Cedric was larger than life, in more ways than one. His French characteristics resembled those of Inspector Clousseau from the Pink Panther (with a few more expletives thrown in for good measure). His dislike of anything British or in fact anything that wasn't french could usually be heard from several miles away as his booming french accent condemned yet another of our opinions, "Zat izz booulesheet! eet iz fo**keng boule sheet. wat dzoo you know? you har heenglish. ze heenglish no nussing abut fud". and it must be noted that he was a chef. A very good chef. I do not doubt his culinary skills, his résumé spoke for itself but the fact that he knew it added to the slight arrogance in his tone. Despite this he was entertaining company. Especially to play card games with (as long as you let him win or had no objection to the table and cards being thrown off the balcony and into the Mekong!)

I will never forget the bus journey which took the 4 of us to the capital of Laos - Vientiane. Clutching our plastic bags full of curry we took up the back row of the old locals bus, with its peeling seats and doors rusted open. It creaked a little uncertainly and we pulled away from the bus stop. The bus was fairly empty so to facilitate a game of uno, I moved to the two seats just in front, it wasn't long before I had company though. Stopping every 10 minutes or so to pick up Laosians we slowly filled up, and I was joined by a very admiring young man, much to Jays amusement. Much to everyone's amusement Ced was joined by a chicken. We called her Cyril. She was a nice chicken, tied up to the neck in a pink carrier bag and seemingly resigned to her not so hopeful future she had a red face and sparkling eyes. We spoke to her for a bit in an effort to make her last few hours slightly more enjoyable but this just added to our audiences fascination with the strange white people at the back of their bus, who were now talking to tonight's supper. In fact quite a sizable crowd of Loasian men had gathered around us by the time we left the outskirts of Vangviene. We wobbled along the mountainous roads for a few more hours then the good mood we had started out with began to wash away, as did the road as outside the rain began. Inside it began to rain too, mainly down Ced's neck, the chickens owner squeezed in between him and Jay on the backseat, (he had taken our fondness for the chicken as an invitation to stare more closely.) and I was feeling a little uncomfortable by the crowd of scrutinising men who had given up on the strange French man and co on the back seat and instead turned all their attention to me. I had tried to hide in the corner behind my book but it hadn't worked. And the unblinking wall of eyes was a little intimidating, and was eager to escape when we finally arrived in the capital!

Vientiane passed fairly uneventfully (except for the creation of the infamous toilet philosophers which is probably best unexplained) and as none of us felt the desire to stay more than a couple of nights we moved swiftly south towards Pakse and 4000 islands.

4000 islands, named rather unimaginatively (or as some might say incredibly imaginatively if you can count a tree growing out of the river as an island) after the 4000 islands of which it comprises, lies on the border to Cambodia and Laos. The river itself remains part of Laos and so our last week in the country was spent on the second largest island, Dondet.

We set up camp in one of the rickety bamboo huts on stilts which wobbled ominously over the murky river and spent our time wandering the few dirt tracks around the edge becoming familiar with the quiet island. We developed a sort of routine on Dondet: breakfasting most days at the bakery (an amazing little place set up by an ozzie bloke with fresh cakes and breads twice a day - it was so excellent that it even gained appreciative comments from Ced) which was just a moments walk a few hundred meters away from our hut and usually took a couple of hours so any exploring generally happened late morning. We were interrupted however at around 2pm when the heavens would open and torrential rain would drip through the roofs of our huts and turn the dirt tracks into squelching mud. The lightning flashed over the paddy fields and thunder rumbled threateningly. As it approached it would shake the island as it made its booming arrival known. The hammocks on our balconies wrapped themselves into tight cocoons in the winds that blew up from nowhere with the storm and if you hadn't found shelter in one of the quiet bars or huddled onto one of the balconies within a few minutes of the storms starting you were likely to be found (accompanying the cards) down the river after slipping off the muddy paths and the bank and into the murky waters. The island also had limited electricity supplies and the generators were only turned on for a few hours each evening making the dark muddy paths even more treacherous after 6pm.

So in the few hours allocated to exploring each morning we gradually worked our way around. Hiring bicycles was the best way to explore and although the cows grazing in the rice tended to ignore us passing, cycling around with Ced "Budha man" and Phil "Picture man" often caused quite a stir! (This is not the Canadian Phil but a londner who I had originally met on my first night in Pai who had disappeared soon after only for me to spot floating past our hut in a dug out when we arrived in Dondet. Phil was not hard to spot, he is covered from head to toe in tatoos with long hair, a beard and a bold fashion sense. He has the confidence of a born and bred Londoner and a great sense of humour and when he reappeared in Dondet he was accompanied by a ginger haired Irishman called Keith and another Irishman called John) An atmosphere of utter amazement surrounded us whenever we passed through villages or groups of workers. They gazed at these two Godlike figures (budha and picture man), topless and sweating in the heat, riding past them in a confused awe. I followed amused at the yells and admiration which followed the initial stunned silence and was relieved for the break it gave me from the usual attention which comes with being a western female over here. Dondet was attached to another of the islands by an old railway bridge which led to the gushing heights of the biggest waterfall in Laos and we spent a day paddling in its churning conclusion. From this second island we also hired a couple of dug out canoes and were taken to a rock approximately 1m by 1.5m (quite possibly considered 1 of the 4000 islands by whoever counted them) which to Keith and John's amusement was shaped a little like Ireland. Apparently the purpose of this was to see dolphins. The dolphin of the Mekong - much like the drop bears and cartwheel snakes of Australia and the lopsided haggis of Scotland does not exist! I will believe this until somebody shows me otherwise. As you may guess our 2 hours of perching uncomfortably on a very small rock shaped vaguely like Ireland was un rewarded and we returned home to the much more satisfying beer laos which awaited us at the huts.

We met some interesting locals on Dondet, most were as friendly as we had encountered elsewhere in Laos, and smilingly would welcome us in to their establishments. One had acquired a pet monkey. The monkey on first impressions was very cute, he sat placidly on Ced's hands jumping from shoulder to shoulder while I took photographs. I was too trusting of the creature though and the monkey soon showed his true satanic colours as, like lightening, he dove into my bag, reappearing with, of all things, my passport, he screeched excitedly and made a dash for freedom. Unfortunately, for the monkey, he was on a leash and so didn't make it more than a few yards. He wasn't giving up this easily though, oh no! if he couldn't have the passport to himself no one else could and whilst flying around the balcony in a frenzy he proceeded to do his very best to rip it apart! Eventually I caught up with him and rescued it but I didn't escape freely, the monkey in a violent final effort to win the fight sunk his teeth into my wrist. I didn't return to that hut.

Most of the afternoons sheltering from the weather were spent gambling. Each throwing in 20, 000 kip (the equivalent of about £1) we used risk pieces as poker chips and beer laos as our primary provision. Often these games would only end when some other friends (met at previous points on our travels and re-met whilst on one of out expeditions of the island) would arrive and our balcony became the islands only nightlife. Mario (a Chilean guy - permantly attached to a guitar and always enthusiastic. I think my first encounter should describe his personality fairly well as it was 6am after an over night bus ride and he was standing on the roof of a tuk tuk playing a classic western rock song loudly to a crowd of bemused locals) would bring the music and with him passers by would like moths attracted to a light appear. As a result each night our questionably sturdy balcony got closer to collapsing into the river.

Like with all places however there comes a time when you must kick yourself into momentum and drag yourself away from your new found paradise and onto the next. Each traveller will have their own reasons to leave, whether it is due to an uncomfortable sense of routine being formed or an excitement to discover somewhere new, sometimes this decision is made in order to remain with travelling companions and other times it means leaving them to once again become a lone nomad. It was a sad day that I doned my backpack in the early morning and hugged the other 3 goodbye, I had been with Heather and Jay longer than anyone else so far, but they had no time restrictions and no reason to leave. I on the other hand had a month to reach Indonesia with Cambodia and a full moon party to see on the way. As I trudged down the dusty tracks I realised I needed to find some independence again too. So with that I joined Mario, Sarah and some others from the previous night balcony party who already stood in the crowd swarming around the empty dug outs. A sleepy excitement filled the air as each of us boarded and commenced onto the next stage of the journey. Mine was unplanned, just the way I liked it, waiting to see where fate would lead me , to new friends, to new countries, to new adventures!