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The rain is easing slightly. I sincerely hope that the siren I heard a few moments ago does not involve the young couple who left here on a motorbike. She had the tiniest umbrella I’ve ever seen and it must have been annihilated in the downpour that hit shortly after their departure. The streets get slick when wet; there are rivers running through them at the moment.

I am in Trat, my first stop in the journey to the Cambodian border. The Thai name looks slightly like the title of this post. I committed it to memory because I had no idea where I was supposed to disembark. In the end, I needn’t have worried as the driver and assistant were looking out for me. They even let me out before we reached the bus station because I spotted my guest house. That was easy!

Trat is a smallish town on the narrow strip of land between neighbouring Cambodia and the sea. My stay, though short, has been a breath of fresh air both literally and figuratively. Pop’s family-run guest house is not only clean, comfortable and cheap, but they’ve also arranged my entire trip to Sihanoukville for a nominal fee. My only worry for today will be the possibility of corrupt border crossing officials. I hear they try to charge enormously-inflated fees. I will smile and hand over $30 US and I’m prepared to stand there all day if I  must! You’ll know who won if my next post is from jail.