Coral Sex

Mosquitoes. I know they're a recurring theme at this stage of the blog, but my already wafer thin patience is getting skinnier by the minute. How do they get inside the mosquito net? I mean, how the fuck do they do it?! I tuck the whole thing in and vigilantly patrol the edges until I fall into a frightened sleep, but the purging parasites always seem to find a way in and then sit contently in the inner sanctum so that I can see their freshly-bloodied little proboscises first thing in the morning.

Actually talking to them can't be a good sign and I'm worried it could be a symptom of dengue fever, but now, as soon as I wake up and see the inevitable dark patches on the netting, I always give them a line just before my offensive push. Something like, 'hope you enjoyed that meal, cos it was your last!' or 'allow me to provide dessert, hope you like punch!' The last syllable is always accompanied by a whack, flick or swat intended to de-life and, to be fair, it generally does because they're usually so bloated on my insides that they're too fat to move their spindly, ugly carcasses in time. That, in turn, leaves lots of blood specks on the bedding and I'm fairly sure people think I'm on my period pretty much most of time - not the first time that scenario has been concluded.

Anyway, the good news is that for the last couple of days I've been granted a reprieve from the insatiable insectoids as I've spent most of it in water and at sea, completing my PADI Open Water diving certification. It's difficult to avoid cliches at the best of times when traveling, but almost impossible after spending time at the bottom of the sea. As such, I will endeavour to pack as many in as possible while describing my scuba dive off the islands of Koh Teng in Cambodia.

A roller-coaster of a trip, it was magical, humbling, life-affirming, life-changing, spellbinding, enchanting, mystical and all wetter than cinema seats after the premiere of a new Twilight movie. Exactly what you would expect from a dive through a tropical reef is exactly what you got and although the words and subsequent pictures and footage that follow can't possibly do the experience justice, I'll bloody well try. Just for you. Because I love you.

The light illuminates the alien creatures beneath the waves as they sway rhythmically and majestically in time with the ocean's swell. Electric blues, Brazilian yellows and blood reds set the seabed alight as the expanse serves up its timeless platter of purity and natural extravagance. Aberrant oddities crane their exceptional masses out of impossible habitats to observe, occasionally attempting to affix themselves to your wet suit and help with any potential parasite issues you may be having. It was truly an honour to spend time alongside the staggering beauty and as I gulped in the 71% nitrogen and 29% oxygen it was another moment to feel good to be alive. This is it. This is what I came for. That and the fried insects, obviously.

Needless to say, I can't be a part of something so unsullied and naturally stunning without fucking it up a little bit, so this is how I did that: David our dive instructor, a diminutive Argentinian with perpetual mouth meringues and more positivity than a careless boom-boom pedlar's pregnancy test, encouraged us to accompany him in our break after the first dive towards the island to gawp at the reef from a surf's-eye-view. You didn't have to ask me twice, so I followed him dutifully - flapping, blinking and gasping with pleasure in the wake of his lean and lithe trail of expertise. When we arrived at a particular spot, he swanned under the water and glided through a craggy, sea urchin-lined crack in the reef, popping out the water on the other side with a head-hinging grin. 'You have to try it, man! It's incredible!', he beamed. 'OK, OK!' I slobbered, geed up by the moment and his infectious hedonism.

The minute I attempted the dive I knew something wasn't quite right. I wasn't plummeting at a satisfactory speed and no matter how hard I flipped and flopped my fins, my trajectory was all off. It dawned on me a moment too late that he hadn't been wearing the buoyancy aid of a wet suit when he'd attempted the dive, but I, suddenly very clearly, bastard-well was. It was a moment too late as I had already entered the spiky-lined crevice and was immediately being forceably retrieved by the unswerving agenda of my wet suit back to the surface, by any means necessary. The emergency route chosen smashed me straight into the side of the crack and brittley stroked me against the wall of sea urchins, who had been watching with interest up until this point.

I always thought my first penetration in South East Asia would have been as a consequence of too much booze and an opportunistic ladyboy, but instead I was gang-raped by a cluster of blase urchins who speared me so effortlessly and apathetically that it not only hurt like hell, but also made me feel inadequate and really unsexy. I kicked and thrashed about like Jodie Foster in The Accused as they took it in turns to nonchalantly jab and plunge at me until I was holier than the plot of a Littlest Hobo episode. I surfaced soon after the ordeal, wide-eyed and panicked to a few bemused-looking divers who had joined us and a guilty-looking David. We spent the next half hour de-pricking (a lengthy process, in my case) my hands, feet and legs before I made my way to the shower to sit, hold my knees, softly sob and occasionally ravage my body with a nail brush while screaming that, 'it won't come off! It won't come off!'

Apart from the rape, or maybe even because it, the scuba dive has been the greatest experience of my time out here so far. They started well and bloomed in elegance from there until the final one, which blew my mind. It used to be all about the cage diving with great white sharks in South Africa, but we have a new winner now and I'll never forget it. Off to Siam Reap next for the awesome and renowned Ankor Wat temples. I'd love to see you all then.