So there I was, back in Vang Vieng, home of the float-down-a-river-in-a-tube-whilst-drinking corporation. Laid in a hammock. Beautiful scenery. Beautiful weather. Beautiful girl next to me. Feeling very relaxed. What was I supposed to do? So I ordered myself a banana happy shake...

Now for those of you who don't remember, they're not called "happy" because they come in a smiley cup. Oh no. This "happy" means they're laced with weed or mushrooms or whatever other narcotic the (smack-head) chef decides to add. I started off drinking it slowly, as I'm not a big previous user of illegal substances, and I didn't want to make a fool of myself now did I? But halfway through and feeling fine I decided to show what a man I was and practically downed the last half. Whoooooaaaah, bad idea. I felt fine for about an hour, then we decided to leave and as soon as I stood up and the blood began circulating around my body I felt absolutely fucked. It's hard to describe exactly but the world started moving in steps instead of continuously, my heart felt like it was going to jump out of my chest, and then when we walked past a bar with some trance music blaring out my whole life seemed to be moving in time with the beat. Very strange. Very. I suggested to Kaori I should probably sit down before I passed out so we went to another bar. After an hour I decided I was fit enough to venture to the toilet. Unfortunately I had developed a drug-induced 5-second memory span, so after getting lost on the way to the toilet and walking in on some Laos-family's evening meal, I also got lost on the way back and said "hello" to the same family again. Even stoned I could tell they thought I was a wanker. I eventually made it back to the guesthouse, and then lay in bed for a few hours whilst incredible shapes and colours appeared and disappeared before my eyes. Kaori didn't help as she thought it was amusing to keep pulling faces at me from point-blank range. It was an experience I won't either forget or ever repeat. Managed to buy some flip-flops whilst high though.

The morning after that we met up with some Japanese friends and went tubing. I still felt quite fucked, but after a few bottles of Beerlao and a few more shots of whiskey I was on fire again. I just wanted to get pissed and float down the river ("float" in the physical-sense in a tube as opposed to the hippy-sense), but the Japs (is that racist?) decided we should go for a "short walk" (or a "shot wok" (is that racist?)) to a cave. Luckily the cave was about 400-metres up a steep incline, as slippy as fuck with sharp rocks and in complete darkness. Even luckilier (yeah I just made that word up) I was wearing my new flip-flops and didn't have a torch. Couldn't see shit. Couldn't walk. My feet now look like they've been through a mincer (a machine that makes mincemeat, not a poof).

So all in all a good couple of days. Stoned. Pissed. Very hazy memory. The culmination of all that was me having a dream that I was the new Harry Potter. Truly magical. I'm off to Bangkok.