Melbourne is a very cool city and we spent a few days relaxing amongst its cosmopolitan bars and cafes, we headed west down the Great Ocean Road with its spectacular limestone cliffs (see 12 apostles photo below) fabulous beaches (Bells Beach is of Point Break fame) and sleepy towns.

From here we headed north into the Grampian mountains, which I thought were somewhere in Scotland, but apparently they have a namesake down here. This was the scene of humdinger argument no. 4, which basically involved getting lost on a trek with Rach walking past a huge rock I was standing behind catching the view. We then both went down opposite directions of the track, Rach carried on thinking I was ahead of her and I waited for a while before deciding she was in a strop with me for going a bit ahead (not unusual behaviour - ask any bloke.) and had returned to the car. After 25 minutes of shouting and cursing I eventually heard a forlorn shout of Maaaarsheeee in the distance and raced back up the track, to check she was OK. Needless to say that when we met on the track there was a deafening silence (while we both got our breath back) before we launched into the reasons why the other was to blame..marvellous...we both still think we won the argument, however we did carry on up the trek and had made up by the time the photo at the viewpoint was taken (see below).

From the Grampians it was back into Melbourne for Tan’s housewarming bash - the traditional Ozzie BBQ - from which we caught a cab to The Swan at 2am for a spot of grooving to surely the worst band in all Victoria. For those in the know, the Swan in Melbourne is almost identical to the Swan in Stockwell, except its not as good…..why did we go you ask…..erm been drinking I suppose.

We then caught a bus to Canberra to see Lucy Gibson and her fella Joel - and thank god they were there as Canberra is a place built by politicians for politicians, consequently there is nothing there besides political monuments and government department buildings. We walked around in an eerie silence all day, as cars whizzed past us moving from one monumental car park to the next. On a plus side we did get to watch Prime Minister’s question time in the House of Representatives, but John Howard was dissappointingly basking in the reflected glory from his meeting with George Jnr....

Once back to the normality of Sydney, we joined Matt Collins, Linda and Mal for the Lovedale Long Lunch in the Hunter Valley. After waking a still drunk Matt, after the 5 alarm clocks he had set all failed to wake him, we realised the day might be going downhill fast. We subsequently got lost on the way, passed the other couple we were meeting there, James & Kate, as their Volvo Estate (nice motor by the way Jim) had died on the motorway. I then dropped a plumb catch when Matt threw the static caravan (all we could get...) key to me and it dissappeared through a tiny gap between the wall and porch just as the bus drew up.....

Finally fished it out with a coat hanger and proceeded to get very bloated on gourmet food and free wine-tasting at the 10 vineyards that were participating. Seem to remember meeting an old mate of Simi's through the haze of hangover, but I could be wrong....oh and Matt still can't dance see below!

A couple of days later we flew to Bangkok and were a bit overwhelmed by the place - absolutely mental with people, cars and scooters absolutely everywhere. We have managed to perfect our bartering skills as you have to pay someone over here to ask them the time....we can now reduce the gruffest shop-owner to a gibbering wreck in a few easy minutes of bartering, although worryingly Rach did seem to buy the entire stock of several stores, so I think they may have seem us coming.....

We also popped along to Pat Pong to see what all the fuss was about at one of these sex-show malarkeys. First bar we popped into was a sordid, dark affair with middle-aged western blokes shrouded in shadows along one wall and semi-naked Thai girls dancing distractedly on the bar. We soon moved on, largely because the promised ping-pong show hadn't materialised after 15 minutes or so....

The next 2 bars were merely jumped-up strip joints, where we were charged extortionate prices to watch other western couples look around in an embarrassed way, sharing glances and not quite catching your eye. We left in disconsolate mood, would we ever see the famed ping-pong ball trick? As we ventured further down Pat Pong the atmosphere became increasingly sordid and we were soon being offered a menu of tricks, all for the price of a bottle of beer. A price that unfortunately increases dramatically as soon as you are seated with a beer in front of you. Now the 'Pink Pussy' may sound like a classy joint but believe me it could do with a lick of paint and a new sound system. However we weren't there for the music and we were soon applauding as one girl blew out candles, another extracted a string a razor blades and yet another burst balloons with unnerringly accurate darts blown from a tube!!!! Then the moment of truth, the Ping Pong trick in all its glory....only it wasn't the trick made famous in so many films merely a second rate attempt that even Desmond Douglas could have pulled off all those years ago....we left soon after the opening a bottle of coke trick, slightly digusted at the sordid nature of the whole affair...but happy to have 'ticked the box' (so to speak…) nonetheless.

We followed this with a relaxing week on Koh Pha Ngan in a tropical paradise on the north west of the island. Spent many an afternoon swinging lazily from side to side in a hammock watching the ships roll in....and then watching them roll on out again....

This inactivity, though sounding idyllic, was brought on largely by me swimming with the surf into a coral reef and cutting my hand to shreds and me hiring a motor-cycle and promptly riding it off the road, down into a culvert. Rach and several Thai guys rushed over to help me out of the culvert but it took a while as they were laughing hysterically . As only my pride was damaged we decided to call it quits and get a massage on the beach. (however you'll notice both these incidents were my fault and not Rach's....not that she mentioned it at all.....)

We continued to Island hop for a while, settling in Rai Lei beach just north of Krabbi for a few days. It was here that Rach got a tattoo (only a temporary henna one mind...see photo below...) and proceeded to wear short cropped tops for a few days to show it off (much to the locals delight) and I regretably decided to have an Oil massage.

This, I now realise is one of those massages where they limber you up for 40 minutes with all sorts of muscle-relaxing oils and then proceed to stretch and manipulate you every which way for the final 20 minutes, sending you back out to the beach walking like Mr.Soft from the Softmints ads. The pinnacle of the afternoon was getting a cheer from 4 drunken Brits at the bar as I was bent backwards over the masseuse, her knees and elbows supporting all my body weight as I was lifted from the floor like a trussed chicken. The curtains over the entrance were at this moment blown inwards by a particularly strong gust of wind and my embarrassment was compounded by my inability to move as the loud guffaws rang in my ears - not my proudest moment!

From here it was north to Chang Mai, but not before going to a Thai boxing match in Bangkok. These events (see photos below) make the more traditional International style of Lewis and McGuigan fame look like a Girl Guide jamboree on the third Sunday in May. These guys are chiseled and they know how to deliver a right elbow to the ribs or a knee to the kidneys. We were awed at the sheer brutalityand resilience of the fighters, none of us soft westerners would have lasted 2 minutes (that includes you Big Al!!)

In Chiang-Mai, which is an old fortress city, surrounded by a moat with old temples every few hundred yards. Rather than soak up the culture we booked ourselves onto a Thai cookery course with the oddly named Porn (he did wonder why I kept smiling as we said his name). Now I'm not saying I'm as good as both Roux brothers combined but Rusty Lee had better watch her back for that 5 minute cookery spot on Look Northwest...my Massaman curry brings tears to the eyes (although sadly not of joy…) and as for Rach’s Tom Yam soup....(more Tom, bit lighter on the Yam thanks….)

After this we did a 3 day trek into the hills of northern Thailand to meet and stay with the lost Hill tribes, well technically the only ones getting lost was our band of merry toursists, but at least we had the guitar wielding ‘Bank’ to serenade us repeatedly with “The House of the Rising Sun” (the opening few chords cause our hearts to sink even now). We rode elephants for a couple of hours through the jungle, which was very cool, except for the moment when he headed off into the undergrowth after a particularly tasy-looking piece of bamboo, we were nearly dislodged from our lofty perch by an overhanging branch, but at least ‘Orange’ (our elephant) was happy….

Getting a flight to Vietnam tomorrow, if we survive our 14 hour overnight bus journey to Bangkok (just don’t get one of the front seats, you’ll never get on a bus again...)

Sorry - Photo’s to follow when I can find an internet café that will let me connect my camera….