This bit isn't the diary entry, to which the blog title refers - I just want to get that in now. But below, you will find a few snippets from my personal travel journal. This is partly for the purpose of variety in my blog, but it's mainly because I've not been able to use any electronic equipment very easily, as we've either been on the move or stranded on an island over the last ten days.

Since leaving Bangkok, we've travelled almost the full length of the country - and spent more than 50 hours of those 10 days doing it (no mean feat, I can assure you). We fancied a bit of sea air after the thick heat of Bangkok, and a new friend - Al, from the Netherlands - suggested trying a spot where he'd already spent many happy, hazy days. The forecast looked pretty good, so off we went.

The mission south involved travelling overnight to Ranong in a 'VIP bus' (complete with reclining chairs, blankets and air conditioning - whoopee!). It was first for me, and one which inspired me to scribble some words in my journal...

Monday 18th May

I slept for most of the 12-hour journey, thanks to one of the herbal sleeping tablets given to me by a nice French woman called Miriam, who I met in India. But I did wake once - for the midnight meal included in the price of the ticket.

The bus pulled up at the equivalent of a service station, and us passengers (all locals except me and my travel companion, who had discovered this cheaper service online) sleepily climbed down from the enormous bus, through a food store and into a side room, where several tables were laid. With or without the sleeping pill, it would've been a surreal experience: silently eating unidentified food (I'm fairly certain I ate something's ear) alongside strangers, in an unknown part of the country. I love these moments - ones you only seem to get when travelling - the situations you find yourself in that you could never have imagined previously. And I like the smiles between people whose lives are so far apart, but who recognise that we are all treading on the same earth.

Finally in Ranong, almost 600km south-west of Bangkok, we whiled away an hour or two wandering the streets in search of refreshment, under the light of the rising sun, eventually stopping for some breakfast at a family-run place close to the bus station...

Tuesday 19th May

A girl - the owners' daughter, perhaps - sits at a table, slowly, carefully preparing fronds of greenery for the floral offerings she is making, which will later be given to the monks wandering the streets of Ranong, or laid at the feet of the Buddha statues housed in the temples. Is she content or bored? Does she follow the faith's teaching to count one's blessings and feel satisfied with her lot, or does she see from the corner of her eye, us and our backpacks - symbols of our freedom to roam, to explore the world - and wish she could too? She doesn't look at us direct - maybe because she doesn't want the temptation, or maybe because it/we just don't interest her.

After breakfast, we crammed ourselves and our bags into a wooden bus heading for the pier, in time to catch the morning ferry. Later that day, keen to record the whole experience while it was still so vivid in my mind, I took out my pen and journal once again...

With islands all around us, the ferry stopped - we were adrift in the Andaman sea, where a much smaller wooden boat and two heavily tattooed Thai men waited for us. We passed our bags across and stepped aboard, greeted in fine fashion - with smiles and handshakes - in the process. The serene journey to the island lasted about ten minutes, and culminated in our arrival at a small patch of sand surrounded by jungle trees. It seemed fitting that we then had a short walk through the trees - a final step into the unknown, if you like - before reaching the bamboo bungalows and falling under the place's sabai sabai spell.

The first two days on the island were gloriously sunny and filled with long stretches of time spent playing on the beach (which only us and our hosts ever used), lounging in hammocks, doing my yoga practice in a shack facing the sea (with the waves as my soundtrack - niiiiiice), reading, writing, and sitting at the bar. And then the rain came - sustained heavy downpours that forced us into our humid bungalows for the best part of two whole days. What to do... Well, with a forecast now predicting more of the same throughout the following week - save for a brief moment of respite the following day - and the discovery of some large pieces of freshly shed cobra skin on our bungalow floor, the answer was obvious. Go to a neighbouring island in search of the waves we'd been told we might be able to surf, of course!

Thankfully, the rain did lessen the next day - at least, just enough for us to be able to leave the island safely. We walked through the jungle and hopped back into the wooden boat, which brought us to the mid-water ferry stop once more. The ferry took us to Koh Phayam and a couple of motor-taxis (scooters) took us to our home for the night - a relatively luxurious brick built affair, with a fan and a flushing loo! A refreshing stop on a nice island, but no sign of the waves we'd been told about and anyway, the rain had followed us.

And so ensued a verrrrry long journey the next day, to the sunny North (not often an English person gets to say that): a motortaxi to Koh Phayam pier, a ferry to Ranong pier, a wooden bus to Ranong coach station, an overnight (9-hour) coach to Bangkok, a taxi to another of the city's bus stations, the 6am coach to Chiang Mai (which, to our horror, stopped as frequently as regular buses, making the journey last 12 hot and hungry hours - note to selves: always take a VIP bus for long journeys in future!), a wooden bus to the town centre, and a 15 minute backpack stomp to our guesthouse, where we've been recuperating for the last three nights.

Holy wanderlust!