Squat toilets are the norm here. I'm not going to lie, it's pretty tough to do the number two while standing. I guess you'd get used to it after awhile.

Tommy guessed it: it's raining today. Guess that means no bamboo rafting. apparently, that's the best part of the trip, too. [What we didn't know is that today's rain meant a whole lot more than simply no rafting...]

From Eil's journal,

"You appreciate creature comforts a bit more here. There's a queue for the toilet and everyones taking ages, probably so we don't pee on our feet, and remembering to put the toilet roll in the bucket. After breaky off we went in the pouring rain to the next village. It should take us about 5 hours to get there. 10 minutes into the trek and we get to our first river crossing. [It's raging, and]All of us are thinking, yeah you're taking the piss we're not crossing that. But sure enough [our fearless leader, Jackie] enters the water and motions for the first person to cross.

"The bridge was still there when we got to it but the road before it was covered in water. It had been clear the day before. We stayed with [Jackie's brother's] family who were very hospitable and we all got to make spring rolls, although they weren't as good as the guides' version the previous night. The people were very colourful but bad teeth - can't afford dental treatment. And the men used to marry several women as he needed workers for his land. We watched one of the women taking the feathers off a dead chicken by putting it in flames then plucking - it stunk!! We finished the night off by playing a drinking game with jungle juice. It's made from rice, but tastes like potchaine, and is lethal."

As far as the bets on who would fall first, I volunteered myself due to my weak knees, but it turned out I came in second! Only by a hair of a second, though. In the back of the line, coming down one of the hills, Pam slipped down the hill. Moments later, the group turned their attention to the front as I mis-stepped and started sliding through the mud. I had two bamboo walking sticks, which would have saved me had they been sturdy, green bamboo, but these were a bit more fragile as they were brown and had started to decompose and become brittle. Either way, my support system snapped and I went sliding... Danilo tried to run alongside to save me, but I stopped before there was any need. Then, Caroline, being a bright soul, decided to step exactly where I'd been, in an effort to grab my lost and broken walking stick. "Jan, you left your walking stiiiii --- wooooahhh!" She slides down the hill. Being a clown, she keeps sliding down the hill. when she stops, she slides some more. By this time, her phenomenal hiking outfit is covered in mud, and everyone's demeanor has turned from shock and concern to nervous laughter.

Adam said I was wise and just let myself fall -- i obviously tried to shift my weight away from my bum knee. Either way, though, Jackie was freaked out, not only by the missing bridge and by having a group of 12 to get out of the jungle in the midst of a monsoon, but also with having a slightly injured girl on the trip who just nearly compromised herself by slipping. He promptly cut me two very green bamboo shoots as new walking sticks and after confirming everyone was okay, we set off again.

When we got to the alternative village, we had ample time to wander around and observe the villagers. A few of the houses overlooked the river, which was swollen beyond belief. Trees were half-submerged, and the river had swelled to about twice its normal width. I had a few pleasant moments of reflection to myself before the interested villagers wandered over and started pointing at the river and speaking in excited Thai. One amused and amusing man wore a little knit cap and knew a bit of English. He kept talking about Thai boxing-- Adam thinks he was suggested that's what we'd come to see and he was ready to show us... i'm not so sure. We both agreed he was probably high on opium.

it was cool to be surrounded by the villagers, even for a short time. They were as interested in us as I was in them-- I wished I could actually speak with them. One man looked like some sort of elder-- kind of a wise old man. He wore blue short trousers hiked way up, with a tshirt tucked into them. He was barefoot and had a wrinkly old face topped with a fuzzy brown hat with a pom-pom on it. He was a quiet reflector. Quite clearly, by the way he was teased by some of the folk, he might be something of an object of ridicule, but he seemed to be perfectly happy with the situation, and wandered around with the authority of a man who's been around.