The Two Faces of Dames

This is Dames having spent forty-eight hours meditating at a Buddhist retreat at a Wat in the cloud-shrouded hills a few miles from the Ancient Lanna Capital of Northern Thailand, Chiang Mai. Note the benevolent aura of calm, the sheen of near-enlightenment, the patina of hard-sought mystical knowledege...



...and here he is now. In his new (fairly gay) pants, readying himself for a night on the lash. The Karma fairy must be having a bit of a migraine over this one.

Effervescing Elephants and Jungle Jaunts

Pimp my pachyderm.

Mai is thirty-four years old and partial to a banana. Not the fruit, you understand, but the whole, bloomin' plant, which she can happily wolf down in seconds. Saves time peeling them, don't it.

Ever get that feeling that you're a long way from North London?

Watch out for the large bloaty mammal in the river. That's right, the one in blue shorts.

This was excellent fun - not an experience we're likely to forget in a hurry. Never mind swimming with dolphins: this is hardcore pet therapy

We stopped at this lookout point so that we could get a good view of the clouds.

According to the Thai-way Code, one should drive on these roads at no less than 80km/hour, observing no particular preference for either side of the road.

Stile-ish Jules, makes for the hills.

Our first stop. Jules and Mikal commune with the exotic wildlife.

Potato soup, Thai style (i.e. sitting on the floor).

Meet Mikal. Our friend from The Netherlands. He's quite safe, you know.

See: here he is being quite charming with the lovely Tomoka, our other fearless trek-type-person.

Tomoka is from a city in Japan that we'd not heard of. She is a dentist, so we all felt shamed into making a great show of our, already impeccable, oral hygiene.

Mikal toasts his tootsies.

Well, you would, wouldn't you? I mean, there isn't a tea-cosy for hundreds of miles.

Tomoka had never played Sodoku before.

Damian had not performed well in his Camoflage practical.

In the distance you can see the village we stayed in on our second night. It took more than an hour to get there, though, because of the severe slope and a downpour. Serves us right for going a-trekkin' in the rainy season.

This is our night of cultural liaison. That is, we drank the local Thai fire-water: 50p a litre and distilled from old plastic bags, I reckon. It doesn't encourage one to leap from one's bed the next morning, either.

The team.

How do we keep meeting such fun Dutch guys? This fella was no exception - more hilarity from Den Haag.

The end of our trek - it was back to Pai for a massage and a hearty burger. Oh, and more Thai whiskey. Will they never learn?

Cooking with gas in Chiang Mai

We took the overnight train out of smelly, noisy, filthy, fantastic Bangkok (we're saving up all the sightseeing for when Ma Browne arrives in July) and, after adventures with beer and crackers, turned up, completely exhausted, in Chaing Mai. We're slowly recovering with the aid of great food, mellow people and lots of temples.

This afternoon, we're off for Monk Chat and, maybe, an introduction to Buddist meditation. I've always liked orange.


Getting psychedelic in the Drunken Flower Blues Bar.


Boy oh boy - they love the blues in this town. And some bands, like this one, play some amazing stuff. What a night.


This is the highest Jenga puzzle we've ever played. Everyone at the bar turned around and held their breath. It actually got two layers higher. And then Dames toppled it with his usual panache. Nice one, Jules.


Wat Doi Sumet, overlooking the city.


Scruffy Dames prepares to Enter the Dragon.

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Thai Cookery School
We're going to cook like this every day when we get home.





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Dames' favourite nibble.


So, how fresh are your fish, exactly?


Tom yum!


Ready, steady...

...gone.

One night in...

...Basingstoke?



...Bolton?



...Basildon?



Oh, all right then; have it your way:



Bangkok.




We caught up with our Flemish friends, Rita and Chris. They took us out to dine. We ate out for 40p each.
We love it here!


On Monday, everybody wears yellow.
Why?
Because the King was born on a Monday.
And we love the King.
Obviously.


Ker-Chang! The mother of all Thai beer. 6.4%, and not a syllable in Roman script on the label. Best avoided if you wish to do anything constructive before 2pm the next day.


The other end of the Koh Sahn Road at some ungodly hour. Looks almost romantic, don't it?


This is the lovely Lee. We found him at the airport and he came to play with us for our weekend of Thai lunacy. Sorry about the hangovers, dude.

Beach time.

For our final week in The Philippines, we considered going off to search for those damned elusive whale sharks, but, since this would involve ten hour bus journeys and/or twenty-three hour boat rides, we decided, instead, to try out Boracay, the favourite haunt of Koreans and Philippinos seeking an Ibiza-style break in the sun.


We stayed on Dinniwid beach, far from the madding crowd of sunglasses salesfolk and terrible house music, and had a fab time eating squid, sunbathing and losing at backgammon with the locals.



The view from our balcony.


The view from our favourite restaurant/hang-out
The Spider House.


See that parasol? That's us that is.


Dames waits for the sun to go down with manic anticipation.

Our friend, Mr Long Island Iced Tea. Spirits here are about 50p a litre. It's amazing that we ever caught our flight out.




'Aving it large!