I was famished. Hours of hiking the vast mountains of the North had given me a hunger pang so great that I could have killed the chicken for dinner myself. We waited patiently, sat crossed legged on hand woven mats in a candle lit circle made hazy by mosquito coils.

The large metal pans boiled away and the steam lled the hut with an appetising aroma. Finally bowls were passed around and I looked in anxiously. I had always been a fussy but this time I couldn’t a ord to be finicky.

It was my first Thai green curry. It had never appealed to me before; I like a side of chips with my ketchup. But I dug in with my Asian spoon and was pleasantly surprised by the fragrant, sweet avours; the sharp lime, the tangy lemongrass, the fresh coriander, the ery chilli... The creamy coconut. I wondered why I had avoided the national dish for so long. And what other Asian food I had been missing out on!

Left to my own devices in Bangkok, I’d been eating English dishes in restaurants alone. I spent the rst day acclimatising, swimming in a roof top pool and purchasing my malaria medication. Not yet aware of the welcoming hostels that Khaosan Road had to o er, I spent my second night alone in a hotel room.

The following morning I decided to nd an activity that would consume the rest of the time I was alone and help me to meet people. Within the hour I had booked the 350 mile journey (11 hours by night bus) to Chiang Mai and signed up for a three day trek through the Thai jungle.