Tuk-Tuks and Beaches and 40 Degrees

We're writing from our hotle in Ao Nang, and this keyboard is a joke so this could be messy.

Apart from the slight problem of having a swiss army knife found in my hand luggage at Heathrow security, the flights we're as good as they could have been. Jet Lag was brutal on our first day but we battled through.

The city seemed to be lacking in tourists so the sight of us stood looking bemused at our map on a street near the Grand Palace would have delighted the endless tuk-tuk drivers who wanted to take us to every tailors and jewellery shop in town. (Mum, my suit is in the post, should arrive within the next month or two). We sweated more in the 2 hours spent at the Weekend Market than in the last 18 years.

The first night involved Irish bars, the Thai Freddie Mercury, ridiculously spicy food, 'Tony Montana' driving like a lunatic, neon in clubs, Bangkok's massive gay district amd the guy who kept touching me, and some impressive ping pong displays.

Just to be cultural we saw approximately 37 Buddhas, the Grand Palace and many monks. One of whom was taking a picture of a temple on his mobile phone. We took a night train to go south from Bangkok and got shouted at for staying up too late.

So we got to Ao Nang eventually and spent most of the day on the beachmaking the locals look average at football. Our boat trip to all the small islands off the coast was probably the highlight so far; snorkling with thousands of tropical fish and swimming in the lagoons. The white beaches were alright too.

We're off to drink on the beach now.

p.s i'm incredibly burnt. even martin is.

over and out, Alex

i'm gonna make martin write the next one.

Essential Preparations

So we leave in 11 days. Preparations are faltering to say the least.

Our initially crafty (or eventually pathetic) failure to 'forcefully borrow' a friend's ukelele for the trip, Martin's refusal to account for my laziness and take complete control of organising Australian flights, and the mounting costs of essential travelling gear - skinny red jeans, harmonica, Airplane dvd etc. - have thrown the whole journey into doubt.

Ok, slight exaggeration perhaps, but it was the only way i could attempt to justify writing this first blog before we have even snuck through Heathrow with my infamously nicknamed 'fat lesbian' 5-year-old passport photo and Martin's dubious citizenship credentials.

If we do make it to Bangkok, we'll be sure to reward the half-dozen people who'll claim to have read this with a more interesting update. Promise.

Alex