LOVE ON THE ROAD

Love on the road


This week ZoË and train man
go mountain climbing

THIS WEEK ZOË AND TRAIN MAN GO MOUNTAIN CLIMBING

It was my birthday on Wednesday and I slept with four men that night. It wasn't supposed to be like that but Train Man thought we should do something adventurous. Let me explain.

Not wanting to sit on a bus for nine hours, I decided to mark my birthday by climbing south-east Asia's tallest mountain, Kinabalu. That was the idea, anyway.

We flew from Kuala Lumpur to Sabah in Malaysian Borneo, where escapades aplenty are to be found river deep and mountain high. Train Man approved of my adventurous spirit as he's a Mountain Man. Somehow, he didn't think we'd been keeping it real in Topshop Kuala Lumpur.

We spent the day hiking up to the rest point while thoughts raced through my head. From: "I'm 32 but so alive!" to: "Where's the romance?" and: "This is his fault". At the lodge, 3,272m up, I realised all romance was out – our room was a dorm, already occupied by three guys from San Francisco. They were cute, though, so it could have been worse. And Train Man had sneaked chocolate cake into his backpack.

But as dark descended, so did a typhoon. We endured hellish wind and rain, which shook the lodge all night. To make matters worse, I got altitude sickness and vomited the contents of my stomach, including six yummy squares of cake.

I cried as I climbed into Train Man's bunk. "Need… a… doctor," I whimpered. Train Man held me tight – his bedside manner much improved – and assured me we'd be OK.

"Don't you ever get scared?" I squeaked.

"Erm, I'm quite scared now," he mumbled.

We're doomed, I thought.

At first light, we trudged down to sea level to recuperate. I've since told Train Man in no uncertain terms that I'm a Beach Girl and he can scale Everest with his mates.

Next week: Zoë and Train Man fall for an orang-utan

Miles travelled: 953

More terse thoughts than words

Birthday candles: 32

 

LOVE ON THE ROAD

THIS WEEK ZOË PONDERS WHAT HER TRAVELS HAVE TAUGHT HER

This week I had a realisation. I've been travelling with Train Man for four months and 19 days – a third of our trip. So this is what I've learnt about life and love in that time:

1. A Bollywood film is so long, it can take three nights to watch.

2. Single beds are big enough for two people – you just have to really like the person you're sleeping with.

3. For the best seats, get on a bus first but a boat last.

4. Old Vietnamese men make good running buddies (they're slow and encouraging).

5. Train Man can spend an hour taking one photo.

6. Sometimes Train Man loves his camera more than he loves me.

7. After six weeks of eating curry for breakfast, lunch and dinner, Pizza Hut doesn't seem that bad.

8. After six weeks of curry for breakfast, lunch and dinner, you will have gained weight.

9. Thai ladyboys have better legs than I do.

10. You can watch Man United play live anywhere in Asia.

11. I'm not the best Spanish teacher, and Train Man is not the best Spanish student.

12. If a travel guide calls a restaurant ‘classy', it won't be.

13. Three hours writing emails seems like three minutes.

14. Sometimes I love my laptop more than I love Train Man.

15. A ‘mid-range' hotel in India doesn't mean clean sheets.

16. Backpacking with a boy is great if you hate spiders.

17. You don't need half the products in your make-up bag.

18. Bangkok has the worst climate for a girl with wavy hair. I should have brought my GHDs.

19. Running in towns full of wild dogs is inadvisable.

20. Train Man is quite possibly the most beautiful and tolerant man in the world.

Miles travelled: 564

Terse sentences exchanged: 0

Pizza cravings: off the scale

Next week: Zoë celebrates her birthday up a mountain

LOVE ON THE ROAD

THIS WEEK ZOË AND TRAIN MAN BRAVE COLONIC IRRIGATION

Train Man's just come out of the bathroom and I've asked him what colour his poo was. It's probably the least romantic conversation we've ever had, but there are extenuating circumstances – we're staying at a spa where talking about your faecal matter is the norm.

After last week's partying, I thought it was time for a detox. I know it's melodramatic, but since India we've been a little lardy. Even Train Man – the only man I know who looks good in skinny jeans. Or used to.

So we checked into The Sanctuary, a delicious haven on an almost private beach on Ko Phangan, and set about the two-day ‘pre-cleanse' of eating tropical fruit and sumptuous salads.

On day three, the appropriately named spa manager, Moon, did a (clothed) demo on self-administered coffee colonics. I suddenly felt so guilty about what I'd badgered Train Man into that when Moon said the word "anus", I started giggling nervously. I soon stopped when he handed us the rubber gloves.

Although the colonics weren't enjoyable, eating nothing but clay shakes and herbal pills for four days was surprisingly easy given the serene surroundings. We've sunbathed by day and watched feel-good flicks with other cleansers by night.

And after Train Man watched The Devil Wears Prada with 20 women, I really owe him. Tomorrow we leave Poo Camp after a week and I'm pleased to say we're feeling perky. Train Man's eyes are sparkling and I haven't been this slim since I was 13. And the best thing? I'm not even craving pudding.

So what was Train Man's answer to my icky question? "Bright green, babe. Oh and I'm sure that Matchbox car I swallowed when I was three was in there."

We'll never speak of this again.

Miles travelled: 0.5 to the next beach

Terse sentences exchanged: 0!!

Poo Tube moments: 8

Next week: Zoë learns some home truths

LOVE ON THE ROAD

THIS WEEK ZOË PARTIES HARD WITH LADYBOYS ON THE BEACH

I realised this week that a wild and crazy night for Train Man and me now constitutes a game of rummy. Nothing wrong with cards, but we're meant to be on a year-long holiday, partying hard. And we must look dull to the 18-year-old backpackers around us. Then the worry hit me: what if we can't have fun any more? Have we just stopped drinking so much because we don't need the self-confidence boost?

"I want to go dancing," I announced on Saturday. What I meant was we need to go dancing, before we're sucked into a vortex of bridge and backgammon. "OK," Train Man shrugged, "I guess we're in the right place."

Right place indeed. We're in Ko Phangan, Thailand's party island, and it was the Full Moon the next night. Every month thousands of revellers with rubbish tribal tattoos grab glo-sticks and hit the beach. Secretly it's my idea of hell, but if Train Man and I can still have fun, there's no easier place to prove it. Four buckets of SangSom and one sandy butt-crack later (his, not mine), I even had Train Man dance with me to Shakira while hammered Swedes and ladyboys were stumbling around us. Brilliant.

By Monday we were on a roll and, despite banging headaches, decided to have a hair of the dog and keep partying. And with cocktail confidence abundant, we tried something we've never done before: karaoke.

And you know what? We weren't bad. Train Man, who usually mimes at weddings, actually sang quite well, and I think we even did Let It Be some justice. "Awww," I thought. A Fab Four classic, two whole nights of fun, and one happy couple.

And how did our false confidence ruin the moment?

By singing Vengaboys' Boom Boom Boom Boom.

Time to detox?

Miles travelled: 142, by land and sea

Terse sentences exchanged: 0

Nurofen consumed: 5

Next week: Zoë and Train Man recover at Poo Camp