledge of Western tunes provided the most singularly awful collection of songs known to civilisation, especially when they confused mobile phone ads for genuine music....and at one point they started catching the bugs circling around the candles, so as not to be bitten we wrongly presumed, but to fry and crisp and offer round as snacks!

The second day we stopped off at an incredible waterfall which we attempted to stand up under, a challenge made difficult not only by the fact you felt the sky was crashing down on your head a la chicken-licken but also by the imperative of holding onto your swimming costume lest it be powered off you by the water.

Our overnight stay was in a mock-bamboo hut for tourist stop-overs which was disappointing after the previous authenticity but made up for in terms of drama by an outbreak of spiders above the mosquito nets that sent the girls into a permanent frenzy and the announcement that we were eating lizard soup for dinner at which point Mr Big pulled out a freshly killed lizard (the blood was still trickling out of its mouth!) To their credit they kept the joke up for a good length of time before announcing that they wouldn't be subjecting us to that, by which point we were almost indignant about at least trying some after spending most of the pre-dinner time playing cards and mentally preparing ourselves for eating it (we were famished after trekking all day!) - for the record, it tastes like squid, though apparently the tail is crunchier!!

The final day required only a brief 40 minute walk back to the river where we abandoned our bags and white water rafted back down to our bus! I've never white-water rafted before so was slightly nervous but got paired in a boat with Amos, Devon and Christina and the competitive streak (not only about winning, but who could bump the other boats the most and who could soak the other boats the most!) took over. Having practised for all eventualities of falling out, hitting your head etc they overlooked one small incident of when sitting in the back how to prevent yourself being shunted forward when hitting a rock and sliding your foot under the seat below at an angle that rendered the big toe nail from your actual toe. A traditional bit of British grin-and-bear it mentality and the promise of a traveller's war-wound saw me through it!

The final part of the journey allowed the raft guides to take over as we switched to bamboo rafts and they punted us down the river, ending the trek in style. Then it was back to Julie's garden to lie on the sun lounger and dry off before meeting up for reunion drinks in the evening in one of the awful neon bars along the canal!

The trek required a couple of days' recovery, principally exploring the huge night bazaar which alone could take several days just to negotiate yourself through the hilarious haggling methods of the stall-owners who begin by saying "I charge you x baht - how much you wanna pay?" and then pursue you down the alleys when you don't purchase it continually dropping their price until you reason you're being offered about the same as what they would charge the locals!

It was also the perfect opportunity to indulge myself in the second-hand bookshops, sitting in the sun-garden with an enormous pack of iced-gems from the biscuit store on the corner and a fruit shake. Although when I discovered the crazy old German owner of the Rose Restaurant at the end of the road was a tennis fanatic and addicted to the French Open I had to switch my allegiances. Due to the time difference the tennis starts at 4pm here, perfect timing for a cup of tea and the opener on Chatrier; then, perhaps a little wander to the food stalls to grab a ridiculously cheap pad thai and return for one of the later matches for a beer with the German guy. He would sink about five in the time it took me to nurse my one and there was always the danger that once he had too many he would fall asleep and his wife would steal the remote and switch over to some corny Thai soap, so my mission was to try and slow down the rate of drinks!

The last few days in Chiang Mai were frustrated by failing to get to go to the Buddhist overnight retreat at a temple out of town. Having booked it initially for the Tuesday evening I rang on Tuesday morning to ask where to get a tuk-tuk to and was greeted by a female voice with bad English who explained to me, and then the internet cafe operator when I didn't believe her, that there were problems today and the course had been put back to Wednesday. As a consequence I lost my room at Julie's and had to move down the street to Busy Bee (feeling like I was in playschool...) and called up the following day for the taxi to speak to a monk who asked why I hadn't come yesterday!! It's been the only instance of frustration I have experienced in Thailand so I can't grumble, but it's a real shame as I was looking forward to going and chatting to the monks to find out more about Buddhism. Having not known anything when I left England I have been reading quite a lot while travelling and am particularly intrigued by the challenge to reach enlightenment which has thrown up lots of questions. It seems from my understanding that to achieve enlightenment it is eventually necessary after many life cycles to abandon everything and seek nirvana in solitude. In principle I agree; it seems the only way to hold onto the precepts and strive to avoid all distraction and temptation - much like Christian monks or hermits do. But in reality, this appears more problematic. When you live in a society with multitudinal problems and can make some impact, however little, in alleviating some of those issues there seems to be a conflict between participating in and shirking social responsibility. When I stopped in at "monk chat" - a programme at one of the temples whereby foreigners are invited to sit down in the gardens and chat to the monks to find out more about their life - I was struck by the almost schoolboy naivety and innocence of these monks who have been living this life since children, and which in many ways has prevented them growing up (a good thing in that it stops them encountering the many corruptions that maturity provides) but also has left them somewhat bewildered by how the rest of society operates. When they walk in the mornings they are greeted by Buddhist women who give them food and water, yet for those people who aren't monks there is no such privilege and the monks seemed unable to conceive how people might be poor or starving unless through choice? Obviously there are many different strands and threads to this argument that I am ignorant of and require much more detailed knowledge but after observing, with great respect and admiration, the way these monks live, going away and thinking about the pragmatics of it threw up a range of questions that I wished I could speak to them about.

So to fill my day and questioning head I have instead booked myself onto a massage course! I have six hours with Jane, a most disappointing name for a Thai massage instructor it has to be said, tomorrow who has given me a whole book of mediative Buddhist thought to read before I begin - perhaps containing the answers to my earlier questions though currently infuriating me with examples of two people giving a loaf of bread, one unwittingly to a murderer and the second unwittingly to a monk, and the latter person being rewarded a 100 000 fold more than the first person for their donation!

After the massage course it's an overnight bus back to Bangkok to meet Liz and then flying out to Hanoi, a last minute change in plans after Hiren decided that he didn't want to get bitten again which he thought he would in Laos and has apparently nothing to do with the fact that when he got bitten in Chiang Mai he was sitting outside in the garden until 2.30 am without any repellant on...!

FAVOURITE PLACE: Julie's comes a surprise second to our bamboo hut in the Lahu tribal village in spite of the fact that every time someone turned over in the night the waves rolled through the floor forcing everyone else to roll over at the same time as well!

FAVOURITE FOOD: The roti stalls (pancakes with bananas cooked inside and chocolate sauce dribbled over...); the giant iced-gem-like biscuits they sell by the baht down the road; fruit plate in yoghurt at Julie's - fresh fruit AND yoghurt, what more could you want for brekkie!

WHAT I'M GOING TO MISS: Julie's! Showering in waterfalls, Mr Big and Tong, Thai people asking your name once and then remembering it forever more; the pet rabbits in Julie's!

WORST PLACE: Plaster-falling Rainbow hostel, Khao San

WORST FOOD: A dodgy street stall on Khao San Rd that left me wanting to puke during What Happens In Vegas, incidentally, nothing to do with the quality of the film....

WHAT I'M NOT GOING TO MISS: The miserable ping-pong girls promising you a good time; the number of fat, lardy western walruses sitting with ping-pong girls; the mosquito gas machine that comes once a week at Julie's to vaporise the building during which I slept through after a particularly heavy night until waking up to find my room filled with green smoke and everyone else having been evacuated!

MOST BIZARRE: Meeting Phil the dreadlocked Aussie with the newly studded chin telling me he is funding his trip around the world by signing up to medical experiments in each country he goes to....

FAVOURITE QUOTE: "You can just meet me in Hanoi or Siem Reap, whichever" (Hiren trying to plan a route that didn't include Laos)

BOOKS I'VE READ: Crime and Punishment, Dostoevsky (a re-read, but so much better second time round - in terms of the birth of interior character psychology the post-modernist movement in England were light years behind...); The Lifes and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid, Bill Bryson (classic Bryson reliving his childhood in the 50s where everyone was happy and life was easy - where did it all go wrong I think is the point of the book, that and some hilarious childhood anecdotes that you have snorting out loud in Julie's and consequently becoming the recipient of many strange looks...!) Sorrow of War, Bao Ninh (BUY THIS BOOK! - a truly haunting account of the repercussions of the Vietnam war on two young lovers whose lives were ruined written in a brilliant shifting temporal narrative. The back of the book says the Wilfred Owen of the East and you can't disagree, won't forget this in a hurry); Nineteen Minutes, Jodi Piccoult (written by a woman for women, relatively interesting story about a high-school shooting but just a joy to be able to read without feeling guilty about slacking off on the middle English poetry!)

Mr Sam meets Mr Mike!

Following another delightful and hair-raising bus ride we left behind the serenity and rurality of Pokhara for the dust and fumes of Narayangard, the reluctance for departing tempered only by the excitement of getting to see Mike in action at school! The transition was completed by checking in to the highly inappropriately named Royal Rest House - I still bear the bedbug scars...

After a day of rediscovering the joys of TV ( the guilty pleasures of The OC eased our adjustment...) we set off for the Chitwan National Park, slightly apprehensive as our guidebook was filled with stories of parties of tourists being attacked by tigers and charged by rhinos. Suffice to say the phrase "health and safety" hasn't yet reached Nepal.

Where everyone else from Pokhara had bought a package deal that saw them dropped off from the bus into the heart of the park and then ferried around from restaurant to canoe to jeep, Hiren and I proudly arranged everything by ourselves, much to the shock of our fellow trekkers from Pokhara who were aghast when we alighted from the bus in the middle of Narayangard while they sallied on towards the park - we're getting the hang of this travelling lark! For a few moments we nearly regreted the decision to be fully independent as spoilt by the luxuries of Pokhara which is geared up fully for tourists we found ourselves plunged into a town where virtually no-one speaks English; all the signs were in Hindi and the locals stared in amazement to see a white person walking down the street. After locating our hotel and negotiating an upgrade room (yes, bedbugs was an upgrade, as was the change in faeces and blood on the sheets in the dungeon they initially placed us in to merely being smeared across the walls in our final room...) we then caught a local bus to Saurath much to the amusement of the daily travellers and then hired a rickshaw to take us to the park entrance (this did however involve jumping off the cardboard carpeted and walled rickshaw every time there was a slight incline and pushing the contraption until the driver stopped wheezing!)

However, once in the park we resorted back to being shameless tourists immediately booking into the elephant bathing and safari jeep activities. When the elephant turned up to 'pick' us up we weren't quite prepared for the lurching amble through the town to get to the waterhole. Hiren pointblank refused to get on leaving me to negotiate the bambino alone...this required stretching my arms as wide as their little armspan reaches and grabbing hold of the elephant's ears and dragging them together across its eyes, then tapping its trunk with my foot at which sign it rolled its trunk out for me and I staggered up its nozzle using its ears to pull myself up its trunk and over its head and then performing a highly inelegant 180 degree manoeuvre so that I was sat astride its neck with my feet behind its ears. Our elephant had no "saddle" so I was forced to grip on with pincer like groins as I rolled from one side to the other with the guide holding onto me before I got the hang of it while Hiren smirked with laughter on the ground below especially when the elephant decided to raise its trunk and sneeze all over me....

We got to the waterhole (eventually) and then I had one of the most bizarre and incredible experiences whereby the guide directed the elephant into the water and before I knew what was happening had rolled over crushing me between its body and the bottom of the river! I managed to escape and then helped join in the "bathing" in order to keep the elephant cool - pretty difficult to keep the whole surface area of a several tonned beast continually wet! The guide then proceeded to begin a game of raising the elephant to its legs and then making it flop onto its side into the water - without fail, I guessed wrongly each time the elephant fell so that while the guide remained astride of her upturned belly I was gasping to pry myself from being crushed into the riverbed while simultaneously trying to avoid the boulder like elephant poohs that were drifting about in the water. Apparently the aim of the 'game' is to roll yourself across the elephant as it falls so that you move from a seated position on its neck to standing on its belly - an achievement I finally managed right at the end. The whole time this is going on the elephant fills its trunk with water and douses you as it sprays it over its head so that you can't see a thing. I spent about 20 minutes in the waterhole with my guide and the elephant while Hiren remained on terra firma and the crowd of tourists watched in amusement and cheered my struggles! The size and yet gentility of the elephant is impossible to comprehend and she certainly knew what she was doing when she dropped me in the water and sprayed me with her trunk. It was an immense bonding session and I was most upset at the end when we had to get out and say goodbye to her...

Just about had enough time to grab some lunch before our safari jeep which filled me with more anxiety than the elephant given Mike had told me the previous day that he had to climb a tree to escape an rhinocerous when he had been the previous weekend. Fortunately the only rhino we say was quite content in its mudbath, the crocodiles were being hand-reared in the breeding centre for release back into the wild and the only tiger was safely penned in after its man-eating mother had been captured, though the canoe-crossing of the river added an otherwordly feel to the excursion, as if you are leaving behind all civilisation and entering a lost world. The ride was a four hour trek through the forest, carving our way through grass twice the height of the jeep so that I felt like I was in Jurassic Park and that at any moment a T-rex would burst out of the undergrowth and start chasing our vehicle.

We got back so late from the safari that the only mode of transport home was a motorbike with the driver, Hiren and I all squashed onto the saddle tearing down a road that makes Orchard Valley look like a steamrolled Centre Court clinging on for dear life - my groins took 3 days to recover before I could walk as if I didn't have a barrel between my legs.

Because we are with different airlines Hiren left Narayangard earlier and as he made his way to Bangkok I was invited to stay with Mike's host family. It's strange to think that all those years ago when Matt, The Ginge, Fk and I were at school and would meet up in The Swan and chat to the new Gurkha barman that I would end up staying in the barman's parents' house! Purna and Padar are absolutely lovely and live in a beautiful three storey pagoda type building a million miles in all senses from the Royal Rest House so that I felt like I was royalty during my stay. They are unbelievably philanthropic assisting in every part of the community and are proud founding members of the local Lions branch and have even "donated" the bottom floor of their house to several families, including two incredibly cheeky boys called Lucky and Baba who wreak havoc, stopping only when Padar gives them the glare!

It was brilliant to see Mike again and on his behalf and in his defence to all those who have written/emailed wondering whether they would ever hear from him he works six days a week and on his day off and evenings is fought over by the locals about who will host him so that he hasn't had a chance to get to the internet cafe or the post office (which is highly dodgy, though he has received his banana boxer shorts Pomme - hilariously, the package arrived at the house and Purna brought into the school and gave it to Mike as he was having a meeting with the Principal who insisted he opened it there and then and was apparently taken aback by what Mike unearthed which we have been joking is similar to the "rock" present in A Bug's Life so that the Nepalese probably think it's some kind of quaint English custom!) However, I can reassure everyone that he is fine and absolutely loving his time. I haven't seen him so chirpy and enthused since Newmarket and he is literally adored by the whole community. The Principal defers to him on every matter to the extent that Mike interviews all prospective teachers for the school and on his recommendation or not they are given the job! He also sits in to observe other lessons given by teachers to provide feedback and as well as teaching his own classes has to give the teachers lessons in English pronunciation! The teachers are all similar in age to him and there's a great camaraderie between them all and plenty of socialising. In addition, Purna's home is an open house to the community (and Purna a leading figure who sits on every committee) and so every spare second Mike is being whisked away by visitors to have the honour of feeding him in their house.

I was invited for one day into the school where I sat in on Mike's lessons. He has been assigned teaching of the exquisitely named "English Delights" class! As in Belize, English is divided into Grammar and Creative classes though in Nepal they call the creative side Delights! Mike takes the 11-14 year olds in preparation for their exams and has to get them to read, write and discuss poems and short stories. While I was there he had them in stitches with his chalkboard drawings and theatrical mimes of the Wizard of Oz and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory! Even the other teachers on their free periods sit in on his classes to learn.

Having said all that the school is demanding; it's extremely hot and long hours six days a week - Mike is dragged in before and kept in after school as well by the Principal who seeks his opinion on everything. But Mike is enjoying the promotion in responsibility from being a TA to planning his classes and marking work and really feels like he's making a difference. I was really proud to see how brilliant he was in the school and how he is looked up to by everyone - he can even converse in Nepalese! My sole contribution however seemed to serve as a distraction as the kids mobbed me unable to comprehend how I could be older yet smaller than my brother and why I was not yet married at the ancient age of 23!

Purna has a fantastic all round balcony on the top floor of his house so we spent the evenings sitting up on the verandah watching the sun set, eating dal bhat and catching up on all the news while planning our trip around the Philippines, Malaysia and Thailand when he has finished at the school.

On my last night we were taken on a surprise visit (on Purna's motorbicyle, by which time I had mastered the art of clinging on when squashed together!) by Purna and the Principal to the Grace Church orphanage school . It's a tiny little builidng, home to about 20 children, who we were introduced to and taken to their church. They sat us down and we listened to them singing hymns, one of which was one we sang back in Belize which wrenched the nostalgia up several more gears! It was such a shock to suddenly come across a Christian church and was one of those special moments where you see the children lighting up as they sing and encourage you to join in and clap along and make you feel at home. After weeks of being away from such an environment both of us were really glad of the opportunity to stay awhile with them in their little church. They also, bizarrely, have a drum kit and so Mike, inititally worried that he might have "lost it" was soon in his element thumping away!!

The following day I assumed I was being given a lift to the Kathmandu bus station by Purna only to find our van hijacked by the local members of his Lions' Club and that Mike and I were being whisked away to the inaugural opening of a new village daycare centre as guests of honour! The project has been managed by an incredible Dutch lady called Reinike who has singlehandedly seen the erection of the building despite all the difficulties of trying to establish something in a country where apathy rules and who burst into tears when the ribbon was cut and she was asked to make a speech. She said dealing with the disinterest and politics of the Nepalese way of life (whereby the men hadn't lifted a finger to build the centre for the women and babies of this village yet flocked to the opening ceremony and pompously delivered speech after speech) that to see what she had begun to think was an impossible dream finally realised was almost too much for her. This centre will allow the babies of the community to stay there from 10-3 and thereby allow the women to go out into the fields and help with the farming, thus improving the money made on the plots of land and increasing the quality of living in this remote village. The children were gorgeous and loved the balloons and lollies provided them and we happily passed away a lunchtime playing with them and meeting the mothers. It was the perfect way to leave Narayangard.

I then caught a bus to Kathmandu where I had one night spent wandering around the brilliant Thamel district window shopping, eating pastries again and listening to the live music in all the bars. The following morning I forced myself up at 6.30am to do a three-hour walking tour of the city to catch all the sights before I left. Somehow, I managed to navigate my way around in spite of the map I had bearing no resemblance to the labyrinth of alleyways that make up the city. Kathmandu is a bizarre mix of amazing temples and shrines around every corner which are centuries old yet used to dry washing and hang fruit to be sold! I was fortunate to conduct my tour on a Saturday, the holy day of the week, and found myself packed down narrow walkways with women carrying plates of incense and spices to lay at the temples and spent many a quiet moment lingering outside various temple steps listening to the chanting prayers. Kathmandu is unique in that Hindus and Buddhists worship at and in the same temples; this religious tolerance is remarkably refreshing after having encountered many of the less desirable attributes of religious practices since I've been here.

Made it back to my hot-waterless room at the Marco Polo Guest House, stopping off to buy some earphones for my ipod (an omission in the package sent via Mike!) before catching the plane to Singapore and sleeping overnight in the airport waiting for my connecting flight to Thailand to meet up with Hiren in Bangkok and resume our adventures!!

Nepal is an incredibly beautiful country (the schoolchildren are all patriotically taught how their country proudly hosts the world's largest mountain range, reciting the eight of the ten highest peaks that reside in Nepal with beaming smiles) and its people are a happy, smiling, peaceful nation who don't have much but offer it all. Residing in Pokhara and Kathmandu it is easy to forget that 80% of the country live in rural, mostly hillside villages, far below the poverty line. Nepal has the world's third highest infant mortality rate and the highest rate of maternal deaths, principally because the remote villages have no medical, or educative, personnel. I read a despairing article in the Himalayan Times whereby the journalist successfully argued that all of the country's educated people work either in the two main cities, enticed by the luxuries of regular electricity and hot water, or go abroad to work in order to send money home leaving the vast majority of the country's rural population without the most basic necessities and existing in a cycle that shows no signs of change. Fortunately, many of these hillside villages are now getting together to install their own hydroelectricity (the government shows no interest in instilling electricity for them in the hills) and are getting together to form co-operative farming efforts which is boosting sales and efficiency and so with the newly elected government, and the work of Mike!!!, perhaps there is some hope after all.

FAVOURITE PLACE: Purna and Padar's house!! Sitting on top of my elephant!
FAVOURITE FOOD: Fresh cucumbers, hurrah, and the small, sweet bananas.
WHAT I'M GOING TO MISS: The cheeky children at the school that wandered into our room at all hours of the day; hanging out with Mike on the verandah as the sun sets and putting the world to rights!; watching the locals playing finger-snooker, caroun, outside their shopfronts in the heat of the day.
WHAT I'M NOT GOING TO MISS: The way all drivers use their horns for every possible occasion, whether to signify their presence on the road, their plan to overtake or their communication with other drivers...especially at 5 in the morning!; Chicken biryani's packed with cashew nuts; bedbugs...
MOST BIZARRE: Purna's father-in-law asking Mike and I if our mother had been drinking when pregnant with Mike and that's why he had pointed ears and webbed toes?
WHAT I'VE READ: 'Closing Time' by Joseph Heller (a weighty tome and disappointing sequel to Catch 22 that has forever ruined my love for Yossarian and is sadly devoid of the brilliant one-liners and hilarious events that leap from every page of its prequel...)
FAVOURITE QUOTEs: "Man without imagination is like a bird without wings", "A man without books is like a body without a soul" (Cicero)

Namaste!

After an horrific 28 hour round journey from Varanasi we eventually arrived in Nepal, though given the hassle of the route you would think that they would never want anyone to arrive in their country!

We took a sleeper train from Varanasi to Gorakpuhr which was four hours late and meant we arrived in the heat of the mid-40s sun trying to haggle with touts for the cheapest (and safest!) way of getting to the border. This involved negotiating an astronomical price for a jeep ride only to sit in the jeep for 40 minutes and watch as they packed more and more people into it. We then got out and demanded our own ride as we had paid for and after much arguing they put us in a taxi for even more money. Sitting in the taxi ready to leave and the driver bundles three "friends" in with us! Cue a massive argument which resulted only in him finally getting rid of one of them and forcing the other two in the front seat so we had the back to ourselves. He then had the cheek to pull up at a petrol station and demand we pay for the petrol as we had no money...we refused and he then "found" some money in his pocket!

Got to Sounali early afternoon and went through the laborious visa process and then had the joys of crossing the border and trying to negotiate a bus to Pokhara. Probably shouldn't write too much about the 8 hour overnight bus route as mum will probably have kittens; suffice to say that it involved knife-edge thin "roads" winding up and around the mountains avoiding oncoming vehicles which we were lucky if they had their lights on! I had to close my window (only form of ac...) as I kept falling asleep and then waking up halfway out of the window looking down a several thousand metre crevice....

Finally arrived at 4am and fortunately got picked up and taken to our hotel, Hotel Dharma Inn, where we promptly collapsed, waking up only to enjoy the cold shower!

The journey was, however, well worth the trial. I have fallen in love with Pokhara, a beautiful lakeside town situated at the base of the Himalayan mountains with a gorgeous lake and a strip of shops running round one side with every possible type of food and furthermore every 5th shop is a secondhand book shop!! It was like I had died and gone to heaven:) We spent the remainder of the day pottering around and getting our bearings before ending up in Boomerang's cafe garden watching a glorious sun set into the mountains above the lake.

Unfortunately it was then Hiren's turn to be struck down by the good old food poisoning, this time the culprit was a dodgy enchilada...While he alternated between bed and bathroom I spent the next couple of days, in between nursing for him attentively of course, exploring Pokhara.

On my first solo day, wanting to hike up to the Peace Pagoda to gain a view of the surrounding area but being advised not to as tourists are frequently mugged on the way up the mountain by guerrilla Nepalese residing in the forest, I instead decided to take a 3 mile walk in the sun to the Devi Waterfalls. This is apparently named after a guy called David plunged to his death down the rockface managing to take his girlfriend with him and being in the hottest part of their season was sadly little more than a dribble. However, exploring the foot of the waterfalls via the Gupteshwor Mahadev caves was incredible. There's virtually no light and only a sheer rockface dripping with water to slide down to get to the foot where you see the water cascading into the pool through the slimmest chink of light.

After emerging from the darkness, taking an alternative tunnel which found me stuck in a small hollowed out cave with a man and a garishly decorated cow touting for money, I headed for the Tibetan Refugee camp where I was kindly invited into the village and allowed to sit in the temple as the hundreds of monks, some as young as 4-5, were in the middle of their chanting. The poverty of the village certainly brought home the plight of the Tibetans, something that seemed only a bit too distant and detached from news reports and TV bulletins.

The following day, having explored fully the damside of Fewa lake, I headed north, declining the bicycle for a pair of feet and set off alone armed only with the ever present water bottle and my camera. The walk was spectacular as once leaving the touristy lakeside strip you enter into the remote village communities. The local inhabitants were so friendly, inviting me in to see their houses and farms and teaching me the Nepalese words for all their possessions and allowing me just to sit with them and take in the view of their everyday life. The style of living is so different in Nepal where everything is much more relaxed than the chaos of India. Families live in small communities and villages funded by small self-sufficient farms of corn predominantly and selling snacks in little shacks next to their homes to passerbys. They believe only in having to provide enough money to ensure the security of the family and when the day is done will settle round for a communal meal of dal bhat. The Nepalese never seem to stop smiling and are unbelievably welcoming; they take each day as it comes and believe in a mutual respect that ensures everyone looks out for everyone, with a heavy emphasis on the importance of family. This emphasis is so important that there is a reputed endemic of suicides amongst marriageless and childless Nepalese....

Having enjoyed enough culture I took advantage of Hiren's recovery and long levers to hire a boat for the day and row around the lake. Oxford missed a trick or two by not getting us in for the boat race as after a wobbly start which involved us taking a good half hour to try and steer past the temple island just off the mooring point we soon got into a good rhythm and had hit the opposite side in no time. We lay on the little shore recovering and relishing the peace and solitude of the foot of the mountains before getting back in the boat and exploring more of the coves. Having worked up a sweat I dived into the lake and had a good old swim while Hiren, not a fan of the water - remember Swansea?! - stayed firmly in the boat. We ended the day sitting back in Boomerangs watching the "cultural show" where a troupe of all singing and dancing Nepalese performed a series of songs, dances and mimes (one involving a bizarre routine involving a guy in a motorcycle helmet and torn clothes running manically around the stage...!) while we had dinner.

This was our last dayof relaxing before heading up the hills and starting our trek, which neither of us had a clue about what we were letting ourselves in for...

It involved a 7am start and meeting our guide, a Pokhara based chap called Bhurat, and then taking another infamous bus route to the small town of Nayapul where having our permits verified we set off after Bhurat into the mountains...The first day was completely uphill and a shock to the system after several days of languid lounging about by the lakeside devouring slabs of apple crumble and banana chocolate cake and took us five hours to reach Hille where we were to spend the first night. We arrived at 3pm and sopping wet from sweat I dived into the shower, a small outhouse several metres away from the main teahouse (as the accomodation is affectionately known!) The light wasn't working and above the din of the shower I didn't hear the sudden storm erupt so opening the door of the shower I was shocked by what were literally sheets of rain crashing down. I had to wait in the showerroom for half an hour, in the dark, before the rain let up even the tiniest bit to allow me to run back into the teahouse! This was much to the amusement of the three Germans also staying at the teahouse and who I stayed up with chatting, and swapping scare stories about the trek, before heading to a well deserved sleep.

Slightly worried about the mountain rain we got up early the following morning to get a good headstart - plus a determination to ensure some male pride in beating the two female Germans to the next village. Should have known things were going to go wrong when having been assured the muesli had no nuts I promptly had a reaction after two mouthfuls and had to hastily wolf down an omelette to stave off the vomiting. But I was the lucky one. About 100m into our walk Hiren complained of feeling ill and when we stopped for a break he promptly began vomiting, through his nose!! We're not quite sure what it was but it meant the whole morning was spent in 20 second bursts of walking up an incredibly steep incline before he had to sit down to wretch - and included the awful scenario of being overtaken by the girls....! Our guide was so worried that he didn't think we would make the next base and began planning an alternative route but after taking over 5 hours to complete a 2 hour trek we had a proper lunch and that seemed to right Hiren. Buoyed by not vomiting and spurred on by the fear of rain boulders we made extremely good time and reached Gorepani 10 hours after having set off (overtaking, and consequently, eating the Germans in the process:))

Staying in the teahouse at Gorepani we met many more trekkers and got to know people from all walks of life with different motivations for doing the walk. There were 4 older Aussie men, best friends, who had decided to do something different for a holiday and made a pact to go to Base Camp and who were panicking as they were struggling to cope with the early stages, plus one of them had discovered he had vertigo! There was a solo Korean girl who had the most hilarious guide who sang, joked and laughed the whole route. He would have us all in stitches as he mimicked the poor Korean girl's accent and started singing his songs and getting her to join in. These two were doing the same route as us for a couple of days and more than kept us amused as we shared some friendly banter about who was going to overtake who. There was another group of pensioner Koreans who were wound up like Duracell bunnies and never stopped, shaming us with their fitness. Fortunatley we had the German girls and a young Japanese couple trailing after us the whole route to make us feel better.

Having survived the night Hiren decided against the 4am start to trek up to Poon Hill (3200m) to watch the sunrise, so I went alone with Bhurat, picking our way up the mountain with our torches! It was a hefty 40 minute ascent climbing 500m but well worth the asthmatic lung workout. We reached the top and having been warned that there was no visibility the previous day were disappointed to see the surrounding peaks shrouded in clouds. We huddled around the watchtower with the 50 or so other trekkers and then miraculously the sun burst through the clouds and a huge cheer went up in what was a truly Wordsworthian Prelude moment of awe as the peaks one by one peeked through the gloom.

I virtually skipped back down the hill and don't think Hiren shared my enthusiasm as I woke him up eager to start the next part of our trip. Ironically, having thought he had opted out of the ascent Hiren was confronted with the news that we had to scale 3500m to get to the next village before we could get down. Having left at 8 we didn't arrive until 3, 7 hours of almost solid trekking. This was the hardest and most demanding part of the trek as knackered from having done Poon Hill earlier in the day when at 2.30pm the heavens opened again we had to make our way up a steep incline to reach our teahouse. The rain landing on me felt like being stoned and pummelled into the ground; the water washed down the hill obscuring the track and reaching ankle-deep levels and carrying boulders that smashed into our shoes. We had raincoats on and desperately tried to protect the contents of our bags being drenched but the only escape was to keep climbing. I sprinted ahead so quickly that the guide couldn't catch me and ended up reaching the wrong hotel. When he eventually found me, having nicely dried off, and beckoned me back out into the rain I felt like crying at the thought of further hiking...fortunately our teahouse was only across the road and I was saved the nightmare!

Having climbed two peaks and suffered being caught in a tropical storm I thought I had successfully escaped any disaster for the day only to be felled in yet another outdoor shower, slipping on the tiles and going feet over bum and cracking my head on the step to the great amusement of all the guides! There has definitely been a mutual dislike in the hills between myself and the outdoor showers....

We woke up on the fourth day to breakfast on the terrace sat right in front of the glacier mountains - the best way to start the day:) A snippet of a two hour trek later and we had arrived at Tadapani where after sleeping for a few hours were then given a tour of the village by our guide who was intent on collecting peas to take home and setting us up with some nice village girls! The walk was beautiful, carving through the forests of rhododendrons whose fallen trumpet heads lined the path, trodden underfoot and attracting a plethora of ladybirds that added a bizarre polkadot effect.

The trek ended on the fifth day with a 5 hour slog down the hill which I found far worse than climbing. The old war wound of my rickety ankle started playing up and it was a relief to hit Nayapal before the rain started again and snooze on the bus back home, though perversely with a great sadness to think that it had come to an end.

It was one of the most gruelling, but yet because of that rewarding, experiences of my life. The view was stunning, we were blessed with a guide who provided us with incredible insights into the nature of the mountains and its people and who looked after us throughout (stealing extra blankets for us in Gorepani and carrying Hiren's bag as well as his own when Hiren was too ill) and met so many trekkers along the way with different experiences and stories to share. Special mention has to go to the porters who carry trekkers luggage up the moutain strapped to a single band that is wrapped around their head - how they manage it I have no idea! Hiren and I carried our own stuff but still got embarrassed every time we sat down panting and gasping for water and were overtaken by a group of porters carrying nearly half their body weight on their backs and not even pausing for breath! Definitely think there's a tv show in Celebrity Sherpas - just imagine Jordan et co hiking up the Himalayas with their tents o their back being forced to sleep on the mountainside amongst the leopards with squat style toilets ! Genius!

Since coming back we have been sleeping and lounging about by the lake as we recover, usually occupying our favourite haunt in Boomerang's cafe garden in order to try out the full range of their patisserie! We have also been sampling the many restaurants, enjoying Sha Bakley (meat pies) at Lhasa Tibetan restaurant and Grilled Buffalo at Laxman's! We took our guide out to Caffe Concerto on the day we got back by way of thanking him and having downed one Everest beer each (our first of the trip!) combined with 5 days of accumulated exhaustion had to stumble home together!

Tomorrow we're catching an early bus to Narayangard and am going to see Mike and find out how he's been getting on in his school. Really looking forward to catching up with him and spending the week chilling, or being dragged in as part of his show and tell project!

Sam

x

PS The photos are now up on facebook for you to check!

FAVOURITE PLACE: Hotel Dharma Inn - run by a guy we have adopted as Namaste through his clockwork like greetings of us every time he sees us. Shame about the 2065 New Year festival next door and the screaming cleaners at 6 in the morning but has a lovely ramshackle homely feel and have had everything taken care of for us which is a relief after the hassle of India.
FAVOURITE EATERIE: Toughie - Boomerangs for its garden and apple crumble, Lhasa for their meat pies. Also the abundance of fresh fruit places has been a Godsend after the greasy foods we've had so far. The roast chicken on the last night of the trek was also a high point after 4 days of being a vegetarian!
WHAT I'M GOING TO MISS: Smiling Nepalese people, lounging around in the cafe gardens, the patisseries and cheap restaurants ($3 for a meal and drink!) and the ubiquitous bookshops (my bag is now twice as heavy as when I arrived...!)
WHAT I'M NOT GOING TO MISS: lacings of cinnamon and other spices in the warm milk they add to ruin your tea, after an eight hour trek summing up enough strength in your screaming legs to squat over the hole in the floor to relieve yourself
MOST BIZARRE: The man who dresses up as an eagle (in genuine eagle feathers) and cycles down the road
BOOKS I'VE READ: Area of Darkness by V.S. Naipul (glad to see my opinions of India are shared with him even over the gap of 40 years!); The Third Chimpanzee by Jared Diamond (one of Hiren's biological books on evolution of man which I read on the trek, fascinating stuff though some of it dubious and never thought I'd say I enjoyed reading a science book - some weird reversal seems to have happened as Hiren is now reading Crime and Punishment!); Freefall by William Golding (great until about halfway in when the outsider coming of age story enters bizarre Gestapo torture territory); Wilt on High by Tom Sharpe (a great Catch 22 satire that had me laughing out loud at the hapless hero and wishing to read more of the tales of Henry Wilt)

FAVOURITE QUOTE : "Please do not put hands on the shinning (sic) stones. Necessary action will be taken on the offenders" (Sign in the caves , ie Nepalese conservation with a twist!)