Heartwarming smiles...

Our next stop was Cambodia - so close to Thailand in distance, yet so far away in developmental terms. While the hardened Thais have consumed modernisation at a rapid pace - with some positive effects (cheap and accessible) and some negative consequences (vast coastal areas overrun by rampantly developed, unsympathetically designed construction) - Cambodia remains in recovery mode.

The more you travel, the more you question the role of development. A total paradox: so many times you look at the limitations of a developing nation (lack of clean water, intermittent electrical supply, poorly constructed or non-existent road network, poor housing, sporadic and often dangerous transportation), marvel at the ingenuity of people as they get through their everyday lives and ultimately aspire to all those ailments being remedied. Yet upon reaching this utopia, your heart sinks at the anti-climactic realisation that the end result may just be a totally homogenous world - where everything looks the same, feels the same and works the same. Perhaps it is the broken, the malfunctioning, the oddities and the all too temporary solutions that define the essence and character of a nation. We felt that Japan was an example of a country that has lost a big part of its national identity in favour of over-zealous over-consumption, modernistion and americanisation. The end result: a population that seems overworked, regimented and rarely satisfied. For now, Cambodia is a million miles away from Japan. The first thing that hits you about this beautiful country is its fragility. Its naivety. The second is the sick feeling you get when you realise that people purposely target this vulnerability for their own means, their own pleasures: corruption is rife, drugs are openly sold and children are physically and sexually exploited. With a life expectancy of 55 and an average annual income of under 300 pounds, hope for these children seems at times so futile. Like when you see a half-naked infant screaming on the filthy pavement (helpless like a beetle on its back) not a guardian in sight; or when a toddler in tatty, dirty threads raises their hand to you and in a lifeless drone simply says "money?"; or when you see a young girl sat at a cafe-bar table with a middle-aged western man with grey hair (they all look the same - that same preying stance) with that all too familiar glassy-eyed look (where the eyes speak of an internal prison, a childhood lost) something I had seen so many times before in my African travels.

But all said and done, you do feel hope for Cambodia. Because despite what it has been through, their tragic recent past (in the 70s, aided by American bombing over the Cambodia-Vietnam border, Pol Pot's brutal Khmer Rouge took control and subsequently tortured and massacred over one fifth of the entire population - anyone of intellect or who could be accused of being an 'enemy' was callously slaughtered) and despite the fact that those who committed the attrocities and those who remain victims, live side by side, this is a nation of remarkably resilient and optimistic people. The warmest, friendliest welcome we have ever received and the broadest of heart-warming smiles at every corner.

So...what did we see and do in Cambodia?

We explored ancient, crumbling majestic temples, constructed over 1000 years ago. The Angkor complex is as awe-inspiring as the travel brochures would have you believe. We even saw some fantastically cheeky monkeys swinging on the branches of the kapok trees that surround and encroach upon these wonderful ruins ...(our aim is to see monkeys in every country we visit!). We took long, bumpy,meandering tuk tuk rides deep into the Cambodian countryside along the border with Vietnam - like the most beautiful film you have ever seen, or the most amazing series of paintings brought to life - a beautifully real collection of countryside vignettes: young children cyling out of school gates on adult bikes - teetering precariously but joyfully exclaiming "hello!" as you amble past; the toothless granny at the side of the road with a forrest of logs strapped to her back, stopping in her tracks to acknowledge you - with the gentlest of head movements but the warmest of connections; or the young calf that stopped to suckle his mother in the middle of a busy country road - oblivious to all around him. He had what mattered: food, security and a loving mother.

We also explored the capital - a crazy, densely populated, poor city with some good bars, foodstalls (the fish amok curry is mouthwatering) and excellent displays of their recent history (the visits to the Killing Fields and the S21 torture prison are something we will never forget. Yet it continues to happen: Zimbabwe, DRC. History repeating). B also particularly enjoyed the theatre of bargaining at the local markets - everyone's an aspiring stage actor there - feigned gestures, over-dramatic sighs and telling smiles. He was scarily good at it.

We took in the beautiful coastal town of Sihanoukville (imagine the beaches of Thailand, just less developed and more laid back), soaking up the sun and getting very boozy on S's 32nd birthday with some lunatic Aussie girls; strolled around the old colonial town of Kampot (buildings of faded decadence lining the tidal river); and visited the 60s French seaside resort of Kep - a great place to eat crab. You order it, they walk into the sea, grab it and cook it. Now that's what we call 'from source to plate'!

It was indeed an emotional, thought-provoking, amazing thirteen days in Cambodia. We didn't take many photos ('yipee!' we hear you cry) - Cambodia seems a place of privately shared memories. Memories we will never forget.

Canoeing into the sunset...

As we reflected on our time in the north, we realised we had totally fallen in love with Thailand - welcoming people, lush countryside and delicious food. A twelve hour train ride later and we were back in Bangkok at our cozy guesthouse that was starting to feel like a real home from home. The next day we hit some of Bangkok's key sights: a long and meandering boat trip down the Chao Phraya river (the romanticism slightly shattered as bags of trash rain past you, thrown off by people at almost every bridge you pass under - food, plastic, waste and other garbage...I guess the Waterways Environmental Unit may not yet be established - or perhaps they were on a very long lunch break...); wandering in awe through the ornate, over-elaborate Grand Palace, ancient structures weighed down by glistening gold - an amazing sight but that same sense of uneasiness you get at almost all Buddhist temples in South East Asia - a destitute population struggling to survive, juxtaposed by the vast quantities of gold that are poured into sights of religious worship - even after our time in China, we had quickly come to the conclusion that Buddha was a capitalist - a master businessman - every prayer, every trinket, every offering - all cost money. Bartering was the order of the day at the market stalls along the vibrant travellers district of Kao San Road (imagine the stalls at Glastonbury plonked in the middle of a random part of a sprawling Asian city and you'll get the picture) - you can get anything there - clothes, household goods, furniture, food, drugs and fake I.D (my favourite sign was 'Birth Certificate only 5000Baht!' - bargain!). All this interspersed by some great food as always - curries of every colour (red, green, yellow) and some delicious stir fries.

Still, our time in Bangkok was shortlived as we headed off on an early morning bus for the six hour road journey to Trat on the east coast - the jumping off point for the ferries to the island of Ko Chang. All manner of people were crammed into the rickety bus - farangs, holidaying Thais, some Asian tourists, mates of the driver that he picked up along the way and the most unconvincing lady boy I think I'm ever likely to see - imagine Martin Johnson in drag complete with appallingly-applied make up. Still, before we knew it we pulled up at a food stop two hours into the journey, S stayed on the bus while I hopped off for my latest chocolate fix. After perusing the sweet treats on offer, I ambled back to the parked bus only to find to my great surprise that the bay was empty, 'mmm' I thought - 'not quite six months into our trip and I've already 'misplaced' my wife'. Perhaps they've gone to get some food somewhere else, or some petrol or they're picking someone else up, perhaps they're being robbed or maybe S has asked the driver just to drive onto the coast without me - after all 24/7 with me for 6 months is bound to take it's toll on even the most devoted wife. Eventually - 30 minutes later - the bus pulled up again and to my relief there sat my grinning wife, relaxed as ever wondering what the worry was - they had just gone to get some petrol at a cheaper stop down the road! 'Perhaps we should leave the bus together next time?' I suggested. S just sat there, still grinning.

Three hours later and the stifling bus abruptly drew to a halt. 'Bus station!' the driver shouted and a frantic Thai lady ran up the stairs into the bus shouting 'ferry ticket! ferry ticket!'. Like moths drawn to light, we gingerly emerged out into the open, only moments before getting that increasingly familiar feeling when you're just about to be scammed. The bus zoomed off and we were stuck in the middle of nowhere in a town we knew nothing about. Skimming a portion of costs each, the local lady re-selling the ferry ticket, the bus driver and the eagerly awaiting songtheaw driver all took a cut as each farang paid marginally over the odds to get to our final destination. Occupational hazard I'm afraid. Things didn't get any better when it soon became apparent that we were sharing the ride with some lunatics from Barcelona utterly high on whatever concoction of drugs they had managed to score and a positively maniacal septarian driver with eyes like marbles - well, at least that's how he drove.

Ten hours after setting off, we eventually arrived at our wooden bungalow - six pounds a night and an awesome location. As we released our coffin-like rucksacks to the ground, we started chatting to a perma-traveller (one of those guys who took a gap year before going to uni and never quite found the right moment in the last decade to return home). He was from Nottingham and continually raved about how great the accommodation and staff were. Five minutes later the owner returned - an arrogant English guy in his early forties, tight curly hair and a long rubbery face. 'No, there's no booking, I sent you an email four days ago. I don't want people staying in my place for just one night the day before New Years Eve'. His tone was sharp and defensive. He had obviously messed up. We had received no e-mail and it was 6 pm on a very full island on 30th December. This was not good. I thought S was going to rip his head off or crush his elongated smug-face. But, we tried to adopt a more positive attitude and asked to use his phone to ring around or whether he could offer any recommendations. 'No! I'm too busy. Don't bother ringing, just start walking. I've got some very important posters to print!'. Go on S, kick his arse! But no, we just turned around and walked away. Fortunately the perma-traveller offered us a lift and within an hour we were in a cozy bamboo hut for 3 pounds owned by a lovely Thai family who didn't speak a word of English. How utterly, disappointingly embarrassing then that the one idiot we met in Thailand was English. Bloody English. Anyway, two hours later, we had a large, cold bottle of Singha in each hand and were enjoying a rich and spicy green curry. The next morning we were up bright and early and on a wooden boat for two more hours to a very remote island Ko Mak - home to only a few hundred people. We had a lovely four days chilling by the beach, sipping cold beer, swimming in the sea and planning the next leg of our travels. As we laid in our hammocks on the stroke of midnight on New Years Eve, with a glass of wine in our hands, we realised that things were going pretty well.

On our return to Bangkok, we met a lovely couple from London and had a fun night out with them in the capital (marred only slightly by the rat the size of my foot that was running around between the tables of the road-side food stall) before heading off to Phuket for some more beach fun. After splashing out in a posh resort for two nights we returned to the traveller circuit in Ao Karon and hit the clear blue waters for the next three days. We canoed around remote islands, lunching on a wooden boat and swimming with the Thai crew in between our paddling (it was great fun hurling ourselves off the top of a huge wooden boat!), we explored isolated sea caves (hongs) in the late afternoon, followed by a sunset dinner and a night time exploration into the lagunas, lying flat in the canoe the current drew us into the caves and we lit candles on ceremonial offerings made from banana leaves and bright flowers which we floated away after making a heartfelt wish. We really hope it comes true. On the last day we travelled three hours by car and speed boat to get to the remote Ko Similans and experienced some amazing snorkelling - startlingly clear, a myriad of vividly coloured fish, and gleaming coral - a beautiful, calm, life-affirming ocean spectacle.

Thailand - we will certainly be back.

No Thai like the present...

We last left you in Tokyo, reminiscing over our Japanese experience. Our final night was very happily spent with a certain Mr David Rae, who happened to be over in the land of the rising sun for the Man U Club World Cup game. Despite the ridiculous Japanese prices, we managed to get through a rather hefty amount of Jack Daniels and coke/lager in an Irish bar in Roppongi Hills, catching up on all the latest news from Blighty and putting the world to rights. It was a great night, and a fitting way to end our Japan leg - big thanks Dave! It was only when we realised we had no choice but to leave just after midnight to get the last train back to our hotel (taxis were out of the question!), a good hour and a bit across town, that the reality of the situation set in.

Through the whiskey haze, we managed to negotiate the train journey in one piece, but luck ran out when we got hopelessly lost trying to find our hotel the other end. We finally found the shopping mall it was located in (Japan is weird like that!), but couldn't find any way to get in, all doors seemingly locked for the night. After what seemed like hours traipsing round the huge perimeter of the building, we finally managed to sneak in a staff entrance following behind a kindly staff member, who took pity and pointed us in the right direction. We crawled into bed, managing to set the alarm for three hours later, as we had an early flight to Bangkok to catch later that morning!

Things seemed even worse when we awoke at 5.30am, as the worst hangover of all time kicked in with full effect. To add to our woes, we then realised we had managed to spend pretty much all of our remaining cash. Not a problem in most cases, just pay another trip to the cashpoint, I hear you cry. Not so easy in Japan unfortunately, where the only international ATMs don't open until 9.30am and the public transport system doesn't accept card! We had to get to the airport though, so ended up spending a fortune on the limousine airport bus which left from the hotel, which to our relief happily accepted the Visa we waved desperately at the bemused hotel staff.

We made it to the airport in time, hangover still kicking in vigorously, and on to the plane, but the alcohol gods weren't yet done. To add to our misery, it was the smallest plane yet for economy, a matter made worse by the gentleman seated 'next' to me (SB), a portly Japanese chap, who proceeded to get through four bottles of the cheap red plonk on offer, then fall fast asleep on my shoulder, dribbling and snoring away. A kindly hostess rescued the situation, but safe to say, it will not go down as one of my favourite flying experiences...

Leaving the hangover behind, we turned our attention to our new home for the next few weeks, Thailand. For once, we found the guesthouse in Bangkok no problem, and it was absolutely brilliant. Named 'Cozy Bangkok Place', it was owned by a lovely Thai couple, who were so friendly, helpful and welcoming, you could have stayed there for weeks. After a good night's sleep in a great bed, we hit the city, which we instantly felt comfortable in, meeting friendly, genuine people all over town, from the hustle and bustle of Chinatown to the shopping frenzy of Siam Square. The first couple of days were also a great introduction to real Thai food - fantastic Phad Thai noodles, spicy whole white fish grilled in front of you and delicious green curry to die for, all at rock bottom prices. Surprisingly enough, we were like pigs in muck tucking into the best nosh Bangkok had to offer.

After a couple of days, we headed up on the 12 hour train to Chiang Mai, in the far north of the country, promising to come back to Bangkok for another taste later in the trip. The journey went surprisingly quickly, helped along by the complementary fantastic food, drinks and home-made banana cake (Virgin have got nothing on these guys) and offered unmissable views through the ever-changing countryside. Huge, gleaming Buddhas sat serenely high up in the hills, smiling down benevolently as we chugged past; beautiful children ran along, smiling and waving at the train from a multitude of small, colourful villages, which looked as though they hadn't changed much in 50 years; all alongside a range of cows, pigs and other animals and miles and miles of the obligatory rice fields, grassed over until the growing season hits later in the year.

Arriving in Chiang Mai about 8pm, we hopped on to our first 'share taxi', which many people will probably recognise as another way of saying 'cheap ride in the back of a truck', and whizzed past the lights and buzz of the city to our guesthouse for the night. Unsurprisingly, we were hungry and headed straight out to the nearest spot, a friendly, English-speaking cafe, for a great plate of noodles and a good old curry.

The next day we headed over in eager anticipation to Eagle House, the guesthouse with whom we had booked a three day hill trek through the remote villages of the local hill tribes. Looking over the pictures from various previous trips, we felt a mounting sense of excitement. Meeting up with our guide, Det, an impossibly skinny and cheeky guy, and the other trekkers we were to spend the next few days with, confirmed this was going to be a lot of fun. The party consisted of an American couple (Hollywood agents!), two other Brits (...from Hull) and four Germans (three boys and a girl).

We set off at 8.30am the next day, sparking up instant conversation whilst clinging on to the handrails in the back of the pick up truck (the huge strapping guy from Hull stepped out of the vehicle and hung onto the roof for fun as the driver veered round corners at 90km/hr - the Hollywood agent leant over to me and whispered 'If he falls off and dies, he'll ruin the trip for everyone!' - classic!).

We eventually stopped by the roadside for our first meal of the day - a fantastic portion of fried rice with vegetables, beautifully wrapped in a banana leaf parcel, the first of many top notch meals to come. Fully fed, we soon started walking through lush green and brown fields, with only the sounds of birds and cattle for company, bar our first few meetings with local villagers, answering our questions with a smile , happily posing for photographs, all the while looking slightly bemused at our bulging knapsacks, full camping outfits and expensive walking shoes, as they ambled past in age-old flip flops carrying massive bowls of rice or huge bamboo sticks, without even breaking a sweat!

After a couple of hours, we reached the village we were to spend the night in, high up in the hills and seemingly isolated, though still possessing five TV sets between 30 or so inhabitants, a fact the welcoming, smiling villagers proudly relayed to us via our guide. They showed us to the 'hotel', a large bamboo hut on stilts, complete with mosquito nets and large amounts of blankets, and we set up camp for the night.

We managed a few hours of sleep, helped along by some fantastic woolly balaclavas we bought at the market (much to the amusement of the other trekkers who thought we looked like a couple of bankrobbing misfits). In the morning, we sat around a pot fire in our host's hut, surrounded by yet more platefuls of rice, we were offered what was described as 'deer' curry to try, which was interesting since there were definitely no signs of deer up in those mountains! Our host then unveiled the wonderful second course still sizzling away in a huge metal bowl - a big load of fried insects. Not wanting to offend our hosts, we accepted some to try. After being taught how to peel the wings off, we chomped away at our oily bugs as quickly as possible, thanked our hosts and made a hasty get-away.

Later that day, as we trekked through a farmers field, we were stopped by a cheekily grinning Det. He rummaged around in a huge cowpat and produced with delight a dung beetle. Looking at us with great satisfaction, he said, "This is what you were eating this morning!". "Why didn't you tell us?!?" we replied. "You would never have eaten it then", he laughed back. We had been done, no two ways about it.

The rest of the second day passed in a haze of sunlight, beautiful forest and cheery villagers feeding their livestock, sleeping in the sun or catching tomorrow's meal. We walked for about 7 hours, mostly uphill, with a break for lunch by a cool stream. When we reached our second night's lodgings, a spacious hut by a river, everyone was delighted to get into swimwear and have a short dip in the cold, but refreshing water. This was followed by the best meal yet - crunchy spring rolls, sweet dipping sauce, tasty curry, vegetables, rice and of course, a few cold beers, and more silly stories round the fire.

The next morning, we were raring to go on the last big adventure - bamboo rafting down the river. The locals make the rafts each time by hand - eight, twelve foot bamboo poles, tied together with thin strips of bamboo, enough to hold the weight of four of us standing, plus a local steering the raft. B got the job of steering from the back, which he made his own, even passing for a gondolier in the right light, singing 'O Sole Mio' as we whizzed downstream - this was made a lot more complicated by the fact that our local guide at the front of the raft shouted 'left!' when he meant right and vice versa. The river was fairly gentle, with some faster Grade 2 rapids, which were great fun to whizz through, the sunshine dappling through the trees and all of nature around us. It was spot on.

Once off the rafts, we walked for a couple of hours, chilled by some stunning waterfalls and headed back to town for the night.

After a day resting, we were ready to go again, and spent Christmas Day amongst our favourite thing of all time - food! We were in a comfortable villa in the countryside on a cooking course making and scoffing green curry, phad thai, hot and sour soup and several other dishes. We were each given a book of recipes and all the secrets to take home, so hopefully we'll be able to recreate some of them once we get back to London. Christmas day got more surreal as we spent the evening watching a muaythai (Thai boxing) competition (including a hilarious blindfolded bout - the referee was inevitably knocked out much to the amusement of the crowd).

Boxing day was a totally different experience as we headed to a wonderful Elephant conservation park - an inspiring sight created by an inspiring woman who has dedicated her life to rescuing some of the most abused Elephants in Thailand. Considering this is such a revered animal in Thailand's history, the stories of abuse are horrific - young eles caught, caged and 'broken' (a four day submission tactic in which the elephant is tortured with bamboo sticks with sharp metal nails prodded into their eyes and inner ears until they can no longer take the suffering and live a life in fear, totally submissive) and used to beg on the streets (even in central Bangkok!) or forced to paint in tourist shows!. Some of the elephants were blinded, maimed, had broken backs or psychological issues - it was heartbreaking. I was totally in my element - feeding, hugging and washing some beautiful creatures. After such a humbling experience, it was time to leave Chiang Mai.