Plans, public opinion and mud.

I could not sleep for shit.
Today I was supposed to be leaving.
Obviously, still in bed at 9.40 a.m., I did not.
Bedazzled and emptymindedly loved up came back to the hostel at something to 6 a.m. which meant I had half an hour to pack my plums and be off again. Instead I roamed the room for my super-useful book and my map, sat in the corridor elaborating over the current issue of future plans of action, achieved an ancient-wisdom-state-of-mind and decided to stay and live the people not the hills and rocks, there, waiting for me for all eternity anyway.

Woke Claudine up, told her about how Ian kissed me and asked her if she wanted to have breakfast with me from which she indeed assumed that I haven't gone (as originally planned, spontaneously publically persuaded and consequently re-planned).
After breakfast, almost immediately followed by my (first) runny-poo-session (my diagnosis stated light alcohol poisoning) we all met at Jimmy's bar, sat for a little while, pondered upon serious matters and carefully and rather slowly we set off for the mud caves.
Rusty and Claudine on a tandem bike, Greg on a super-dooper mountain bike, followed by self riding an old-fashioned pink machine with a basket in front and a bell on the right handle, how content could one's life be.
Ian and Elliot disappointed the cause for went back to bed to sleep off their hangover, not realizing that life itself is better a cure than any paracetamol.
And so we cycled towards Moon Hill where there was a huge, by all means perfectly even-by-the-most-illiterate-even-blind-tourists unmissable sign directing us towards the hut with the mud caves.
There were no mud caves in the hut and so we waited for the vehicle to take us to some. The vehicle turned up to be this motor-cycle-type-tractor-car thing and it took us miles and miles down bumpy rocky dusty town and country roads to somewhere completely else where they armed us with pink and yellow helmets and over-the-shoulder-to-be-hanged torches, for some reason Claudine, the lucky bunny, was bestowed with a pair of extremely unattractive plastic sandals which apparantely were less slippery than her original sandals, which they were not, and off we were.

Our guide was a really sweet boy, he kept pointing to various rocks, stalagnites and stalactites of various forms and shapes, most of the time not resembling what they were supposed to be resembling, but still they were very pretty. Except for the bats, the bats did very much look like bats (cute fluffy flying mice).
What an extremely calm and satisfactory life must pigs lead indeed. Our guide brought us to the long anticipated mud baths, a hole in the ground of the cave, filled with brown smooth heavy mud, topped with brown and very cold water. And after an hour we all looked rather different from what we looked like when our dear mothers cared for and cherished us (very much Gollum look-a-likes), happy little devils with shining eyes and broad white smiles, with mud down our pants and up our noses, and with no more hangover left.

Absolutely worn out though sheepishly happy we safely returned, showered and Claudine and I invaded the streets for our usual dinner hunt. We met up with the rest afterwards and absolutelly non-stereotypically we continued the party in Enter the Dragon.
Ian and Elli joined us eventually, we played some drinking games and tried to calm down an Ozzy guy who was getting all worked up about his girlfriend (and very much reminded me of JSU-not an ultimately best reminder but hey!).
The night brought us to Bar 98 and there we continued drinking delicious Chinese beer, talking mostly about ineresting nothings, and with Ian we made plans for climbing a hill tomorrow.