Chiang Mai

Chiang Mai Hospital. Hours of it. Not very exciting. And stung by the doctor who ordered drugs I didn't need, held hostage the prescription until we'd paid for everything at 5 times the usual price, and prescribed a 3rd of the WHO recommended amount for the relevant drug. What it is to live with a German. . .

I've lost about 5kg in 3 weeks, assuming I'd mislaid another two previously. It's slightly terrifying, especially that we didn't notice. I look skeletal with bones protruding in places they shouldn't. Never again will I dream of being skinny. I keep looking round for the other half of my body.

Ul is ofcourse incredibly sympathetic and helpful. I'm allowed to do nothing and all eating is according to my slightest whim. . . Until it came down to the last chip of my chip only supper - which disappeared in a cat swipe: habit too strong.

Otherwise Ul spent the day looking for a new place to stay. After exhaustive searching, like a proud bird, he ushered me, nearly collapsed, into his number one choice. It turned out to be gap year central. Most people never seemed to leave it, but sat, semi-naked around its bar or bussed off in large organised groups together, waiting like open mouthed chicks to be gathered up in the morning. A fairly salutary vision of travellers in Thailand and fitting balance to our time in Chaing Mai. Ul keeps asking if I was like this aged 19. I think not. . . intermittently, but no. Far too earnest probably. It did convince us that Bangkok would be a better place to recover. Rapid SOS to the parents in Burma and by bed-time, gloriously booked back.