In any journey, there must be a time when you are ready to come back home. For me, it is now. I have spend the last two days sadly mourning my lost camera with all the photos of Bangkok and Phu Noi (there will not be a lot of pictures on the blog this time) and nursing a sick Maxim, sitting in a small hotel room with a loud air con and a broken toilet door (bad luck, that one) only venturing outside in the sulty heat and chaotic traffic to hunt for food, water a...

There is something funny about Phu Noi. First, you can not find it on any of the hairy backpackers guides. They just totally bypass the place to hurry on to a full moon party on the island of Koh Phanang. I cannot even find Phu Noi on this blog. Second, none of the lucky ducks expats who live here found this place on a map, they just drove along the coast on their pick up truck and stopped here by pure chance, or came through word of mouth. Third, none of the win...

Even half dazed and half dozing, right off the plane and hurling down on the freeway, every single detail was a sign that we had entered a new continent and were about to experience a totally different culture. First, there was the humid heat, like stepping in a bathroom where someone just had a long hot shower. Then there was the relentless traffic, garrishly pink taxis, busses sporting garlands of flowers over their dashboard and scooters carrying families of...