Our journey into the Wild West started on an incredibly uncomfortable bus to pathein. From there, bleary eyed an unwashed, we piled on to yet another very uncomfortable local bus. A ride which turned into an unforgettable one. When the driver thought he had finally packed enough people on, an amount that could shock even the most experienced of travellers. We set off up the mountains. Charlie was on the seat at the back, a girl being sick to her left and on the right a woman fresh out I surgery. Me next to a man taking up about 2000 kyat of my 4000 kyat bus ticket, and Alex lost in the sea of people in front. A local guy got talking to us and claimed to have somewhere for us to stay once we arrived in ngwe saung. (A guy whom had previously kicked Charlie out of her seat, claiming she were sat in his. Which seemed a little pedantic as half the bus was sat on rice flower bags or hanging out the door). In his tiresome explanation he kept say 'Agga, Agga', we did not understand the context of this word. Instead of trying to understand we just broke out into.....'aggaaaaa do do do, push pineapple shake the tree' (actions and all). After countless efforts to understand what the guy was saying we finally prevailed and gave up on a potential free nights stay.

The journey was on rough terrain and hard on the glutes. I look behind me and Charlie is in mother Teresa mode. She has the girl who was being sick to her right, resting on her shoulder with her travel pillow for comfort. The other arm was the back support for the girl on her left, who was fresh out of the operating theatre. Both of whom were soundly asleep, and Charlie glowing with the halo above her head. When we reached our destination we jumped on a bike and headed for a hotel. All checked in we scampered to the beach for a well deserved swim and sunbathe.

The following morning we rented mopeds and changed hotel to an amazing hut right on the beach. The day was spent arranging transport to get to sittawe, a town in the rahkine state that would lead us into the chin state, a place where foreigners were unable to tread not so long ago. Our decision was ambiguous, but finally agreed on a price. With plans in place we ventured to a local fisherman village on our peds, the deep sand proving a difficult journey. Charlie and I jumped off the peds and onto a more traditional mode of transport. Ye olde cow drawn cart. A novelty ride at best, as we could have walked at a quicker pace. As a sign of our appreciation we offered the guy a cigarette, he reached behind to grab one and took his hand off the wheel.....in a surge of power and speed the cows diverted to the right, catching the wheel on a tree stump sending the cart hurtling over, throwing its passengers off, and almost charging through a wooden hut. Dishevelled and confused Charlie and I rose to our feet to find the farmer taming his beasts. After looking for, and finding one if his flip flops, we assessed the damage and concluded everything was still in tact (ourselves included). Ambivalently we offered him another cigarette, he accepted but was sure not to assist us in the remainder of the journey.
Later that night Charlie and Alex hit one of the local bars. (the only bar actually). The remnants of the night consisted of some empty choco pie packets and two sleepy travellers, who proved almost impossible to wake the next day.
Early breakfast of banana pancake and coffee started my morning while sleeping beauties caught some well needed z's. We waited around all afternoon for the fisher boat to take us to sittawe. All ready to board, and me and Charlie already chillin in the hammock, we were all set for our adventure. The captain on the other hand, was under the impression that our voyage was heading somewhere else. Our plan had fallen through. Our contingency, well actually we didn't really have a contingency. Nevertheless these intrepid travellers, carried only by the hope of good nature, hitchhiked, successfully (if that's what you want to call the truck we took) toward Pathein. In Pathein we tried to spend the night in a hostel, unsuccessfully. Contingency. What contingency? Yangon it is. We decide that Christmas should spent in Bagan. 43 hours later we arrive at our destination, just in time for Some festivities, Myanmar style.