When gap-year travellers email home, they mean to calm the fears of anxious parents. But these glimpses of hair-raising adventures in faraway lands can have the opposite effect - as this selection from Simon Hoggart and Emily Monk's new book shows

· To say we were held hostage would be overshooting the mark, although technically it's true. We all went to get the 11am bus into Ghorabi [in Nepal], and as we approached the place where the bus sits and waits we were surrounded by six men, none older than us, brandishing 1960s Kalashnikov rifles. They told us to sit down (we did) and that we were not allowed to leave until the rally, which we had inadvertently stumbled upon, was finished.

It was scary: they were painfully young and they had guns which they chose to point at us. So for four hours we sat and listened and watched while these Maoists preached their message to the masses. After the initial fear wore off, it simply became a bit boring. When it was finished we walked home, and that was that.

· So we agreed with this blokey to do a film that would involve being put up in a five-star hotel for two nights in a place outside Mumbai . . . sounds too good to be true. Actually lots of people we've met have done similar things, so we thought we would give it a shot. Except it was too good to be true. He picked us up in the evening and drove us to this random area in the suburbs to get a luxury bus. Along the way we learned that it wasn't a film, but a real marriage where we had to meet and greet the guests - not as attractive to us as a film, especially when he said we had to particularly greet the young men. Then the luxury Volvo coach with air-con, TV and reclining seats turned out to be a dodgy minivan parked down a back alley. Decided there was no chance we'd be getting on that bus and jumped into the nearest taxi, with the guy running after us telling the taxi driver not to drive off.

· Esfahan is a tourist city without any tourists. I went to a beautiful medieval mosque one afternoon. It had had six visitors that day . . . one day I went to use the computers in the slick new library and decided to make use of the lavatories in the basement. My Farsi isn't up to much, so I went to a bathroom and, seeing it was empty, presumed it would be all right to make use of it. Imagine my horror as I squatted away in a cubicle and heard the chatter of some women. In Iran, one of the most sensitive countries on this issue, I was making use of the ladies' loo. Chances are, if you get caught doing something like that, you get your hands chopped off. And Iranian ladies are just like ladies in Europe or America. Once they get chatting there's no stopping them. So I was trapped for half an hour, praying that nobody would knock on the door of my cubicle.

· We arrived at the most fantastic hotel [in Arequipa, Peru] with en-suite bathrooms, high ceilings, balconies, sheets and bedside lights being the star attractions, and slept like logs on Night Nurse, stirring from sweet slumber only once, when the earthquake struck. Panic not, mother. After the initial confusion I fell back to sleep straight away and woke up in the best of health, regardless of gaping cracks in the walls and pavements!

· We waited for a couple of hours on a boat in a scene which couldn't have been more Jaws-like. Then a 10-12ft mako shark turned up, and though not a Great White was definitely Jaws-looking, especially when the captain was pulling the fish away from it and it came out of the water. The cage was bouncing around in the water and you had to be careful not to put your hand through the cage when you were holding on, it was fantastic!

· Well, I got mugged again, trying to get across eight lines of traffic from Cinelandia to the Modern Art Museum in the pouring rain. He did have a knife, but he wasn't particularly threatening, and he let me open my wallet and give him the notes, rather than taking everything, which would have been a pain. It's OK. I'm used to it now.

· I know it is v dull to talk about the weather, but it is MINUS 30 degrees today [in northern Russia], so I think I am allowed. All my shampoo on my shelf etc freezes every night and children aren't allowed to go to school because they walk too slowly and tend to freeze to death before they get there. Nice. I am slightly worried as I walk at the speed of a lobotomised snail, there is five inches of ice on the roads and my new boots have strayed far from their natural habitat (the wilds of High St Ken). On the first day of unbelievable iciness I happily stepped outside and within minutes my mascara had frozen my eyelids closed and my nostrils had iced over. After another few minutes I lost all feeling in my extremities, so by the time I reached the Institute I couldn't see, smell or feel. I walk so slowly that I am often overtaken by octogenarian babushkas shuffling along in felt slippers with massive sacks of turnips on their backs. Every day Ludmilla smugly informs me that it is another 10 degrees colder than the day before and happily tells me how to notice the first stages of frostbite.

· My fellow volunteers [in West Africa] have branded me the "poshest person" they have ever met, but apparently it was "not meant in a 'derogatorily' way". Well, at least I don't make up words. Everyone is actually ace, give or take a few slightly annoying girls. I have taken to dropping my Ts when I speak and saying "you ge' me'" a lot. I also spend a lot of time talking about my stressful summer jobs etc. (Does Daddy getting me work, and Cowes week count?)

· Tracey, my flatmate (the semi-professional boxer who keeps a knife by her bed), has been sent home [from the ski resort]. She toppled down the mountain the other day. I now find myself living with just Peta, the 20-year-old bisexual, dress size 22. I have, however, established that she does not see me "in that way" so it's all quite chummy. I ply her with leftover brownies, which keeps her sweet.

· Dear Mummy and Daddy, how are you? This may come as a shock but I am thinking of eloping with one of my students to Assam coz he is from the Naga tribe, and I want to be a Naga girl and go hunting monkeys with bows and arrows and fishing with spears like they do, and then come back and do tribal dancing all night, coz it's so much fun, and all the tribal people here are so great and brave and strong. Obviously the political situation in Assam isn't ideal, but I'll be OK. Love you lots. Only an idea at the moment. X, Me

· Going travelling this weekend with five boys. Am making everyone share one bed under the false pretence that it's budgeting. It's actually because I can't not pull if there are five of them. Can I? (That was a joke, in case you didn't get the sarcasm. I am not a slut.)

· The local culture in Auckland is "kandi". It's a drug that is very similar to ecstasy, with one major exception - it's completely legal. I figured that as they were legal they couldn't be that strong, so I ignored the warning not to exceed four pills per week and took 12 in one night . . .

· After I left the internet place we went to do a shop in the supermarket and we walked in to find that a man was putting up a sign (well, that's what we thought). He was actually holding down a rat with the sign and another guy was hitting it with a broom to try and kill it. Lovely!!!! . . . Had a freak-out on Wednesday as saw a tarantula in the house - huge bloody thing, so hairy and gross. So typically it would be a day for creepy-crawlies - two more spiders on the walls, and then centipede things!!!

· Night began, me and Hat sitting at the bar, when this fit guy comes over and asks if we'll do the podium competition for eight free drinks. Me, trying to flirt, giggle and say "of course". Why not? Eight free drinks. Don't know really what I was thinking of as didn't even know what a podium was, but anyway persuaded Hat to do it, reluctantly. We both forgot about it and carried on drinking away when suddenly everyone is ushered into this one room. As I walk in I suddenly realise what a podium is when I see this cage in the middle of the room, 10 feet in the air, with a dirty slapper dancing topless in the middle of it, grinding against the side. Next thing I know, my name is being called and I am climbing up this ladder on to this tiny platform. Help!

· HELP HELP HELP. I just shredded some documents that I was meant to file, and filed the ones I was meant to shred. HHHHEEEELLLLPPPP!!!!

· I am the most shit chalet girl ever. The idiot I was working with left me as I'm apparently too laid back, so have had to cook for 12 people all by myself, which has been a disaster, and this gap-year malarkey has made any brain cells I did have completely disappear, so I made a cake using olive oil, which tasted more like Mediterranean salad and which I left in the oven too long, so I had to cut about 5cm off the edge, which made it more of a cupcake, gave everyone red wine diluted with white wine instead of kir, which was undrinkable, and then forgot to put any baking powder in my scones so they burned in the oven and looked more like little piles of poo. Then I had to remake my mince pies as they all stuck in the pan (yes, you have to grease the little bastards), which was a bugger.

In Quito, I went on a crazy party bus which was quite an experience. Everyone dances on the roof with a band, but the bus is too tall and you have to duck for bridges and cables. Me, being too chilled out, forgot to do this. I have since been to a witch doctor, which was scary. She was a complete nutter and made me strip so she could beat me with flowers, and then spat all over my torso. (I was a little freaked out by how much she knew of my fetishes.) Penultimately I visited the equator, which was just a line.

· Never eat deep-fried guinea pig and llama kebabs before travelling on a bus for 20 hours, then boarding a light aircraft. It just doesn't work. Not unless you want to see them again, a little sooner than expected.

· The train has gone, and so has the dodgy money-lender with my money. My head was completely scrambled. I'm just in a state of shock that the train has gone. I wander back into the station waiting hall and realise that Sally [still on the train] has all our Russian money, all our food. The Russian official with incredibly cold eyes comes back and hands me back my passport with a stamp over my visa which says that I have been unable to cross the border. I try to plead and tell him I don't even have a ticket to Ulan Bator because the carriage attendant never gave it back. He just stares at me blankly and walks off with a smirk on his face.

· I have taken to teaching my children [in a school in India] the most useful things they need to know about English culture - last week we learned about Sloanes, Geordies, wide boys and lager louts. I have become the chief slayer of insects, having combated cockroaches in my sleeping bag, wash bag, pants, loo seat, hairbrush, as well as taking on a spider the size of a small elephant. I am indestructible! - though the dysentery wasn't great. Had a nasty run-in with a leper carrying a python this morning, but being invincible, and the worldly girl I have come to be, I took him on. I am now slightly worried how contagious leprosy is. Hope you are all well and disease-free.

· Now the third [bungee jump in New Zealand] was a piece of cake. The rope is attached to your waist and you can run and jump off, and at 43 metres it was all over very quickly. However, I got to dangle for a while as I hadn't listened to the guy explaining the harness he uses to pull people up with, so I put it on wrong.

· I have NO clean clothes. Literally EVERYTHING is smelly and wet. I haven't smelled nice for a month, cos even after a shower I have to dry with a dish towel. Please, Mum, could you fly out here and do my washing?

· We were all kitted out in our wetsuits, waterproofs, helmets and lifejackets, and had just started out on the river [in Peru] when our instructor started shouting instructions to us to turn the boat and back it up . . . I turned around to see the body of a young woman not much older than us floating in the water face up. Our instructor asked us to grab the body and attach it to the raft. The six of us were all in shock, as it was for all of us the first dead body we had ever seen, so dumbstruck, the only thing we could do was to keep paddling. We got her to the side. We all stood in a circle and said a prayer for her . . . We carried on rafting, and luckily all was not ruined, as champagne was brought to celebrate my birthday and we stayed in a lovely campsite with an excellent view of the mountains.

· We have had lots of exciting snake incidents [in Kenya]. Went with Julian to a nearby airfield to drop some bracelets and on the way back we saw a huge spitting cobra crossing the road in front of us. We both saw it, leaned forward for a better look, realised what it was, leaned back and checked our sunglasses were on firmly. Luckily it shot off and didn't spit!

· Climbed the volcano [in Bolivia], which was amazing, massive crater at the top, giving out smoke that hurt like hell when you breathe it in. Had some great photos on the top of Jed having a piss, etc.

· The accommodation is OK. Well, it's interesting, a bit sticky on the floor and a few cockroaches but it's OK. I'm staying in a little place about 40 minutes from Sydney on the train. It's a small town, loads of crime, drugs etc, etc, a bit like Stoke - only less pottery.

· Right now I'm in Zhengzhou, the worst place in the world. It's a depressing heap of a city, imagine Milton Keynes left to rot for 100 years, and then inhabited by 8 million disgustingly ugly people who keep shouting "HELLO! HELLO!" and muttering things under their breath about foreigners. We couldn't get a train straight away, we had to spend the night, and this pissed us off so much that it drove us to going through with something we'd been joking about - the McHut. The McHut is very simple. First you go to McDonald's and eat loads there, and then you go to Pizza Hut and pig out on pizza. I can honestly say that I've never been so full in my life, and it had the right effect too, because for some reason Zhengzhou didn't look so bad with a bellyful of burgers and pizza.

· Helped amputate a leg with the vascular fellow, got to tie off all the vessels and suture up the muscle and skin, which was all good. I have managed to have a couple of free lunches too, which was also nice.

· Thirty hours on a yam transportation ferry where mice crawled all over our bodies at night, followed by several hours in a city that I would wish upon only the very worst people in the world (think Hitler, Stalin, and possibly this new boy here called Garth). Then went on two 7-hour bus journeys. So much sweat, so many flies due to neighbours eating fish for all seven hours and then dropping bones on my feet, then some goats and kindly chickens decided to join us. Was just about tolerating this, though the smell was so rank I thought about cutting my nose off until I thought about nose, spite, face thing and decided, although not my finest feature, I would look worse without it . . . until chickens pecked my arse and I promptly burst into tears, much to everyone's amusement. Eventually arrived, and for the next five days my body was consumed with the most horrendous rash - incidentally, bird flu has reached Ghana in a big way.

· That afternoon was spent fruitlessly piranha-fishing from the canoe, before Victor insisted that we all jump into the muddy brown water - apparently it didn't matter that we'd just been tempting man-eating fish with pieces of meat, and the water was "perfectly safe apart from the fish that swim up your rectum". However, having survived swimming in the Amazon, we were able to enjoy another amazing sunset fishing from the banks this time. Unfortunately, we forgot a torch, so Will and I were almost snapped by a caiman while trying to get back to the shore once it had got dark.

· I have been scared of heights all my life. So imagine my delight, as we came over the brow of the hill, just over the [Vietnam/Laos] border, to see not merely sheer vertical drops falling away from us into mist-covered oblivion, not just a winding mountain pass consisting entirely of hairpin bends snaking blindly into thick fog, but no barrier, no markings, no edge to the road. But thick slippery mud, more than a foot deep, and piles of rock and rubble all covering the road, if you can call it a road. And the moisture from the freezing fog had turned its surface into slippery, trickling slop that fell away from the cliff edge into nothingness. Did I mention I was scared of heights?

· Guess what happened to me last night [in Sydney]? We were walking back to the hostel and some guy jumped out of his car and whacked me across the head with a hammer - the bit you take nails out with. Then he punched George in the face and drove off.

· Birthday plans! I was planning on doing the sunset cruise and gorge swing, but I think we are doing a bungee jump from the highest bridge in the world (!!!). I am going to dress very silly in a big dress so people don't forget me! Love you all . . .

· Hey Mum and Dad, Don't fret, cos I am still alive, and you always said that was the main thing. I should probably mention that I am not pregnant. I am also not yet a heroin/coke/ ecstasy/morphine addict. I have definitely "found myself" and also made a huge difference to the village where I am staying. I have lots of good intentions, like building wells and libraries. I have given up smoking. I have started writing poetry. I have found God. I miss you and love you all so so so much and can't wait to see you. Love Tasha. PS: I may or may not have been shopping, courtesy of Daddy's magic MasterCard.

· Hey, ma, must be quick cos late. Just to warn you, met some awesome Aussies last night, who are going to London next week. I said they could stay with you, to save money. Gave them your number, hope you don't mind, they're all lovely. Can't remember names, but all (four in total) so funny and lovely and super-fit. Xxx love you.

· Dad, you keep complaining about my spending but the longer you fail to get this problem sorted out, the more money will get spent. Beijing is an expensive place to piss about going to banks all day, plus its 39 degrees outside, which makes me annoyed the minute I step out of the hotel. Seriously, I don't know how much longer I can last . . . I'm fucking fed up with this, stop sending me sarcastic emails and telling me "it doesn't add up". I DON'T GIVE A FUCK. Just go down to HSBC and don't leave until you're convinced that something has taken place which will enable me to come home . . . I don't care if you have to use all your savings to pay off my overdraft, or if you have to sell your car, PLEASE JUST GET ME HOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

· Extracted from Don't Tell Mum by Simon Hoggart and Emily Monk (£9.99). To order a copy for £9.99 with free UK p&p, call 0870 836 0875