A Travellerspoint blog

How many Cambodians can you fit in a minivan?

The never ending bus journey - All aboard the Asia express

semi-overcast 35 °C

32 hours, over 400km on what I'll dub the worlds longest unmade road and 4 buses later we rolled into Luang Pra Bang in Laos (somehow, as I'm not sure how the tyres stayed on the bus based on the potholes we were hitting and the resulting height I was jumping out of my bed/seat/plastic stool in the bus gangway). Forget doing a marathon, surviving a journey like this was a real test of body, mind and how much padding you have downstairs!

In the days before making this journey and leaving Vietnam I said goodbye to James who headed back to Europe, and spent an extra few days in Hanoi. During this time we visited the mausoleum of Ho Chi Minh, the former leader the country is infatuated with. Despite the old chaps dying wish to have a simple cremation, the Vietnamese went and built a huge shrine to contain his preserved body....he even gets a 2 month holiday every year to visit his friends in the motherland (Russia) - a chance to top up on his embalming lotion and get his beard preened. It was a bit of a strange affair as we filed past his body with a mix of fanatical Vietnamese people and westerners all promising to go away and read about the man himself in order to know who they were actually looking at, and not just an old man who had a marvellous beard. The last sights seen, Al and I headed to the My Dinh bus station for what certain travel books/sites described as a short and enjoyable hop to the border....

I consider myself lucky not to get travel sickness especially when taking into account the state of many Asian roads. I do though have the unfortunate knack of positioning myself close to those who aren't so fortunate. And so it was, having already completed the first sleepless leg from Hanoi and on the bus crossing the Laos border behind a sweet old lady, that mount Etna erupted, with me being in the firing line...the now not so sweet old lady in everyones bad books, in particularly mine...at least the locals on the bus could have a good laugh at the irrate westerner...nothing that a change of shirt, change of seat and a group photo with mount Etna and her slightly less green other half couldn't solve! Fortunately 2 hours later we changed onto an air conditioned 'sleeper' bus and spent the next 6 hours clinging to the side of hills and clinging to the rails of the bed on board.


Laos really is the land of the long and winding road. If you get travel sick do yourself a favour and fly over this place, or sit next to me on the bus.... What a contrast this place is to the manic streets of Vietnam, you could sense the world was turning slightly slower here the moment you crossed the border. Picture rural scenes, laid back locals and half cut tuck tuck drivers on our arrival.... drunken bullet dodged we checked into a hotel next to the bus station at 1am and headed into Luang Pra Bang old town the next day.

Luang Pra Bang was like a small peice of France in Asia. Bakeries, French cuisine and a small army of French tourists...the real french foreign legion maybe. The place was also crawling with monks and packed with temples, and played host to a daily morning ritual where the monks walk down the street collecting offerings of food....I'm sure it used to be different, but all I saw was a bunch of miserable monks being given chocolate bars by photo hungry tourists. Next time I'll bring a box of celebrations to cheer them up, I'll even take the bounties out for them!


The town was also close to one of Laos must see sites, the Si Phan waterfalls. This place was paradise and an ideal location for my now official photographer Al to get the April photo for my calendar - Al for some reason refused to have a swim, hàe is from North Yorkshire though so I'll let him off.....he was probably learning kestrel handling or whippet maintenance while we learnt how to swim and talk properly (not proper) down in civilised Derbyshire. The next day it was time for Al to return home to London and following a last bowl of noodle soup and a morning cycle to see the town and Mekong river up close he was on his way and I booked my ticket south to Vang Vieng.


Vang Vieng, the Blackpool of Laos....who would have thought it! Instead of the big dipper you had floating down the river in a giant inner tube, every other shop was selling fry ups or other western food, and in the bars in between you could watch re-runs of friends or family guy on repeat, whilst drinking your own body weight in beer lao! Heaven for all those home sick travellers wanting a slice of what they left behind. A bizarre experience for everyone else, especially the locals, who must shoulder some responsibility for creating this strange peice of timewarped western culture in an otherwise stunning location. Keeping with the express theme I only spent one night here, before hitting the capital Vientiane for a few hours.


There's not much to say about the capital other than its there and it also had some clothes shops allowing me to buy a new pair of shorts to add to my dwindling wardrobe....hats off to all those travellers lugging round 20 outfits and hair straighteners, I'll stick to the scruffy curly look and avoid the Quasimodo back in the long run thanks! I did also get a lao massage with the intention of unwinding before the journey ahead....little did I know, rather than a relaxing rub, this constituted being hit like a boxers punch bag by an extra straight out of budget kung fu film. Battered and bruised I borded the night bus to the south, and following a further connection and a ferry I arrived in what finally felt like the real Laos, a place known as the 4000 islands. The guesthouse I stayed in had a box seat view of the Mekong fisherman hard at work, and there was only a handful of tourists spread across the island.


The next day the quest to express through this region continued and involved several more boats and buses, a corrupt border crossing between Laos and Cambodia (surprisingly the chap at the border didn't react too well when I asked him how much of the extra $15 he was charging was going in his pocket) and a close 'romantic' encounter with a sozzled local bloke, who gave me a beer (at midday), wished me a happy new year, put his arm around me and having gazed lovingly at my hairy chin, whispered in my ear 'you are beautiful'. Just like the next bloke I'm always happy with a compliment, but in this particular case I thought better of the advances and hid near the toilets until the next bus turned up!


How many Cambodians can you fit in a minivan? No this isn't another tasteless UKIP joke, but instead a real event...at the last count 32 on the inside and 10 clinging to the roof...the van in question being designed to carry 15, all the way to the capital. At each stop it was like a scene at a circus, the one where a really small car turns up and somehow more and more clowns are able to get in! The journey was worth it though to reach Phnom Penh...this place was an incredible city, full of landmarks, great eateries and the legacy of a dark history of brutal regimes and war.

If Laos was the long and windy road then Cambodia was the long and broken one....what they need are some blokes to turn up on their doorstep offering to tarmac their roads rather than their drives. It would get it done a lot faster! Another bone rattling journey and I'd made it to Siem Riep, gateway to the 8th wonder of the world, no not the Crooked spire of Chesterfield, but Angkor, an ancient landscape of temples and ruins. Time not being on my side I managed to squeeze my visit here into a day and a bit....hectic but incredible!

This left me with one final bus journey to Bangkok, my original destination in Asia and just in time for another new year celebration (apparently its the year 2058 here meaning I've tasted the future....and its a spicy!). The new year here involves a huge water fight lasting over 3 days...I always enjoy being welcomed to a city by water pistol toting youths!


11 days, 88 hours on the bus, 3 countries and a lot of passport space used...Express route done. Would I recommend doing it this way to anyone...unless you enjoy extreme travel endurance, absolutely not....bring on Burma!

Repeat after me. 'I will never complain about leg room in economy again'

Posted by stuhutchuk 08:02 Archived in Laos Tagged travel bus cambodia thailand vietnam laos angkor backpacking newyear Comments (0)

Destination Hanoi

sunny 30 °C

We've made it! By various means of transport (only one for James who nursed his bike home on yet another slow puncture), 26 days later....Hanoi! The capital of Vietnam and another shrine to crazy traffic and the hoards of motorbikes this country is obsessed with.

As I'm writing this our bikes are in peices, unlike their owners fortunately, and on their way on a 4 month voyage back to the UK. I've told myself I'll take up tour cycling back in the UK...let's see how long that one lasts.


Back to where I left it last time and back in the saddle. This time the short 25km hop north to escape the tourist packed streets of Hoi An and head for Denang, a growing metropolis by the sea. With an audience of 3 watching us leave the hostel my bike bag frame promptly broke again, luckily this time the recently arrived Al now 'Sherpa Parr' offered his services to take it on the bus and James and I set off at record pace....cycling sure is easier when you don't have the equivalent weight of a child on the back that has had a few too many licorice allsorts! On arrival we checked into yet another abandoned resort and went out to celebrate our arrival by eating a boat load of seafood and sinking a few beers...and one or two rums, just to steady those cycling legs of course.


Bike frame fixed and suitably recovered, the ride north continued. The destination Hue, the distance 125km and close to the official half way mark of Vietnam. This was also to be the last large stint of cycling for me, as I now had the convenient excuse of needing to keep Al company on the bus....someone had to step up! This day also presented itself with a decision, whether to take the scenic route or the direct highway. Scenic route chosen based on the argument this will either be the best decision or the worst decision of our lives we set off. An hour later and having weaved for 10km up a hill akin to Mt.Everest the summary of this choice went something like...scenery: incredible choice, physical ability to complete the route without needing the magic sponge / kiss of life (ideally not from James or one of the toothless truckdrivers): borderline madness to choose this route. We eventually made it, thanks in part to a lucky bracelet I bought half way up from a chap who after I bought it said there was a leper colony on the beach below. He never did say if they made the bracelet down there...


All the toil though was more than worth it as we were rewarded at the top with incredible views, a short walk to some remnants of the Vietnam war (the top of the hill was a former strategic outpost for the US) and an all important ice cream...all that was missing was the flake! The rest of the ride to Hue was action packed too, but to save your time reading I thought I'd summarise it in bullet points:

- An offer of marriage - she did have most of her teeth. A real keeper

- Being taken in by a local lady and given food when at near collapse - life saving 2 minute noodles and sugar cane which is tough on your gnashers, maybe explaining the local tendency to be orally challenged

- My bag frame shearing completely off the bike in front of a school at closing time and being surrounded by kids - always the entertainer


- Having to carry my bag on my back for the last 30km - those gifts might just have been sacrificed

- Arriving in the dark a full 12 hours after we set off - I knew that head torch would come in handy again

- BBQ chicken and beer to celebrate arriving

Hue was another city firmly on the tourist trail and with its riverside setting and old citadel it was well worth a visit. It was though now dawning on us and especially James that we needed to be in Hanoi in 6 days and in between here and there were some caves I'd been 'banging on about' since day one. Being from the peak district area I've been brought up near (not in) some impressive caves, so I wanted to see if this place could top Castleton...surely not I hear you cry!

Two days later and after a short boat trip to the mouth of the Phong Nha cave I had my answer. This place had more stalegites and stalegmites than you could shake a cave man's club at. The trip to paradise cave the next day only made this inland detour better. Fred and Barney forget Bedrock city and get yourself to Phong Nha!


After the caves we parted ways again, knowing the next time we met it would be in Hanoi with a celebratory beer in hand. Between us and our destination, for James another 500km of highways, high octane drivers and half built hotels...for Al and I 10 hours on one of the infamous night buses, with beds designed with the average local in mind...if your under 5'5" and built like a stick insect you're in luck. Al and I also had a spare day which we spent at the Vinh Moc tunnels learning what life was like as a borrower/to live in a network of underground tunnels during the Vietnam war. Resilient bunch this lot! Tour of the tunnels and old north south divide complete (no Watford gap services here, just a big river, some huge flags and the old speakers used to pump north/south propaganda at each other back in the day) we knew our chariot for the next 10 hours awaited.

Having folded myself into bed, I slept surprisingly well (except for a slightly hairy 2am highway pitstop in the pooring rain. I knew they wouldn't leave a man down though...especially not with their obsession with trip advisor) and woke the next morning in Hanoi. James followed suit the next day, hats off to you mate...having ridden alongside you I can vouch for what an achievement that was! And that takes me to where we are right now, on a boat in Halong Bay enjoying some well earned R&R...cycling adventure over, and bikes on their way back home having been mummified in celotape to help them survive their voyage home. From here its back to Hanoi and onto Laos, very much by petrol power for this leg!


Posted by stuhutchuk 06:18 Archived in Vietnam Tagged travel vietnam hanoi halong backpacking cycling hue phongnha Comments (0)

Blood, Sweat and Innertubes

Confessions of a Vietnamese Cyclist

sunny 35 °C

I've been hit...not by Jeremy Clarkson (as far as I'm aware) but by two things. The first an evil keneivel-esque scooter driver, more on that one later and the second by the realisation that for a cycling novice, covering the whole length of Vietnam in 30+ degree heat in less than a month is simply not possible.

Anyway, as previously promised some images relating to the last blog and some proof of the cycling undertaken...not a trace of Photoshop in sight and definitely no generous airbrushing.



Vietnam, where a winner of who wants to be a millionaire will need to go back to work within the week (1,000,000 dong is worth roughly 30 quid) but the locals don't need to take a wheelbarrow for their money, as the notes start at 1,000 and average price of a beer is 20,000. The scenery here is incredible and seeing the country by bicycle really has been the best way to experience it first hand. It was though unfortunately starting to take its toll on me and on the third big day of cycling in 5 days I hit the wall....we left Mui Ni early only for my bike frame to break under the weight of my pack...must be all those gifts I've bought for everyone back home. After a quick fix we set off again into what can only be described as a desert. Imagine the scene, cycling up hill for mile after mile, in conditions similar to a blast furnace and to be greeted at the top of the hill not by a mirage of a luscious oasis but instead by a grave yard. Graveyards aside the ride once again was incredible but I knew I was pushing myself to the limits and holding my co-rider up to. After making another 130km and spending the night at a dodgy truck stop...I can't think how this place didn't make the lonely planet book...we arrived to Nha Trang (I actually had to take a bus for the last 30km after my knee told me too), where in my exhausted state I was convinced by a middle aged local called Chan to go on a motorbike tour through the central highlands. My thought process going something like....does booking this tour get me away from a bicycle..Yes...I'm in! Despite the years of advice I had absorbed from watching Ray Mears survival programmes and how in a time of crisis you should never split up, James and I agreed that we would go our separate ways and meet in Hoi An in 5 days. Besides I've lost faith in big Ray having seen him pile on the pounds eating various indigenous people out of house and home, to the extent where he can no longer teach survival and has been forced to survive on ITV presenting nature programmes.


It was like Laurel leaving Hardy, Torvill leaving Dean and Paul leaving Barry Chuckle all rolled into one. With goodbyes said I wished James aka the missing member of team sky good luck on his mission to plow on up the coast and headed in land with Vietnam's answer to Confucius. I spent the next 5 days clinging on to his motorbike and taking in the amazing sights, food and elephant racing, yes elephant racing. Apparently the festival where they race these giants, much like the Olympics, only comes round every 4 years. Unlike the Olympics however there is no online ticketing system and my status as a rare visitor guaranteed me ring side access (that and being taller than all of the security....first time for everything). Confusious take on this...lucky man book tour, but wise man book tour on eve of elephant race. Even wiser man doesn't stand near the finish line when 3 tonnes of flesh and ivory is bearing down on you!


Tour of the highlands complete, I returned to the coastal town of Hoi An, another Mecca for tourists. And being the tourist I am headed straight to what the town is best known for, its taliors. Vital measurements taken and with the promise of a suit, shoes and shirts being ready for the next day I was reunited with my bike and James and I planned out a 'leisurely' ride to some local Hindu ruins the next day.....what could possibly go wrong.

Motorcycling lesson 1: when you are pulling a trailer, don't forget you are pulling a trailer. Unfortunately for me that morning shortly after breakfast I crossed paths with a motorcyclist that must have somehow evaded this question on his test....shaken and with a gashed leg I did what all travellers do best, grabbed my camera to record the moment! Despite this early setback we carried on and made it all of 10km until the next drama. Tyres slightly flat we decided to stop at one of the many road side garages to get a top up. My front tyre done, the chap moved on to the back...Bang! The look on his face was priceless but unlike a game of cluedo, this whodunnit was obvious..Mr.mechanic, with the air hose, on the garage forecourt! To top it off he wouldn't even let me use his toilet while we replaced the inner tube by the side of the road. Before we got to the ruins we had a further 3 flat tyres between us....someone was definitely trying to tell us something. It was however worth all the blood, sweat and innertubes...the ruins were spectacular. 3 flat tyres, one over zealous mechanic, a coming together with a local motorcyclist and another 84km clocked...not bad for a rest day!


Tailored suits tried on and an additional member of the entourage collected....an old uni mate Al, we headed out of Hoi An and up the coast to the less touristy Danang. Next up, the road to Hanoi...to be continued.

Posted by stuhutchuk 08:01 Archived in Vietnam Tagged beaches travel vietnam backpacking cycling hoian centralhighlands easyrider Comments (0)

Good Morning Vietnam

sunny 34 °C

First up apologies for the lack of photos....the internet where I am is just too slow. There will be some next time when I return to civilisation....

We're here! Having made the short flight over from Kuala Lumpur, James and I made it to Saigon or as its now known Ho Chi Minh city. The plan for the next month, to ride locally bought bicycles and take the odd train/bus/motorbike where required from Ho Chi to Hanoi, roughly a 2000km journey into the unknown!

Now someone once told me that the secret to success is preparation, preparation, preparation. Wise words and ones I felt I should have heeded prior to this trip by bike. James had spent the previous two weeks cycling through Borneo and the month prior to that training in Kuala Lumpur. I on the other hand chose a different approach....why waste valuable energy training!

So straight from the plane to our hostel, MiFuki Inn...yes that is its real name and yes that is the reason we chose it. Reading the reviews might have been a wiser way to choose a place rather than the most amusing name competition. We then went in search of a bike shop and after a few false starts found somewhere and started the long winded translation of what we needed, where we were going and how much. Bikes bought and with a bit a dutch courage ( a tiger beer and some wierd stir fry) we peddled off back to the hostel. A baptism of fire to say the least in the local traffic! A picture says a thousand words....and refering back to the earlier apology on the photo front you can make your own mind up on cycling Vietnam style on the next installment.

The next day we tried to buy some accessories for the bikes. However this proved impossible as most bike shops were closed on Monday...it soon dawned on me that my bike set up would have to be more Heath Robinson than Bradley Wiggins and I would have to make do with some well placed bungees and hope the saddle sores stayed away. Shopping attempt complete we headed to the Vietnam war museum, a pretty sobering affair and a real insight into the horrors of war....and also where seemingly every tourist in town had gone for the day, it was like a Noah's ark of Europeans.

D-day, destination Hanoi. And so it was on the 3rd March those brave explorers James 'Captain Cook' Smith and Stuart 'Marco Polo' Hutchings set off on their epic journey (only to get lost 5 minutes down the road and realise the Google maps image was upside down). The going was good on the city roads and the driving as crazy as ever...this place is the capital of the small scooter and much like a swarm of wasps they buzz around the city, somehow avoiding each other and to date thankfully us too! We soon hit the countryside and with it a real sense of being off the beaten track and also a sense of being minor celebrities....I don't know how the queen waves to so many people. She must either have wrists of steel or a fake hand on a wire that waves when she presses a button. We eventually arrived after 120km at our stop that day, the strip of abandoned/underutilised resorts built for the tourists that never came in Ho Tram. A very strange place and not one to linger in...unless you want a 400 room resort to yourself or a round of golf where you could have a caddy for each individual club in your bag.

The next morning we set off early, another long day in the saddle ahead and my legs surprisingly OK and not too John Wayne at this stage. We also agreed that this time we would stay in a more well known town, ride on the coastal roads and take a well earned rest day afterwards. I also learnt a valuable lesson....if the shirt you a wearing, whilst cycling in blazing sunshine has a hole in it, don't forget to put suncream where that hole is. Cue a traditional english T shirt tan with the interesting feature of a big red circle right in the middle of my back....aloe vera my new best friend. Day two and another 130kms ticked off despite my aching limbs and more map issues for Captain Cook, we made it to Mui Ne and seemingly little Russia! Having spent a few weeks in the Ukraine previously I know the Russian alphabet when I see it and sure enough the town had been taken over by Sergei and co...I half expected to be greeted by Vladimir Putin himself, nostrovia! Not a fur coat in sight though, and having cooked on the bikes for another day we had some well earned beers.

I'll leave it there for now, mainly as that's as far as we have got and we are planning a 5am start tomorrow to reach Nah Trang. 253kms down, just 1800 odd to go....and the Bradley Wiggins mutton chops are in fine form for the road to the finish line.

Posted by stuhutchuk 07:34 Archived in Vietnam Tagged travel vietnam backpacking cycling muine hochiminhcity Comments (2)

On The Run In Borneo

sunny 30 °C

Not from the law or anything that sinister, but two stories from my brief time in Borneo that lend themselves to this title...onto that shortly.

First up a bit on Borneo and the welcome relief it offered following the days spent in Asian metropolises. The air was clear, the countryside stunning and it had more wildlife than a Saturday night out in chesterfield.....I tried to spend as little time in the towns as possible and seemingly as much time as possible on public transport being forced to watch/listen to re-runs of old kung fu films!

I also learnt a lesson ...don't believe a word a local tells you when it comes to transport....the chap next to me on the flight over couldn't have been nicer...he told me loads about the local bus services, what I could do in the short time I had and also that his name was Falcon....how can someone with that name possibly be wrong about everything he told me! A similar story with another local who I got chatting to on the bus to Brunei. (sploiler alert for the later on the run story) He proceeded to tell me that like him I would have to stay in Brunei that night and that there were no further ferries that day to other places. Lo and behold who do I see on the ferry out of there that evening, cheeky grin beeming back.....at least this fellow wasn't named after a bird of prey. I'll call him pinnochio, keep telling them mate and watch that nose grow.

The first place I stayed in Borneo was a town called Miri and I was taken to my hostel by Joseph the taxi driver who proceeded to warn me about the Chinese locals, their woeful bus service and also their potential to go a bit Jackie Chan if you aren't careful - his words not mine, and its all captured in HD video if the evidence is ever needed. Prior to arrival I was told that due to Chinese new year the hostel was actually due to be closed, but they would let me stay and that apart from two others the hostel was all mine.... I was already planning the party....
Amazing you think, that is until the owners son aka sleeping beauty rocked up at 2am pissed as a fart and snored at a level of noise similar to the 'suprise' fireworks at 2am.

The next morning I rose early and took the bus to Brunei. Several passport stamps and a chance encounter with the Borneo cyclists later (see earlier thirsty monkey blog - all of them just about still intact) I was in one of the smallest but richest counties in the world. And also as I quickly realised one with very little to do, especially at Chinese new year and especially if you are a woman. This became apparent not due to my growing locks, but having met up with two Germans Frank and Sabrina from Berlin it became apparent that Sabrina wasnt able to do very much at all in this place. To be fair no one really can, drinking is illegal, smoking in certain places carried a hefty fine and the whole city was closed between 12 - 2. Having visited the one and only attraction, a giant mosque and the sultans bizarre attached marble boat I jumped at Frank and Sabrinas offer to go with them on a ferry to the tax free Haven island of Labuan and do a runner Butch Cassidy and the Sundance kid style. What a great decision, Frank turned out to be a published travel writer with a legion of excellent tales and the three of us had a great night out started by rum and coke poored at the hotel by the light of my head torch following a power outage...I knew I brought it for a reason!


I then made my way to Mount Kinabalu, the highest peak in South East Asia and managed to collect one of the most bizarre people I have ever met at the bus station. This 70+ year old British chap proceeded to tell me his life story over the next few hours/days (I lost track/the will to live), where amongst other things he said he was a trained chef, black belt in karate, former TV celebrity, former millionaire and now lived on a yacht with his 5th wife...what did it for me though was on telling him I was a reasonable darts player he told me he too was a dab hand and used to get at least two treble twenties on each visit to the oche! Some stories are just too hard to believe. The second on the run story then and this one involving the man who will probably claim to have climbed Everest before Hillary and only wearing shorts and a string vest. Despite being told the day before the mountain trail to the top was fully booked we decided to rise early and do a shorter trail and take in the sun rise over the mountain. We rose at 6 and without water or any appropriate gear the old chap set off and said he would wait for me to catch up at the entrance. You can probably see where this is going.....I got to the top and no sign of him at the entrance, the local restaurants or the two hours worth of jungle trails I jogged to find him. At least the hostel dog that followed me all the way stayed loyal. I then raised the alarm to the non plussed staff who raidioed out only to find he had registered himself on a separate walk. To be honest I was happy not to spend the day with him and had a great day with the people at the hostel playing cards with a view over the mountain... Halleluyah hostel, you were great!


The next morning I headed off further into the jungle (the old chap did return and as I fully expected showed no gratitude for my concern and instead bent the ear of an unfortunate British family about his new mountaineering tale). My destination a town called Sepilok, the reason, its proximity to a place to see our ginger cousins the orangutans. Another great hostel with views over the jungle and a chance encounter with some Americans I had met previously. The orangutans were great but it felt like a bit of a zoo experience. Better was the proboscis monkeys, with the nose that looks like a certain part of gentlemans body....this experience felt more wild as they charged around us at feeding time. This island really is a wildlife paradise, David Attenborough must have shares in this place!

Borneo was excellent but the time has come to leave and head back to KL for three days to recuperate before hitting Ho Chi Minh. Almost time to wake up each day to those famous words.....Good Morning Vietnam!

One final word on the Kuala Lumpur 'recuperation'. On the last day there I was offered the chance to take part in a hash run....if like me you have never heard of this, its basically a 10km slog through dense jungle in extreme heat, followed by a bit of a knees up. Great preparation for cycling Vietnam! Group shot below.... Very much the before shot!


Posted by stuhutchuk 16:57 Archived in Malaysia Tagged monkeys mount travel malaysia borneo kinabalu sepilok Comments (0)

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