A month ago I was sad to be leaving India and wished I could have extended my stay. Despite the two experiences being so wildly different, I was sat in Bangkok airport yesterday thinking the very same about south east Asia. It was nothing like what I expected, it was clean, the people were friendly and there was a general efficiency about everything. I had an image in my head of dirty little, crime filled alley ways and canals filled with the corpses of mangled dogs, but I was very much wrong. I will admit we didn't stray far from the tourist and commercial areas, so we only witnessed the more attractive sights, but I was still expecting things to be far worse than they were.
The pinnacle of cleanliness and efficiency was Singapore. It had everything you could ever desire all in a neatly presented and user friendly format. The disappointment was that, to so much as survive there for more that 3 days, requires a disposable income equivalent to that of a premiership footballer. After escaping moments before bankruptcy was imminent, the next leg of the journey took us through Malaysia and we got our first real glimpse of the Jungle environment. Singapore's concrete had sheltered us from the wilderness but the moment we crossed over the boarder to Malaysia there it was, densely packed shrubbery for as far as the eyes could see. It was while we were in amongst the foliage that one of my fondest memories of Malaysia occurred, our DIY jungle trek.
The village people of the Cameron Highlands were about as friendly as they come. So friendly that instead of charging us any money for a guided jungle tour the organiser printed us two maps and advised, that as we were fit young men and appeared worldly wise, we could do the trek ourselves. We couldn't believe our luck, not only did he provide us with the routes to take but also didn't require any form of payment. It backfired spectacularly. After around 5 hours the route led us through an aborigine village in the middle of nowhere. We got so lost, we had to ask for advice from local children to put us back on the right track. How we would have found it without them I will never know. The path eventually continued through somebody's back garden in between two chicken coops and between a gap in the foliage around the length and depth of an ironing board. 
Things got even worse about 2 hours later when we discovered that the route we were taking had been hit by a major landslide and the path was now around 200m below us. Needless to say we were impossibly lost. We had to make a diversion, of roughly 3 miles, out of our way before we rediscovered another route to safety. To top it all, our only provision consisted of 1/4 of a bottle of water that had accidentally been left in our travel bag. I kept thinking "What would Ray Mears do?" and looking back the simple answer was that Ray Mears wouldn't be daft enough to enter a jungle with nothing but a dribble of water and James Peel for company. Poor Rory had to put up with my Jungle Book medley that lasted around 3 hours and my constant nagging. "Oh go on let me drink it. If you get thirsty ill drain you some fresh water out of a bamboo tree. I've seen it done on TV, honest."
We eventually returned from the jungle, somehow without Rory pushing me off a bridge, and started islands hoping. This section of the journey was brilliant for making friends. Everywhere we went, we met new people. To be honest I'm getting sick of all the Facebook friends requests, I just can't keep up with them. It was also where I decided to curb my spending and become Mr. Thrifty. It's in my blood to be careful with money. My Father is one of the finest financial-accumulators ever to have lived, yet remains wonderfully generous. Recently it occurred to me that I was haemorrhaging money at an unsustainable rate and would be heading back to England long before planned if I didn't alter my lifestyle. I've gone down to 2 square meals a day, unless breakfast is included with accommodation, and started carefully considering each and every purchase.
Yet again this hasn't always paid off. An example of this was when I visited a pharmacy in Chiang Mai to get some new deodorant. I was wondering around the aisles searching for the cheapest option available, when I discovered a multi-pack of Thai Ultra Deodorant. The can was plain white à la Tesco basics and was wrapped in packs of 3 by cellophane. 3 cans for the price of one was just what I was looking for, my father would be proud. The other information on the can was written in Thai, a language I'm far from fluent in, so I just picked it up and walked to the counter. My basket contained the deodorant along with a couple of other items, moisturiser for my sun burn and "party feet" blister plasters, required for my sore trekking feet. As I paid the cashier was looking at me in a slightly odd and over friendly fashion but I thought little of it and walked back home. It turned out I had just purchased three cans of what can only be described as prostitutes perfume and it suddenly dawned on me, the items I had just purchased were hardly masculine.
For those unfamiliar with the Lady boy culture in Thailand, they are everywhere. I had just been to a shop and purchased female deodorant, some softer-skin moisturiser and a set of plasters designed to prevent blisters when wearing high heels. When in Rome......
