The restaurant at the end of the universe

So what to do on the last night of a year long round the world trip?
How about Sirocco at the dome where you can dine in an open air restaurant on the roof of one of Bangkoks tallest buildings. Yes we were on the 63rd floor with a cool breeze in our hair looking back on what's been quite an amazing journey when you think about it. Yep we had our first showers of the trip, gave our clothes a good wash, whacked on some perfume, looked disdainfully at the Israeli Backpackers on Khao San and headed off to dine in the sky. Sirocco which accoring to Conde Neste is one of the top 80 restaurants in the world, and if you don't mind a bit of crap food I'd totally agree, It has one of the most incredible settings ever. For the bargain price of a Cambodian's yearly salary you can knock back mojitos and gaze down upon the horrendous Bangkok traffic and discuss Asian distribution training programmes with American expatriots. We even busted a few moves on the dancefloor and set a world record for paying the most money for a bottle of Australian Rawsons Retreat white wine. Lets just say it was about ten times the price as in Australia (not that I'd ever buy that crap in Australia but who's being a wine snob here). Who am I to complain (especially as Kate said she was paying) and let overpriced wine get in the way of a great night out. We had a ball!!! To cap off the night we arrived back in Khao San and who is there to greet us???? none other than Mr Thailand himself ( see January blogs). Off we set through the back streets of Bangkok with the music blaring and the crowds cheering us on. We did more waving, saluting, laughing, smiling and greeting than any normal royal family member does in a busy calender month. The thais love a bit of silliness and Mr Thailand and his two fat farangs in the back seat gave it to them. All I can say is that right now I have a hangover.... perfect for a long haul flight to Australia

Khao San nights

Whatever happenned to all the washed up hippies from the 60's? Well those not dead are hanging out on the Khao San road, along with a new generation of Israeli backpackers, still hungary for any Jim Morrison apparel they can get their hands on. It's the holy shrine of the backpacker. The beer drinking goes on 24 hours a day, you can pretty much buy pirated anything and anyone with Attention deficit disorder will be turned into a blubbering messKhao San Road isnt the real Bangkok but it sure is an intersting palce to while away a few days whilst stocking up on fake student cards, pirate diesel jeans and wooden frogs that make a very annoying sound. Do be careful of ghosts though( bottom right of following picture)and what are the cops looking at?....... that'd be the dancing girls putting on a show upstairs

Thai porn

Thailand has the ability to reduce teenage boys to dribbling giggling messes. It's all in the names. On Khao San Road a restaurant with one of the biggest neon lights is THE GAYLORD RESTAURANT. In Koh Chang we stayed at the PORN BUNGALOWS, porn being one of the most popular persons names in this country. The Main hospital here is BUM RUMGRAD. I mean BANGKOK is bad enough but there's PHUKET. PHI PHI ISLANDS. Maybe that's why they call this place the land of smiles...everyones giggling at the silly names. But that's not all everyones giggling at. The Thai willy park at the back of The Raffles hotel is definitely something to behold. After wandering the back streets of Siam Square asking people to direct us to the linga shrine( the equivalent of asking where the penis temple is) and getting lots of giggles we arrived at a truly extraordinary place. It is here that Thai's come to worship at the shrine of the sacred penis... all 300 of them....and you too can join them. Just bring along a penis, preferably made out of wood and plant it in the park perhaps with some coloured ribbons tied neatly around the outside and you too could be blessed with unlimited fertility from the willy gods. What a great idea! In fact Kate and I have decided to inaugarate the plant more penises in parks movement. We urge all of you out there to get as many penises as possible and start planting them in public places in one great display of love for the male sacred object.

The Charles Begley Despatches

the following is a hilarious account fom Chas a slightly eccentric English guy born 100 years too late. It's of our Burma adventure a couple of weeks ago.... feel free to read


Hello One and All

I trust you are well.
Sorry guys but this is a bit of a tome but I’m sure you all know how to operate you delete buttons! Feel free to forgo the written word which is written as much for my benefit ads yours and just look at the pictures!
Thank you to those who replied with such humorous comments to my earlier missive on Burma. Just to clarify I was very much an observer on the trip and had no specific duties, much less any kind of responsibility for any kind of organisation!! Thus explains the length of time before my reported mutiny. Anyway on with the tale. . . .
My fellow travellers were a rather eclectic mix of elephant adventurers. We were led by Asian hero of 2005 and world renowned elephant saviour Lek Chailert. She was backed up her two key lieutenants. The first was jungle expert, Karen speaking, Thai Boxing Champion, driving expert Chom. He was on his first ever visit out of Thailand and kept being mistaken as Burmese. Not being used to being the foreigner he responded with a blank _expression akin to a deaf mute confusing even greater confusion. The second member of her inner circle was Jeff a former Canadian ice dancing champion (useful skill in the jungle) and environmental engineerAussie couple Kate and Ed had journalistic and filming responsibilities and joining me on purely observational duties was American Laura. On the night following the doomed ‘Operation White Elephant’ the team was in the bar drinking heavily when our incompetent guide, Pitiful Pete came in with good news. He had found two vehicles and drivers prepared to take us into the jungle the following day. Commander Lek went out to inspect the machines and pronounced herself satisfiedthat they were acceptable.
Pitiful then joined us in the bar for a briefing.
‘We need to be early’, he told us earnestly. ‘Then we will be able to visit the elephant trap and we may get to see wild elephants of which there are many’.
This all sounded very promising. However knowing the propensity of people in that part of Asia to be a little careless with time keeping and not wanting to get up at sparrow’s fart without good reason I double checked.
‘Oh no’, he assured me, ‘6 a.m. guaranteed’.
On the dot the next morning I reported to the lobby only to find that apart from Lek everyone was still in bed and no Pitiful Pete with vehicles. Enraged I grabbed my camera and stormed out into the neighbouring streets. I was soon calmed by the joy of watching a Burmese town going through the waking ritual. The day begins with young, novice, boy monks walking the streets ringing bells to raise the population from their slumbers. Traders began to move their goods to market and long lines of barefooted monks padded silently barefoot through the streets for breakfast and morning prayer. Many of them cast me a shy glance as I clicked away at their morning routine and gave me a soft smile of welcome. I returned to the guesthouse in a greatly relaxed mood and realised that my sore throat had almost gone. I was on the mend and further buoyed by the sight of Pitiful loading our gear on to a pick up. The lead vehicle in which the team would be travelling was a magnificent eight-seater, air-conditioned, 4x4 Mitsubishi Pajero which looked comfortably rugged enough to cope with the jungle. It was the best vehicle I had seen since arriving in the country. I was later to discover it had been stolen in Thailand and smuggled across the border as are all the best vehicles in Burma. Still Asian auto theft was no concern of mine. Onward. . . . . By 6.45 we were on our way, not bad by Asian standards. With luck we would be in the jungle by mid morning but as usual events did not proceed as anticipated. After just 10 miles we stopped at the junction town where we would leave the main road and travel into the interior for breakfast. We were then told that our back up vehicle had decided not to continue. Apparently the driver had chickened out and decided he wouldn’t risk his vehicle and although we of course would not be charged he had sneakily managed to obtain a full tank of fuel paid for with our precious dollars. It was vital we had a second vehicle to carry supplies and Pitiful returned to Toungoo to try to find the required transport unfortunately accompanied by one of the team. Laura had become extremely unwell and reluctantly took the very wise decision to return to town. One vehicle and one team member down and not yet 8 o’clock! Without our guide, supplies and a team member we headed for the forest. We passed the limits of civilisation and followed the road into the jungle before arriving at a government checkpoint. We were all required to leave the car, show our passports and special permission for entering a ‘restricted area’ and duly fleeced of 10 bucks each to help keep the Junta afloat.
The road became increasingly winding. It was hellishly dusty and we doubly grateful for the Pajero’s air-con. Eventually we reached a tiny village the last habitation of any size for many, many miles. We waited for a couple of hours before eventually Pitiful appeared in a clapped out pick up that bore a striking resemblance to the doomed vehicle from the previous day. I suppressed the urge to comment and we pressed on.
Before too long the support vehicle broke down and after a very brief discussion decided to ditch it. Another full tank of fuel disappears! Rather suspiciously Pitiful produced a motorbike from nowhere for himself and decreed that the supplies and his assistant would hitch a ride with a logging truck. I remember thinking he was not the only one being taken for a ride that day!
The road was a dirt track literally bludgeoned through the jungle by JCB digger, bulldozer and steamroller. It was built solely to bring the out the valuable teak and it wound through primary forest for mile after mile. Apart from the odd local on a motorbike the only traffic was the occasional giant lorry either full of timber and leaving the forest or empty and returning for more. The local hardwoods provide the Junta ith 25% of their foreign currency. For the most part logging in Burma appears to be selective and as a result deforestation is kept to a minimum but at one stage we passed through a few miles of clear cut. Everything taller than a blade of grass had been brutally removed from the landscape. It looked like a war zone from hell and I shuddered to think what will happen if the Burmese Junta gets greedy and decides to take out everything.
We stopped at a roadside shack and Lek cooked us some lunch on an open fire. We had just begun to eat and an elephant and her mahout, or oozie as they call them in Burma, just wandered casually out of the forest. We all fussed over the elephant who although appearing tired looked otherwise in good health. I was forced to hand over the bananas I had bought for personal consumption earlier in the day! The oozie joined us and told how he had been travelling through prime jungle for the past eight hours. He was moving to his next logging job and was totally unfazed at travelling so far alone with his elephant in the jungle. Such a journey appeared totally natural to him and all part of the incredibly hard life the oozies lead.
After lunch more endless driving until finally it was declared that we had arrived. Call me naïve but when I was told I would be going to a logging camp I envisaged a central point where the work was coordinated; an office, a truck stop, some accommodation building, perhaps some rudimentary health centre etc. I was therefore bemused and my suspicions aroused to be confronted by a simple wooden hut and a broken down lorry that had been butchered for parts. A track led off into the jungle.
On foot we followed Pitiful down the hill into the primary forest. All the alarm bells started ringing and I began to begin voice some doubts to my companions who were similarly confused and alarmed. Eventually we came to what cannot even be described as a hut. A few bamboo poles covered with a torn tarpaulin in a riverbed. Three totally startled locals stared at us with utter astonishment from their rudimentary retreat. Pitiful burbled away to them in Burmese and in retrospect I suspect he was telling them they were being evicted for the night..
He turned to us and like an estate agent proudly displaying a room at the height of luxury and with a flamboyant wave of the hand declared ‘We have arrived at the camp’.
Are you bloody mad?’ I spluttered.
‘It will be fine’, he replied with a before wisely disappearing for a very, very long time.
It is fair to say that the offered accommodation caused more than mild consternation in the ranks. Our outrage became increasingly exacerbated as at that very moment clouds moved in and it began to rain for the only time while we were in Burma. Complaining bitterly we huddled as well as we were able in the shelter. It immediately became obvious that the roof failed in its primary function. The main concern was for our thousands of pounds of high tech camera gear which responds poorly to water. As we were dashing about trying to wrap the equipment in plastic bags the floor suddenly collapsed.
The problem, as our team engineer helpfully pointed out, was that while these rustic jungle shelters provide perfectly adequate protection for a couple of lithe jungle men they tend to respond less well to six blundering urbanites leaping around. The structural integrity cannot cope with the strain.
Crack! Another part of the floor collapsed and there was really nothing for it but to get off the shelter and simply stand rather forlornly in the rain. While I and my Australian companions contented ourselves with colourful language and witty wisecracks other members of the party responded in a more positive manner. Eventually Jeff the engineer, Chom the jungle boy and the three ejected mahouts went off into the jungle and began to hack down huge lengths of bamboo. Despite one narrowly missing crushing what remained of the pathetic little hut they slowly began to make progress, the rain stopped, Lek began cooking and the Aussies and I cracked open some beers. The amazing recuperative powers of lager started working their magic and soon the world looked brighter and more humorous.
Uncannily just as dinner was being served Pitiful reappeared with his assistant beaming widely as if he was the manager of a five star hotel attending his guests. Somehow he sensed it was wise to give me a wide berth - he located himself as far from me as possible.
Over dinner and into the evening we spoke with the Burmese oozies and learned of their impossibly difficult lives working the timber forests. With virtually no possessions they toil with their elephants confronting the many dangers of the jungle and many miles from their family and friends. It is a hard and lonely existence for the princely sum of US$4 a month. When they heard descriptions of the work of the mahouts at the Nature Park they all wanted jobs on the spot. Some of them spoke of seriously contemplating the dangers of travelling across Burma to become refugee workers in Thailand. Bedtime came and Pitiful started erecting mosquito nets for the assembled party. I can’t imagine why but I think he must have been upset with me for some reason because there was no net for me.
‘You don’t need one’, he said somewhat inexplicably.
Presumably his evil plan was for me to be eaten alive by the giant malarial mosquitoes of the forest. Cheers mate!
As it happened his cunning scheme completely backfired. I smothered myself in repellent and was totally untroubled by bugs all night whereas most of the others found that mossies has penetrated their net defence and they had been bitten to buggery.
The following morning it was up at dawn and ee watched as the elephants were given their bath in a tiny muddy stream before being hooked up with their logging harnesses. We walked with them for several miles through beautiful lush jungle until we arrived at a clearing where freshly felled logs lay waiting. The elephants were hooked up for work. I was confused why the smallest elephant was given the biggest log. The poor girl started crying and whimpering as soon as the harness was attached. We all watched as she struggled and heaved the huge tree up a steep incline and everyone felt for her. The big tusker on the other hand seemed to have the lightest load and casually strolled up the hill browsing from the trees as he went. Sometimes things in Asia defy explanation.
For nearly two hours we followed the elephants toiling at their labour until they finally brought their burdens to the main road. The logs were manipulated and stack with others where they would wait until being collected by one of the giant timber lorries and taken to Rangoon for export.
That afternoon we visited a village deep in the mountains, where retired and injured elephants live much easier lives, before the long drive back to Toungoo. Sharing Burma’s unlit roads at night with logging trucks, military convoys, ox carts, bicycles and most other types of transport devised by man can be a pretty nerve wracking experience. Liberal use of the horn and a steady nerve are recommended for those in the car. Those not in motor vehicles would be best advised in my opinion to stay at home. It was lethal. When we arrived back in town we were taken to our driver’s restaurant where we were served easily the worse meal we had on the entire trip. After dinner we were presented with the bombshell that the car rather than costing US$65 a day was suddenly increased to $300 bucks. It was the final straw in rip off city.
Ed the Aussie and I railed against the driver and Pitiful Pete. All the outrage of the past two days came out and we really got stuck in. To further complicate matters during our heated negotiation a local drunk decided it was the perfect time to pick a fight with obstreperous foreigners. In many countries those wanting a punch-up invite the other side to go outside, apparently in Burma the done thing is to offer to swap shirts.
Not understanding the seriousness of the offer with a wave of the hand we casually declined a clothing exchange and returned to our argument. This brought shrieks of rage from the drunk who began to get increasingly demonstrative,
‘Do you not like my shirt? I want your shirt. Give it to me’, he demanded as he started to un button his shirt and puff out his chest.
Tiredness, anger, frustration boiled over and Ed and I turned on the drunk with such fury that he was completely taken aback and rapidly retired to his buddies in the corner muttering and shaking his head. The display of combined righteous anger also had an effect on Pitiful and the driver and very quickly $50 was knocked off the bill although not to be outdone they simply added it to the restaurant bill. Just as we were about to kick off again Lek fearing things would get nasty pulled rank so we paid up and left.
I never saw Pitiful or the driver again – odd that.
Phew sorry folks that’s almost a book. I’ll leave it a while before the final Burma missive which tells of the completely mad military regime and how I found myself at the centre of a rebellion to overthrow it!
Never a dull moment
Love to all
Chas

Return of the 96 pound weakling

Forget the Atkins diet, throw your low carb books in the bin and join guru ed in his new revolutionary weight loss regime. IT WORKS. Read the following.

I was an overweight stressed out TV producer until I met Ed and discovered the Ed poo a lot diet. It is amazing. I lost 4 kilos without getting off the hammock, (except to shove a long hose up my bum) and feel great. I've also discovered God, buddha and how chakras can loosen up energy fields to allow your body to return to the rhythms of chi. Ed Holmes Sydney

Yes I have become a smug sanctimonious spiritualist and I want to share my smugness with all of you out there. Upon return to Sydney in 8 days I look forward to sharing my centuries old wisdom as we sip wheatgrass spirulina celery shakes on our yoga mats. Because I feel great...and hopefully the rat race has got to all of you blog readers out there so I can continue in my smugness. Gotta make the most of it I'm sure I'll be off to Macas the moment I land on the tarmac in Sydney... but for now I am a true believer.

Colonics and carrot juice rocks!

I've also overcome my fear of spiders. Next stop Sydney

Fast and blast OR How I learned to stop worrying and drop the bomb

So how do you like your coffee in the morning Ed?
Up the bum please.
Yes it's day three of our now 5 day Colonic fast and things have been interesting indeed. Turn away now if lengthy descriptions of intestinal muck don't interest.
Kate and I have been getting into quite a routine which pretty much goes like this. Mug of clay at 7 in the morning.
90 minutes later 6 pills that taste of grass,
90 minutes later jug of clay please,
followed of course 90 minutes later by some delicious grass flavoured pills.
And that pretty much continues most of the day until at 4pm when it time for....wait for it... flashing lights, drumroll....it's time for ...COLONIC.
My first day was quite spectacular for the fact that there I was lying on my back with a tube up my bum whilst apple cider and coffee solution was forcing itself from a great height into what used to be the domain of undigested red meat, when, Norah Jones started communicating with me. Yes the piped music gently easing all my worries of how slightly unnatural it is to be lying with a tube up your bum with 10 litres bearing down on you, when Nora sang What is this hideous thing I see before me
She couldn't have been more apt. Upon inspection, which is what everyone does here... I can confirm that she got it exactly right.
We are provided with rubber gloves to give our poos a good prod and report back to poomaster Mr Moon our spiritual guide. Some even go so far as to take their digital cameras in with them. You'll be glad to hear I havent gone that far ...YET...there are still 2 more days of the fast. So stay tuned for piccys of things you know you want to see. We're talking greens and reds here.

In other Colonic news I also set a new world record for fastest colonic when there I was lying on my back, tube up my bum, this time listening to morcheeba, when one of the larger black hairy spiders of southern Thailand decided a quick sprint across my bathroom wall was in order. (Very near my head I might add). Let me tell you I consumed that 10 litres quicker than you can say come near me you big black mother f...... and youll be seeing a poo tsunami. Spiders especially large hairy ones are not the kind of thing those of us with phobias like to encounter when we're sort of preoccupied if you know what I mean.

Ohh colonic stories I could bore you all day with more of them, especally some others I've heard but no... time to move on. The fast itself for me has been going well. Surprisingly I'm not that hungry (must be all those clay shakes). I'm really starting to feel better and perhaps even won over by this very interesting Gandhi concept of not eating. My body is defintely in detox mode and I'm having to clean my teeth 3 times a day. As for Kate shes had a tough time as last night she spent 6 hours violently we're talking projectile vomit ill. According to our guru Mr moon this is all perfectly normal and Kate has started to feel better so that's good. We are counting down the days. In truth a 3 day piece of stale old bread would get three michelin stars from me at the moment. we have all become food obsessives. Ooooops. My ninety minutes is up, Hand over one of those delicous clay flavoured shakes Mr moon. By the way I was joking about the pictures.

Where angels spread their wings

Not content with a week in paradise picking mangoes off trees and sampling the fruits of the oceans we have crossed Thailand (literally... only took 4 hours at it's thinnest stretch) and are now in the Gulf of Thailand on the island of Koh Pang Gan at the Sanctuary resort and spa ( recommended by my good friend Bill Mcqueen). Yep it's one of those places where firesticks, juggling balls, yoga classes, rebirthing, ayurvedic massage and colonic irrigation are not dirty words. In fact it's a place where howling at the moon is a perfectly worthwhile way to spend the beter half of your evening.
Now as Kate and I know, it's all about energies and what we've discovered is that our chakras have been neglected and we're now correcting the flow of energy thru intensive tantric meditation. In fact we're actually undercover taking notes on the dangers of too much yoga when combined with vegetarian food and rainbow coloured sarongs. The research I can say is going very well. Part of our project is the 7 day colonic irrigation fast which in laymans terms means shoving a hose up your bum twice a day to see what strange things you may have swallowed when you were a toddler. Yes it's all very interesting especially dinnertime conversations when we compare and contrast.You should note that dinner time conversations do not actually include dinner unless of course you call a jar of watery clay food. Today is our first day and aside from clay we have had a few brown tablets that are said to contain herbs. I'm looking forward to tonights watery vegetable broth which of course has no vegetables. We get all sorts of interesting people to talk to ( thrown in at no extra cost) but by far the most fascinating thing of all is the toilets which are a cross between an igloo, something for disabled people and a large car park. Stay tuned for reports on how the thing is actually used. Our first irrigation is this afternoon.... yippeee

The beach

After meeting a dodgy backpacker in Bangkok who gave us a secret map we made our way down to the phi phi Islands where we discovered the most amazing deserted beach(If you forget the hordes of koreans, chinese and Swedes of course). Yes it was pure unadulterated paradise ( If you're not averse to crystal clear tranquil waters with brightly coloured fish that is). We spent our days hunting, playing didgeridoos and forming a small cult to deal with the forthcoming end of the world but then we got into a fight with Tilda Swinton and were raided by Thai drug warlords. It was all terribly exciting but in the end we discovered that paradise just isn't worth it and have decided to return to Suburban Sydney and live a life in the hill districts where the real action is. That's what Thailand will do to you.
oh yeah, I forgot to mention we also laid in hammocks and read books.

Run to the Hills, Run for your life

Koh Phi Phi was one of the worst hit places for the Tsunami in Thailand with more than 2000 people dying in this beach resort alone. ( About one quarter of the people on the island at the time). The reason for the high death toll was because the shape of this unique Island. In fact it is 2 islands joined togethor by a sand isthmus. The tsunami rising up in the shallow waters approached from both sides and caused severe damage. much of the beach jungle was destroyed and the whole island was pretty much closed down for 3 months. But now locals are beginning to get back on their feet and the tourists are back bringing their most valuable contribution of cold hard cash. Must admit I was a little scared at first. We made sure we stayed at virtually the highest bungalow on the island, made mental notes about the best evacuation routes and was ready to jump up and bolt at the first hint of a siren. But alas nothing happenned. Although the week before there were apparently more than 20 earthquakes in the sea registering 4 to 5 on the richter scale (Tsunami was 8.9) and was enough to trigger off the tsunami alarms 2 days before we got there. One Irish girl we met found herself unknowingly the only person in a restaurant wondering where all the staff were. After about half an hour some very panicked and sweaty tourists returned having bolted all the way up the mountain. She was completely none the wiser there was any alarm going off. Sometimes ignorance is bliss... but not always.

Crazy Lek and the last of the madcap elephant lovers

Our mission was to invade Burma, destabilise the Government, establish a democratic regime and publicly hang the Top Generals. Unfortunately we were not as successful as we would have liked. But we did get to see some elephants ... Our slightly eccentric platoon was led by Lek, a pint sized Thai lady armed with more plastic toys and medicines than you can load in 6 backpacks. In fact we did more looking after little kids than looking for elephants.Her foot soldiers were Chas, a man who can order a gin and tonic at 50 yards. Laura, the token American who proved she can projectile vomit better than any Burmese General. Chom, an ex Thai kickboxer with a slightly worrying attraction to men. Geoff, a man unashamed to don the local garb even if it is stripes and stripes, Kate undercover team journalist and myself who had been talked into filming some elephants doing things they probabaly really shouldn't be doing in this day and age. With this crew the whole mission was doomed from the beginning... but hey it turned out to be a lot of fun. We even got to see some tourist sites. Of course the entire time we were under a complete media blackout unable to mutter the words down with all stupid generals for fear of being politely asked to leave the country. Crazy isn't it, you can walk around in skirts but glance at a soldier too long and it's all over red rover.
It all started when we flew into Mandalay International airport, one of the worlds largest with perhaps the fewest number of passengers. In fact it was so large the driveway to the airport was probably about 25 kms all of it done with a few thousand Burmese labourers against their will of course. Before we knew it we had visited the longest teak bridge in the world, had a laugh with the Moustache brothers and hopped on another flight to Bagan for some serious Temple viewing. Now when it comes to pagodas the Burmese dont mess around. In Bagan alone there about 4000 littered aroud the joint. It's one giant pagoda convention. After bagan it was down to Taungoo, a town famous for bombs going off in it's general vicinity. The three days we were there 2 went off and 2 fires as well. Of course you wouldn't have heard about this such is the tight control of media reportage in the country. (Lucky Foreign Correspondent Kate was on the spot)... Too bad she spent most of her time drinking teaohh yeah there was also loads of monks... They were everywhere and all very keen to talk to you. in fact the quality of English in the country was amazing. One of the fun games we all played was spot the informer. It's quite tough actually. Apperently theres all sorts of ways to spot them like their watches are on their right wrist, smoking with the left hand, assuming corner positions in the teashops... Everyones got their opinions and rules.
One revelation was the food. it's not unusual to have more than 30 plates on your table for lunch. It's also a bottomless pit and just when you think you're getting thru one of them, some waiter pounces on your plate with a brisk " You need more beans" we were never sure if it was a question or statement. Sometimes we were even lucky to have 4 or 5 women fanning us while we ate. No wonder the English loved it here.
After the delights of Taungoo we headed deep into the jungle. We found ourselves pushing the car rather than driving it. Finally we made our Jungle hideout where we proceeded to destroy the shelter the locals lived in....fat westerners that we are. One very big rainstorm later and we were really starting to enjoy ourselves ,Kate has even mastered Burmese Bush cooking
We got to see lots of elephants pulling logs, and lots of very poor Burmese people whom Lek was trying to recruit for work in her Elephant Nature park. We even got to see some cool trucks.

After the jungle it was off to Yangon, but not before we survived the main north south highway. In Burma they drive on the right hand side of the road, but most of the cars here have been illegally brought from Thailand where they drive on the left. So you have the absurd situation of the driver being on the side of the road unable to see whats coming on the other side should he wish to overtake. This is all well and good if youre in a bullock cart but we werent. Lets just say it was an interesting trip
So there you have Burma in one blog. A more intersting country you will be very hard pressed to find