Steve last wrote from the dusty, one-road Thai town of Chiang Khong, on the northern border with Laos. Since then we have spent 2 weeks or so in Laos PDR and arrived in the Cambodian nether-lands last Friday, making our way to our current location of Phnom Penh.

Chiang Khong was a tiny, sleepy place that didn’t seem capable of putting up too many tourists. However when we got to the border checkpoint, we realized how wrong an assumption that was. We were two of about 60 tourists making their way into Laos that morning, somewhat smashing my view of Laos as an intrepid, out of the way destination (I’d never even heard of it before we looked at a map of SE Asia).

Our first impression wasn’t too great, as not only did they crowd all 60 of us onto one old wooden slow boat meant to hold no more than 40 (the 60 didn’t include the 10 or so locals either), they then tried to scam us all (with a smile of course) by forcing us to buy ‘People’s insurance’ which we knew we didn’t need to have. Despite such an inauspicious beginning, the boat ride was great. We escaped the dingy boat interior to make our camp on the hot metal roof, along with the rest of the ‘rebel gang’ with whom we’d made friends. We spent 2 days chugging down the Mekhong river in beautiful sunshine, surveying the lush jungle and occasional tiny villages of palm-leaf huts on stilts, waving to half naked kids playing at the riverside.

The place we stayed overnight, Pak Beng, was a bizarre village that seemed to exist only for the tourist boats cruising in for one night at a time. Every house was a guesthouse and /or restaurant or shop. Despite not being too pretty, the stop afforded us our first experience with Lao coffee (so thick it doesn’t even drip off the teaspoon), Lao time (a new definition of slow), Lao kitchens (our restaurant was run by 10 year old kids, wielding huge cleavers, cooking on open wood fires whilst parents sat in the corner chewing beetel nut) and Lao people's desire to sell tourists extremely cheap marijuana.

We were all glad to arrive in Luang Prabang late in Day 2, more than anything to give our sore butts and sunburned bodies a break. Our rebel gang piled into a tuk tuk to a new guesthouse in town, where for 2.5 dollars we had a big, airy, clean double room, with bathroom and fans. Can’t complain at that. Luang Prabang is a picturesque town full of orange-robed novice monks, temples, cute houses and tourist infrastructure, which it manages to incorporate without losing its charm. We had two particularly memorable experiences there, firstly spending an evening being entertained by a family-run, sweetly amateur traditional Lao costume and dance show, and secondly the time we spent with wonderful Mr Leng.

Mr Leng was our tour guide for a day trip to a nearby weaving village and waterfall. For him and the tuk tuk + driver, we paid 15 dollars between 6 of us, and we all agreed it was the best money we’d spent in ages. Mr Leng was a sprightly, tiny, 68 year old, bright as a button and with a huge personality. His English was hilarious. “Lady and gentleman. Sir and Madam. Please to get into the car. If you need pee-pee, you tell me, we stop. If you want make photo, you tell me, we stop. This Lao Thai village, 14 kilometre. They have rice field” and so on. When I let on that I spoke French, we were then treated to his stock phrases in both languages. But even better than his English was his laugh. It’s far too difficult to describe properly, but I’ll try anyway. First he did a big belly laugh, shortly followed by 3 teeth together intakes of breath with a back of the throat 'gnnn' sound each time. Suffice to say every time he did it, all 6 of us cracked up and we all had bellyache at the end of the day. He also earned our respect when he trotted off across the rocks into one of the upper layers of the waterfall, and proceeded to show us how to take the leap into a rock pool 12 foot below by going first! A classic guy.

After a couple of days in Luang Prabang, we headed south to a village called Vang Vieng, on what was supposed to be a public bus but only contained tourists - room to stretch out for once. The ride was beautiful, up and down tree-covered mountains, past tiny villages perched on ridges in the middle of nowhere. The state so many people live in around the world hit me again. These people have so little, and yet they get on with it and make the best of things, and seem happy enough. Their homes can’t have changed in 100 years. They are still huts made of bamboo and wood (for the better off), with a corrugated iron roof every so often, cooking on open fires, without electricity or running water, just a communal hose on the outskirts of the settlement. And we think we have it bad sometimes. These people don’t even have the basic necessities we take completely for granted.

Vang Vieng came as a shock – it was the Khaosan Road of Laos, i.e. backpackerville extraordinaire. Still, it had a beautiful setting, surrounded by limestone peaks, and it was fun as our gang from the slowboat were all together again (we found ourselves on the bpacker conveyor belt through northern laos, which was great fun but not very intrepid. Our route through to Cambodia has taken us off it a bit, allowing us to feel a bit like explorers again). Unfortunately, both of us got ill there and we missed out on all the fun river-based activities on offer L. We did at least get to see a bit of the Water Festival celebrating the end of the rainy season on October 21st. It consisted of dragon boat races and lots of drinking/eating during the day and then floating individual candle boats down the river in the evening, which looked cool, but was less impressive than we expected as they kept being blown out by the wind. Most impressive was actually the lightning storm that evening. Incredible forks of light that illuminated the landscape like daylight. So much for the end of the rainy season.

From V. Vieng, we headed off the beaten track a little with another couple from our 'gang', Bryan and Claire. We were treated to another installment in our white-knuckle world tour by a tuk tuk truck taking us to Nam Ngum Lake. This is a huge lake formed when they dammed the Nam Ngum river to make a hydroelectric plant that now provides electricity for all of Laos and northern Thailand. It was beautiful, surrounded by hills, with lots of tiny tree-covered islets dotted along its centre. We presume they're the tops of the hills in the valley that was flooded.

On arrival at the sleepy (probably an overstatement) lakeside community, we were bemused to be told LP’s recommended Santipap island not only didn’t have a guesthouse, it had no food either. Hmm. A little investigation found there were 2 island guesthouses and got us a cheap boat ride out to see them both (with a boat driver who had stubs instead of fingers on his right hand - all the same length and looking worryingly like they'd been chopped off with a knife.). The first was a sad hole (you have to worry for the owner – no business I wouldn’t think), but the second afforded us a wonderful day and a half in isolated paradise. You could have walked around the island in 15 mins. All it had was an old french colonial style villa where we stayed in huge old rooms and a wooden hut where the family chose to live and feed the tourists. We had a great time chatting with our friends and chilling out. Apart from extremely basic food (we think we ate a gristly rooster instead of chicken - the poor thing hadn't had a good day as it came back from a cock fight that morning pecked to bits and bleeding), and the arrival of 4 more tourists on OUR island (!) on day 2, it was a perfect retreat.

From there we headed down to Vientiane, the 'capital' of Laos. Some capital. It was the saddest capital city I've ever seen, as it barely managed to pass itself off as a small provincial town let alone a capital. The only smart bit was a central square surrounded by tourist restaurants. The residential areas were dirt roads, open sewers, dilapidated buildings and dusty motorbikes. The main streets a little better, but despite a bustling market, our general sense was of poverty. The one redeeming feature of the place was the western expat community’s food joints (I know we’re not supposed to want it when we traveling but…). We wore a path between our guesthouse and a fantastic danish bakery that had me in heaven with its bircher muesli and salmon bagels. YUM!

We made a bit of an error getting to Vientiane, our only excuse being the lack of any real need to watch the day of the week whilst travelling. We arrived on Friday afternoon, fully planning to get our Cambodia visas the next day. Oops. So, having exhausted our brains weighing up every option open to us, we ended up staying 3 days in Vientiane, doing very little except eating well, looking around a bit and enjoying our first aircon room since Bangkok.

Thankfully getting our visas on Monday was very easy. Extending our Lao visas on Tuesday morning was a little more fraught, as I was left waiting for our passports 10 mins before our bus was due to leave, with Steve waiting for me with our bags on the bus heading south to the 4000 island region. Thankfully the nice immigration man didn't waste time and I managed to run to the bus in time. And that wasn't sweaty at all.

So there we were, setting off on a 12 hour bus ride (costing 3.5 dollars) in a basic ''private'' bus, feeling very pleased with ourselves for having braved the journey. All was going well until about 6pm (6 hours in) when we were nowhere near the half way point. That was the first of our random 45 minute stops, that I told myself were a good thing as they let the driver rest. As long as he continued to say no to the drunken passengers offering him beer, we would be ok. Then 9pm came, the second 45mins stop, and the fantastic news that we weren't arriving at midnight, but at 4am. Oh Joy. Still, we took it stoically - not really anything we could do. So, next thing we know, it's 11pm and we've stopped at some random house to unload the roof cargo for 30mins, straight after which we stop again. Until when? I asked. Midnight. But WHY? I asked. Nothing but averted eyes, half smile and shrug (the typical lao response if the answer is 'no' or not an answer they want to give). Next thing we knew, we were shaken awake and hustled to get off our bus and onto another one waiting for us, paid off by our driver. Not before I got the fright of my life finding 5 or 6 huge cockroaches all over my day pack. So then we found ourselves packed into a public bus, with no leg room at all, blaring video karaoke, lots more locals, surrounded by bags of some kind of grain that filled the aisles. Joy.

Somehow we managed to sleep a little before arriving at Pakse at 3.30am. Not an ideal time to find accommodation, so we decided to continue our journey onto the islands, which we were told was the destination of this bus at 6am. Next thing we know, cocks are crowing at dawn as we woke to a deserted bus, and our bus driver telling us we actually needed to find a different bus station to go south. Double joy. Suffice to say, we found said bus station and an open truck to take us south. We eventually got to our island, Don Det, at 11am, 23 hours after we left for a 12 hour trip.

Thankfully Don Det was great. The 4000 island region is the southernmost part of Laos and is so called because there are loads of islands in the Mekhong river, which reaches 14km wide here in the wet season. It was a beautiful area, and we found ourselves a great bamboo hut and a perfect place to sit and watch the river slide by at sunset. We spent a couple of days there, doing little except an early morning walk to see a waterfall and check out island life. It can't have changed much in 100 years either. Apparently the islanders are self-sufficient, which we can well believe given the number of animals running around, and all the fields. Our impression of the place was somewhat marred on the second night, when returning to our bungalow we found it over-run with cockroaches. Steve did the manly thing, zapping them with Raid, whilst I stood cowering on the bed, shining my torch in every nook and cranny to find more of the buggers. Even with our mosquito nets put up (by my hero), I proceeded to spend the night beset by invasions of Vietnamese (??) 'roaches in my dreams. We were only too happy to leave after that.

Our happiness evaporated when we realised we were in for a torturous morning crossing the border into Cambodia. This border is only open sporadically and the officials are known to fleece tourists for as much as they can. The first annoyance was actually that our Don Det guesthouse had fleeced us on the journey to the border, followed closely by the Lao border guards demanding 5 USD per person to let us out of the country - completely not legal, but nothing you can do when they have your passport and you want to leave (remember as a backpacker this is a travesty and good portion of your daily budget). As they well know, the bastards ('scuse the language). I know in the grand scheme of things we’re rich and they’re poor, but it doesn’t help when they’re taking the piss.

Next came the boat trip down the mekhong to the border town of Stung Treng. Yet again, they know they've got you by the balls, so to speak, so charged us 8 USD each for 1.5 hours on a motorised canoe. Then came the achingly slow Cambodian checkpoint. at least these guys smiled about it as they asked us for 10 USD each in return for our passports. Why? I asked, smiling back, to which one of them swept his arm to indicate it was for him and his colleagues. At least they were honest about it! I suggested 5 USD, with a smile, and they accepted it. It still got them about 50 USD that morning from the others with us. We were glad to get it over with and continue downriver.

Stung Treng was a dump. Unbelievably little to recommend the place, but annoyingly we had to stop for the night as the boats downriver only leave at 7am. So, next morning we found ourselves on a fast boat down to Kratie, along with lots of locals and a few tourists. It was a hairy ride, as this was a really fast boat (30 or 40 knots), and our driver kept it on full throttle even while zigzagging to avoid rocks or trees growing out of the river. Being near the back inside a metal boat with only 1 exit at the front was not ideal, but we survived ok.

Kratie was a great little place, apart from the pushy crowd of hotel touts when we docked. We found ourselves amidst really friendly locals, and installed in a brand new hotel with a great room and location for 5 USD. We spent our afternoon there doing what everyone who visits Kratie does, oohing and aahing at the rare Irrawaddy dolphins that hang out in the Mekhong nearby. Getting there and back was an experience I wouldn't have missed for the world. We hired moto drivers to take us the 15km to the dolphin area, a trip which took us through village life along a terrible, pot holed road (cambodia's speciality).

We spent the journey alternately watching the road and scary driving around us and waving to all the kids who joyously shouted hello at us with huge grins as we went past. The dolphins were amazing to see, they have bulbous heads like one of the whales, and there are only max 150 of them left in the world I think. They are being wiped out by Lao & Cambodian fishermen, as they get caught in the nets and die. Cambodian fishermen are the worst, as they practise 'bomb fishing', when they let grenades off underwater to kill the fish. The sound trashes the dolphins sensitive hearing. How cruel is that.

We left Kratie yesterday, but not before we had the first of the two most profoundly moving experiences of our trip so far, both at opposite ends of the spectrum.

We got talking to the waiter in our hotel restaurant, Pingue, who spoke great english and answered our questions about Khmer life frankly. His struggle to improve his lot in life was humbling (born in a village, beaten by his father, sometimes starving without rice. Everyone pays for education here, but he has no money so he's been teaching himself english, using newspaper to write on. He has no home but sleeps at the restaurant - a new job - to guard it), but what was most moving was firstly his delight when we gave him our pen, and then when we asked for his address, as we had decided to send him some books to help him with his english studies. It's amazing to think how small a gesture it was from us, but how much it seemed to mean to him. I hope he succeeds.

The second profound experience was this morning, in Phnom Penh, where we arrived yesterday on the boat from Kratie. It's a bustling, energetic city that gives no outward clue to its terrible recent past. It's crazy to imagine the place deserted, as it was in 1975 when the Khmer Rouge evacuated the entire place, sending the people to work as slaves in the fields, with the threat of immediate execution if they did anything out of turn.

What we saw this morning was the S-21 Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum. It is a former school that the Khmer Rouge turned into a prison and torture camp when they ruled between 1975 and 1979. 20,000 people, (men, women, children, a few foreigners) were held there, of which only 7 survived. Seven. At least 17,000 of the rest were taken to the Killing Fields near here, where they were beaten to death and buried in mass grave pits. It was the most horrific thing I have ever seen and left me feeling physically sick. The Khmer Rouge photographed every single victim, some before and after they were tortured. The recovered photos are displayed on the walls of one of the blocks of the prison. Their eyes are the worst thing to see. Uniformly dulled, blank, pain cut off, staring out at the camera, only the occasional face showing the pain and suffering they must all have gone through.

An artist who survived the prison painted pictures depicting torture scenes. Some of the torture equipment is still there, including bed racks, tanks they filled with water and their victims and the equipment they used to pull out victim's finger nails. We saw the rows of 0.8m x 2m cells prisoners were kept in day and night, and the mass cells where they were lined up on the floor, 4 rows of people lying feet together, held by iron shackles with an iron bar running through them all. They weren't allowed to speak or move under threat of worse suffering than death could ever be. We saw cabinets stacked with skulls recovered from the killing fields. We saw barbed wire put up around the building's balconies to stop desperate victims committing suicide.

Many people joined Khmer Rouge in fear of their life, as their only option. But more people than just Pol Pot must have been truly evil to get to this. I thank god I was born when and where I was so that I have never had to find out what suffering like that would be. Any person in this town over 25 will have been touched by it if not involved in some way - I shudder to think about it. I pray that the peace they now have continues, as these people have definitely suffered enough. I then found comfort in the fact that, walking around the city, you see people getting on with their lives, and moving on.

So, today has been unusual to say the least. I couldn't face going to the killing fields as I think we've seen enough. Tomorrow we move on to Siem Reap, apparently it's a beautiful journey, to see a more positive and uplifting part of Cambodia, the temple complex of Angkor Wat. We'll probably spend 2.5 - 3 weeks exploring here before heading across to Vietnam and then back to the beaches of Thailand for some r&r before we hit Oz.