Mike dragged his backpack off the bus, breaking into a sweat as the wall of humidity hit him on leaving it’s air-conditioned interior. He shouldered his pack, and looked for the lane that his guesthouse was on. The traffic roared by on the busy, six lane street, a mix of motorbikes, tuk-tuks, and brightly painted cars with “Taxi-Meter” on the roof.He found the sign for Soi 11,and turned down it. It was a little quieter down here, but just as hot. Mike walked by the restaurants and little pavement bars and immediately recognised his guesthouse from the website. After checking in and being shown to his room, he threw his pack against the door and flopped down on the bed. He had been waiting for this moment for the last four months, ever since the grey Dublin day, when tired of his job and life at home, he’d impulsively signed up for the stint as a volunteer. Now, all he felt was distance and loneliness. And more than a little excitement. The adventure had begun.