"'Well, fella, I wish I could help you. God knows I don't want you to go back without a story and get fired. I know how it is-I'm a journalist myself, you know-but...well...I get The Fear...can you use that? St. Louis Gives Young Men The Fear-not a bad headline, eh?' 'Come on Kemp, you know I can't use that; Rubber Sacks, The Fear?' 'Goddamnit, man, I tell you it's fear of the sack! Tell them that this man Kemp is fleeing St. Louis because he suspects the sack is full of something ugly and he doesn't want to be put in with it. He senses this from afar. This man Kemp is not a model youth. He grew up with two toilets and a football, but somewhere along the way he got warped. Now all he wants is Out, Flee. He doesn't give a good shit for St. Louis or his friends or his family or anything else...he just wants to find some place where he can breathe...is that good enough for you?'" -Hunter S. Thompson "The Rum Diary"

Malaria medication dream - I was in a stable-stall with a big chestnut stallion. Not sure why. At first we were calm, everything was fine, but I slipped and startled him. In his shock he began pummeling me with strong kicks, landing all over my face and shoulders. I could feel the shock of cracking bones and laceration. I fell to the ground and wrapped my hands around my head, some feeble protection.

We hopped on the bus and moved south from Tha Khaek, blowing past a lot of amazing things that we won't see this go-round. Time is short, my flight is booked, the days are numbered. We have to get to the killing fields. I had a rousing conversation about the zombie apocalypse last night that really raised my spirits and gave me hope for the future.



Even a nice bus for eight hours make me need a shower and a good rest, but this was pretty heinous, bugs and stink and thirty year old grime caking the seats. Water dripped in from holes in the roof. On occasion, the bus sputtered to a halt and some jerry-rigging got it barely running again. Twenty minutes of restless sleep left me feeling greasy and disoriented and I've tried it before, diazepam only makes it worse. The windows and the accordion door were open and a cool breeze stumbled through them - trees and homes and violent-green fields careened past them.



(Look upon my feet, ye mighty, and despair...)

The bus wound us up in Pakse, the biggest southern city of Laos. Not much for us here but a gateway to the islands.

Of the "4000 islands" three are set up as Falang destinations - Don Kong, Don Kon and Don Det. We took a minivan and a boat from Pakse to get to Don Det and it's sleepy as can be - a line of guest houses and restaurants and not much else. It's where Mekong dolphins hang out - the stupidest of all dolphins. Laotians believe they protect them from crocodiles, so they aren't hunted or eaten.



The dogs are in heat, with all the swollen testosterone-posturing that comes with it. Fresh wounds sprout red and swollen from fights over the pick of the bitches. Our German friend eyed them scampering around and remarked, with a sort of disquieted certainty, "I think it's dog season."



So here we are, halfway between wet and dry, monsoon and heat of noon, the rainy months and a blue lagoon - dog season. And we're in it like rats in a flood.

Location:Don Det Island, PDR Laos