Day 159. Siem Reap, Cambodia. Lucky us.

Saved a few quid today by forgoing the posh tourist bus to Siam Reap (with toilet) and taking the not so posh local bus (with bucket). An unremarkable seven hour journey came to a bonkers end when we were met by a baying mob of rabid Tuk Tuk drivers at the Terminal.

Of all the Tuk Tuk gigs in Southeast Asia this is potentially the most lucrative. Most tourists are here to visit Angkor's famous temples, and because they're so widespread the drivers know a fare from the Bus station could easily turn into a 5 day private hire.

They're fiercely competitive. And with only a handful of tourists on our bus, the welcome was probably even more frenzied. Funny in hindsight I suppose, but at the time it was bordering on scary. As soon as we stepped onto the tarmac thirty of the buggers were right in our face shouting and jostling for position. All waving placards showing ludicrously low day-rates, and all with the same sales pitch:

"Don't go with these guys, they'll rip you off, come with me"
"That guy's a con artist, come with me"
"They're all scamming you man, come with me"

All very reassuring, as you can imagine.

Anyway, we opted for the bloke who seemed to be making the least noise and attempted a quick exit. Even after we'd loaded our bums and backpacks onto his Tuk Tuk though, the mayhem continued, the mob forming an unruly circle while claiming our driver was a wanker and that we were about to be royally shafted.

They were wrong of course, he turned out to be a top bloke; an English language student who is saving for next year's tuition, he's polite, funny and informative. He also has the rather handy knack of knowing the back roads to every temple in Northern Cambodia.

Couldn't help smiling when he told us his name was Lucky.

Day 158. Phnom Penh, Cambodia. King of bling.

It's no secret that most of the big clothing stores back home maximise profits by producing their stuff in the third world. As long as there's no exploitation involved we haven't a problem with this, and made our way this morning to one of Phnom Penh's markets where locally made Diesel, Colombia and Esprit clobber is sold at about 10% of UK prices.

Bit of a waste of time really. Everything on display is tailored for diminutive Asian types and was straining to conceal our fat western bellys.

Did manage to find some novelty Superman underpants and a few hooky Beatles Cd's for a grand total of three quid, but am wrestling with my conscience here, as I'm pretty sure neither DC comics or Paul McCartney will be receiving much in the way of royalties.

Especially concerned about Macca, he has Heather screwing him from one side and an enterprising Cambodian bloke from the other (now there's an image you don't want to be conjuring up before your breakfast).

To the Royal Palace in the afternoon. A large and impeccably maintained complex of temples, pagodas and assembly halls where we saw some of Southeast Asia's most bling, bling Buddhas. The most extreme example is carved from a huge lump of Jade, he has a diamond encrusted head dress, a particularly smug grin on his face and sits on a gilded throne in the middle of a temple sporting solid silver floor tiles.

Classy.

Can't help thinking this is how Jan's bachelor pad might look when he finally finds somewhere ostentatious enough to move into.

Newcastle bloody United.

Blimey they love their footy in Southeast Asia. Turn on the telly at any given time and you can guarantee there'll be a repeat of at least 3 Premiership games being shown.

What's even better though, is with most kick off times being staggered, you've a better than evens chance of seeing a broadcast of your team's matches live.

It's great.

Or at least it would be great if your team was Man U, Tottenham or any other side that tends to score more than one goal every 5 hours.

In the past month I've stayed up late in Laos to watch Newcastle score Nil against Wigan, put Wend to bed early in Hanoi so I could catch us score Nil against the Smoggies and completed the hat-trick last night in Cambodia by tuning in to see the magnificent Magpies notch another Nil against Charlton Athletic.

Has anyone spotted a pattern developing here?

I told a few of the lads before setting off that this would be the year Newcastle finally picked up a trophy. My thinking - and I was absolutely convinced this was true - was that we hadn't won a pot in the previous 38 years because I'd been at most of the matches.

It was all my fault you see, my legendary negative karma had been holding the Black & Whites back all along and the solution was simple; all I had to do was bugger off 'round the world for 8 months and the silverware was as good as in the cabinet.

Aye, well the past week has seen that theory blown out the water good and proper hasn't it?

Maybe it's Juzz's fault.

Day 157. Phnom Penh, Cambodia. Beyond belief.

Spent the day at a couple of the capital's major museums.

The first, Tuol Sleng, occupies the buildings of the former S21 Security prison. A notorious centre of detention where between 1975 and 1978 more than 17,000 unfortunates were held before being taken to the Choeung Ek killing fields on the edge of town.

Everything is pretty much as Pol Pot's henchmen left it: the crudely built holding cells, the disgusting torture paraphernalia and the various batons and clubs used to make sure no-one stepped out of line.

High walls, barbed wire and the sheer number of guards ensured there were no escapes, but as an extra security measure the Khmer Rouge kept detailed photographic records of all the detainees.

And it's these mugshots that form the most harrowing of all the exhibits. Countless rows of poor, frightened souls stare out from display cabinets in the very rooms where they spent the last wretched days of their lives.

It's utterly depressing, and one of the saddest experiences either of us will ever have. The shocking thing is, this was by no means the largest of the detention centres, conservative estimates putting the death toll from that insane period of Cambodia's history at somewhere close to 2 million.

It was with heavy hearts then that we made our way to the National museum in the centre of town. A stunning collection of Khmer and Buddhist artefact's housed in four spacious galleries and a gorgeous open air courtyard.

Normally we'd have loved it, but not today, too much ugliness and brutality still fresh in our minds.