Thursday is passed with a good book until evening when I make my way to the restaurant where I partake of an adequate meal and am entertained by a series of female vocalists. One in particular has an incredible voice and I'd have her in a band anytime. She's a great looker too and she knows it. We have a chat but my Thai runs out before any in depth conversation is possible. The band, by the way, all have the latest gear but they are shite. Not so most of the other bands I've heard in Thailand which would put many a western pub band to shame.

The restaurant's menu includes half a dozen dishes made from crab meat and although they get it right on some occasions the English menu translation on several occasions refers to such things as 'Rice With Fried Crap' and 'Crap Salad'. Thinking I am doing everyone a favour I explain to the head waiter the meaning of this alternative spelling. With a look of great concern he summons a small tribe of minions, all clutching biros, and they proceed to make such alterations to the menus as they deem necessary. I look over their shoulders as I leave and see that there is now no sign of any crab on their menu at all. I keep my peace and return to my room and so the crap has the victory on the day.

On Friday morning I meet some guys from the 'Heavens Devils' motorcycle club, including an American who I later run into on many occasions in Chiang Mai. I chat with these guys for a while on the steps of the hotel, and gift them with the paperback I have completed reading the day before. An hour or so later than I planned, I leave Uttaradit behind and make my way towards Loei. I've decided to take the back roads as it will cut off a lot of distance from the trip and this decision rewards me with many examples of great scenery along the way. The Sirik Dam, just out of Uttaradit, offers impressive views and a waterfall at Nam Pat is an attractive place to rest, although I am the only foreigner amongst the many Thai families enjoying what is for them a sacred place.

I pass through scores of villages, where little has changed the traditional lifestyle, and where children point, stare and giggle at the 'crazy Farang' on his motorbike whilst the adults scowl and glare. Dogs and chickens roam freely but fortunately most seem to be road wise and scuttle back to the security of their lairs in the dirt under multi angled wooden houses. At one such habitation I stop for a rest and an old guy comes up to me shouting 'You go! You go!' Rather than incur further wroth I quickly oblige.