Ian Rambles
I have regularly received moans from the others on this trip as I like to be early - often really early - for flights and trains. Out of Taipei this payed off. We had checked in and had just eaten some breakfast in an airside cafe when we were tracked down and hustled aboard by Thai Airways staff - the flight had been rescheduled over an hour earlier than my original paperwork showed.

Applying for Chinese visas was time consuming and expensive - but straightforward. Applying for Russian Visas was less time consuming but enormously more expensive - our passports having to be fedexed back to the UK. The Russian Consular Assistant that I talked to laid the blame squarely at the feet of the UK government who had changed the rules for Russians wanting visas to the UK.

An item in the news - the exiled Prime Minister of Thailand, in the UK, owns some Manchester football club. he couldn't accompany his team to Denmark because "Denmark would have sent him back to thailand to face charges" - so why isn't he being sent back from the UK?

The tripper boats at the floating market were interesting. Secondhand car engines with a 4m propshaft driven straight from the gearbox. The engines are mounted on a simple swivel and tilt mounting that allows steering and for the prop to be lifted outof the water to clear weed. Cooling water is pumped from the canal. Noisy exhausts fabricated in the best tradition of adolescent "boy racers".

Fiona's Journal
We caught our flight to Bangkok – just! I was dragged out of the airport bookshop (very politely) by a Thai Airways stewardess who jog-trotted me through the departure gate and onto the plane through the first class section. Our e-mail flight conformation had given the departure time as 9.00am but it was in fact 7.50am. I have never been the one everyone is waiting for on a plane before – it is very embarrassing!

We caught the express bus from the airport into the city itself and immediately got the impression of, yet another, very different country, Our bus was elderly and very noisy and there was a similar sort of dilapidated, third-world feel to a lot of the buildings and infrastructure we passed, not to mention the other vehicles with which we jostled for every inch of road.

There were the famous tut tuts and bicycle rickshaws, open backed lorries full of passengers, buses packed like sardine cans, brightly coloured meter-taxis all acting as if they owned the road and strikingly few private cars, What there were instead were swarms of small motorbikes carrying improbable numbers of people, girls in tight skirts and high heels sitting side-saddle, dogs and/or toddlers standing on the footplate, between the driver's knees, with paws/hands on the handlebars, huge, precariously balanced parcels and in one case a pillion passenger holding a large, unframed, plate-glass mirror!

These bikes zipped in between the other traffic, through impossibly small and narrowing gaps, with a confidence (or fatalism?) that made the Harley riders of America seem very staid.

Our hostel is right in the heart of dilapidated old Bangkok, away from the big hotels and shopping malls. We are back to small rooms, bunk beds plus bag-dumping space only – these have clearly been created by dividing up a larger, rather grander, original room and so have very high ceilings and a corner of each room has been boxed off to create a shower cubicle within which is Western-style loo and a tiny stainless basin. We have already noticed that the city's predominant smell is from its drains, mixed with the smells of on street cooking especially the offal. Unfortunately a fainter version of this smell comes up through the shower drain but if we keep the cubicle door shut and the ceiling fan on its OK.

The staff (husband, wife, son and daughter, I think) are very friendly and speak fairly good English and that makes up for a great deal. The Mum has taken a particular shine to George and ambushes him with hugs whenever he comes past reception so he is tending to skulk about trying to slip past unnoticed!

We are about as far South as we will get now and the extreme heat and humidity continues so we have continued the Japanese habit of going everywhere with damp towels round our necks. The earliness and abruptness of nightfall is really striking to us people of cool temperate latitudes.

Our main reason for booking four days in Bangkok was to give us time to sort out our Chinese and Russian visas. Ian and I got up early on our first morning in Bangkok and took a taxi to the Chinese Embassy. After an hour and a half wait for it to open, and then a mass scrummage to get in once it did, and a very tedious session or form-filling in quintuplet, we finally got called to approach one of the windows.

We tied ourselves in knots trying to explain why we had no outgoing flight tickets (because we will be leaving China by train). I am very bad at this sort of bureaucratic impasse and inclined to get stroppy or burst into tears of frustration Ian, luckily, is calmer. He finally got through by listing everywhere we are going with a little sketch of the mode of transport between each place name, and light dawned on the girls face together with a charming smile! She accepted our passports and the forms and indicated that we could come back at 3.00pm to collect the passports, pay the 11, 500 baht (about £180) fee for fast-processing 5 visa applications and see if our application had been successful.

Before leaving the embassy Ian photographed the building, and a close-up of the sign saying “Chinese Embassy” in Thai, so that we could show it to a taxi driver for our return trip – we had such trouble getting a taxi driver to understand where we wanted to go this morning.

Our next stop was the Russian Embassy where we thought we would pick up the application forms and fill them in at our leisure to return with them once we got our passports back. The girl on reception informed us that it was no longer possible for the British to apply for a Russian visa in Bangkok or anywhere else other than in Britain. Since you cannot apply more than 3 months ahead and we left England 4 months before we were due to reach Russia this was never an option for us. Ian waited around for the consular assistant to return from lunch but predictably got no joy from him. Apparently the rules were changed in May, shortly after we left England, as a result of deteriorating Anglo-Russian relations! This was a bit of a blow to say the least. One of the main purposes of this whole trip was to realise a long-held ambition to travel on the Trans Siberian Railway.

There was nothing we could do about this immediately and soon it was time to return to the Chinese Embassy. The photo trick worked although this taxi driver spoke quite good English and would probably have understood us anyway! He wrote down his name (Som Mai) and mobile phone number for us..

Back at the Chinese Embassy we, first, queued at the cashier's window to pay our fee. Receipt in hand, you queue again to receive your passports and find out if they now contain a Chinese visa. The whole atmosphere reminded me of awaiting your end-of-year exam results at University, where we would all cluster round the notice boards waiting for the lists to be pinned up and then anxiously scan them, desperate to find your name on there somewhere. People were leafing rapidly through their passports and smiling in relief and giving thumbs up to friends when they found the visa page. We had got the 30 day visas we requested and we got a thumbs up from an American woman, Laura, with whom we had queued and chatted in the morning. She is teaching English in China, and living there with her husband and two young daughters, and she has to leave China every 3 months in order to renew her work visa from outside the country.

We left the embassy quite elated and ready to face “The Russian Problem”. Shortly after 5.00pm, which was 9.00am in England, Ian phoned “The Russia Experience” tour company, through whom we had booked the Trans Siberian trip, and explained our problem. It instantly became no problem at all! All we had to do was post all our passports and photos to them by secure carrier and they would obtain the visas in London on our behalf and post the passports back to our address in Chiang Mai within a maximum of 7 days. We rushed off to the nearest FedEx office and dispatched our passports on their unaccompanied journey to England. There is a slight feeling of insecurity, being so far from home with no passports, but mostly just great relief that someone else is going to sort this out for us! Ian, being Ian, has coloured photocopies of all the important pages of all our passports tucked away in our travel file anyway. That left us two and a half completely free days in Bangkok to do as we pleased.

We visited the Jim Thompson house and, on the way there, got diverted by our tut tut drivers to the “Nice Fashion” tailoring establishment. We came away having ordered two pairs of cashmere mix trousers for me and two pairs of tailored shorts each for Ian and Arthur at a total of £150.00! My part of this was just an extravagant whim, because I have never had an item of clothing custom made for me, but Ian and Arthur were travelling with just one pair of shorts between them, having managed to rip two pairs beyond repair and having packed mostly long trousers in the first place. Anyway, at our test fitting the next day I was so impressed by the perfection of their fit that I didn't regret succumbing to the hustle at all.

Jim Thompson, by the way, was an American architect and entrepreneur who stayed on in the Far East after the war and, more or less single handed, launched the international trade in Thai silk. He built his house by dismantling six traditional Thai houses that he admired and transporting them to his chosen spot and then rebuilding them, as one large house, but inside out because he so loved the exterior detailing in the wooden walls and doors and window shutters. The end result is very beautiful.

I phoned taxi driver Som Mei and got him to drive us to the floating market and the crocodile farm on the Wednesday. He picked us up at 8.00am and battled his way out of Bangkok through the crazy rush hour traffic. It was a bit of a squash with all five of us in the cab and took a good hour and a half to get to the floating market so we arrived rather hot and sweaty. Som Mei then waited an hour and half while we took one of the long, narrow, wooden river boats, with a lifting propeller at the end of a long shaft out of the stern, round the market.

It was not remotely like any of the photo's I have seen. There were very few sellers of fruit and flowers and vegetables and, in fact, not that many market people in boats at all. We, the tourists, were all in the boats being driven through a continuous boat traffic jam in the narrow canals between wooden houses on stilts and the goods for sale were displayed on the verandas of these houses. It was fun anyway and I bought various small, easily portable trinkets as potential presents but the stalls were extremely repetitive in there wares and after a while we just waved our driver on, past them all, and into clearer water where we just sat back and watched life on the river bank.

There were women doing their washing and minding small children on their verandahs, a man cleaning his teeth and spitting the froth into the canal, dogs lazing in the shade and boys mucking around in the murky beneath. Daily life going on in very public view. The houses were generally pretty ramshackle but every now and then we would pass a group of three or four smartly painted, modern, little detached houses (with one or two shiny Japanese cars in the drive) sandwiched between the shacks on stilts. Do these unlikely next-door-neighbours chat to each across the canal or meet and exchange news in the local store or do they lead entirely disconnected lives in close proximity?

The buildings that were always immaculate and highly decorated were the temples, of which I soon lost count. It reminded me of the churches in the bible belt of the USA which were always, by far, the best maintained buildings in the poorer communities.

Next we drove for another hour to the crocodile farm which was really a zoo that also farmed crocodiles as a business. The crocodiles got the best deal in some ways even though they ended up dead eventually. They were kept in pretty good conditions and fed with chicken carcases dangled in front of them from a fishing rod which gave them some semblance of hunting activity. Some of the other animals were less well housed and left me feeling rather sad, which is the effect zoos often have on me.

We ate crocodile steaks and burgers in the cafe and they were rather bland really, somewhere between chicken and pork. There was a crocodile show involving two young lads teasing the crocs and pulling them backwards out of the water by their tails. They would prod them to open their mouths and then put their hand and then their whole arm and finally their head between the open jaws. I don't doubt the courage (and knowledge of crocodile behaviour) of the two boys and one had a really nasty scar on one arm suggesting the risk was real, but I did feel sorry for these particular crocodiles who only wanted to be left alone. All in all, not an enlightening experience.

Som Mei had waited another two hours while we did all this and then drove us all back to our hostel. He had quoted us 1,300 baht (about £22) for this 8 hour day but we gave him 2,000 which still seemed a real bargain. A very pleasant, honest man which I cannot say of all the taxi drivers we have met.

Thursday was our last day in Bangkok and we met an Australian couple, Ross and Jen, on the roof terrace. They are going round the world in the opposite direction to us and we found loads to talk about, comparing travel experiences and our real lives back home. Jen has been considering a career change, retraining as a vet. She comes from a farrming background and already has a science degree so I ended up advising her to go for it! I wonder if she will?

We went off to pack and I was somewhat distraught to find that I have lost my leather boots. I haven't worn them since Canada, because it has been too hot, but I have periodically taken them out of my bag to get at other things. I fear I may have left them in our huge room in Taipei and I don't suppose there is any chance of getting them back but Ian sent them an e-mail just in case. They were the best boots I have ever owned and I am more upset about this loss than about any of the other numerous items we have scattered across the globe, either through carelessness or deliberate pruning.

After clearing our rooms and stacking our bags in the storage area for the day, we headed off towards the river looking for a river trip to view Bangkok from a different aspect. We were commandeered by a petite and very smartly dressed Thai woman who started by mildly berating us for letting George get so far behind us - he was in a piss about something and he always lags behind or charges ahead and puts on his best “I'm a poor hard-done-by little waif” face when he's annoyed with us. Then she asked where we were headed and immediately elected to show us to a good inexpensive ferry.

She set off at a fair clip in her high-heels using her umbrella as an offensive weapon and we followed. We arrived at an extremely dilapidated wooden quay where two roguish-looking characters extracted 2,000 baht from us for an hour and a half river trip, to include a visit to the royal palace. We teeterd along some cracked and rickety planking to an elderly river boat and clambered in and off we went at an exciting pace and creating a fine bow-wave. Our boatman spoke minimal English so our only commentary was the frequent cry of “Madam, Madam! Temple!” but that was fine – we just wanted to gaze around and enjoy a different view of the city. He did summon up enough English to ask me to buy him a beer off the a passing little river boat which I duly did. He also pulled up at another crocodile farm and tried to persuade us to visit that but we refused. When we arrived at the Royal Palace he stopped just off shore and tried to wheedle out of me a larger tip than the 50 baht note I had offered. I refused and he gave in ungraciously and dumped us ashore. Here we found out that the Royal Palace would not be open for another 3 hours and, when we said we could not wait that long, the man on the quay tried to offer us a car and driver to take us back to our hostel but we insisted we wanted a Taxi-Meter as they call them and walked off in search of one. Ian muttered under his breath “How do you say F*** Off! In Thai” so I knew he was almost at the end of his tether too! What with the street sellers and the beggars and the tut tut drivers and the “ever so friendly” strangers that offer assistance, we have been hustled once too often and just want to get out of Bangkok now.

We had been persuaded, by the TAT travel agent, to take the bus to Chiang Mai, instead of the train, because he said it was cheaper (which it was) and quicker (which it should have been but wasn't) and just as comfortable for sleeping (which it categorically was not) and because the trains smelt bad! We were early at the collection point outside the TAT office and waited an hour and a half on the pavement until a minibus arrived to take us to the bus. The minibus took us just a short distance across town and unloaded us all, and our luggage, on the side of a dual carriageway, with a stack of 10 plastic stools to sit on. We waited there another hour or so and the sun was setting fast as our bus finally arrived.

The bus sounded a bit rough but we all piled on board gratefully into air-conditioned comfort. The bus accelerated and braked and swerved its way out of Bangkok in typical Thai driving style and with quite a bit of gear crashing. Meanwhile the stewardess teetered up and down the aisle, with trays of drinks, in very high heels and a turquoise silk suit and never spilt a drop which impressed me hugely.

I tried to sleep on the reclining seat, which did have more leg room than in most coaches and much more than in planes, but still not enough for an average height Westerner. Harry and George, however, slept quite well.

About half past midnight we pulled into a service area and were served a rather good meal of noodle and dumpling soup, at long tables under canvas awnings. The bus was beginning to sound pretty sick by now, with much harsh metallic grating every time the driver had to change gear. Sure enough, we had not gone very much further before we pulled off the road again and it was clear this bus was going no further. Another bus turned up within twenty minutes, however, and we transferred all the luggage and piled in and found places amongst the existing passengers. The rest of the journey was uneventful and we finally arrived at The Backpackers Meeting Point in Chiang Mai from where a covered pick-up truck took as to our door. It was 7.30am and our old friend John, who now runs a cafe and guest house in Thailand, was there to welcome us. Total journey time 15 hours

Arthur's Log:
Caught the plane even though out tickets said it left an hour later than it did, (got there by the skin of our teeth!)

The drivers in Bangkok are freaking mad, no more need be said!

We found the hostel farly easily. In the front room they had a wonderfully dotty woman cleaning that reminds me of our neighbour Sylvia. George gets amazingly embarassed and shy when she talks to him which I find it very funny.

The rooms are typical of a city, but the price of everything is amazing, every thing is about a third of the price, for example a can of coke is 20bht. (25p). Walking round the night market was not so pleasant, people pester you and pester you to have a look in their shop or at their stall - it's ok if you can learn to blank them and keep walking if they stand in front of you.

Failed visa: ( The Russians have tightened their visa rules since we left home, we're posting our passports back to England so "The Russia Experience" can sort it out from there. (fingers crossed). The good news is that the Chinese visas are fine.

We have discovered tut-tut drivers! (a tut-tut is a small trike taxi that passingers sit in the back). Basically (unknown to us at first) companies have contracts with them saying they will pay the driver every time he brings a cusomer to the shop. So they go around and say they will take you anywhere for 20 bht which is a very very good deal, too good. Then once you're all packed and in they say "but first we go to this taylors and you can sample their stuff" so you're like, "well...... ok". When when you get there they rush you in and every time you say "no thank you were not interested they take it as you just don't like that particular material. And so they go on and on. Mum and dad fell. First dad got two pairs of shorts and mum two pairs of slacks. Finally I broke with the thought "screw it mum and dad are and they're paying for it so I will too!"

We did go to where we meant to afterwards. The Jim Thompson house, an American solder who had been posted here during the war and loved it so much he came live here. The qualty of the silk in Bangkok is amazing and they sell it at half the price of cotton in the US. He saw the idea and started the silk trade to the States making huge profit and made this wonderfull house.

Som Mai picked us up early and drove us to the floating market. It was good all together, but too much converted for the tourists. The market would originaly been a mass of hundreds of 6 to 10 feet long river boats, each filled with thousands of just one type of fruit, veg, meat or even livestock.

People would come to the waters edge and beckon in the boat with what they wanted every day. But now it has lost its touch, mostly hats, fans and what ever other things they think the tourists will buy. The one boat that I felt was right, spawned the knowledge now that i love green coconuts. I bought 1 from a 6 foot boat filled with them, the man at the far back took one and pulled out a small machete. in 8 masterly high speed cuts he gave the coconut a flat bottom, shapened the top to a rough point and lopped the top nib off the point, creating a small hole, he handed it to me with a bambo straw and now thats all I drink in Thailand.

Next, we went to the worlds largest croc farm and we all had differently cooked croc for lunch. I said it tasted like pork, dad said it tasted like chicken and george said it was like beef, so I'm labeling it the opposite of marmite "you cant love it and you can't hate it"

I don't like zoos and this one didn't change my mind. I wandered around feeling sorry for all the animals and felt the only way i would enjoy being here was if i was planning a escape attemt. Three lions with no more space than my living room, a black bear with less space than my room and the crocs were almost stacked on top of each other. I had enough, i went and waited by the car.

Previosly mentioning how cheap things are here, Som Mai drove us about 200 miles today and waited for us for hours at every stop and how much? 1300bht. About 18 pounds, for spending alll day driving about.

Got back, went back to the taylors and thought "blarg" i wish we had never ordered them. The fitted us up and that was ok even though they spent the whole time bugging us to order more - but we had wised up fast.

We wandered about and ended up going for a boat ride with a toothless old man. First we saw a temple, then another, then a temple, then a big one and by the 11th i was getting bored when he pulled over and said we should go to this croc farm, he would wait for us. When we said we didn't want to and we had allready been to one he looked very disapointed and by the end he was practically demanding a 100bht tip out of al of us.

We went to book train tickets to Chiang Mai and ended up booking loads and loads of stuff. We just looked through the pictures and were like "we have GOT to do that" We also ended up travelling by bus rather than the train.