As I write this, it has suddenly become like a war zone outside our hotel as firecrackers have just this minute woken the whole neighbourhood – at 10 o’clock in the morning. This is odd as we are located in a Muslim area of the city, like downtown Jeddah, but there is a strong Chinese presence in Thailand and some of the stallholders have closed for the festival. Not only is it very common to see veiled women in black on the streets in this part of town, but even in the restaurants some women even wear a battoulah, a kind of mask over mouth and eyes. How they actually eat remains a mystery, but they obviously do, as none has wasted away.
It always seems like coming home when we get back to Bangkok: the vibrancy, the sordidness, the hustling, the fake videos and watches and, of course, the street-food and the sultry heat, though the latter seems a bit less overpowering than usual this year.
We head off for the south tomorrow, to Koh Samui and for a family reunion with our daughter and her new partner.
***
Time to get a long-overdue haircut in anticipation of warmer climes after the chilliness of China.
After thirty minutes under the scissors, admittedly in lovely hands, I realised I had been shorn to within an inch of my scalp for the shortest ever haircut of my life, all for four quid including tip. Very ‘trendy’ she said. When I got outside, I realised what she meant; very few western males seem to sport any hair at all, making me look, in relative terms, a bit of a hippie. However, for complete trendiness, I knew a bit more was needed: a limb, arm, leg or both/all, to be completely and completely tattooed making the said limb look as though it was in the last stages of gangrene; and of course, the obligatory nipple tassel in finest Sheffield plate with matching tongue and ear stud. I knew I would have a problem presenting a business case for the whole hog to my beloved after the earful I got just for the haircut.
And so to our reunion with our youngest on Koh Phangan, all tears and joy, well for a bit anyway, until the advice began to flow one way. You do know Dad that the yeast in beer does untold harm for someone born on a Wednesday in the year of the horse with your second shakra outlook etc., etc. Still smoking, occasionally? Meat as well? Tut-tut. Time for a trip into the (relatively) big smoke (oops) of Thong Sala (we were planning to go over to our daughter’s side of the island but our youngest suddenly decided we should stop here, saying ‘oh and by the way it is where I go for my groceries, alternative (i.e. expensive) herbal cures’ etc. So, of course, I say ‘let’s help out here’. As I notice she is carrying about 12 king-size packets of Alpen, she mentions she only shops twice a year so has to stock up, you know dinner set for 12, fondue set, a complete set of Tupperware boxes, aloe-vera shampoo from Madagascar’s rainforest and other essentials. Fortunately, she knew the location of all the ATMs in town.
But it was a peaceful week in the end, and we were delighted to hear we had just missed ten days of unremitting heavy rain. By the way, the first rule of globetrotting is to always look into your shoes each morning if you leave them outside the hotel room door as is the custom in Thailand, and I would add the corollary: especially if staying, as we were, in a place run by a Frenchman. The difficulty I had in getting my right shoe on turned out to be because of the large frog (OK, probably a toad) cowering inside it. I am not sure if it was sheer chance or if Agincourt still rankles. I called the chef, but he wasn’t interested; wrong kind of grenouille apparently.
And so, onwards to the Andaman sea on the west coast to recover (in every way) and, as ever, the west coast of Thailand does not disappoint at this time of the year.
At our stage in life with our paragliding, deep sea diving, bungee jumping days behind us, we are content to enjoy a warm peaceful evening with our feet in the sand sitting at a table laden with tasty Thai morsels and cold beers and entertainment limited to enjoying the quiet starry nights, following the changing phases of the moon every night. Well, not that quiet, actually. There have always been the colourful beach salesmen peddling flashing laser pens, illuminated Chinese hand-rolling balls, mini parachutes and the like, but nowadays there is more. The custom of purchasing a Chinese lantern (about two-foot high made out of some non-flammable thin paper and powered by flames) to send off into the air is so popular that dozens of them now depart for the heavens each night. One Swedish lady told us she sent one up to commemorate her mother’s death ‘in the year of the tsunami’ (I am not sure if she died in the tsunami or just that year), but unfortunately, hers was the only lantern not to ‘get to heaven’ as it got caught in one of the tall casuarina trees that line the beach, where for a moment it looked as though it would burn the tree down (but didn’t). I suppose it is a sign of the times, but menus are written now in Thai, English and ‘RUSSIAN!’ Next year, I expect them to add Korean too, and in years to come, Mandarin I am sure.
And then, the fireworks. These seem to be sponsored by individuals and can go off at any time in any quantities for everyone’s pleasure. And the ubiquitous fire-dancers are pleased to show off their talents by whirling their flaming sticks around and into the air like a drum majorette at a 4th of July parade. A Swiss family (not that one) all made an impressive effort to master the art which is not without its risks. And, not to miss a trick, there are also ladies on the beach happy to sell you a dozen roses on this universally romantic day of the year: Valentine’s Day.
So, all in all, not that peaceful I suppose, but not a bad place to spend a February night.
Postscript on our Valentine dinner for two:
I have an unfortunate record of dental catastrophes in Thailand and I feared the worst when my tongue discovered in my mouth what felt and subsequently looked like another tooth having become dislodged. While analysing the said item, I felt a second one in my mouth and in panic realised that at this rate, I would have no teeth left by 10:30 pm and be on liquids for the rest of my life. However, it turned out that the prawns had been prepared in rock salt and the said items in the dim candlelight looked rather like teeth but were in fact just large salt crystals. My home-dentist Robert, will be disappointed not to make my re-acquaintance again this year – touch wood.
***
What, then, do Thailand and Greece have in common? OK, apart from two fiendishly difficult languages to have to learn?
The answer is quite a lot really. If you enjoy the slow routine of a holiday on a Greek beach and/or island with casual dining in a taverna on the beach, a boat trip to another remote beach for the day, fresh fish or calamari in the evening with a glass of local brandy with your coffee, but you want a change (admittedly with a longer flight) then Southern Thailand can offer a similar lifestyle and probably cheaper too since the euro arrived in Greece.
From most beaches, noisy long-tail boats will for a few pounds, depending on distance, take you to a nearby beach for the day or a few hours where you will inevitably find a modest eating establishment which can knock up something Thai or ‘western’ for on average three or four pounds per couple, including a large beer. Morning, midday or evening, there will often be a large array of fruits: pawpaw, pineapple, watermelon, pommelo, starfruit or mangoes (£1.50p for a whole pineapple or mango cut up and ready to eat).
In the evenings, many restaurants will display their day’s catches for perusal: red/white snapper (four pounds for a whole fish enough for two), massive prawns, squid, crabs and at a reasonable price (Are they ever cheap?) huge lobsters, all presented appealingly in a mock wooden model longboat immersed in chunks of ice (the fish not the boat). These can be prepared barbecued, with garlic and pepper, sweet and sour, or with tamarind sauce. Bank on fifteen to twenty pounds for two (the falling exchange rate has taken its toll over the last two or three years when the same would have cost ten to fifteen pounds), depending on choice, not including the high-end items but including beer/glass of wine or local Sang Som brandy and supplementary items like rice, side dishes like morning glory, a green vegetable laced with garlic. Even their standard dishes like a green curry with prawns include what we would call large prawns at home and only cost about two pounds 50p. If you steer clear of items charged by weight, you can get away with seven to ten pounds for two in the evenings, though a couple of large pizzas will set you back about ten pounds, relatively expensive compared with going local.
A word of warning though about eating in hotels and smart establishments: here the cost does rise due to service charges and taxes which can add almost twenty percent to a bill. Tipping elsewhere is nominal and at discretion, not really expected.
Some of the well-known beaches can service most of your needs without you ever moving from your lounger. If you don’t want to stay in the hotel all day, local entrepreneurs will provide a lounger and umbrella for three pounds for two, and offer drinks, fruit, massage, snacks to get you through the day and teach you a few words of Thai into the bargain. Before you leave in the evening, you could also have bought a beach dress, model motorcycle made of wood, an ice cream or bedspread in beautiful silk or freshly cooked sweet corn from a man with a portable stove. Resistance requires persistence.
Of course, idleness is not the only option if you are into windsurfing, diving or other more strenuous activities, but prices are often international.