I will never forget the screams of those floating Germans.
There I was, belly up on a scorching tube, drifting down the guts of the Mekong River, when a tiny fish decided to take the toe of a Deutschland-hailing backpacker.
And by take, I mean bite the fuck off.
As I attempted, in vain, to…
It’s 15 minutes into my debut of solo travelling, and I’ve successfully sweated through a slimily thick layer of Men’s Sports 48-hour deodorant. I’m crouched in the corner next to the Student Flights booth with my head stuffed between my knees, I’m hyperventilating like a broken fan, and my vision’s sparked out into a swamp…