'Nam

Having been thoroughly embarrassed and ashamed at my ignorance of Cambodian history, I was determined that our time spent in Vietnam would not be burdened with similar philistinism. We had both briefly studied the Vietnam war for GCSE history, but I hasten to add that I was unable to recall much more than my utter confusion in regards to the Viet Minh and the Viet Cong; probably why I only managed to scrape a B (unlike my little brother who rocked out an impressive A in his recent exam results – brains as well as beauty. Now you just need to work a little on the brawn Louis!)

To remedy this ignorance I submersed myself in literature in attempt to grasp the effect that the Vietnam War had, and continues to have to this day. The first book that I read was Camilla Gibbs’ The Beauty of Humanity Movement, a keenly observed novel about the reverberation of conflict through generations. Set in Hanoi, flitting back on forth from the 1950s to present day, The Beauty of Humanity Movement not only whetted my appetite for pho, but educated me on the political upheaval experienced by the Vietnamese throughout the past hundred years. The Beauty of Humanity Movement were a (fictional) group of artists and intellectuals who dared to question Communist rule at great peril, and so to further understand more about Uncle Ho’s regime I then read the incredible diary of Dang Thuy Tram, Last Night I Dreamed of Peace; “At the age of twenty-four, Dang Thuy Tram volunteered to serve as a doctor in a National Liberation Front (Viet Cong) battlefield hospital in the Quang Nai province. Two years later she was killed by American forces not far from where she worked. Written between 1968 and 1970, her diary speaks poignantly of her devotion to family and friends, the horrors of war, her yearning for her high school sweetheart, and her struggle to prove her loyalty to her country”. This was not an easy read, most challengingly of all was that Thuy was the same age as I am now when she effectively gave her life for her country, but it did give me an interesting perspective on the “other side” to the war that I knew very little about, and above all else is a story of love, humanity, hope and courage. Having been thoroughly depressed after reading Thuy’s tragic account of her war, I decided to read a “lighter” novel, written from another perspective again. The Lotus Eaters by Tatjana Soli tells the story of three war photographers with three very different stories; from the dangers they faced in their duty to capture the inevitable tragedy of war, to the emptiness of Saigon’s streets in the final days of the American evacuation. Although by simply reading two fictional, and one personal, accounts of the Vietnam War, I had barely touched the surface and couldn’t now claim to be an expert, but at least I had a slightly deeper understanding of the complexities surrounding the final destination on our Gap Yah adventure.

Having chickened out of the thirty-hour “death bus” from Laos to Vietnam, we arrived safe and sound in Hanoi after a pleasant hour-long flight from Vientiane. After checking in to the notorious Hanoi Backpackers hostel, we fought tiredness to explore the streets surrounding the hostel and to experience our first bowl of Vietnamese pho; an interesting experience at a street stall as we were served huge bowls of steaming noodle soup complete with various pieces of suspiciously unidentifiable chunks of “meat”. An earlyish night was in order so that we would be sufficiently refreshed the following day for our walking tour of the Old Quarter. I feel that I must explain the importance of a clear head and razor-sharp senses, for without these simply crossing the road in Hanoi would be impossible due to the sheer ridiculous amount of traffic, namely pushbikes, motorbikes and scooters. There are an estimated 3.5 million bikes zooming through the streets of Hanoi, and it appeared that all 3.5 million of them congregated in the same place every time Forrest and I tried to cross the street. It certainly added an interesting element to our tour of the Old Quarter, as we narrowly avoided death at every crossing – a challenge for a girl who refuses to cross a street unless the green man tells her that it is safe to do so.

Having been previously disappointed by the negative effects that colonialism and capitalism appeared to have had on the traditional atmospheres of other cities that we had visited in Asia, our first impressions of Hanoi were that of a quintessential Asian city; an assault on the senses from every possible direction. Only stopping for spring rolls, we wound our way through the narrow streets of the Old Quarter which were bursting with charm and character, providing ample opportunities for our budding photographer to capture the frenzy. Of course there is only so much culture and tradition that one can absorb in one day before the yearning for colonialism and capitalism comes flooding back, so the evening was spent watching three back-to-back games of the Premier League.

Forrest got to spend Saturday night doing his stupid football thing, which meant that I was in charge of the itinerary the following day. I let Forrest have a little lie in while I caught up with various culturally important and relevant television programmes (Pretty Little Liars and True Blood) before we headed out. Our first stop was KOTO, aka Know One Teach One, an opportunity to combine our great passion for food with the smug knowledge that by stuffing our faces with delicious food we were giving back to the Hanoi community in need. After a scrumptious lunch of prawn and avocado spring rolls, bun cha and mustard beef and noodles we crossed the road to visit the Temple of Literature. I was hoping for at least some form of recognition at my contributions to literature, especially after giving the world the wonder that is the Gap Yah Chronicles, but I failed to see my name carved in to the ancient stones. The attraction itself was admittedly a little dull but it did provide a welcome peaceful respite from the hustle and bustle of the city. A quick visit to the Hanoi Hilton was an interesting experience, especially the propaganda insisting that the American prisoners were treated with as much hospitality and generosity befitting respected Six Senses guests! We returned to the hostel for a lovely skype with Jenny and Westy, bidding the West one a fond farewell as he was due to depart on his own Gap Yah adventure, teaching in Shanghai. Another night of footbore was on the cards, oh how I’d missed the beautiful game during the brief sojourn between seasons…it had really been a struggle spending our weekends experiencing the culture of the amazing places we had visited rather than sat in a bar surrounded by English Yobbos watching stupid football.

We were rather rudely reminded of the joys of sleeping in dorm rooms that night, as we failed to get a single minute of sleep due to absolute drunken Geordie nitwits being sick and naked. As you can imagine, Forrest was none too happy when I tried to get him up at 6:45am for our Ha Long Bay trip and he grumpily made his way down to reception to complain about his terrible night’s sleep and to postpone our trip by a day so he could sleep a while longer – to which he received an unequivocal no, just as I’d suspected. Oh hello there Captain Hindsight, what’s that you say? It’s a good job we couldn’t postpone the trip otherwise we might not have had such a BLOODY FANTASTICALLY STUPENDOUS time?! Well Captain Hindsight, you’d be right! Having originally only organised to do the two day trip due to time and dollar restraints, this huge error in judgement was rectified around 3am the following morning when we arranged to stay for an extra day. Not only was Ha Long Bay itself breathtakingly stunning (the guide book says that with “so much hyperbole, some find Ha Long Bay disappointing” but I can’t hyperbole the hyperboles enough!), with its bizarrely shaped limestone outcrops, emerald water, hidden coves, echoing caves and needle-sharp ridges, but the excellent company we were in only added to the atrociously wonderful time that we had there. I relished the company of the beautiful April, Charlotte and Katie (fellow Finsbury Park residents, who kindly gave me lessons in North London slang so that I’m prepared for the Big Move), and there was plenty of LADS for satiate Forrest’s lairy needs.

On-board the Jolly Rodger, we met our guides Bambi and Josh who explained the strict and complex rules of ‘buffalo’ (only drinking with your left hand otherwise you will be forced to down the rest of the offending beverage) and it quickly became clear that drinking was going to be as much a part of our Ha Long Bay trip as admiring the stunning scenery. After we, very bravely might I add, jumped off the top deck of the boat into the water we went kayaking around the Bay and explored some of the caves inside the huge rock formations, absolutely breathtakingly beautiful, especially the return journey as the sun was setting over the Bay. Feeling like we fully deserved it after three hours kayaking and caving, we tucked in to a scrumptious meal before the games commenced. The rest of the evening is a bit of a blur, but I seem to remember that there was a decent amount of nudity involved (not on my behalf I hasten to add, although at one point I was wearing the entire outfit belonging to the gentleman sitting beside me!)

The early start the following day was extremely unwelcome after very little sleep and a whole lot of alcohol, but the views pretty much made up for the pounding in my head. We made our way to Castaway Island, our home for the evening, and yet again were astounded by the beauty that Mother Nature had bestowed upon the bay. Then I went for a little lie down. If a day chilling on a beautiful beach wasn’t enough entertainment for you, there was also a plethora of extreme water sports or rock climbing to try your hand at. Although my hangover (and my health and safety detector) disagreed severely with the decision, we decided to go tubing with April and Charlotte. Being pulled along on a rubber tube behind a boat sounds easy enough, but believe me it wasn’t; hanging on for dear life while you’re being towed at breakneck speeds is pretty tough on the old arms and when you inevitably are thrown into the air and smacked down into the water, that also causes great pain. Add to this the element of possible shoulder dislocation, beheading by rope or squashed by a flying Forrest and you’ve got yourself a jolly good time. Kidding aside, the tubing was excellent fun and couldn’t have been done in more beautiful surroundings. Forrest and I were a little more subdued during the drinking games that evening, unable to keep up with the kids, but the icing on the cake was undoubtedly the midnight swim in the phosphorescence (it was a close call between this and Josh licking mustard from a girl’s armpits however). An indescribably unbelievable experience that words or pictures wouldn’t do justice, and a fitting end to a wonderful trip. I’m already looking forward to the Finny P reunion – see you down your endz girls!

We returned to Hanoi just in time for our night bus to Hue, which deserves a mention due to the fact that it was unlike the thousands we have taken before in that it was actually designed for sleep. I could pretty much lie down and enjoy a full night’s sleep, and although Forrest was a little too big for his little pod he was happy enough to lie in the aisle and sleep! Hue was a nice enough place but the highlight was unquestionably the bike tour we took with Tranh Van Tinh. Tinh had approached us the previous day as we flailed around the ancient citadel looking vaguely at some tanks plonked in a field. After eight months of travelling we are understandably wary when approached, the word ‘no’ escaping from our mouths before the poor person gets a chance to sell their wares/soul, and we almost made this mistake with Tinh but something about him made us listen. Whether it was his kind eyes and gentle disposition, the Lonely Planet praise he carried around with him or simply that Hue didn’t seem to have much else to offer, but we arranged to meet him the next morning.

He picked us up bright and early with a friend and we jumped on the back of their bikes and headed off to the Pagoda where he had studied to be a Monk. The Pagoda itself was serene and calm, and Tinh explained the traditions and customs to us before we got the opportunity to watch two Monks perform their daily offering. He also read our palms which wasn’t something that we’d been expecting but was interesting nonetheless. Forrest’s proved to be scarily accurate; Tinh told him that he would study twice and have three more years of very hard work – exactly the encouragement he needs for returning to his job at KPMG and the dreaded ACA exams! He also prophesised that Forrest would have to take great care around a particular day in November (we’ve forgotten which already, so basically I’m just going to avoid him for the entire month), as this was his rebirth! My reading was slightly less inspiring, as Tinh took one look at my (sweaty) palm and proclaimed that I am surrounded by the spirits of loved ones in the afterlife. Slightly unnerving as I’m not sure they’d have enjoyed the drinking games at Ha Long Bay too much! He then took us to the Purple Forbidden City in the citadel which wasn’t that interesting but we lingered long enough to make it seem as though we’d read all the signs and understood what it actually was before returning to the hostel on the bikes. It really was a delight to spend some time with Tinh, and I feel that we experienced something unlike anything else during our Gap Yah.

Our next destination was Hoi An, not to be confused with a dyslexic Hanoi, and we were delighted to bump into Patrick, Jeff and Poraic, three Irish guys who were on our Ha Long Bay trip. We ate dinner with them that evening, sampling Hoi An specialities such as crispy wontons and ‘white rose’ – a shrimp dumpling made from translucent manioc-flour dough bunched to look like a rose. We spent the whole of the next day sunning ourselves on the stunning Anh Bang beach. The beach was pretty much deserted, unlike its much more touristic counterpart further along the coastline, and we savoured the luxury of the white sands and crystalline water that would soon be a distant Gap Yah memory. We met up with the Irish again that evening, but my relaxing day at the beach had thoroughly wiped me out and I left Forrest to his own devices and headed back to the hotel. It transpires that left to his own devices lead to drinking games with the Irish and Germans and then a pool party. Interesting. I managed to drag him out of bed the next day to explore the as-yet unvisited Hoi An town centre, which was beautifully quaint and very reminiscent of a Spanish colonial town, before we boarded yet another night bus. Less pleasant than the previous bus due to the soaring temperatures at the back of our beds, but we did take the opportunity to watch Good Morning Vietnam which was wonderfully funny despite the sensitive subject matter.

Another day, another beach on our whistle-stop tour of Vietnam’s coastline. We were now in Nha Trang, where we were planned to experience what boasted to be Vietnam’s best dive sites. A couple of days previously we had got talking to a couple of guys at Anh Bang beach, and over roadside-stand cured pork wrapped in banana leaves it transpired that one of them was a part owner of a dive shop in Nha Trang so we were hoping for a nice discount on our dive. Alas, this wasn’t to be the case, but we were so excited to be going diving again that we were happy to spend the money regardless. We had also discussed doing a night dive, but the guy in the shop advised against it saying that the visibility wouldn’t be great because you had to dive off the sandy beach and you were unlikely to see much, so we organised to do two fun dives the following day instead. With that taking a considerable chunk out of our rapidly dwindling Gap Yah fund, the rest of the day was spent at the beach; it doesn’t cost much to enjoy the Vietnam sunshine on the beautiful municipal beach!

We set off early the following morning with the excellent Rainbow Dive Company, and we were introduced to our Dive Master Rena on the boat who talked us through the dive plan for the day, and gave us the lowdown on what marine life we might see. The coral reefs along the Nha Trang coastline are bustling with marine life and Rena told us to look out for the spectacular nudibranchs which were often spotted where we were going to dive. The first dive was wonderful, and we did indeed see a beautiful nudibranch as well as an octopus and a huuuuge trigger fish amongst the fabulous marine life. There were a couple of ‘swim-throughs’ on the first dive – basically caves or holes in the coral that you can swim through – and going through ‘fish cave’ was an amazing, if slightly eerie, experience. The downside of the swim-through however was that when we exited the tunnel we had unknowingly ascended a few metres in the water, which caused problems for Forrest’s ears so we had to finish the dive about five minutes early. We had a break for lunch, and allowed the nitrogen to dissolve from our blood before going back down. We descended slowly to allow Forrest to equalize his ears to ensure that they didn’t continue hurting, and luckily he was absolutely fine. The second dive was equally as amazing, the highlight being a tiny little fish nicknamed the ‘raver fish’ due to the crazy, uncontrolled manner in which he danced through the water. Another unforgettable diving experience, and further proof that we were going to have to brave the cold waters around the British Isles and Jersey to keep our PADI up-to-date, as it is something that we are definitely going to continue with in the future.

Unlike the quaint Hoi An, Nha Trang wasn’t particularly the epicentre of Vietnamese culture with its high-rises and resorts, so there wasn’t any pressure to get out and see the sights, which meant that the rest of the day could be spent guilt-free lazing about on the beach. That evening we trekked to the other side of town to eat at the renowned Lac Canh restaurant; a Nha Trang institution famous for its mouth- and eye-watering cooked at-table barbeques. For the very reasonable price of £5 we feasted on barbequed fish, marinated barbequed beef, stir-fried spinach and garlic, garlic rice and beers, absolutely delicious especially since it was cooked by us! Too full to contemplate the thirty minute walk back to the hostel, we enlisted the help of a friendly cyclo driver; the poor sod bearing the brunt of our feast as he huffed and puffed and cycled us all the way home!

Next stop Ho Chi Minh City, where I was interested to see the disparities between the country’s northern capital Hanoi and the furiously commercial city of HCMC, where we had been warned that America’s influence had not been completely obliterated when the north liberated Saigon in 1975. Pizza Hut and KFC aren’t the only reminders of the American’s presence in HCMC, and after Forrest got fitted for a tailor-made suit, we did some sightseeing around the city to understand more. We visited the Reunification Palace, where a red flag billows proudly above the previous home and office of the South’s president Ngo Dinh Diem. A replica of the North Vietnamese tank that stormed the palace’s gates in 1975, a defining moment in the fall of Saigon, stands just inside the entrance as an imposing reminder of the victory. The rest of the palace wasn’t particularly interesting, but does serve as a veritable time-capsule of 1960s and 1970s kitsch with its dial-phones and swirly carpets.

After the palace we headed to the War Remnants Museum, an experience I was not looking forward to after the harrowing visit to S21 in Phnom Penh and thanks to Watson’s advice to ‘definitely not go’ as the girls he went with spent the entire time traumatised and sobbing. Forrest had insisted that it was vital that we went; as ethical and moral Gap Yaher’s it was our duty to understand that there is a great deal more to Vietnam than beautiful beaches, serene pagodas and millions of scooters. He explained that when studying history at school, a phrase often used to describe the importance of the subject is “how do we know where we are going, let alone where we are, if we don’t know where we came from,” and this most certainly applies in abundance to Vietnam whereby learning and understanding the mistakes made in past, will hopefully prevent them from happening again in the future. He was quite right of course and I quickly manned-up, chagrined by my unwillingness to cloud my Gap Yah with the harsh truths of reality. The remnants of the war are clearly visible in Saigon’s streets; with a disturbing number of people clearly victims of landmines and other violence, but the exhibits in the museum, a distressing compendium of the horrors of modern warfare, really did speak for themselves. I’m not ashamed to admit that I chose not to go into one exhibition detailing the effects of the 75 million litres of defoliant sprays dumped across the country, with a grisly portfolio of photographs of mutilation, napalm burns and torture, as I imagined that would be a little too much for me to bear. I did however find the exhibition of war photographs taken by the countless photo-journalists who lost their lives working in order that people back home could understand what was happening in Vietnam to be particularly interesting, albeit still deeply distressing, due to my new knowledge and understanding of this aspect from The Lotus Eaters. All-in-all a pretty sobering afternoon indeed.

More war the following day, with a half day tour to the Cu Chi tunnels. Although the War Remnants Museum is undoubtedly Saigon’s most popular tourist attraction and was bustling with crowds, this didn’t detract from the solemnity of the exhibitions. The same can’t be said however for the Cu Chi tunnels, which felt as though we were in a purpose-built tourist attraction similar to the Yorvik Viking museum in York for example. It’s a shame because the tunnels themselves are an astonishing feat of great magnitude; 250km of underground tunnels, up to four levels deep, complete with latrines, wells, meeting rooms and even rudimentary hospitals. Today, the tunnels have been widened (luckily!) for Western tourists, but it’s still a very claustrophobic and sweaty experience, so I can’t imagine how it must have been for the Viet Cong who sometimes had to stay down there for weeks on end. One thing is for sure though, Forrest and I wouldn’t have made very good Viet Cong as Forrest was far too tall and I was far too hot. That evening we celebrated Independence Day on the banks of the Saigon River, with what seemed like the cities entire population who congregated on their bikes, all rejoicing in the independence that they had fought so aggressively for. We had a prime spot, nestled in between young Vietnamese couples and families, to watch the fireworks over the water. A magical end to the evening.

I am aware (Dad) that this issue of the Gap Yah Chronicles is a bit of a boringly repetitive read of “we did this and then we did this”, rather than my usually excellent knack for simply editing out the highlights and presenting them in an amusing manner, but I hope that I have remedied this slightly by ensuring that my paragraphs aren’t too long (again, Dad!). Because our days were now numbered and the end was nigh we were filling our days with activities and tours in order to experience as much of Vietnam as possible in the short amount of time we had left, which unfortunately for you my loyal followers, means another the following day…

…Having not learnt our lesson from the debacle of a tourist trap at the Cu Chi tunnels, we’d unwisely embarked on yet another tour, this time to see the Mekong Delta. Had we had longer then we would have spent a couple of days in the Delta, taking time to explore the less touristy parts, but instead we were forced to join the throngs of tourists as we were herded around the tourist attractions, such as a coconut plantation and a honey farm. We didn’t really get to experience the true beauty of the region, our judgement being entirely clouded by the company we were in who relentlessly informed, advised, cajoled and bored us in an attempt to recruit us on to their super product Herbalife. Although still touristy, the small canoe ride down one of the narrower creeks gave us a glimpse of what we might have experienced on a more relaxed itinerary, and with hindsight we regretted not leaving an extra few days to go deeper into the Delta to see the traditional way of life in Vietnam’s ‘Rice Bowl’.

We’d had an incredible time in Vietnam; a country of so much natural beauty, culture, character and charm, still deeply clouded by its troubled past. I had been pleasantly surprised at how much I fell in love with the country, and definitely plan to return in the future for there is a wealth of beauty still yet to discover.

We left Vietnam for our final destination, Bangkok, where we were to spend one final night before flying home. Despite having only visited Hualamphong train station and a shopping mall, our enthusiasm for sightseeing by this stage had totally waned, and we were unable to muster up any fervour for the temples, shrines and Buddha’s dotted around the city. We explored the noisy markets of the infamous Koa San Road, stocking up on last minute gifts and dodging fortune-tellers and tailors, but aside from this exertion we were more than happy to just chill by the pool on the roof of our hotel (much fancier than it sounds!) and get one last pampering of pedicures and massages, a luxury that we will be unable to afford again for a very long time! And because it was our last night we splashed out and went to a beautiful rooftop bar recommended by Katie Walmsley called The Nest, where we indulged in a posh mojito “bucket”, tapas and a bottle of red wine while watching the lightning streak across Bangkok’s skyline.

I sit here typing this in Heathrow’s Terminal 3, as we patiently wait for the final leg of our Gap Yah journey home, the thought occurs to me that I am going to have to come up with a thought-provoking, intelligently-worded, humorous and witty ending to the Gap Yah Chronicles to sufficiently encapsulate the last eight months. Yet all I can seem to think about is how much I wish we had budgeted for a packet of salt and vinegar Squares in the airport. My tan may be already fading and we may have returned with barely a penny to our names, but I can resolutely assure you that this one time, on our Gap Yah, we have returned richer in every other way. I’d have also quite liked a Ribena.

Forrest's Final Final Thought...

The 2011 Gap Yah Chronicle Awards

The GYC awards are brought to you by Havaianas™, whose flip-flops managed break and thus fail me for one final humiliating time as I disembarked the plane at Heathrow, causing me to walk barefoot through approximately fifteen rounds of security and passport control.

Favourite City

The Nominees: Rio de Janeiro, Brazil; Cartagena, Colombia; Buenos Aires, Argentina; Melbourne, Australia; Hanoi, Vietnam.

The Winner: Cartagena, Colombia. A very very close call indeed, but this beautiful colonial city with its charming cathedrals, horse drawn carriages and quaint and colourful streets all infused with romantic Spanish architecture just pips Rio de Janeiro to the post.

Best Hostel

The Nominees: Rio Hostel, Rio de Janeiro; Dreamers Hostel, Santa Marta; Loki Hostel, Mancora & Cusco; The Secret Garden, Quito & Cotopaxi; Hanoi Backpackers, Hanoi.

The Winner: Rio Hostel, Rio de Janeiro. Beating off fierce competition from The Secret Garden, Rio Hostel was everything you wanted from a hostel and more; awesome people, awesome views, awesome Caipirinhas, awesome parties and awesome ham and cheese toasties every morning to nurse those hangovers.

Best Hotel

The Nominees: The Six Senses, Koh Samui.

The Winner: The Six Senses, Koh Samui. This place was so much in a league of its own that it was quite literally pointless to even include other nominees.

Most Beautiful Beach

The Nominees: Playa Blanca, Colombia; 'The one on from Cabo San Juan' - Tayrona National Park, Colombia; Byron Bay - New South Wales, Australia; Maya Bay - Koh Phi Phi, Thailand; Haad Yuan - Koh Phangan, Thailand.

The Winner: 'The one on from Cabo San Juan' - Tayrona National Park, Colombia. Although we can't quite remember its exact name this isolated and tranquil stretch of golden white sand was nothing short of serene.

Top Trekking Experience

The Nominees: Amazonian Jungle Trek, Brazil; Ciudad Perdida, Colombia; Colca Canyon, Peru; The Inca Trail (Machu Picchu), Peru; Ayers Rock Base Walk, Australia.

The Winner: Ciudad Perdida, Colombia. By far the most challenging of the treks we undertook, and consequently the most rewarding, the Lost City trek was 5 days of ruin and reward, all helped along by hilarious comedy duo of Kyle and Josh. And let’s not forget The Russian.

Coolest Crossfit

The Nominees: CrossFit Rocinha, Brazil; CrossFit Bogota, Colombia; CrossFit Lima, Peru; CrossFit Melbourne, Australia; CrossFit Chiang Mai, Thailand.

The Winner: CrossFit Chiang Mai. The venue was wicked, the people were sound and it had a very cool vibe. The only drawback to this place was the tortuous FRAN workout I was subjected to, which, in turn, nearly resulted multiple heart attacks, as well the inability to raise my arms for about 5 days.

Best Correspondence Award

The Nominees: Gazz Jones; Emily Watson & Sam Crocker; Doug Mcilroy; Jenny Dixon & Rob West; Rob Watson; The Forrest Family; The Cross Family.

The Winner: Emily Watson & Sam Crocker. Great Skype sessions which included lots of laughter, as well as the news of a wedding and a God Bean! Oh, and let’s not forget Emily’s “South America a la Emily” - the quintessential guide to the must do’s and must not do’s of Latin America.

Favourite Dive/Snorkel Site

The Nominees: The Whitsundays, Australia; The Great Barrier Reef, Australia; Koh Tao, Thailand; Sihanoukville, Cambodia; Nha Trang, Vietnam.

The Winner: Nha Trang, Vietnam. It take a lot to beat the coral rich waters of Koh Tao, but Nha Trang had a mind-blowingly diverse range of marine life including quite literally, the Coolest Fish in the World© - the “raver” fish. You should have seen him go!

Most Amazing Animal Encounter

The Nominees: Baby Caiman Alligators - the Amazon, Brazil; Condor - Colca Canyon, Peru; Lion Cubs - Buenos Aires Zoo, Argentina; Green Turtle - Koh Tao, Thailand; Bottlenose Dolphins - Sihanoukville, Cambodia.

The Winner: Baby Caiman Alligators – the Amazon, Brazil. Francisco’s skill and expertise provided us with wonderfully happy encounter with these little ‘uns, whilst at the same time avoiding a potentially very unhappy encounter with their mother!

Coolest Bar/Club

The Nominees: La Catedral, Buenos Aires; The Marina Bay Sands Bar, Singapore; The Treehouse, Koh Phangan; Guys Bar, Koh Phangan; Eden Gardens, Koh Phangan

The Winner: Guys Bar, Koh Phangan. Good times... great times.

Tastiest Traditional Cuisine

The Nominees: Feijoada, Brazil; Cerviche, Colombia; Steak, Argentina; Pad Thai & Thai Curry, Thailand; Pho, Vietnam.

The Winner: Pad Thai & Thai Curry, Thailand. I feel as though I have betrayed part of my soul by not selecting Argentina and its mouth-watering steaks, but the truth is we spent about two months in Thailand and didn’t have one bad meal, the food was truly outstanding. It’s a shame Australia didn’t even manage to get a nomination, but for budget conscious Gap Yah’ers, price is a big factor; £1.40 in Thailand you would get a good meal in a nice restaurant, £1.40 in Australia would struggle to get you a side order of tomato ketchup.

And the LOSERS...

Most Irritating Animal Award

The Nominees: Cleaner Fish - Koh Toa, Thailand; Flies - Ayers Rock, Australia; Giant Centipedes - Pai, Thailand; Sea Urchin – Koh Phi Phi, Thailand; Mosquitoes - everywah.

The Winner: Mosquitos - everywah. I’ll quote Richard from Alex Garland’s The Beach for this one... “I carry a lot of scars... a lot of scars.”

Biggest Disappointment Award

The Nominees: The Nazcar Lines, Peru; Full Moon Party, Koh Phangan; Tubing, Loas.

The Winner: Full Moon Party, Koh Phangan. Words can’t begin to describe how pants this pathetic excuse for a party was. I never in my life seen so many d**kheads and heard so much bad music coming out of so many different sound systems all at once. If throwing a bad party was a crime, the organisers of this would be serving life sentences.

Worst Correspondence Award

The Nominees: Will “Kaisbar” Collinge, Christopher Burton, Thomas Manuel

The Winner: Thomas Manuel. It took Burton seven and a half months to get in contact with us, whilst Will managed to let his presence known a mere two days before we returned home. But the clear winner is Thomas Manuel, has anyone heard from or seen this man in the last 8 months? Moreover, is he still alive?

Scolopendra Gigantea Robusta

He traversed the Colombian Sierra Nevada mountain range to discover a Lost City, wearing nought but a broken pair of flip-flops. In Ecuador he courageously battled altitude sickness to climb to the refuge hut of the world’s highest active volcano. He defied gravity in northern Queensland, throwing himself off a fifty foot tower, with nothing but an elasticated rope to save him… and now, for his biggest adventure yet, in this episode of The Gap Yah Chronicles, Mark ‘Man vs. Wild’ Forrest comes face to face with a giant centipede in the jungle of northern Thailand, confronting the beast foot to claw in an epic adventure sure to thrill and amaze.

Before that however, I had my own demons to battle; the dreaded journey from Haad Yuan to Chiang Mai, complete with raging two-week hangover and sadness at the departure of our buddies. You’ll be relieved to discover that we made the journey in one piece, despite Forrest’s best efforts to lose me in the world’s worst-designed shopping mall in Bangkok. In a much-appreciated attempt to cheer me up, in the hiatus between the sleeper train to Bangkok and the night bus to Chiang Mai, Forrest valiantly agreed to a viewing of the latest (and last – sob!) Harry Potter film. Having failed in my mission to educate him in all things Potter during our travels (I admitted defeat after The Chamber of Secrets, unable to cope with his scornful criticism), Forrest’s favourite bit of the film was right at the beginning when there was a “trailer” for Thailand’s King and Queen, and everyone in the cinema stood up to pay their respects to the revered Royals. The film was a wonderful way to while away the time between transport, spending time with my good friends Harry, Ron and Hermione was the perfect antidote to the loss of the Robs.

The afternoon took a turn for the worse however when we tried to leave the shopping mall and head back to the train station. A brief altercation almost turned disastrous when Forrest strode off into the stalls selling Singha singlets leaving my stubby wotsit legs unable to keep up. After an hour of aimlessly wandering up and down escalators, weaving my way through the countless market stalls and feeling like a lost little girl fighting back tears, I conjured up all of my Hogwarts knowledge in an attempt to find Forrest and make it back to the train station on time for our bus. My summoning charm of ‘Accio Forrest!’ was fruitless, so I employed the courage of Gryffindor, the hard work of Hufflepuff, the wit of Ravenclaw and the cunning of Slytherin and made my way to the information booth to put out a tannoy announcement for my lost boyfriend. When I arrived there, I was kindly informed that I had failed to hear the three announcements already made by Forrest and that I should make my way to the third floor information desk where he was waiting to be reunited with his little Pothead (a hugely knowledgeable fan of all things Potter obvs.)

We arrived in Chiang Mai, northern Thailand, after an interesting night bus journey, and consequently spent a couple of hours catching up on missed sleep. The afternoon was spent exploring the city, although if I’m honest it didn’t really live up to our expectations, with nothing really to capture our attention other than a delicious iced chocolate break. We ummed and ahhed over the various trekking and rafting options available to us, but we made the decision to carry on going further north and do our trips from there, in the hopes that we would find Pai more to our liking than the seemingly soulless Chiang Mai. I feel slightly bad that I am being so dismissive of Chiang Mai, as we have only been told amazing things about it, but the most exciting thing we did whilst there was to visit CrossFit Chiang Mai. A true garage-style CrossFit box, we were welcomed warmly by the expat community working out on the humid Sunday morning, and the WOD (Fran!) although it almost killed me was a rewarding experience for my partied-out body. For the next few days however I was in huge amounts of pain as my muscles reminded me that they had not been put to much use recently (lifting a vodka red bull doesn’t really count) and I began to dread my return to CrossFit Clitheroe as a useless lump of Gap Yah CrossFat.

Pai is a wonderfully kitsch sleepy hippy town, which despite being located in the mountains of northern Thailand, it has somehow managed to become a burgeoning haven for beautiful boutiques, delightful cafes, quirky bars and an eclectic mix of travellers. We spent an enchanting couple of days relaxing, the only downside being that I wanted to buy absolutely everything from every single shop, but our Gap Yah budget wouldn’t allow for this if we wanted to also experience the adventurous activities on offer. We also bumped in to Luis from Haad Yuan, and enjoyed evening cocktails with him and a lovely girl called Rhi on two occasions, a nice way to experience a different side to the peaceful daytime Pai. Before we got too absorbed in the tranquillity of the town and never moved on, we organised a two-day rafting trip followed by a one-day hill tribe trek, activities that we had delayed in Chiang Mai in order to do them in Pai. Ahh hindsight, what a wonderful thing you are… if only the woman in the tour shop in Chiang Mai had sold us the trips with a little more panache; if only, if only, if only…

Our two day rafting trip, down the rapids of Pai river, began on a beautiful sunny morning. Along with Forrest and I, our fellow rafters consisted of; a French couple and their beautiful adopted Vietnamese daughter, a 24-year-old Matthew, a lovely Canadian Natalia and our captain and his first mate, Chai and Neung. After a steady start testing the waters, we meandered our way down the river as Chai pointed out huge monitor lizards baking in the sun on the banks of the river. We pulled in to the side for a yummy lunch of chicken fried rice wrapped in banana leaves before setting off again, heading towards some more exciting rapids. A highlight of day one had to be jumping off the raft and letting the fast-flowing water of the river take us down stream as we lay on our backs admiring the stunning scenery. After a few more grade-4 rapids we arrived at our camp for the evening, delighted to see a small python curled up in a branch overhanging the water as we docked the raft.

A makeshift shower, popcorn and a lovely dinner later, the light had long since faded from the day and the Thai guides had already retired to their beds, we all sat around playing cards by candlelight. By this stage, we had been blessed with torrential rains – a promising sign that the river would be high and fast-flowing the following day, thus ensuring optimum rafting conditions. On the flipside of this, the pouring rain made the muddy trek to the hole-in-the-ground toilet an unpleasant prospect, and Forrest broke off from the card game (which had just taken a turn for the worse for him as we’d found out he’d “unknowingly” been cheating, hence why he was so far ahead points wise) to sneak off to the side of the little dining shack, about five metres away from us, for a pee. We heard a yelp come from Forrest’s direction, and I glanced over to see him hopping back towards us. “Great”, I thought, “his bloody flip flops have broken again”. My contempt (for Havaianas obviously, not Forrest) quickly turned to panic as I saw the stricken look on his face and spotted two streams of blood seeping from his foot. Our initial reaction, due to the rain, was that he had ripped a leech off, but he was insistent that he had been bitten by something, and by something with a very painful bite at that.

Natalia ran to wake Chai, as panic quickly spread across the camp; the unspoken terror that the two puncture marks that were oozing blood bore a very real resemblance to either the bite of a vampire, or that of a snake. I fought the urge to go off into the jungle alone, just in case there was a possibility that Edward Cullen was lurking there looking for his next victim, but it was clear that Forrest needed me where I was. Not that I was much use however, as I tried to calm him down as he screamed agonisingly into a damp towel. Chai tried to get him to describe the pain he was feeling, needing to know whether he could feel any sort of pain moving up his leg, but poor Forrest was in so much pain that he could only focus on the intense pain concentrated around the bite area and his foot. Not wanting to take any chances, Chai proceeded to draw out any poison, should there be any present, with a plastic suction needle device that only added to the agony Forrest was feeling. As Chai drew vial after vial of blood out of his foot, the rest of us waited around in a helpless stupor, each of us muttering reassurances. Neung had gone searching to see if he could see any sign of the nasty that had attacked Forrest, but there was no visible indication of anything still lurking about. Chai remained in a confused sense of hopefulness, telling us that the bites weren’t entirely synonymous with a snake bite; there would normally be four puncture marks and not two, a snake would have struck higher up his leg and Forrest would have definitely been able to feel the venom working its way up his leg, despite the tourniquets tied securely around his calf and thigh to stem the flow of blood. While Forrest was put under even more painful torture when one of the Thai guys pressed damp leaves onto the bite, a herbal anti-venom that sent fire flowing through Forrest’s foot, Chai looked up another possibility in his Thai-English dictionary: Scolopendra Gigantea Robusta, aka the giant centipede.

Chai’s discovery alleviated our worries that he’d been bitten by a venomous and lethal snake for about a minute and we all, including Forrest, began to relax. Then disaster struck once more and Forrest began being violently sick and succumbed to (luckily controllable) diarrhoea. Chai’s calm evaporated and gave the command that we were to move right away, as this was a sure sign that the poison was working its way through his body and that we were running out of time. Forrest had to get to a hospital immediately, too much time had already been wasted; he had five hours to receive the anti-venom if he was going to live and it had already been an hour and a half since the snake had bitten him. Confusion settled over the camp. Did Chai mean that a helicopter was going to be flown in to get him to safety? I naively asked how far away the nearest road was, and the answer of six or more hours was not to my liking. The only way out was down the river. Rafting the rapids during the day had been a fun and exciting adventure, but the prospect of tackling them at night was ridiculously daunting and the French couple understandably said that it was too dangerous for them to put their young daughter at risk. Chai explained that he needed four people to paddle while he steered the raft, evidently a shivering and delirious Forrest was going to be no help whatsoever, so all eyes turned to Matthew as the extra crew member. What a wimp he turned out to be, as he blunderingly made up excuse after excuse as to why he was not suitable for the role. The day was royally saved by Natalia who bravely, and without any encouragement or persuading, stepped up, leaving Matthew looking like a pathetic wimpering fool.

With Forrest safely positioned in the middle of the raft, Natalia and I took our positions at the back, safe in the knowledge that Chai was behind us and would grab us if we were in any danger of falling out while going down the rapids. Neung and Japu, who rather disconcertingly couldn’t actually swim, took up their positions at the front of the raft, and we set off in to the unknown, as Matthew stood on the bank of the river silent and embarrassed at his cowardice. Natalia and I only had to paddle when Chai instructed us to, which was only when we hit white water in order that we kept absolute control of the raft, but Neung, Japu and Chai didn't stop the entire time we were on the water. Going down the rapids in the pitch black was indescribably terrifying, but I always had absolute faith that Chai and the other Thai guys were in control (Chai later informed us that he was utterly terrified and thought that we were all going to die in the water). My concerns were for Natalia, who was taking a huge risk to help a brother in need, and obviously for Forrest, who was alternating between throwing up over the side of the raft, shivering and shaking and trying not to fall asleep. I tried to keep the spirit level of the raft up, chatting mindlessly with Natalia and prodding Forrest back into consciousness every time his head lolled, but as the hours dragged on and the rains persisted in making the journey even more difficult, the raft became a pretty sombre place to be.

My repetitive Lord’s Prayer and Hail Mary’s paid off, and after three and a half hours on the water the horizon got lighter and Chai pointed out where we were headed. Once we were back on dry land, everything went very quickly; we were lucky enough to dock at the Park Ranger’s station, who swiftly summoned a vehicle to take us to hospital, which was an actual hospital with a glowing ER sign over the door… I have never been so happy and relieved in my whole life. We had made it to hospital safely, albeit very wet, Forrest was still alive and I was going to be able to live out my dream of pretending I was an extra in Grey’s Anatomy! I resisted the urge to run in screaming for McDreamy, for now that we were in the proximity of safety everyone seemed to be much calmer and composed, and Forrest didn’t seem to be struggling with the pain in his foot quite as much anymore as he hobbled into the emergency room to see a doctor. Of course there was still the niggling suspicion that he had been bitten by a snake and was about to keel over any second as the venom paralysed his body, a suspicion worryingly echoed by the young doctor on duty (neither McDreamy or McSteamy, more like McToothy) who was convinced it was indeed a snake bite. While a nurse took blood to send to the lab for testing, Natalia, the Thai guys and I waited patiently as Forrest overcame his fear of needles! As Forrest explained to the doctor what had happened, and how intense the pain in his foot had been, the doctor swiftly changed his mind about what had bitten him; apparently although a snake bite would hurt, the venom it secretes is powerful enough on its own that it doesn’t need to be so painful to the victim, and unless Forrest was just a wimp, the doctor was now convinced that it was a giant centipede that had attacked Forrest’s foot – a venomous bite but not powerful enough to cause death, just to cause immense and uncontrollable pain. When the blood work came back negative for snake venom, the relief we all felt was immeasurable. The only anomaly in the result was that an ordinary person’s white blood cell count should be below 10,000 and Forrest’s was soaring at 24,000 – an indication that his body was fighting some serious attack. The doctor prescribed strong painkillers, muscle relaxants, sleeping tablets and a course of antibiotics and sent us on our merry way.

By this stage it was after 3am, and the adrenalin that had fuelled us for the past few hours was wearing thin and exhaustion well and truly set in. We all got a lift to a nearby guesthouse where we would sleep off the remaining hours of the night, and then would be picked up and taken back to Pai in the morning. Our sleep was delayed slightly as we were overcome by paranoia and triple-checked the room for creepy crawlies after spending a good thirty minutes trying to capture a huge spider lurking near the bed; we didn’t plan on taking any chances with nature just yet. The painkillers and sleeping tablets worked instantaneously on Forrest who was lulled into a deep sleep, but my nightmare wasn’t yet over as I spent the night obsessively checking that Forrest was still alive, whether he had a fever and examining his foot for signs that it was going to fall off. I eventually fell asleep around 7:00am, just as Chai knocked on our door to inform us that our car was almost here to take us back to Pai.

The ordeal was over. Forrest was absolutely fine, just ridiculously exhausted as we all were, and the whole horrific incident could now be put behind us and filed in an exciting Gap Yah adventure. We will remain eternally grateful to Chai, Neung and Japu who faced adversity head on with courage and good humour, and especially to Natalia – the bravest, most wonderful girl who didn’t think twice about putting her own life at risk in order to help Forrest. We are forever in your debt.

We obviously didn’t go on our planned trek the following day, it being slightly too soon to venture back in to the wilderness after the trauma of the previous 24 hours, so we spent our time wisely; convalescing and applying for publishing jobs (carpe diem and all that!) before setting off on the next leg of our journey. We were finally leaving Thailand, and despite a pretty shaky ending we had had an absolutely fantastic time in this country of wonders, and taking the slow boat down the Mekong into Laos. Before the “incident” we had been debating whether to take the slow boat (2 days) or the speedboat (1 day) to Luang Prabang, but after reading the guidebook which advised against the speedboat as “crashes occur with an alarming frequency – make sure you are supplied with helmets and life jackets” we decided that this sounded FAR too risky and went for the safer and slower option. I was even considering asking for helmets and life jackets for the slow boat just to be on the safe side. The journey down the Mekong was an interesting experience, the sweaty and stuffy boat made bearable by the absolutely stunning scenery as we glided slowly down the river and Anthony Kiedis’ amazing autobiography ‘Scar Tissue’.

Our first stop in Laos was Luang Prabang, a beautiful World Heritage town nestled in a slim valley framed by lofty green mountains and cut by the swift Mekong and Khan rivers. Cobblestoned lanes dotted with ancient red-roofed temples, French-Indochinese architecture, ochre colonial houses and swaying palm trees evoking the feeling of tranquillity and grandeur. Luang Prabang was the perfect introduction to Laos, exuding traditional ethnicity and culture. And then we noticed the French. They were everywhere. Like I have said; every silver lining has a cloud. Our first night in Laos was spent sampling the finest Laotian cuisine (pizza and pina coladas) before heading to Luang Prabang’s most hip and happening night spot – the bowling alley. In an attempt to stop the beautiful Luang Prabang becoming a renowned night spot for drunken Gap Yah louts (like its neighbour Vang Vieng – more on that later) the bars and restaurants close down at 11pm and everyone heads to a nearby bowling alley for some good, clean, old-fashioned fun. I imagined that the bowling aley itself would serve as a makeshift nightclub with neon lighting and disco lights, using bowling as a rouse for the seedy underworld of Luang Prabang. I couldn’t have been more wrong as we entered a brightly-lit village hall filled with locals and backpackers alike, who much to my dismay all seemed to be taking the bowling extremely seriously indeed. We played a couple of games with some girls we had met earlier, with Forrest employing his usual bowling hop, skip, shuffle manoeuvre to come out the clear victor while I employed the close eyes and launch technique that saw me trailing at the bottom of the table as per. I can’t even blame the alcohol for my uselessness, I guess it is white-water rafting and not bowling where my sporting forte lies.

After the exertion of our first night in Luang Prabang we spent the rest of our time there chilling, enjoying trips to the beautiful waterfalls and temples, buying presents from the extensive colourful night markets, drinking with four nice Australians that we had met on the slow boat and sampling some delicious cuisine. The highlight of this being the meal we had in the night food market; a crooked little alley overflowing with food stalls selling barbequed fish, chicken and the famous Luang Prabang sausage (good enough to rival Cowman’s finest), all accompanied by an endless buffet selection of rice, noodles and vegetables, all eaten at one of the tiny tables crammed in to any available space.

Part of our reasoning for taking things easy in Luang Prabang was that it was difficult to do anything but in such a lovely little place, but also due to the fact that the next place on our itinerary was notorious party town Vang Vieng. We’d been warned about the dubious state of the road winding through the mountains to Vang Vieng and decided against a night bus, the giant centipede having set my previously non-existent health and safety radar well and truly in motion, so set off early in the morning instead. In hindsight, a very wise decision as our journey time was tripled due to a landslide on the road. We heard horror stories about trucks being stuck for four days, as the Laotian army attempted to clear the debris from the road, but luck was on our side and we were ushered gently through after a mere five hours. As we drove past the landslide and the havoc it had wreaked, we were once again reminded at Mother Earth’s power and her ability to not only create the breath-taking scenery around us but her ability to take it away as well. After a very long, hot and exhausting day we finally arrived in Vang Vieng to be greeted with an interesting manual in our hotel room detailing the dangers of opium – a product widely available in Vang Vieng – and listing horror stories of the deaths that had occurred due to its consumption and because of tubing too. Uh oh, health and safety radar now spinning uncontrollably.

Unlike Luang Prabang, which radiated culture, I instantly got a bad feeling from Vang Vieng, which radiated Gap Yah. You may be surprised to hear that culture and Gap Yah aren’t always synonymous; as my now trusty hotel manual wisely pointed out “along the main road you will find many internet cafes and restaurants, playing Friends on a constant loop, selling western food and home comforts. Interestingly these are often the busiest places in town, a fascinating depiction of the modern-day traveller”. Slightly patronising I’ll grant you, but from the get-go to me, Vang Vieng stunk of Full Moon Party and I wasn’t entirely convinced that I was going to like it here. Having quickly realised that Vang Vieng wasn’t the epicentre of Lao culture, we decided to appreciate it for what it did have to offer, namely tubing down the river in large tractor inner-tubes whilst consuming vast quantities of cheap liquor. HEALTH AND SAFETY ALERT! I had pre-warned Forrest that we would not be taking our chances on the rope swings nor the ‘slide of death’, and it was with great trepidation that I set out that day, unwilling to take any unnecessary risks or indeed have any fun. We were fortunate enough to meet up with two lovely couples, one Italian (who had been with us for the landslide journey) and one Spanish, who were slightly older, more cultured and mature than the average Vang Vieng wanker, and consequently the day wasn’t a complete disaster. We had been under the illusion that the day was going to be spent gently going down the river, stopping off every now and again for a drink, a bite to eat and to admire the stunning mountain scenery, however in reality we were only in the water for about a minute in total, and that was spent worrying about not catching the ropes thrown out to us by the bars. The actual tubing itself was massively overhyped, with more time spent out of the water being deafened by god-awful music (one bar even managed to murder Katy Perry, something I didn’t think possible) in the little riverside bars, desperately ignoring our fellow tubers as they mud-wrestled drunk on cheap whisky, whilst the six of us attempted to have an intelligent conversation about life aspirations and travelling in three different languages. I’m aware that I sound like a snob and maybe if I had been younger/drunker/stupider then we would have found it more enjoyable, but the experience was not something that I wished to repeat despite having a pleasant day overall (definitely due to the company we were in than the tubing).

At the risk of sounding like we have become prematurely old and boring, I would like to explain that we did have a fun time in Vang Vieng, spending that evening in a chilled little bar over the river with our new friends, it’s just that I’m not sure we fully treasured the tubing experience the way the majority of our fellow Gap Yahers seem to. The number of ‘tubing in the Vang Vieng’ vest topsworn with pride all over South East Asia is testimony to that fact, and I’m sure with enough whisky even I could have been found going down the death slide on my head. Even less fun than the tubing however was our last night in Vang Vieng, when despite all my efforts to stray from anything remotely dangerous or risky for our last few weeks away, I seemed to be suffering from the early symptoms of Dengue Fever and spent the night convinced I was dying and our Gap Yah adventure was coming to an abrupt end. I recovered from this bone-breaking illness in time for our bus to Vientiane, where we spent one pleasant evening eating buffalo hide and riverweed chilli dip while we were serenaded by a talented and beautiful Lao duet, singing such Laotian classics as Rod Stewart and Ronan Keating.

Our time in Laos had been short and sweet, and although we had had a pleasant six days there and experienced new and exciting aspects to our travels, I couldn’t help but think that we had barely touched on the surface of the real Laos. I felt that we had been lucky enough to experience some of the beauty of the country, with the slow boat down the Mekong being a particular highlight, but there just seemed that Laos had so much more to offer that we were unable to experience due to time restrictions. One cannot grasp the true depth of this poverty-stricken, old-fashioned country whilst watching Friends in an internet café, and with more time I would love to explore more of the country, visiting the much-less visited south where people still lead traditional rural lifestyles not much changed over the centuries. But alas, our Gap Yah adventure was swiftly coming to an end and with only one country left on the agenda it was time to head to Vietnam for one final South East Asian fling…

Forrest's Final Thought...

Jungle Survival Techniques

As I have once again defeated nature and its repeated attempts to bring me down, I thought I’d share with you my Bear Grylls-esque tips for surviving the treacherous tropical jungles of South East Asia.

1. Pay attention to previous finals thoughts.

Footwear, footwear, footwear!! As many of you GYC faithful will already know, this is not the first time my choice of footwear has let me down on this trip. After the fiasco of the Lost City trek in Colombia, after which my final thought consisted of mocking and deriding my ridiculous choice of footwear, what on earth possessed me to venture deep into the jungle with nothing but a pair of Haviannas I’m not sure. All I can say is this, the next time I step into the jungle, I, as should you, am going to wear hiking shoes reinforced with tungsten carbide, possibly the strongest material known to man.

2. Take a torch; a torch that works.

The head torches that Bea and I have been carrying with us for 7 months are quite simply pathetic for a whole host of reasons. The main ones beings that they don’t provide enough light to read a piece of a paper 5 inches in front of your face (trust me, I tried this and failed miserably), and that they are filled with 7 month-old batteries that wouldn’t have enough power to light up a fire-fly . Having said that, I was actually using Natalia’s mag lite when I got bitten, which, in keeping with the “take a torch; a torch that works” theme had the useful attribute of randomly turning itself off for about three or four seconds every so often. Henceforth, when in the remote, dark dark jungle “take a torch; a torch that works”.

3. Use the toilets provided.

It’s the age old one; if you have rubbish, use the bins provided, if you need to throw up, use the sick bag provided… if you really need to go, use the toilets provided! Now, I’m not trying to make out that the toilet in the middle of jungle was Kimberley Clark’s finest, however in hindsight I do think that it makes much more sense to “go” in a glorified hole in ground than the dense undergrowth of the jungle. Don’t quote me on this one but I’m willing to bet that Giant Centipedes aren’t the biggest fans of getting urinated on.

4. If you do get bitten, try to:

a, stay calm

b, see what if what was that bit you (this is essential if anti-venom is needed)

c, not be in middle of the jungle, with the only escape route being life threatening river rapids

Hmmm, well, let’s see how I did there, ah yes, yes, I did absolutely none of those things.

5. Be surrounded by heroes, just for one day.

Joking aside, I honestly can’t put into words the gratitude I feel for people who helped me that night. If it was a snake bite, as initially expected, I would owe my life to the courageous Chai, the noble Neung, the jitter-free Japu, the notable Natalia, and of course, the beautiful and brave Beatrice.