Into the jungle!

For those of you who have never flown Air Asia, think Ryanair, multiply the size of it's operations by about 4, add on about 3 more things they can charge you with, modernise the aircraft and you will get the idea.  We hadn't been impressed by them but they are still very cheap so we transited to Malaysian Borneo through the Kuala Lumpur Low Cost Carrier terminal (or LCCT for short), which can only be described as a glorified bus station!

We arrived and managed to grab a bus to the base of Mt Kinabalu in preparation for our assault on the peak the next day.  It was cold, wet and misty but even without the view we could see we had arrived in the jungle.

Around every turn was thick vegetation, the sounds of chirping birds and buzzing insects never-ending and little spots of bright colours everywhere as the moisture hanging in the air nestled on the many flowers surrounding us. To bed early we went and were up to a clear morning and ready for the climb ahead.

Here are a few statistics for you:

Mount Kinabalu is 4095.2m high.

That's it!

We arrived at the national park HQ and started to feel like a cash machine. We had to go to 4 separate places and pay 4 separate fees, all of which had gone up and all of which were grossly overpriced.  At this point we couldn't exactly start bartering but the price had gone up almost 25% from last year, a small example of how tourists are being reaped for as much as possible in this part of the world.  It was even more surprising to find out that about 7 years ago it was an eighth of the price.

Anyway, enough of the moaning.  We set off up the trail with our mandatory but very friendly guide Andrew.  Through our time here he told us he used to be a porter, climbing the 6km to the guesthouse carrying anything that was needed on his back.  He also told us he sometimes carried people who had injured themselves back down the mountain.  Apparently Louise would have this option, I would require a helicopter.

After 6 hours of slow treading up the very beautiful and well maintained path we made it to Laban Rata, our stop-over for the night.  We said goodbye to Andrew who arranged to meet us at 2:30am (groan) and settled down with a hot chocolate and dinner before heading to bed.  Unfortunately overnight Louise was back and forth from the bathroom doing things that wouldn't be decent to talk about on a public blog.  It is very rare for Louise to accept defeat but on this occasion it was quite obvious she was going no further.  

After much assurance from Louise that I should go on myself I met Andrew and began our long slow slog up the last 2.5km, in the dark, in the rain and in the wind.  It was cold, wet and dark when I reached the summit at 5am and to be honest I didn't want to wait for sunrise so headed back down.

Quite glad I did because as I descended the light grew and the lunar type landscape appeared out of the mist before me.  My steady slow pace was a classic hare and tortoise situation as I overtook all but 5 people on the way up, and passed the heavy breathing, staggering masses on my way down and did it all in only 4 hours.  We both then made our way down the mountain and onward to Sepilok, home of the Orangutan.

We spent a couple of days recovering from the climb and observing the giant orange apes both during the day and night when they turned all naughty and started pulling rubbish out of the bins and curling up in old cardboard boxes.    

Again a real jungle experience with insects keeping us awake rather than loud music and sweating profusely in the almost 100% humidity.

We took a night walk amongst the soaring trees and dense undergrowth as flying squirrels glided above us in the forest canopy, green vipers hung in the branches and birds slept under leaves. 

We carried onto the coast and Semporna, a place who's name means perfect apparently, it isn't!  The only reason we were here was because we were off to Sipidan, one of the best diving sites in the world.  We suffered in style though as we stayed in the business hotel, the only business hotel.  

We then explored the jungle under the sea, swimming with schools of sharks, drifting along with turtles and gliding over never-ending waves of coral in Sipidan island.

We left Borneo with a real sense of not having had enough time, just means we have to go back!

Food, history, beaches and matching T-shirts.......Malaysia, gotta love it!

P.S. This is a long one so go and make a cup of tea before continuing.

We arrived very late into Malaysia having been held up at the Thai border for almost 3 hours, the immigration officers closing their booths behind us as we crossed over.  Our first impressions were therefore slightly blurred as our driver tried to make up the time by driving on the hard shoulder at 70mph past the slowly moving traffic.  It was almost 11pm when we pulled into Georgetown on the island of Penang on the west coast of Malaysia and we had been traveling for about 15 hours.  This did not stop us however as 1. We had no money, and 2......... We had no money.  So off we went in a hunt for an ATM, which was harder to find than you might think.  We walked past old ramshackle wooden shophouses, lovely boutique hotels, concrete monoliths and trendy bars.

This was then followed by streets crammed full of hawker street stalls selling food, old men sitting having tea and a gossip, young malaysians sitting in their parked souped up cars with the music blaring out reminiscent of the marina car park in Bangor (according to Louise) and old British colonial buildings silently lit in the eerily quiet financial district, funnily enough where we eventually found an ATM.  We didn't realise it at the time but this was a real picture of the Malaysia to come.

For those of you who know nothing about Malaysia it was colonised initially by the Dutch and then by the British in the 1800's.  They then transported, in huge numbers, Indians as laborers and Chinese as administrators to work alongside the ethnic Malays and exploit the spice crops and tin mines and its strategic position on the shipping routes.  Over the past two centuries these two 'foreign' ethnic groups have lost practically none of their cultural heritage and traditions and almost any significant population has a chinatown and little India.  It was quite surreal for us as we walked through the latter and were blasted with Bollywood music, pungent spices and overpowering incense smoke while walking past Hindu temples.  The Chinese hold on strongly to their past with their ancestors playing a significant role in their belief system.

Part of this is having a clan 'house' where important meetings are held, weddings etc... but most of all it is were they record the ancestors of their particular clan.  They take the form of a golden tablets which were stored alongside grainy black and white photographs of some of the first ancestors.  The clan house itself was an impressive collection of sculpture and artwork but sometimes you felt you where looking at a new painting rather than something old and historic.  This blend of old, new, traditional, modern, west, east, colonial and new country was to intrigue and tempt us (especially the food) as we travelled around the Peninsula.

After Georgetown we headed across to the Perhentian Islands off the east coast.  We had heard of the nice weather and spectacular beaches and having spent 4 days in the rain on Koh Phi Phi and beaches covered in rubbish we were on a mission.  Another early start and a 4 hour mini-bus blast across the mountains we arrived at the jetty, payed our 'environmental' fee and were on an old wooden boat with 400hp strapped to the back.  A 30 minute bumpy speed boat ride later we were cruising over some of the clearest water we had ever seen and landing on the white sand beach you think of when you're day dreaming in the office.  Louise didn't stop smiling and I didn't stop sweating as it was also lovely and sunny :o).

Four days disappeared in a whirl of diving, snorkeling, resting and eating and we soon found ourselves floating back over the crystal waters and bumping our way back to the mainland.  Not all beaches in Malaysia are the same as we headed south to another island and another beach to find it strewn with rocks, seaweed, fishing boats and expensive cafe's.  We stayed here less than 24 hours before we headed back west again to the historic port of Melacca, a decision well made as you will see.

Melacca is a mix of cultures as you would expect but with a few added bonuses such as arty little boutiques, chilled out cafe's, some amazing food outlets

and their crown jewel............ cycle rickshaws covered in fake flowers and built-in music systems!  We initially only planned to spend a couple of days here but due to our early exit from Tioman island we ended up here for most of the week.

We had one of our most amazing meals here at a satay restaurant.  It basically involved you walking along a massive chiller cabinet picking up your choice of meat (can't be too specific about what type), fish or veg kebab, taking it back to your table which has in the middle a massive bubbling pot of sweet peanut satay sauce.  You then shove your various kebabs (we had almost 30) into the bubbling pot, wait 5 minutes and then eat away.  The joy just kept increasing as various other things where put in front of us including massive whole prawns, bread and salad all of which got the snickers treatment!  Needless to say we left stuffed and it cost a total of about £5.50, happy days.

Melacca is also THE place to get matching couple t-shirts, displayed in all their glory in the many shops within central walking district.  These particular items have somewhat amused us ever since we were married since during our honeymoon saw many couples from Korea, Japan and China all wearing matching t-shirts.

I thought this would be the limit of our experience of such attire, however the moment I pointed out these items to Louise we were not exiting the shop without them.  The next day was spent walking around and drawing much attention from tourists, locals and anyone else who had eyes.  It was truly a SE Asia day when we climbed into a wonderfully decorated cycle rickshaw, rode around town and had our picture taken in SE Asia style!!

Onwards we went to Kuala Lumpur, or KL as it is known locally.  We were ceremonially dumped at the new transport hub about 15km out of the city centre.  The wonderful interior reminded us of a swanky international airport, that's where the good stuff ends.  For those of you who have been to KL before you'll know that they have massive amounts of infrastructure in place to transport the masses from monorails to highways through the city, problem is that none of it connects!  We had to get two trains, which were 5 mins walk from each other, across a very busy road with no pedestrian crossings while carrying our big rucksacks.

We managed to avoid any issues following this due to good accommodation location and a bit of research but we have heard of horror stories involving the airports which are approximately 120km appart.  It is strange that there seems to have been very little thought when the 4 different companies that built the 4 different transport options didn't think to talk to each other, especially when walking below the Petronas Towers in the Kuala Lumpur City Centre (KLCC) you feel like you're in some architects model.

Malaysia is a funny place, full of life and the people are unbelievably friendly.  It has amazing food, a real history that you can see but this is just peninsula Malaysia.  Malaysian Borneo is still to come!!!

Proud to be British

"Proud to be British" is not something you would normally hear me say, for me it conjures up images of either "Oh Alfred do be so kind as to pass the souffle to Margaret would you dear" or white pasty legs and big beer bellies wandering the streets of some foreign concrete jungle (a.k.a. Spain/Ibiza) looking for fish and chips and the premier league footy on TV.

Uncharacteristic as it may be though, this phrase, or a statement that equates to it, has passed my lips a fair number of times in these last few weeks. I must have reached Asia saturation point, or something recently has been the straw that broke this travelers back, but suddenly a pride which has been welling up inside me has broken loose.

I am proud, proud to be from a country where anyone can walk into the tourist information office and get unbiased advice and help. I'm proud to come from a country where the colour of your skin doesn't change the price of milk in a shop. I'm proud to be from a country where we have a monopoly commission so that there is competition which leads to fair prices. I'm proud to come from a country where I am entitled to legal representation and even more basically entitled to access a justice system. I'm proud that I come from a country where health care is free at the point of need and where my chances of receiving treatment isn't directly related to the amount of money in my hands. I am proud to be from a country where I can't buy favor in terms of the law. I am proud to be from a country where infrastructure is thought through, where the rubbish gets dealt with properly and where the water is drinkable.

I am proud to be British.

P.S. Larry says he's proud to be Irish too, but I don't think any of us ever doubted that! :-)

Collecting Currency

Everywhere we go guides, touts, children and vendors ask if we have some of our own currency. It's easy to answer because we simply don't. We're not sure why they ask for our loose change...maybe the novelty of having it? Maybe to exchange it when they build up enough, a few 20p's might be insignificant to us but they're worth a lot more to the people who ask us for our local change.

As we sit in Probolinggo waiting waiting waiting and waiting for the local mini bus to go to Bromo (it's currently been two hours and waiting) we have a right laugh with the locals. Sitting drinking rank iced coffee and nice iced tea the locals joke with the Chinese tourist beside us. He shows them his home currency and they study the notes carefully. "How much? How much?!" they ask. The Chinese guy calculates and tells them in their own currency. One of the notes is worth 30,000R. "I keep" the local asks hopefully. The chinese tourist laughs out loud "big big" he says as he takes the note back. "I give you 10,000R" (for the note valued at 30,000R) says the local, "no!" is the response. "I give you 10,000R and massage!" tries the local again, needless to say that wasn't enough either. The tourist gives him a low value note for his "collection" and John joins in giving a small value note from Burma/Myanmar. "It's good to build friendship" John whispers to me hopefully but there are still four empty seats on the bus and we look no closer to leaving now than we were an hour ago. I wonder if we'll get there in daylight? Sigh. Just gotta wait wait wait and see.

A Childhood Craze Gone Large!

Do you remember when you were a kid and you used to get those toys where you assembled the car/truck/whatever it was then carefully studied all the stickers supplied to work out where each one should go?! Fun wasn't it?! Sticking stripes down the side or a red cross on the back doors...

Well, let us tell you the sticker craze is alive and well in Indonesian Java, on a large scale! As we made our way the short distance, taking a long time at an excruciatingly slow speed, from Surabaya to Probolinggo we passed endless rows of shacks selling all kinds of necessities, and every so often we passed a sticker shack. On first glance they almost look like a saree shop from India, with shelf upon shelf of rolls of brightly coloured material. I took in the bright and often luminous colours and the men sitting out front with scissors in hand. Then i saw the vans with macho drivers carefully applying something to the side of their truck above the clothed version of a page 3 girl on their massive mudflap...and I realised THEY ARE STICKER SHOPS!!

It appears it's quite the rage to have your sticker made to order and applied to your vehicle...that and whatever flashing neon concoction your local neon dealer can do for you, keeps the roads looking lively I guess!

From Asthmatic to Advanced

 

I have asthma, or so a doctor said 100 years ago one day in his GP surgery. For years I have wanted to scuba dive, I've asked before...in fact every time I see an opportunity, just in case, and the answer is always "NO". I knew the would be loads of opportunity to dive while we were traveling so I explained to my GP how I really don't use my inhalers and how my lung capacity is great and could it be possible I no longer have asthma because I would like to dive...."NO" she said. Grrrrr.

So, you can imagine my surprise and total delight when I asked in Koh Tao, Thailand, if I could dive even though I have a history of asthma and the answer was "shouldn't be a problem, go see the local GP".  So off I went to the local GP on this dive centric island to find out if I could be declared safe to dive. It took just a few moments in his surgery with a few listens to my chest, some questions and a grand old fee of £3 to be told "good to dive". It was so easy! 

Delighted, I mean reallly delighted and at the same time just ever so slightly nervous that all of a sudden after years of being forbidden to dive I suddenly could, I trotted back to the Big Blue dive centre to sign up for the introductory "open water diver" course.

I had a ball. With my fantastic instructor Ros who kept me reassured, my great "buddy" Artur from Germany and the entertaining couple James and Breda from Ireland, I learnt how to dive. It was a jammed packed four days when I got addicted to pizza post dives, had great banter with the other divers during our "surface intervals" and drank a lot of mineral water. By the end I was addicted, I felt like I had just had a taster and I wanted more!

Six years before John had learnt to dive in Australia, doing his open water and then attempting his "advanced" course. Unfortunately, on one of the dives John couldn't equalise his ears and had to abandon the dive which meant he couldn't complete the course. It didn't take much to convince us to stick around Koh Tao for a bit longer and do our advanced course there.

So off we went, with Ros again instructing us, Breda and James, the soon to be infamous Irish couple, a Scottish guy and an American called Joe. Some of this diving was frustrating as it focused much more on improving skills underwater but other parts were amazing, like the chance to deep dive (to 30m), dive a shipwreck and do a night dive. But the absolute (unconventional) highlight of the advanced course was on our last dive of the course when....

We all went down underwater as normal, in our buddy pairs as you always do. After a while our instructor Ros looks round and signals to Breda "where is your buddy? Where is James?". Breda looks round, apparently realising for the first time that James isn't there. Breda starts to panic. "stay here" Ros signals while she briefly looks nearby for James, he can't be found. There are procedures for when this happens, it's ok. We just all need to surface which is where James should be since he has presumably realized he is lost! We all head up, abandoning the dive, and get to the surface. James is nowhere to be seen. Breda starts panicking more. I understand why, we're still new to diving and she just lost her boyfriend! We wait a while looking for him but he hasn't come up. Breda is fairly near to hyperventilating. I am also starting to think where is he?!! Eventually his head pops up "there he is there he is!!!". Breda and James have a domestic. Everyone calms down and we decide to go back down to finish this dive.

We all go down a second time, swimming around the wreck while James and Breda take photos with the (expensive) camera they have rented. Ros indicates to us when it's time to go up. It's important to do this when you are told, kinda matters when you are under water how long you are down there. So we begin to head up and realize that James and Breda aren't. "What are they doing?!" I think, "they need to come up"...James and Breda seem to be frantically swimming around until they are forced to come up. When we reach the surface we know something is wrong...they have lost the camera...a certain kind of mood descends upon the diving party as the potential cost of paying for the lost equipment weighs on Breda and James. Incase you are interested, Breda gave the camera to James but James never received it. Hmmm.

We all floated back to the boat unable to show any signs of cheer and sullenly climbed aboard. They don't really even know where it was dropped. Then, out of nowhere against all probability the camera pops up right beside the boat!!!!!! An instructor sees it and shouts "I'll get it" as she dives into the water. Breda sees it and shouts "THE CAMERA!!" and recklessly jumps into the water...with her WEIGHT belt on and no BCD (flotation equipment). Ie. She will sink. "BREDA!!!!" shouts Ros "TAKE YOUR WEIGHTS OFF!" which Breda thankfully manages. We get the camera and Breda safely back on board. We laugh a little, with relief. Then to put the icing on the cake we look over to James, who has been engrossed in sorting out his equipment the whole time and we ask him does he realize his girlfriend nearly drowned and by the way we found the camera. He just looks up blankly and says "Breda? Is she ok?" hahaha how you can be completely oblivious to several people frantically shouting your girlfriends name beats me, but it is proven possible! What a dive! We won't forget James and Breda any time soon. 

Perhaps this offers some explanation for it all: James and Breda are Irish.

We fun dived for a few more days on Koh Tao and loved every moment of it and as we have moved down through Thailand and into Malaysia we have dived again in Koh Phi Phi, Koh Lanta, Perhentian Islands and now in the revered and respected world class dive sites at Sipidan in Borneo. Every dive is different and we have seen such wonderful underwater life; turtles, sharks, sea horses, puffer fish, box fish, frog fish, octopus, sea snakes and so so much more! And we still have Indonesia and the Great Barrier Reef to come! Bring it on! :-)

The open water crew: me, Artur, Breda, James and Ros

Back at school to do our advanced diving course, biology like text book in hand...but it's all ok, the classroom setting is much better than the old school days!

Another kind of school!

Enjoying the big blue in Thailand

Giant Moray Eel

Blue and Yellow Fusiliers and the funky Trumpet Fish

Seal Faced Puffer Fish - cute!

A Turtle and a Shark!!!

The oil rig we stayed on while diving the beautiful waters of Sipidan, Borneo

The Moustache Brothers

Comedy, freedom of speech, freedom to choose whose photo you tac up on your wall, freedom to pursue or develop your interests and hobbies, the freedom to entertain whoever you wish...we have a lot of freedom really.

In Burma, freedom isn't something there is a lot of and certainly not in the case of any of the above, but in a small house tucked down a street in Mandalay live three quite astoundingly admirable men who simply refuse to sacrifice the freedoms we take so for granted.

With a sense of anticipation we made our way along the streets to the infamous house where one could hear comedy (in Burma?!!)...as we walked along looking for some sign a man shouted and waved us over "moustache brothers?" he asked, we nodded and were ushered into a small living room directly off the street. A single row of old chairs lined the wall and a few tourists were there already. In front of the chairs was a space about 2 meters deep which was the "stage". The walls were adorned on one side with traditional burmese puppets and on the other with photos of Aung San Suu Kyi - a woman whose photo it is forbidden to display in Burma, and photos of the brothers themselves.

We received a wonderful welcome from the brothers, who have paid very very dearly to stay in the comedy scene...6 years of imprisonment for two of the brothers to be precise in addition to being banned from performing in their own language or for Burmese people in any way which of course was once their source of income. Now they can only perform for tourists, in English, and even at that their aged mother sits outside the house every night while they perform watching out for government spies who would jump at the chance to arrest them again.

It was a wonderful evening. Plenty of wit, hilarious dancing and a lot of laughter. Like most comedy it pointed to the truth of the regime under which the Burmese are forced to live...and although they hold Aung San Suu Kyi in the most high regard these men do disagree with her stance that tourists should boycot Burma. For them, tourists are the only people who can take their message out and help people to understand what is really going on under this brutal military rule. We are so glad we got to see the moustache brothers...what a laugh!

War and Waterfalls

To fill a few days in Thailand we went to a place called Kanchinaburi, a relatively small town close to the border of Burma (Myanmar). Our main purpose was to visit the very famous and very beautiful 7 tier waterfall. The town has a very dark past as one of the many POW camps that were created to construct the Burma - Thailand railway that the Japanese desperately needed to supply their war effort against British India. A very famous bridge was built here and is commonly known as the Bridge over the river Kwai. The bridge itself isn't actually over the river Kwai, but over a tributary that joins the Kwai about a mile down stream, one for QI there.

Anyway, the waterfall was a 2 hour bus journey away so we had a day to kill and decided to take in the WWII sights. The quality of what was on offer varied hugely, but then so did the entrance fee's. The conditions in which the American, British, Australian and various other soldiers from the British colonies were kept were extremely basic. Sleeping on bamboo cots that were either infested with lice or splinting causing sores and infections. All this coupled with long working days of hard labour in tropical heat, dysentery and malnutrition rife among the population and periodic abuse from their Japanese guards. You can get a picture of life for these men, who were assured prior to being sent here that conditions would be far far superior, but were in fact basically fighting for survival.

The Japanese were desperate to have this railway built as their navy could not defend supply ships trying to head to Burma via the Andaman sea. Massively unrealistic goals and deadlines were imposed on the engineers in charge of the build who, in turn, put pressure on the guards and foreman to make these goals a reality. They responded by working the men harder, quite often employing brutal beatings and torture to achieve this. The result when combined with the working conditions described previously led to men literally dropping down dead. The guards quite often had to be persuaded to allow the men to be buried, or even moved from where they fell. It was at these times of grief that the soldiers remained alert and secretly buried records of the people who had died with the bodies and has led to a remarkably accurate picture of how many people died, when and where.

One of the most moving parts of Kanchinaburi was the WWII cemetery. It is like most around the world and beautifully simple with each grave identical, decorated with a few flowers and the name of the person buried along with his regiment.

In a caotic place such as SE Asia it was also beautifully kept with a permanent caretaker, a real tribute to the men who died so needlessly.

During our travels there has been a steady stream of Japanese tourists on their AC buses to all the beautiful sites as we make our way there by the cheapest means.

We did not see one single Japanese tourist while we were in Kanchiniburi.

There is something we British are very good at and that's accepting our past, understanding that sometimes we've made terrible mistakes and committed terrible atrocities against groups of people. We don't tend to hide away from it but are genuinely interested in our history, sometimes learning from our mistakes, sometimes not. Sadly not all countries have the same attitude and deliberately avoid confronting or even apologising for actions in the past but I feel the UK is one who has.

The 7 tier waterfall was fantastic, one of the most beautiful places we have been. We spent all day dipping in and out of the clear turquoise water as fish nibbled away at our feet, something which costs a fortune in Silverburn shopping centre!!

And of course the bridge (kinda) over the river Kwai was a very short bridge in the end. We had to step aside while walking across it as a train (only 2 a day) trundled over. The bridge was bombed and re-built 3 times during the war but it's still standing today, another tribute to the men who built it.

A Bangkok taxi journey.

We liked the taxi's in Bangkok! You got in them, told the driver where to go, they put on their meter and drove you to your destination. We then paid what the meter said, got out and went on our merry way.

"But that sounds like a normal taxi journey" we hear you say. Alas in South East Asia, or India or generally anywhere we have been taxi or Tuk-Tuk journeys can involve 5 minutes of haggling followed by a journey around the most expensive tourist shops and travel agents which conveniently pay big commissions to the drivers. We inevitably pay more than we should and frustrates us beyond belief at times.

So when we got into a taxi as we left Bangkok to head south we were in a very confident mood. We asked the driver to take us to the train station and even showed him our Thai instructions written out for us by our hostel. He looked at it, appeared to understand, handed the note back and pulled out into the traffic. We sat back and chatted away and then realised that there were two things wrong.

1. The day we were leaving also happened to be the Thai Queens birthday which meant lots of traffic.

2. We were going the wrong way!

We took out the map and had a look. He appeared to be taking us on a long loop around the city centre, sticking to the motorways, which were moving a lot faster than the city traffic which was worse due to the good ol' queens celebrations. We calmed ourselves and we had left 1hr 20mins to do a 15-20min, 6km journey so there was still time.

We started to get a little worried when the road seemed to go on for ever and we still were not heading back to the city. Eventually we did but then the driver pulled over and pointed at a sign as if we had reached our destination. We insisted that this motorway slip road wasn't the railway station to which he gave us a confused look. We looked up the Thai for train at which point we all began to realise that there had been a serious mis-communication. To make matters worse the driver then refused to take us to the train station, giving us some excuse that he did not have enough fuel. We pleaded with him to move ASAP as it was now 1825 and our train was leaving at 1830 but to no avail. We just got out and hailed another taxi, this time making sure our destination was crystal clear and headed back into the heart of Bangkok.

The next 45 minutes basically passed in silence as both Louise and I sat in the back of the taxi praying for our train to be delayed. Our new driver seemed to sense our stress levels as he probably broke a few traffic laws getting us there as quickly as possible. Eventually we pulled into Hulumphong station, we hurriedly paid our driver, ran into the station and BEHOLD!!! Our train was still on the board, we rushed to the platform and it was still there having been delayed for 40 minutes, exactly how long we needed it too.

Some of you probably don't believe that God exists, or that prayers are answered, or even that God cares about the little things.

We do!