I was becoming aware that this morning’s sound recording was not going to be a soothing and gentle one!

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Sarah and I were in the north of Thailand, in a landscape unique to this region. We were in Thung Salaeng Luang National Park, having arrived the previous day. After negotiating a 50 km dirt track which wound through subtropical jungle, we found ourselves surveying a surprising vista – a broad open plateau with high grass and groves of stately pine trees. These meadows, some of them ten or more kilometres across, are renowned among Thai nature lovers as wonderful places to establish a peaceful campsite and safely explore. After rains in autumn the meadows are carpeted in wildflowers, and now in spring, they were vibrant with birdsong.

We had indeed found our secluded campsite, but had trouble sleeping. Throughout the night the pines whispered in the breeze, and nightbirds seemed to be numerous – it was too interesting to sleep!

I arose while it was still dark, and began my recording with those night sounds all around me. I was expecting a brisk dawn chorus, a cacophony of birdsong. However it didn’t happen like that. The dawn chorus gathered momentum slowly, creeping up on me like the light gradually filling the sky. At one point I realised that the whole landscape had become alive with birdsong, as far as I could hear, in all directions. I felt a little overwhelmed with sounds new or only vaguely familiar. I was still listening out into the far distance when that Rufous Woodpecker flew in and brought me back to my immediate surroundings.

We have recently released an album featuring this recording: ‘Asian Meadow’.

It is an album of dynamics and natural contrasts, and begins very quietly with those nightsounds. If you set your listening volume too loud, you will likely have to turn it down later, as the dawn chorus grows. You can hear the open spaces of the meadow, sounds nearby or echoing from a long way off. The diversity of birdsong is quite extraordinary; barbets, cuckoo-shrikes, minivets, quail, francolins, prinias and bulbulls can all be heard among the dawn chorus. When it subsides, the first whisperings of a breeze in the pines may be heard. We’ve concluded the album with a lovely recording of Chestnut-headed Bee-eaters chattering animatedly in the golden light of late afternoon.

To get the most from this recording, firstly have a look at the photos that accompany the album on our website. Then listen closely, and let your imagination take you somewhere special – a place in Asia which is unique and full of life.

I should say though, the album comes with a small caution: “Warning: Woodpecker Overhead!”

Click here to listen to a sound sample of ‘Asian Meadow’

This album is available for digital download exclusively from the Listening Earth website.

So I wanted to create a nature sound recording that captured that sense of stillness.

Every tropical forest is unique however, and not all are relaxing sonically. Sometimes the intensity of insect sound can be overwhelming. During our recent field trip to Thailand, the heat and humidity were not conducive. In some locations, such as Khao Sok on the peninsular, the oppressive and sticky air was made even more uncomfortable by being filled with the omnipresent buzz of insects. Even the birds were silenced by this visceral wall of sound.

So I was pleasantly surprised to discover the night sounds on the island of Koh Ngai, off the Thai coast in the Andaman Sea, were some of the most delightfully restful I had encountered.

Koh Ngai is a resort island, with a long, sandy beach on the east side. Over the spine of the island, on the uninhabited west side, is a forest of coastal jungle, peppered with introduced coconut palms. In the small hours of the morning, I would set off in the dark to hike over the island. Setting up my sound recorder some 20 metres away, I would settle down to enjoy the night. Apart from an occasional firefly floating by, the only light came from my recorder’s winking LED lights, responding to the sound levels and giving a little light show that illuminated the legs of the tripod holding the microphones.

The resulting album, ‘A Tropical Night’, presents the last hour before dawn. In addition to a soft chorus of night insects, you will also hear geckos, including the remarkable ‘barking’ gecko, the lovely booming calls of Coucals, a distant Brown Hawk Owl, tree frogs on the forest floor, and the very first birdsong of the dawn chorus. And if you really listen carefully, you may hear occasionally the wash of surf in the far distance.

Listen to a sound sample from the album.

‘A Tropical Night’ is now available as a digital album for download, exclusively from the Listening Earth website.

During our recent 2 months in Thailand, we recorded them on several occasions, their wild songs echoing through the jungle.

Now home from our travels, we are back in the studio, auditioning what we recorded and preparing new albums – and of course we’re planning one featuring those unforgettable gibbon calls. We hope to have it available in coming months, but in the meantime, here’s a little taste of what we heard: White-handed Gibbon song

Hearing them is one thing, but getting close, or even a clear view, is something else again. During our time in Thailand, we only rarely saw them clearly, but those few times were wonderful!

The images below show the diversity of colouring that these animals have. Gibbons have extremely flexible shoulders and hips – try hanging around like this and seeing how *your* joints feel! Agile and quick, they move through the treetops acrobatically, never pausing for long.

They also seem quite cautious of humans. All of which made getting any clear photos of them among the dense foliage difficult.

So these last images were sheer good fortune. Over previous days, we had seen a small troupe foraging along our ridgetop. So this particular morning, when we saw them moving in the same direction again, I raced ahead of their path and waited quietly in hopes they would pass close by. From the crashing of branches, I knew they were approaching, but thought they would likely pass overhead too quickly, or see me and take fright. However this individual swung onto a branch and sat, pausing in full view for a meditative moment. And for once it watched me patiently rather than swinging off at breakneck pace.

We are at Fraser Hill, in the Malaysian highlands, one of the birding hotspots of the Malay peninsular. The bungalow we’ve found for the week is rather rustic, a 1920s building with 21st century bathroom (thankfully not the other way around).

Bukit Fraser, as it is locally known, was originally a British hill station. The road up here, built in the early 1900s, is an extraordinary feat of construction, and shows how much the colonials were prepared to invest in their cooler climate retreats. Now it is a tourist village, busy with weekend visitors from Kuala Lumpur, a somewhat odd place in the tropics with its topiary hedges and quaint bungalows. There is even a small strawberry farm!

After the disappointments of humid lowland forests, we’ve come here in the hope of recording some of the highland birds that Fraser Hill is renowned for.

The first exotic species we encountered was a Fire-tufted Barbet feeding outside our bungalow. Unlike any other Barbet, it has a sprig of red feathers erupting from its forehead. It also has a very unbarbet-like call. Most barbets have a repetitive piping call, “potock, potock, potock…” or “pop, pop, pop…” that can go on for half an hour. Hence barbets are ubiqitous in Asian forests as they can call all day. The Fire-tufted however gives an upslured buzzing, more like an insect than a bird, and it only calls infrequently. We ended up calling them Bizarre-bets.

Next we came across a small flock of Silver-eared Mesias. We’d seen these colourful birds at Mae Wong near the Burmese border, and thought them a rare and exotic species. Here they are as common and confiding as sparrows, sitting on the backs of chairs at the strawberry farm restaurant, scolding each other as they dart for scraps from under our table. It turns out they are much more shy in the forest, presenting me the choice of an easy photograph of them sitting on a fence, or spending hours stalking them for a more natural shot.

Many birders come to Fraser Hill to happily tick their bird lists, and its easy to see why they would enjoy themselves here. Chestnut-capped Laughing Thrushes and Long-tailed Sibias are common, we have a Spiderhunter raiding the fresias in our garden, and exotic species turn up in feeding flocks throughout the day.

But recording this unique soundscape has proved somewhat of a challenge. Fraser Hill is quite small, and there are roads leading every which way over the hills, mostly to privately owned homes and bungalows. One could describe it as a hilltop suburb. Hence there is a constant hum of cars and motorcycles, plus periodic broadcasts from the town’s mosque. I am having a problem with extraneous noise.

Another problem is one that has puzzled me in other places; that there seem to be few birds in the dense, mature forest, instead they hang around the areas of forest, parks and gardens around the village. Hence my first attempts to find a quiet location, which had me exploring the more remote forest tracks, have not been rewarding. The dawn chorus has been sparse, and insects have been predominant even before sunrise. Add to this occasional rainshowers, some wind, leeches and very muddy tracks, and as you can imagine, its not long before I am considering more creative approaches.

After several days, I find a quiet road that goes around the back of a hill, blocking out the sound of the town. Here I am overlooking a densely forested valley, surrounded by the mosiac of hilltop forest and gardens that attracts the greater density and diversity of birdlife. Apart from a nuisance dog barking occasionally, and an obliviously friendly early morning jogger, this site gives me the recording I’m searching for. It also gives me my first leech bite of the week. And even the Bizarre-bets make an appearance.

By now we are looking forward to home. Snuggled up in our bungalow, with mist swirling and the rain falling steadily outside, the beginning of our journey seems a lot longer than only two months ago. After traversing Thailand and Malaysia, and with only a few days remaining (visiting friends in Singapore), Fraser Hill is the end of the ‘wild’ part of our journey.

Once home, we can begin auditioning our recordings and begin the creative process!

For most tourists, Longtails are no doubt part of the local cultural colour. But for a nature sound recordist, they are a peril, as the noise they create across open waters can be heard almost to the horizon. I had been forwarned to expect frustrating conditions if trying to record on any of Thailand’s islands.

Nevertheless, paradise has been everything we hoped for and more! We have just returned from the island of Kho Ngai off the western coast of Thailand, in the Andaman Sea – a picture postcard island of aquamarine waters, palm trees, coral reefs and pure white sand.

And we struck lucky. After a first somewhat disappointing experience visiting an eco-tourism resort on nearby Libong Island, we were searching for a bit of comfort and some concerted rest after our weeks in the jungles. Koh Ngai sounded like a potentially good place, away from the busier tourist haunts like Phuket, PhiPhi or Samui.

The resort industry in Thailand is difficult to predict though, with each resort pitching for their own slice of the market; locals or foreigners, daytrippers, travellers or package groups, from backpackers to exclusive. We decided to just lob into a cheap resort on the island for one night, and then check out the resorts for ourselves and decide which one to spend a few days at. We walked the length of the beach at dusk and began at the far end, with the first resort being a tastefully designed establishment with very friendly staff and beautiful rooms. It all looked very up-market, but curious to see what one’s money would buy, we enquired further. We were told only a few dollars more than the rather depressing place we were in. Completely oblivious to our good fortune, we proceeded to bargain them down a little.

It turned out that the resort was new, and not fully open as yet, so they were only charging half rate. All the staff were there, and the kitchen was turning out wonderful food. But the marketing had yet to be done, and it was low season, so they only had a few guests, and there were further building works anticipated. All of which we found out in the following days of lazing around and just enjoying not having to do anything.

After a few days, I found out about a track across to the other side of the island, and went exploring. I was not expecting anything much, as islands are not usually very rich habitats. But this island completely surprised me, and led to a few early mornings and some wonderful recordings.

There were many lovely bird species to be heard; imperial green pigeons (a favourite of mine for their gruff booming call), oriental pied hornbills, orioles, dollarbirds, and best of all, many white-rumped sharmas, one of the most beautiful songbirds in Asia. We’d heard them often in our travels, but here they were calling frequently, several birds singing from neighboring territories in extended melodic ramblings that combined together to form duets and trios. Just exquisite.

I also found the nocturnal insect chorus was very pleasant, with occasional coucals, barking geckoes, tree frogs and a scops owl adding to the atmosphere. Gentle waves rolled in on a nearby deserted beach, as sunbirds called from overhanging trees, allowing another opportunity for a nice recording. And through all this, only the occasional longtail disturbed proceedings.

I thought I was supposed to be having a holiday! Actually it has been. The recording was easy and fun, if a little humid. I must have looked a sight trooping back into the resort for breakfast in my jungle boots and pants, covered in sweat. Ah but, a few minutes and a shower later, and I’m in a sarong with a pineapple shake in front of me. That is not hard work.

So Sarah and I have had some lovely days just hanging out together. Even though we spend so much time together, to have time to ourselves like this has been very much needed. Half way through our stay, a group of westerners arrived for a yoga retreat, providing some interesting companionship and conversation for us, especially as Sarah is a trained yoga instructor.

In this last week, we have been feeling the presence of the approaching monsoon. Each afternoon the clouds have been piling up into spectacular thunderheads, and a few evenings have been illuminated by lightening storms. Our final night here the heavens have opened to a downpour. The frogs have loved it, and I’ve heard what I’ve often heard about; the tropical frog chorus after the first rains of the season – deafening!

Now we are back on the mainland. Not just the mainland, but a new country – Malaysia. After a few days in Penang (where we are now), we shall head down to the mountain forests of Bukit Fraser, a highlight birding spot in Malaysia. And not a longtail in sight.

Read on to part 5

I thought I was recording a tropical waterfall, but no, it was just the sweat pouring off me. We have never been so uncomfortably hot and sticky. And it was only 5.30 am.

This is Khao Sok National Park, an ancient and extensive rainforest on the Thai peninsular. Despite our expectations, it has not been as rewarding for sounds and images as we’d hoped. A part of this park’s reputation comes from it being relatively heavily visited. A backpacker ghetto has become well established on the kilometer of road entrance to the park, and the main trails are heavily walked by westerners and their Thai guides, all sweating as profusely as we. The first few kilometers of trail are through degraded regrowth forest, and once into the mature jungle, the trail follows a tortuous riverside path, with the noise of rushing water ever-present. Few birds are heard calling, or seen, and the incessant buzz of insects almost drowns out the river. This makes for an unrewarding soundscape, and the sweat just doesn’t seem worth it. After two days we have re-assessed our plans, and decided to head for the coast.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Between Mae Wong National Park and here, we have been in two other parks, which by contrast, have been wonderful. Firstly Khao Yai National Park, a visit to which was a last minute decision. It is a very popular destination for Thais, especially on weekends, and its proximity to Bangkok led to us concluding it could be affected by noise pollution such as flight paths. But we are so glad we went.

We hired a car to get there and around the park, and our driver’s total lack of English allowed us to practice our Thai, with some comical results; he loved me pointing to a pile of roadside elephant droppings with the words ‘kee chang’; apparently ‘kee’ has many meanings beside just ’shit’… We were concerned that our driver would be comfortable sleeping in the car, but with his air conditioning, dashboard DVD player and satellite TV reception, we concluded we were the ones ’slumming it’ in a noisily-fanned bungalow.

Each morning we would set out around 4am, and walk a track through majestic, picturesque rainforest. In the dark, we proceeded cautiously, as the area was frequented by elephants, evidenced by the kee. We had also just seen a King Cobra for the first time, fortunately from the car as it hot-slithered its way off the bitumen and into the forest with its hood fanned out. They are one huge snake! – we were respectfully impressed.

But the real delight of the forest was Gibbons. Everywhere. Troops of them calling at dawn and later in the morning, and occasionally glimpsed crashing and swinging through the treetops. Their agility is extraordinary. We had one memorable morning watching a group on the other side of the valley, moving acrobatically around the crowns of massive trees. What a sight. And what sounds, these guys really sing!

The other joy of Khao Yai was the campground. Not for the amenities particularly, but because of the fruit trees, or specifically the birds that would frequent them. They made bird photography a matter of hanging around under a tree with the lens poised, and I got some lovely pictures of such tropical wonders such as hornbills, barbets, flowerpeckers, sharmas, and a very rare flycatcher. These few trees must be famous throughout Thailand, as they were also constantly attended by a mixed gaggle of nature photographers. It felt very odd for me to be stalking these birds with a group of other photographers, many of whom were Thais, and often hefting huge 500mm lenses and industrial-strength tripods.

Next stop has been Kaeng Krachan National Park, which we’d heard was a birding hotspot with over 400 species to be seen at the lower of two campgrounds in the park (Ban Kraeng). Well, 400 species there may be, but after our first morning of recording, I was wondering if they were all on holidays like the Thais. The campground was packed with visitors for the weekend, but the birdsong was almost non-existent. There was a brief, scattered dawn chorus, then the insects started and there was almost nothing else to be heard. Thunder rolled around the hills in the afternoon.

We decided to go up to the top campsite at 1500 metres, despite the advice that birds were much less frequently seen up there. Just before we left Ban Kraeng, the heavens opened, and we were drenched with our first real downpour of the approaching monsoon season. By the time we piled into a ute for the ascent, the rain had stopped, but the hair-raising dirt track up the mountain had been made additionally treacherous by the rain. We slithered and revved our way up switchbacks and deeply rutted climbs through banks of cloud and fog.

But it was worth it. The final campsite was perched among the gods, with views out over mountain ranges in all directions. Each morning, the valleys filled with mist, and we looked out over a sea of fog. Calls of gibbons and birds floated up from the lower valleys, and mixed with the hill birdsong. It was surprisingly rich, with much more birdsong than we’d anticipated; great hornbills, scimitar babblers, spiderhunters, plus both dusky langurs and gibbons cavorting around the treetops at close range. Of all the places we visited in Thailand, this was the place to see these wonderful primates.

With the wisdom of hindsight, and our disappointment of Khao Sok, we wish we’d been able to spend longer at these locations. But for the moment this is put aside, as its now off to the beaches!

Read on to part 4

Last week we visited the ancient city of Kamphaeng Phet, only 100km from the border, and in the early morning light, walked around the ruins of temples built contemporaneously with Chartres Cathedral. At that time the city was seen as a frontier bastion against the incursions of the Burmese army. Eventually the invaders triumphed, and in the 1500s the graceful courtyards and serene stone buddhas of Kamphaeng Phet were abandoned to the jungle.

We often think of Buddhism as the most peaceful of religions. Yet here were two Buddhist nations at war. And it is still going on. The border area remains contentious and volatile, infamous for skirmishes and some serious smuggling.

I mention all this as an insight into Mae Wong National Park, from which we have just returned. The entrance road ascends through hills, once populated by tribal people but now deserted, terraced hillsides overgrown with tall grasses and returning to forest. After an hour of tortuous bends, we crest the final hill to arrive at a tiny campsite, and a view over wild forest to the west. On the horizon, Burma.

It is an odd national park, with its mosaic of primary forest and denuded hills, but being there it made more sense. Depopulating the area and administering it as a national park seems a practical way of stabilising a contentious border area. Whatever the reason for Mae Wong’s existence, it is a great place for us to record birdsong that is representative of what would be heard in Burma.

After researching this park using Google Earth, finding the isolated campsite on the satellite images and wondering what the surrounding forests would be like, it was exciting to actually be there. We had also read of the biting flies known as ‘khoon’ that are found at higher altitudes, and within a few minutes of our arrival, they made our acquaintance. Lovely little critters – they land and bite without you noticing, leaving behind a welt like a botched blood test, which supposedly will keep itching for the next month.

The forest itself was dense, and the only track through is the continuation of the road leading into the campsite. This road was once trafficable all the way on to Umphang some 40km away, but is now closed and being rapidly reclaimed by the forest. After only a short distance it became a tangle of vines, tall grasses and wild bananas. It was quite heartening, despite the brambles, to see how the forest is growing over what was once a bitumen road.

Our 3 days of recording at Mae Wong have been everything we hoped, with a huge diversity of birdlife including partridges, spectacular racket-tailed drongos, cute midnight-blue niltivas, sunbirds, laughing thrushes – all coming together each dawn to create a rich symphony of sound. We hope the recordings and photos do it justice.

Before Mae Wong, we spent a few days at Thung Salaeng Luang National Park in northern central Thailand, an area appreciated for its unique pine forests. Not what one would expect of Thailand, but to camp in an idyllic site under gently sighing pines, and in cooler weather, has been a welcome delight. And once again, both a rich source of natural sounds and beautiful sights.

Throughout the last week, we have been in the company of our good-hearted driver, Suchat. The minute he met us, we were informed that he was to be not only our driver, but our friend and bodyguard, as he had been a champion Thai kick-boxer winning international competitions in Japan. He has not only kept us laughing, but introduced us to exotic local cuisine based on ingredients we were not too sure we wanted to know about.

Now it is back to the big smoke. Actually, being the summer here, the whole country is clouded in the smoke of agricultural burn-off, making the air hazy and stinging the eyes. So Bangkok’s infamous pollution has some competition. From Bangkok (and a hopefully brief visit to the immigration dept to extend my incorrectly stamped visa), we anticipate heading south, down the Thai peninsular, and back to the gibbon forests that were our inspiration to visit here in the first place.

Read on to part 3

To be honest, we’ve had an easy acclimatisation. The past week has been spent at Nam Nao National Park in the northern mountains, and the weather has been quite moderate, even cool in the early mornings.

We were expecting open forest at Nam Nao, as the park is famous for its unique pine forest and grassland areas. However we’ve actually found ourselves recording in dense evergreen forest most of the time, partly because they are the most accessible from where we’ve been staying (in a rather cute little bungalow).

Each morning we’ve been able to get up in the early morning cool and walk into the forest. The birdsong has been wonderful, heaps of barbets calling continually, and some lovely songbirds such as laughing thrushes, flycatchers and robins. But the highlights have been the mammals.

On every trailhead, the Thai parks service has erected signs: ‘CUATION elephants’, and frequent grapefruit-sized pooballs on the trailside have been a warning of their presence. So we have been walking with our ears out on stalks, both in anticipation and cautious awareness. We’ve seen much evidence of their presence; broken stands of bamboo, paths through the forest, and those trailside deposits. But it was only on the last morning that we heard and recorded them calling in the far distance.

So a mixed blessing, but as compensation, we have heard our first gibbons! Their beautiful calls were something we were looking forward to hearing on this trip. Sarah describes them as sounding like singing saws; a plaintive, wild whooping that rises and falls, carrying for kilometers through the forest. We have several lovely recordings of them calling antiphonally from one patch of forest to another.

The giant squirrels here have also been wonderful; similar to the red ones we know from India, the Thai species has a white head and speed stripe against black. They are equally adept at charging around the tree crowns, occasionally calling with a loud machine-gun sputtering.

After a successful first week, this weekend we are having some time off at Rainforest Resort. Sarah has just had a pummelling Thai massage; brutally pleasant!

From here we shall be hiring a car and heading to nearby Thung Salaeng Lung National Park, and then west to Mae Wong on the Myanmar (Burmese) border. The latter is a remote wilderness area, with the highest population of wild tigers outside India. We may just catch a glimpse of one!

Read on to part 2

For those of you placing orders during this time, Alison will be attending to inquiries and CD orders. She will be able to access emails daily, so if you have any questions or difficulties, just email her at our usual address: cooee@listeningearth.com.au

She will likely be in the office only once a week, so CD order dispatches may be slightly delayed. However all download orders are automated, so should process through as usual in real time.

A few friends have asked our rough itinerary, so here’s an overview…

This coming Thursday we fly to Bangkok, and the following evening catch an overnight train to the provincial town of Khon Kaen in the north of Thailand.

That’s the confirmed part of the trip over with, after this, we shall be winging it! After numerous efforts to organise treks, we’ve achieved little. We need to find good areas of jungle and be able to explore them at leisure, which just doesn’t fit the conventional trekking template. We’ve found ourselves in the too hard basket. So hopefully, we’ll either be able to achieve our ends without the logistics of a trek, or we’ll be able to arrange for park rangers to accompany us once we arrive at each park.

Nam Nao National Park is our first destination, a large and relatively little-visited park with areas of pine and deciduous forest. There is reported to be a good diversity of birdlife here, including barbets and woodpeckers in abundance.

From there we travel west, pausing at Sukothai, the ancient Siamese capital from around the 12th century, which has appealed to Sarah as somewhere she’d love to see. So we shall spend a few days cycling around exploring ruins and decaying stupas.

Our next park is remote Mae Wong, on the Burmese border. The mountains here are at the end of the Himalayan range, and we anticipate hearing many of the families of Himalayan birds we fell in love with in Nepal; yuhinas, fulvettas, minlas, laughing thrushes, babblers… We don’t know how we’re going to organise such practicalities as feeding ourselves, because our destination is a tiny campground deep in the park. There is a ranger station, but no facilities, so we shall have to stock up on bananas! Having read about this campground, we have found it amazing to use Google Earth to locate it exactly (16º60′00.00″N, 99º06′28.68″E). I can even see the patch of grass we’ll be pitching our tent on!

Thailand’s peninsular forest parks present us with a bit of a conundrum. Initially we thought Kaeng Krachan, not far from Bangkok, would be at risk of noise pollution from flight paths. However our research into Khao Sok, further South near Phuket, indicates it will be a less pristine location for many reasons. So KK it may well be. Once again, there is a campground deep in the forest that may make an excellent base camp. More bananas.

In the Andaman Sea to the west of Thailand, are a group of islands protected as a marine national park. Kho Tarutao is one of the largest and least disturbed offshore islands in this part of the world, and I would like to see whether there is some good recording to be had there. In particular I’m fascinated by the Nicobar Pigeon, an extraordinary all-black ground pigeon with iridescent plumes. Maybe we’ll come across them there.

But really, the Andaman Sea; coral, beaches, tropical sunsets, fresh seafood…

Then back to work. Malaysia. Specifically, Taman Negara, famed not only as peninsular Malaysia’s largest and most precious nature reserve, but one of the world’s oldest rainforests, growing undisturbed for 160 million years. And, in contrast to the more monsoonal forests of Thailand, this really will be rainforest. Gibbons, hornbills, pittas, exotic birds galore! And leaches, apparently.

There are a few other Malaysian parks we may visit if time allows, such as the lowland rainforest of Endau Rompin. For the last week or so, we shall be visiting friends in the wilds of Singapore, and believe it or not, I am planning on recording there. Whether that will amount to anything other than distant traffic and aircraft flyovers, we shall have to see. But Singapore sounds an amazing place that neither of us have been to, so we are looking forward to it.

So that concludes our projected two months. We hope to be able to upload a few posts here as we travel.

Till then, be well!

Andrew & Sarah