When a ski season goes wrong

A further post is required today, to detail the trials of yesterday's journey. Until now, Bruno and I have been humourously joking that our journeys always seem to go with uncanny ease, and that the bad luck must all be waiting for us somewhere along the road. Ha ha we went. Ha ha ha.

Yesterday we were up at six to get a bus back to Phnom Penh. I should have known things were looking bad when I poured milk into my tea and it instantly curdled, because the waitress had already put lemon in it. If you can't start the day with a cup of tea, it's not looking good.

No sooner had we got on the bus, when the driver started the Karaoke video. This was played on loop for the remainder of the journey. Apparently, he also thought that this more than compensated for the cost of our ticket, and so turned off the air conditioning. My attempts at a protest only angered him, and instead of the air conditioning, he turned up the volume on the Karaoke.

To further let out his rage, he then ran over a dog.

Minutes later he also managed to hit a moped. Fortunately, this is not an event of great import in Cambodia, and with a few good natured gestures of abuse, both moped driver and (I fear injured) passenger were on their way.

Which is when one of the tyres burst. We then had to wait at the driver's mate's moped garage while both men puzzled over the fact that none of the vast array of moped tyres would fit on the bus. We had a choice of waiting in the midday sun, the increasingly oven-like bus, or the garage itself. I chose the garage, until one of the machanics started cooling himself down by flapping his shirt up and down over his beer belly. In a flirtatious way.

When we finally arrived in Phnom Penh after more than ten hours, I was promptly bitten by a (possibly) rabied dog.

We spent yesterday evening at a Cambodian hospital, trying to track down the Rabies vaccine which my Doctor had assured me I would not need. The hospital was actually not badly equipped, lacking only curtains to stop you seeing all the patients being treated, and the Rabies Vaccine.

Now, instead of heading towards the white sands and crystal waters of Phu Quoc Island, we are on our way to Saigon, where I can 'hopefully' start a series of painful and probably unnecessary injections! Hooray!

After a hectic sightseeing schedule of temples and fun-on-a-stick genocide museums, it was time for somewhere more relaxed, more tranquil.

And so off we went to East Cambodia, leaving behind internet access, tarmac roads, 24 hour electricity and anybody who spoke English. This opportunity to try a bit of Khmer was a great success, as the woman whose house we were staying in hugged me every time I completed a sentence. Unless of course I was saying something drastically different from what was intended.

As for the electricity going off at about ten, that was also OK, and we looked forward to quiet nights, with only the sound of gheckos, night birds and karaoke.

Yes, some bloody fool in the village only had a generator. And did he use this generator that we all might enjoy hot water? Or a light to go to the loo with? No. He used it to power his bloody Karaoke machine. At full pelt. Bastard.

We did go trekking on Elephants though! Show off photos will be posted as soon as I'm near reliable internet again. Your last chance to see images of this endangered species before they plug karaoke machines into their trunks.

The temples of Angkor are the largest religious buildings in the world, and their beauty is stunning. Every one of the thousands of stones are delicately decorated with carvings telling ancient Cambodian myths and history, many as clear today as when they were made more than a thousand years ago. Following the main 20 mile trip round shows you only the major sites.

That's all well and good, but how are you supposed to get round them? The guide books suggest various modes of transport. The first, the classic moped, we have of course learnt is not for the faint hearted. The second, a normal bicycle, is a lovely way to see everything, and super if you're a top fit snowboarder from the alps.

But for the arthritic London girl, I have discovered a secret joy! THE SINGER ELECTRIC BICYCLE!!! This mean lean driving machine can reach heady speeds of up to 15 miles an hour, and all without the need to pedal! Technically, you are supposed to pedal while the electric motor eases the strain. You can't fool me! I've seen the old women going to Sainsbury's on their Stannah scooters. Are they pedalling? NO! Infact, I challenge them to a race.

The SINGER ELECTRIC BICYCLE has very few disadvantages. The only one here is the Cambodian traffic system, in which the more powerful vehicle always has the right of way. For some reason, the SINGER ELECTRIC BICYCLE does not seem to rank highly.

THE SINGER ELECTRIC BICYCLE. BUY ONE NOW.

Welcome to Zoe's fitness regime for 2006. Here I will demonstrate active ways to stay fit and healthy for the whole body.

1.Upper Arm: Take the Cambodian "road" up to Bokor Hill in the back of a pick up, requiring a grip of steel to remain in the truck. Risk imminent death at the hands of maniac driver.

2. Bum Firming: Ride the afore mentioned pick up. Risk imminent death from a broken spine.

3. Upper Body: Hire a canoe and head out for a loop around the next island, forgetting all you know about water making things appear nearer than they are. Risk imminent death when Bruno turns round and realises you're not paddling anymore.

4. Thigh toning: Go on not one but TWO jungle walks. Risk imminent death from the vast variety of jungle dangers.

5. Arthritis Physio: Substitute heat treatments for warming your limbs in the sun. Then do exercises in the South China Sea. Some may find this mildly preferable to Wexham Park Hydrotherapy Pool. Relatively small chance of imminent death.

6. Back and Shoulders: Attempt any walk of more than 200 yards while carrying the backpack. Risk imminent death from heat exhaustion.

7. Aerobic Workout: Wake up during the night to find a giant tropical beetle clamped onto your back. Flail arms and legs wildly, screaming 'Get it off! Get it bloody off!!!'This activity may continue for several minutes after the beetle has been removed. Stare death in the face.

As this regime means that my annual exercise quota has been far exceeded, my fitness regime for the remainder of the year will be watching telly.

We've now moved on to do battle with Cambodian taxi drivers who actually only have a moped, and to stay in hotels that cost the same as a leaky bungalow in Thailand, but with air conditioning and satelite TV and fridge. And sit down loos.

I've been looking forward to Cambodia for one reason. I'd heard that they're mad about Karaoke. For months, I've been tormenting Bruno with threats of searching out the best bars to strut our stuff. I would do 'hit me baby one more time' to deafening applause.

Except that's not the kind of karaoke they have. They have Cambodian music, which I think may have been invented by pol pot. Think of a cat being strangled, and then think that you wish that's all you were hearing. Then add a budget video with a snivelly girl and a creepy man mincing round her.

The boat trip from the Border into Cambodia took five and a half hours. They started the video as we left, and it was still going when we got off. It was so loud, that I couldn't even listen to my walkman to block it out.

As a bonus, after about two hours, the DVD messed up, and the song kept jumping about and letting out screeching sounds where it was scratched.

Welcome to Cambodia!!

Having woefully misplanned our time, we found out we had an extra week for our trip. I know, worse things could happen. We decided to chill out from our hardcore backpacker living for a bit and go to nice touristy Ko Chang for a few days. Seriously, if this place had any more young Brits, it would be Ibiza. But with an idealic beach.

Spurred on by visions of my dad charming five-star hotel receptionists by flashing a smile and a Lufthansa ID, I became convinced that Bruno and I deserved the pool and air conditioning of the only posh resort on the beach. And at a price we could afford. As I confidently marched up to reception, I failed to notice that I was hot and red in the face and heaving a giant backpack.

I haven't seen such a look of disdain since I told the deputy head at Tiffins that I wanted to stay on for the sixth form.

Chastened, we moved on the 'rustic' bamboo bungalows just down the beach, that weren't ten times our daily budget. You could even call it romantic - like castaway, but without a drunk Oliver Reed. The bamboo weave of the walls let in playful beams of light, and a sea breeze blew gently through the gaps at the top. There was even a comedy tumble-down effect from the foot-long hole in the roof.

That night, for the first time in five weeks, it rained.

Today it was Bruno's wish to rent a moped and hit the road. He could hardly sleep last night with excitment. I could hardly sleep for the images going through my mind of us squished dead between two lorries. This morning I sent him off with a lengthy list of measures to be taken if I was going to get on the back. The first was that we both had a helmet (not a given here). The list continued towards what I hoped would bring us somewhat closer to EU safety standards.

I'll give Bruno this much, he did come back with two helmets.

In all fairness, as my series of yelps and screams increased at my rising terror at each major junction, Bruno drove like angel, and didn't do the typical bloke thing of 'proving' that there was nothing to be scared of.

If imminent death on a Thai highway wasn't enough to bring out the Rescue Remedy, the reason we rented a moped in the first place was to go to a tiger sanctuary. Not as in cute sedated tigers in cages. As in, wild roaming tigers. Not in cages. no bars. No nothing. Just to make sure, on the walk to the tigers (through various other dangerous animals), the same sign was repeatedly shown, reminding you that were you to die in the jaws of a predator, the sanctuary took no responsibility.

Below is a photo of me with some tigers. They may well look half asleep, but I call that still alive and ready to pounce.
I was wearing brown trousers so it was less embarrasssing when I shat my pants.

(p.s., round his neck is only a collar. He's not chained up or anything.)

Get your motor runnin', head out on the highway!!