Thailand Fun

So Chinese New Year fell upon us and as the Vietnamese trotted off to their home towns to celebrate with family and their ‘lucky money’ – a custom that makes the consumer-hungry Western traditions seem a little less shallow as it simply involves giving each other money in specially designed envelopes – the school shut its doors for a week and we used this excuse to flee the country. We are hoping to gain the record for the longest serving Westerners to see have only seen one place in Vietnam, I think we are doing quite well.
So with our e-ticket in hand and ignoring the scare stories of Asian pilots who didn’t have the credentials to land in Europe we boarded a flight to Thailand which resulted in a very strange feeling to arrive in a hot Asian country with no jet-lag, still in the same timezone. Leaving the international delights of Bangkok behind we boarded a bus to the second largest island, Ko Chang – simply Elephant Island. After a remarkably comfortable journey on a semi-deserted bus we were on a ferry slowly ploughing its way through the stretch of water between the island and the main land. After being dropped off we piled into a little truck which seemed to be masquerading as a taxi, complete with roof rack for luggage and we began our education in the geography of Ko Chang. It soon became obvious that the roads circumnavigating the island had been constructed by a roller coaster enthusiast. Within minutes of leaving the ferry port the small engine was straining against the weight of eight passengers and a roof loaded with luggage as it struggled up the mountainous angle of the road. As tourists of motorbikes overtook us, who I could only guessed must have had their shirts ripped from their backs by the sheer speed of their travel, we made our way slowly to the brow of the hill only to crush into each other as we careened down the other side. The island consists of a number of different beaches around which resorts, huts, restaurants and roadside stalls have erupted like sores. Our first-stop to unload some passengers was Whitesands – supposedly the posh resort area of the island which translated as flooded with concrete to support shopping plazas, western shops and the obligatory Irish Pub all at inflated prices so that tourists could relax in the familiar surroundings of a run-down English seaside town. Fleeing quickly we drove through Kai Bae offering moderate to expensive accommodation with a large choice of restaurant, bars and shops – my favourites of the latter two being ‘Friendly Bar – where friends can be found for the evening’ - a cuddly euphemism - and ‘Bra! Bra!’ – simple yet effective. We ended up in the backpacker area of Lonely Beach, which is noted for its party atmosphere but the resorts and concrete had disappeared and the stretch of shops and restaurants were kept to a minimum. After an hour of locals pointing in different directions and being offered depressing rooms with hot water and cable TV we finally found the guesthouse where we made our reservations after a long sticky upward climb past other accommodation options which began to look very appealing in the heat. Hiding at the top of the path behind palm trees and jungle was the stilted reception and restaurant of Oasis. We were greeted by a suitably smiley host called Sunee and we looked out at the vista which offered only jungle and sea. Our simple hut had no TV and no hot water but what it did have was the ‘jungle shower’. A massive shower head through which water plunged straight from the jungle behind the huts to provide our very own cool waterfall. Brilliant.
Our time on Ko Chang alternated between activity and slothfulness. We decided to go elephant trekking, hoping that they would be slightly happier than those residing in Siagon Zoo. We were picked up at our hotel and transported over the hills and far away into the jungle where the elephant camp was based. Our companions for the day were a family of Eastern Europeans, consisting of an uber excited little girl, and what we guessed to be a Russian man from his suspicious demeanour, lack of eye contact and his decision to dress like a 1970s Russian tennis player. We arrived, ate the obligatory pineapple offered and then trekked off, joining some other groups, to wash the elephants. We stopped at a lake and were quickly joined by two elephants, who charged into the water. Everyone was encouraged to get in the water and swim with the animals. Our fellow tourists looked horrified at the thought and so it was obviously my job to reveal my bikini and wade into the water towards the beasts. Although it is lots of fun and a really unique experience to sit on the back of an elephant, scrubbing its head with a brush while it squirts you with water, the whole situation takes a rather more odd feeling when you look up to see twelve Eastern Europeans watching and taking photographs. I sincerely hope that those photos don’t make their way onto any holiday slideshows.
The owners of our guest-house were nice enough to invite us to go trekking in the jungle behind the huts as they needed to check on the water supply. Tim and I tried to decide if it was going to be a really easy walk or if our guides only had one type of shoe as we compared our choice of trainers to theirs of flip-flops. The father of the family led us off into the jungle and quickly upwards towards a beautiful vista, leading the way with the use of a machete. We climbed upwards for an hour, climbing over rocks, trees and bushes and wondering at the lack of water evident over the waterfalls during the dry season. Once the water supply had been checked satisfactorily and any kinks beaten out of the pipes snaking down the mountain our guide decided to offer us a quick alternative route back down to the huts. I didn’t spend too much time looking down of the precipice that he was suggesting we navigate ourselves down but agreed readily as he assured us through his daughter that the vines were very strong. They were indeed and at the bottom looking back up the vertical rocky face which had just thrown ourselves down Tim and I felt like Jungle Conquerers.
A few more days passed in a relaxed blur of sun, sea and snorkelling before we headed back to Bangkok. Our plans of getting the free green bicycles offered by the city to encourage to tour the cities attractions by an environmentally beneficial method were ruined by the rudeness Thai person we came across. At the clearly marked booth, designed and implemented for the use of tourists, sat a large woman whose job it was to provide a pleasant welcome and assist people in their pursuit of Bangkok’s tourist attractions. We approached.
‘Hello, we would like to borrow two of your magnificent green bicycles,’ was our opening gambit.
‘Wha? Where you go?’ came the unexpected and indignant response.
‘Well. We are not sure. Perhaps to the Grand Palace,’
‘Wha?! No! Look,’ she stabbed at a large map behind her and pointed out in her charming manner that we could only cycle on the highlighted circular path.
‘Well, that is fine by us,’ we responded.
‘Wha? How you go?’ she demanded.
‘Well. We aren’t sure how long it takes. Perhaps for half a day,’
‘Wha? No! You can have 3 hours,’
‘Well, ok,’
This type of dialogue went on for some time as she aggressively asked questions that only she knew the answer to. Needless to say that this attitude caused me some consternation, which quickly turned into anger. The prospect of the green bikes were soon soiled with hatred, I was in a mood and declared that the plan was disbanded. Poor Tim.
The rest of our stay was taken up with our pathetic attempts at haggling during holiday shopping and meeting the most stereotypical Australian man ever, he looked like he had walked straight out of Home and Away. He had been travelling round the world for a year, taking in the delights of Europe, the Americas and Asia to come to the life altering decision that Australia was the best country on Earth, which happily for him turned out to be his every other sentence anyway. Shouted by a drunken Australian in a wife-beater vest is quite an experience, only slightly marred when he began to cry about the plight of the Aborigines.
Holiday over.

xx

P.S My camera ran out of battery on the first day of our holiday so here are Tim and I's representation of the holiday through the medium of paint.