DAI-HARD There's a murmur, then a babble and then suddenly a roar, and I'm sitting soggy-shoed in a wicker chair, clutching a pink parasol, almost a foot under water. This is white-water rafting, Xishuangbanna-style. Granted, the rapids on this particular stretch of the Nam Baan river, a chocolatey tributary of the Mekong, don't quite deliver Grand Canyonesque white-knuckle thrills. But when you're sitting in a wobbly chair, sliding around atop 20-odd lengths of bamboo lashed together with twine, any white water is, frankly, too much.

Our boat girl, Ee Kan, and boat boy, Ai Kum, seem to know...

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