LOVE ON THE ROAD

THIS WEEK ZOË GOES TREKKING AND BATTLES A BLOOD-SUCKING MONSTER

If there are two words guaranteed to turn Train Man from the cool guy he is into the biggest nerd I know, they are ‘National' and ‘Park'. Faced with maps of trails to be explored and a compass, his Boy Scout past starts to unravel before my horrified eyes.

We're back in Thailand now. We flew straight through Bangkok after our pregnant pause there last time, and headed south to the jungle in Khao Sok. Train Man wanted to go trekking, which I am doing begrudgingly given the heat. I'm ready for the beach now.

It's beautiful here though. By day the lush jungle reveals 4,000 shades of green I never knew existed; by night fireflies sparkle like nature's fairy lights. It's very romantic. But once we're getting ready to head out for a trek, I forget all this as Train Man turns into Action Man. "Put on your walking boots! We need two litres of water each! Bring matches so you can burn your loo roll!" Burn it? I'll hold on to it thanks.

But off we went this morning with said compass, head torch and the kitchen sink, into the depths of the jungle. It was so hot, within minutes my hair was matted and I gave up all hope of looking like Lara Croft, despite my cute shorts.

In the depths of the jungle I almost started to warm to it. Eating rice from a banana leaf by the river was idyllic, until I saw a creature sucking the blood out of my ankle. "Argh!" I screamed. "It's a leech," said Train Man. "Don't panic." It's hard not to when you see an animal drinking your blood.

But the nerdy Boy Scout turned into my hero as he took out his matches and burned the bugger off. Now I have less blood, a massive love bite and a desire to get me out of here. "Can we just go to the beach now?" I begged. Train Man saw the desperation in my eyes.

Our bus leaves in the morning.

Miles travelled: 1,107

Terse sentences exchanged: 3

Mosquito bites: 14

Next week: Zoë proves she's still a party girl

LOVE ON THE ROAD

THIS WEEK ZOË ENJOYS A FASHION FRENZY BUT ENDS UP NEGLECTED

I'm on clothing cloud nine. We're in Hoi An, Vietnam, where every other shop is a tailor and you can get anything made for a fraction of the price it would cost on Bond Street. Liz and I have gone crazy for Chloé copies and mock Marc Jacobs dresses.

While we've been poring over style files and swatches, a strange relationship has emerged. Train Man and Simon, who met through Liz and I (we've been friends since we wore DMs in the early '90s), have spent every minute going off for a beer.

Shopping with us must be dull, but I'm feeling neglected. And here's the weird thing: both are men of few words. Train Man is a mumbler, who unlike me, only speaks when he has something to say. Simon, a Scottish sweetheart with one of those accents that make call centre operatives melt, is a quiet soul who speaks only when Liz stops speaking, which is rare. So what the hell do the boys talk about?

We got back to Hanoi last night and Liz and I decided to go for a run around the lake – we have dresses to fit into after all. As the boys sat having another beer, Liz and I spent the entire run talking about clothes, weddings (hers last summer; my dream wedding) and babies (names we'd choose; names our friends have chosen).

After six turns round the lake, I asked Liz what she thought the boys talked about. "Probably motorbikes, football and beer," she mused. "I wish I was a fly on the wall," I said.

This morning I asked Train Man the futile question: "What do you and Simon talk about?"

"Hmmm," he pondered. "Motorbikes, football and beer." Dullsville. Perhaps I don't want to be a fly on the wall after all.

Liz and Simon return to Leeds this afternoon and I hope Train Man starts talking to me as much as he has to Simon.

Miles travelled: 658
Terse sentences exchanged: We've barely spoken
Bespoke dresses bought: Six

Next week: Train Man gets nerdy in the jungle

LOVE ON THE ROAD

THIS WEEK ZOË GETS HUNGRY FOR HER EASY RIDER

I've forgotten all about my homesickness. I don't even care that I have a terrible case of helmet hair. I've spent the past four days on the back of an old motorbike, holding on tightly to Train Man's waist… and I've loved it.

Our friends Liz and Simon arrived safe and well in Hanoi with chocolate intact, and we headed off the next day with our guide, Cuong. He runs a company which takes tourists beyond the city limits on Russian motorbikes, giving them a Vietnamese experience no other smug traveller we've met yet has bragged about.

The whole adventure reignited a spark between Train Man and me. I think it was the romance of holding onto him as he heroically negotiated scary roads. I wasn't even miffed when he stalled our bike on a railway crossing (Train Man indeed) – that's how intoxicating the scenery has been.

But back in Hanoi last night, Cuong unleashed a local experience on us that brought me back down to earth. We went to a snake restaurant for a farewell meal, as snake is special occasion fare here. Liz and I grimaced when a cobra was brought to our table, its throat slit, and the (still-beating) heart put on a side plate. The body was then made into nine dishes, one of which, snakeskin crackers, looked like shoes I'd owned in 1994.

"I'm not eating that!" shouted Liz, as I cunningly pushed my food around the plate with a smile, much like Posh at The Ivy, I imagine. Train Man and Simon were the heroes again, scoffing snake spring rolls and downing shots of snake bile as if they might actually like it. Gross.

Snake bile gave TM an extra spark. But as he leaned in for a kiss, I caught a whiff of snake bile breath and almost heaved. Really, how will I ever kiss him again?

Miles covered: 288, on two wheels

Terse sentences exchanged: 1

Desire to buy a cheap Vespa: Rising

Next week: Zoë's feeling neglected

LOVE ON THE ROAD

THIS WEEK ZOË'S WORRIED THAT THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME

I'm homesick. I feel like a spoilt brat even for thinking it, let alone saying it out loud. We're so lucky to be travelling for a year, but it's been more than three months now and I just wish I could teleport myself home for a day or two.

There's so much that I miss, but these are the things I crave the most: our comfy king-size bed; watching the new series of The Apprentice; returning from 
 Saturday morning run to Train Man's scrambled eggs on toast; running without being chased by dogs; meeting my friend Esther in Starbucks for a 'coffee' (but really having a caramel Frappuccino); chocolate that doesn't taste of plastic; sitting in my sister's kitchen trading celebrity gossip; reliable broadband; my baking tins; not having to haggle; TopShop...

I know it's silly. But I lost it yesterday when we arrived in Hanoi to yet another windowless hotel room.

"Aren't you homesick?" I asked Train Man, trying to hide my wobbly bottom lip.

"Erm, not really," he replied.

"Don't you miss anything from home?"

"I suppose I miss my Paul Smith cardigan," he said. Hanoi has been cold, but I wasn't sure if Train Man was feeling chilly, or is just a better traveller than me.

The best tonic for homesickness is a little piece of home, and it's on the way as I write. Our friends Liz and Simon are on a plane somewhere over the Middle East, bringing magazines full of gossip, Cadbury's chocolate and, best of all, themselves. We're going on a motorbike tour across northern Vietnam together, and having seen how people drive here, I'm guessing I'll be too terrified even to think about home…

Miles travelled: 818

Terse sentences exchanged: 0

Pining for The Apprentice?: Very much so

Next week: Zoë draws the line at a Vietnamese delicacy

LOVE ON THE ROAD

THIS WEEK ZOË FINDS A PICTURE OF A STRANGE GIRL IN TRAIN MAN'S WALLET

I'm so over my capsule wardrobe. Everything in it now looks shapeless and my frizzy hair is making me look like Captain Caveman.

Yesterday was Train Man's birthday and I wanted to look as fabulous as I did when I first started stalking him on the 8:21 – but it just wasn't happening.

I'd snapped out of being in a mood with him over the yoghurt. I had to – it was his birthday, and he made it easy for me.

It happened when we arrived in Vietnam and Train Man was taking photos on the streets of Saigon. He did that thing that always makes me weak: he stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, like a little boy concentrating, and I couldn't help but hug him. I'd been in a mood for three days, but being a Good Man, Train Man didn't punish me for my pettiness – or care that I'd ruined his shot.

After he'd arranged the houseboat in India on our anniversary I had to sort something special for his 33rd, so I booked us into the romantic Majestic hotel and reserved a table at Mandarin, Saigon's chicest eaterie.

I changed my outfit seven times before going out, which constituted pretty much everything in my backpack, and I piled on so much make-up, I made Nancy Dell'Olio look understated. I wanted to focus on Train Man's big day but you know what it's like when you feel rubbish: you fidget about until the mojitos kick in. And I couldn't let him know what was bothering me – that would not be cool.

I was $5 short when it came to paying, so Train Man slid his wallet across the table. As I opened it up, I saw a photo of a girl inside. "What's this?" I asked in shock, looking at the bare-faced girl with crazy curls and freckles scattered across her shiny face. "My favourite picture of you," he said coyly.

Now that is a Good Man.

Miles travelled: 158

Terse sentences exchanged: 0

Bad-hair rating: High

Next week: Zoë tries to hide a wobbly bottom lip