A fishy tale

A 4 hour bus trip through the mountains awaited us after breakfast. Our first stop was at the petrol station that had been ransacked by hungry Aussies a few days before. They had restocked and once again all Hell broke loose.

There were roadworks the entire way and houses and shacks marked for demolition spanned the entire way. 

Another two hours and we arrived at the fish spa. Flo, our guide, told of people getting bruising from the fish nibbling on your skin. I can understand why. 

I expected tiny fish. They were not tiny and the teeth on soft skin could hurt. I stayed in a while, the Editor not so much. My feet were very red when I got out. The jury is out on whether there was any benefit, but writing this the day after, everything seems ok. Mark's fish spa

Another service station stop put us about an hour behind arriving at the tea plantation. 

Here we did a basic tea factory tour, Annette did a batik painting and I did a tea tasting. I will never do another tea tasting. Seven flavoured teas, each as bitter as the next. 

More food followed. I am looking forward to a meal where my failing self control is not required. 

Our reliance on wifi is a bit scary and its unreliability is the reason for sporadic posts. It's on and off, as is the power.