Oh My Travels

Koh Lanta and Railay Beach, November 2011

2011-12-07T13:42:00.000+07:00

The floods came, or threatened to come, for weeks. After Koh Samet, Schools remained shut, our furniture was moved upstairs, tension was in the air...so we decided to head to the Andaman Coast!

We visited Bamboo Bay on Koh Lanta and then re-visited my favourite place in the world, Railay Beach, Krabi.

Don't forget to check out our Tripadvisor reviews for a rundown of where we stayed and visit our videos page to see our movies.

xxx

Koh Samet, October 2011

2011-11-02T23:04:00.000+07:00

To escape the oncoming floods in Bangkok, we went to Koh Samet island and stayed at Samet Ville resort...oh, and we tested out Erika's underwater camera! Sweeeeet. Full write up of Samet Ville on our Trip Advisor page here.

Trips around Thailand, July 2011.

2011-10-27T23:14:00.000+07:00

Erika's parents came to Thailand for the first time in July - here is the result! We re-visited Kanchanaburi, Koh Phangan, Chiang Mai, Chiang Dao and parts of Bangkok. Enjoy...

Part One:

Part Two:

Part Three:

Part Four:

Part Five:

Part Six:

Part Seven:

A picture is worth a thousand words...

2011-09-13T16:33:00.000+07:00

...and for that reason, fellow loyal readers, I'm having to take a break from writing blogs and will upload travel videos instead. Just don't have the time. Erika will also try to get around posting her photo's when she can. So essentially, this will evolve into a photo blog with occasional videos. Hopefully sometime in the future I'll get writing again but it just takes too dang looooooooooong.

We have a dedicated site for our videos HERE and will be busy grading the places we stay on Trip Advisor HERE.

In the meantime, check out our next video-post about the recent 4 week trip across Thailand with Erika's parents. There are 7 parts to the 1hr30 mins video - I'll be gradually posting each part.

Thanks y'all!

Rich and Erika.

Our video of the recent trip to Cambodia...

2011-08-27T12:18:00.001+07:00

...is below. You can go ahead and watch this until we write our post!

Expatted Excuses and Kho Phi Phi...

2011-06-13T10:08:00.000+07:00

Hi all,

It seems the main challenge of any blogger is to find those few minutes in between working life to work on his/her posts and leave Facebook alone - I've failed at that. Once you live somewhere for a couple years (our 2 year expat anniversary is coming up this July) a blog could simply turn into a dull diary. For example:

Woke up at 6am.
Made a lesson plan.
Swept up the Frangipani leaves outside our house.
Got on bus, ate noodles.
Taught lesson.
Yawn.

Since I last wrote we went to Koh Phi Phi (which this post covers) and Cambodia (which I will write about as soon as poss). We've moved into a sweet house so we can finally have BBQ's and listen to loud music, my mum's visited and we've had our friends Pedr and Lou who have been trekking across Asia and New Zealand, I completed my first year's English Lit exams and we've pretty much decided to stay here for a few more years. It's a good life! We're looking forward to having Erika's parents visiting us for July and we can't wait to see Thailand through new eyes again...

...in the meantime, here's some photos of our trip to Koh Phi Phi with my mum back in February. Erika accidentally deleted her pictures, so these are the ones we salvaged from the Blackberry and mum's digital camera. Believe it or not, Koh Phi Phi still has some pretty quite, sandy beaches, much like the resort we stayed at called Tokho Beach Resort. It's a great place with reasonable coral off the beach, quiet and not too far from Bamboo Island and Maya Beach which can be visited within 45 minutes on a long tail boat. The only gripe we had about Tokho Beach Resort were the flies that infested some of the tables near the kitchen - although a sea-breeze generally got rid of them. Also, the main pier on the island and it's surrounding area is busy, congested and full of kids trying to relive the movie that made Phi Phi famous (The Beach). I almost punched a bloke in the face for stuffing a flyer into the sand next to our towels which read 'All day drinking session on speedboat, today, 5:30 pm'. Firstly for putting a flyer into the sand, secondly for throwing his cigarette into the sea and thirdly because, well, he just had a punchable face and encapsulates everything that miserable b*stards like me hate about some tourists in these parts. But I digress - Phi Phi is still beautiful and has it's old charm if you look for it through the overpriced shops that line the walkways. I was lucky enough to go there as a kid in the 1980's and one of my first memories of experiencing pure joy was juxtaposed with experiencing pure fear as I firstly witnessed the (now dead and gone) rainbow coral of Maya Bay and secondly floated out into the deep ocean before witnessing a large, white shape move under me. Seriously though, anyone reading this blessed enough to have witnessed the little bit of kaleidoscope heaven that was Maya Bay in the 1980's or before would remember it for life. Fragile, otherworldly and hopefully not gone forever...

Me mum...

If your thinking of walking from Tokho Beach to Koh Phi Phi...don't. Unless you're not afraid of spiders and snakes...

THE view. So I suppose it was worth the 30 minute hike in 80% humidity.

Maya Bay, still stunning...

A little reminder of the devastation 7 years ago. R.I.P.

What urinals look like in paradise.

The view from our beach at Tokho Resort - 20 quid a night for a fan room. Not cheap for Thailand but you get what you pay for.

Tune in next time for our post on Cambodia, which has just tipped Laos into pole position for our favourite country we've visited so far (apart from Thailand, of course).

Rich and Erika xxx

Vietnam (Hanoi, Halong Bay and Sapa)

2011-03-29T12:04:00.001+07:00

All my life I've always wanted to go to Vietnam, a place normally consigned to movies about 'that' war and images of rice paddies. We were heading to North Vietnam, though, which is generally off the map in terms of visiting old battle grounds. Our first stop was to be Hanoi, then to Halong Bay on the coast and then to Sapa for Christmas, a town in the Northern mountains near the border to China (you can watch our video here. This was to be another tour into an Asian country that is post-French, our first being Laos. We arrived, feeling all Christmassy, on a cold Hanoi December morning and were picked up by one of the staff from The Especen Hotel. It's a budget affair, right in the old quarter of Hanoi. The old quarter is so packed with charm that I will find it impossible to describe. I saw a few wandering tourists looking overwhelmed, not only by the oppressive traffic but the amount of information you need to process from all the action (read 'traffic'), the shop fronts, the steam rising from the noodle stalls, the noise, the smells, the people crouching on corners tucking into Pho...the massive Catholic church? Yep. Lines on a map do determine differences. How naive of us to imagine that Vietnam would be like Thailand simply because they are neighbours. The first thing you will notice when arriving in Hanoi are the car horns. Like walking into a beekeeping farm...but the bees are driving Honda's and Vespa's, stacked with bags of rice. Or wood. Shoes. Or whatever the shop down the road wanted delivered. Each different kind of vehicle has it's own horn sound. Buses and trucks, for example, have a horn with a falling tone that's almost friendly. The car horn is used not to show aggravation but simply as an indicator that they are near to you and everybody in Hanoi is near to each other...so you can imagine. We spent the first two days wandering the streets of the old quarter in Hanoi before going to Halong Bay, which is famous for it's karst formations off the coast. The French influence is still there in their culinary diet and it seems that art is flourishing in Vietnam - a lot of it a fusion of European and Asian styles. We ate crickets in a restaurant, drank Beer Hanoi (at ten pence a glass), marvelled at the French-Vietnamese architecture, ate Pho noodles, relaxed in French cafes and learnt how to cross the street. I fell in love with this place...

This shop was full of old propaganda posters. Should have bought one! Bought a Tin-Tin in Vietnam wall hanging instead. *hangs head in shame* There were loads of art galleries here of beautiful Vietnamese and French art, sometimes a fusion of the two styles.

St. Josephs Church (1886) taken from La Place cafe, a little French bistro where you can order crepes and coffee. And noodles, of course.

A typical lane south of the lake, near our hotel. Coming from Bangkok, a vibrant and hectic city in it's own right, Hanoi's chaos shouldn't have affected us but it did. It was a bit like a pleasurable panic attack.

It seems that someone, somewhere, always needs something delivered. All the time.

We tried to get a glimpse of 'Uncle Ho' (Ho Chi Minh) but it was shut. According to rumour, he is taken to Russia every year to be re-embalmed. Look him up, he's an absolute legend (political views aside...).

Nothing is too large, awkward or heavy to be delivered by motorbike here.

Don't forget to look up when you wander around Hanoi to see the French architecture.

Hoan Kiem Lake ('Lake of the Returned Sword'), slap bang in the center of the old quarter, is a setting for an old Vietnamese myth. A Vietnamese emperor used a sword called 'Heaven's Will' to defeat the Chinese Ming dynasty. He offered it to the Golden Turtle God in the lake and the rest is history. In fact, there are large soft-shelled turtles inhabiting the lake that are an endangered species.

This place is exactly what it says it is.

The loud speaker, which occasionally blasts out propaganda. I think. It sounds like it, anyway...

Hanoi is just so full of STUFF.

Tucked down a tiny little alley, off a road called Ma May, was our favourite little discovery. It's an art gallery/cafe/restaurant set in two different rickety French apartments called 'Nola'. Go there. If you want a little bit of quiet, some Facebook time whilst glancing at the busy street below you, or just a good bowl of noodles and a glass of wine, whatever, just go there.

This shot below is of their terrace.

We then went to see the water puppet show, which was amazing. The music was incredible, done by a live band as you watch pastoral scenes performed on about four feet of water. The puppeteers are behind the backdrop and they control the puppets that are attached to long sticks under the water. The effect is quite realistic at times as there are literally no strings attached.

Unfortunately our time in Hanoi was slightly marred by scams. The night before we left to Halong Bay, Erika found someone with a hand in her bag. Fair enough, that could happen anywhere. The day we left, however, was a different story altogether. We got a cab to the bus station and as we pulled up to the entrance, our cab driver suddenly told us to get out as soon as possible. It was obvious he was worried about something and it wasn't too long until we were surrounded by about six or seven policeman telling the driver to get 200,000 Dong from us (only five quid). When I asked the driver why he couldn't really reply and was visibly shaking. I gave him 100,000 and told him that the police wouldn't get more unless they told us what was going on. They never did. Ah well. We were off to Halong Bay, that should be better, right?

No.

It wasn't.

In a nutshell: we went to Cat Ba Island, as suggested by Lonely Planet, to escape the hordes that want to witness the limestone karst formations that Top Gear made so famous in their Vietnam Special program. Cat Ba Island itself is beautiful but it's obvious that the beach we stayed at, the main strip of hotels and bars, is all run by gangsters. Across from the seafront there was a floating wooden restaurant, about 100 metres out to sea. A charming old man invited us on a boat to go and have dinner on his floating restaurant. We accepted and before we knew it we were choosing a fish from nets in the sea which was on our plates within 20 minutes. The food was great and we had the whole place to ourselves - we had a helping of prawns, some rice and a beer each. It was a great meal and the service was fantastic. I asked for the bill and the friendly, charming old man gave me a bill for $110. I asked him if it was actually for $11, as this was surely a mistake. Friendly, charming old man changed into threatening, ugly old man. I told him I wouldn't pay it and that he better call the boat to take us back to the mainland. He refused. I gave him what I had, $50, and told him that was still twice what he should be charging. He still wouldn't call the boat and his large cook now joined us. We were the only people on the raft and we were being totally scammed. I used language that would shame a weathered pirate. I didn't care. I was so sick of being ripped off. It started to get nasty, so I pretended to call 'my friends' (of course it was just me and Erika here) on the mainland, motioning with my free arm to come to the raft. Immediately he let us go. I told him he was an idiot for thinking only about next week and not the next ten years, as his little place had real potential. When we got back to the beach, we were met by about 15 of his little brats that work the streets and they were being hostile to us. We went back to the hotel and got the earliest cab the next morning out of Cat Ba. What an absolute scar on the face of the earth. Don't go there and certainly avoid the floating restaurants.

Aaaaaaaaanyway...on the plus side, the ferry we took sailed through the islands we came to see...

This is me basically saying 'It's got nothing on Krabi'. If you've been to Thailand's Andaman coast and you've experienced the karst formations there, you can give Halong Bay a miss.

Ah well. I can't remember the last time I was so relieved to leave somewhere. Probably Acton...

We went back to Hanoi and stayed a couple nights at The Boutique Hotel 2 which is highly recommended. It was about 15 quid a night for an aircon room and the staff are fantastic. I spent a lot of my time teaching the porter English. We visited the 'Temple of Literature' which was founded in 1070 as a Confusian temple. Seven years later it became Vietnam's first university, almost one hundred years before Oxford. It's a beautiful, peaceful place and well worth the visit. During this time a cab driver doctored his metre to try and charge us 5 times the price of what a ten minute drive should have been. I think by this time our patience was running low with the various scams that existed in Vietnam.

It was time to go to Sapa and we were hoping that it would be a better experience in terms of scams. Luckily, it is one of the most incredible places we've ever been to. We took the overnight train to Lao Cai and arrived there at about 5:30am. From there we were packed into a mini van which drove us up and along winding roads to Sapa, only a 40 minute drive or so. It was getting colder and we were wearing our jackets. I wiped the steamed window as we arrived so I could get a glimpse of this place but couldn't see further than ten meters in front of me. It seemed the fog up here was incredibly thick, so much so that exiting the van I almost expected to walk onto the set of 'Stars In Their Eyes'. Immediately we were mobbed by two elderly tribeswomen who told us to give them a 'pinky promise' to meet them later to buy their wares. Their English was great and I couldn't help but smile back at their beaming faces. We found our hotel, Pinnochio, and had a nap. Well, we tried to but the room was so cold and the blankets were damp and musty. We decided there and then to spend a little bit more and stay somewhere dry. No point getting sick on your holiday. We ventured out into the fog and just couldn't see a thing. We had no idea what our view was meant to be, let alone how big this place was.

We found a little bar and had some mulled wine and then went back to our room. We decided to have a duvet day until the next day. We watched Breaking Bad for about 8 hours. Intrepid we weren't.

The next day we woke up to this.

Ah, yes. I forgot we were in the mountains! Well, what can I say. We moved to another hotel called 'Holiday Sapa Hotel' which was like being upgraded from a hut to a palace. Warm, toasty, wooden and with views to die for. For the next few days Erika and I simply wandered about and divided our time between mulled wine and amazing cheap food. The charm this place has is unbeatable. The restaurants (French, Italian, Vietnamese, Indian and more) that line the streets are top quality and every one of them had an open fire, dimly lit ambience and a big old Christmas tree tucked into the corner. Mix that with the hill tribes that sell their wares and you get the idea. It's a special place. There's a church that welcomes all people and we went to witness the hill tribes singing their own hymns. I've never heard anything like it before - they've managed to combine their traditional music with European hymns and it works. We also visited Cat Cat, which is the nearest Black Hmong village, just an hours walk away. If you live in a hot country and fancy being appropriately cold for Xmas, come here. Forget the Alps.

Hill tribes bring their kids with them to work. You've never seen cheeks so red.

Hanging their newly dyed fabrics out in the market square, with the church in the back.

On the way to Cat Cat...

A little note about the market. Dogs are eaten and are treated as a delicacy, so you may see one of them chopped up and on display. The thing is, you can just turn the corner and you're somewhere in the French alps. These differences are what make Sapa. Go there.

When I think of Vietnam, like most people I think of the war and of movies that tried to capture 'the horror' and the futility of the whole expedition. Because that's what it was, wasn't it? A military expedition. A pre-emptive strike that caused more damage in the long run. Sounds incredibly familiar. Before we went to Vietnam, our last big trip was to beautiful Laos - the unsung victim of that war which you can read about in more detail on our blog. It seems wherever you go in South East Asia, you are reminded of various foreign occupations that held the countries by force of trade or ideology - from the French, to the Japanese, to the Americans, with the British always meddling (of course) in the affairs one way or another. Thailand, almost dragged into a war with the French in the 1940's, has escaped relatively unharmed and is rightly proud of their diplomatic achievements (although some criticise their dealings with the occupying Japanese). The reason I'm writing this is because a nation's psyche is always the result of the seeds that sow it's story, and Vietnam is exemplary on this point. If the Thai's view the farang as a curiosity, then the Vietnamese see us as a matter of fact. They've had white faces occupying their lands on and off for 100 years until the end of the Vietnam War (at least until they opened their gates to tourism 20 years ago), with the Chinese as their main antagonists for the last 2,000 years or so. The warm welcome is there. It is. But underlying that is a history that seems to still permeate Vietnamese thought. When we walked out into the streets of Hanoi, I immediately felt overwhelmed - both by the hustle and bustle of the narrow, cold streets but also by the fact a line drawn across a map can produce such juxtapositions of identity.

Koh Si Chang, Thailand

2011-02-08T10:28:00.001+07:00

What's the closest island (with a decent beach) to Bangkok? Koh Samet? Nope. Coral Island? Nope. Koh Larn? Nah. It's the little known island of Koh Si Chang, directly south of eastern Bangkok as the crow flies. To get to the pier in Si Racha is just a quick one hour drive from where we live (just off Ramkhamhaeng Road) - a whole one and a half hours shorter than the usual drive for weekenders in Bangkok going to Koh Samet. We stayed at Si Chang View Resort but don't expect a view - there isn't one. Not unless you walk out your bungalow, through the reception and then down a lane. It's also a tad overpriced and we found it almost impossible to find anywhere online that advertised a room next to the beach. Why, then, is it relatively unknown and therefore quieter and more expensive than Koh Samet? The only reason we could think of is the fact that the island is slap-bang in the cargo shipping route into Bangkok and receives hardly any visitors. You are constantly surrounded by colossal vessels, monsters of the sea that don't seem to move anywhere. The thing is, take these ships away, and you have a beautiful, relatively untouched island with it's own individual charm and a pretty decent beach or two. If you're a couple and you want to get away from Bangkok for the weekend for some cuddle-time, we recommend this place. Leave Koh Samet for the big parties.

They have their own tuk-tuk's...

To the night market...

We hired a motorbike for the day and explored. Absolutely no traffic, blue skies, bring it. Here you can see the cargo ships in the distance...

And we finally found the beach.

Massage? Bottle of beer? Food? Yep.

We were surprised to find a coral beach here but we were even more surprised to see reef sharks swimming right up to the shore.

We came to the beach two days in a row, it's a lovely little bay that doesn't seem to be overcrowded at any time.

On the ferry back to Si Racha pier.

The driver turned up late.

We're coming back. Definitely.

Bogor, Indonesia

2011-01-04T15:53:00.002+07:00

My Dad and his partner Maria live on Rancamaya Estate, just outside the relatively untouched small city of Bogor. Bogor is just south of Indonesia's capital Jakarta and is pretty much completely off the tourist trail. We arrived late on a Friday night to be met by Dad and his driver, Dede. The drive from the airport was only about one and a half hours and we crashed as soon as we arrived.

Little did we know that this would be the view from their porch when we woke up!

Yes, that's right. This is Salak Volcano and it looms over their back garden, which only served to highlight the area's beauty and their lovely bungalow (with pool!). On asking Dad if the volcano was active, he reassured us and said 'Don't worry, it hasn't erupted for a few hundred years.' In geological terms, that's hardly a blink of an eye! Ah well, if there's a way to go...

The first day was great - we just chilled out by the pool and relaxed. Maria's masseur visited and we all got a creme bath massage. It's a head, neck and arm massage that really, really bloody hurts! In fact, it's not meant to hurt but I was too macho to say anything. Here's Erika getting hers. Higher pain threshold, and all that...

Rancamaya Estate is set on an 18 hole golf course complete with a club house, pro shop and golf academy. The area is truly laid back and attracts retired locals and expats alike. Dad took us out on his golf buggy to have a look around...

The club house's pool.

The view of the volcano from the clubhouse.

That night we had delectable traditional Indonesian cuisine and were joined by two of Dad and Maria's friends, Olga and Bas. The food was cooked by Dad and Maria's maid, Upi. We couldn't get enough of it. Before we knew it, it was already late into Saturday night and we talked the night away sharing stories of South Africa and drinking Dad's whiskey. Yep, we were on holiday again.

On Sunday, Maria had to be at the Shangri-La Hotel in Jakarta to help promote Canadian universities at an education fair, so they both treated us to the hotel's famous Sunday brunch. What did I do on Sunday's before I discovered Sunday brunch?! For 30 pounds you get to eat the best choice cuts of Italian hams, cheeses, pasta's, oysters, breads...and that's the starter menu. The main courses offered steaks, poultry and I can't remember the rest because there is free flowing wine and champagne. Read 'free-flowing' as 'bottomless glass'. Not only is the food a limitless barrage of absolute quality, your champagne flute will be topped up by your own waiter. The setting is top end, with Victorian couches to lounge on and an immaculately kept dining area sporting views of downtown Jakarta. For dessert I actually dipped some strawberries into a chocolate fountain. We've been converted and will probably do this in Bangkok every other month from now on. We've reached Level 2 on the Epicurean scales of...erm...levels.

I think this is Erika's 4th starter plate...or is it her 5th?

On Monday Dad and Maria had to go to an education fair near Jakarta for a couple days. Their good friend Olga, and some friends of hers from Russia, took us to Bogor's Botanical Gardens. Built by the Dutch in 1817 during their trading peak in Indonesia with the Dutch East India Company, the gardens are still in use today for botanical research. Lotus ponds, palms and orchid gardens line the wide avenues in this oasis of peace.

Gimme shelter...

We walked up an appetite and made our way to a great little wooden affair next to the street that serves up a fusion of Chinese/Indonesian cuisine. We said goodbye to Olga and her friends and did some shopping. That night we were treated to a meal cooked by Upi. We're getting seriously fed here!

While we were at Bogor we also did some good shopping - we wanted Indonesian arts and crafts for the flat back in Bangkok and we were taken to an arts market where you could buy anything from a bongo to cutlery. The prices here were even less than in Thailand, so we bought quite a bit. Bogor also has a good amount of factory outlets where you can buy mock and real designer clothes at a fraction of the price. Gents, if you wear chequered shirts, Bogor is the place to buy them.

I played golf when I was a kid but stopped at the age of 18 and really wish I hadn't by the time Dad took us to the driving range on Wednesday. I was a bit rusty and it was the first time Erika had ever held a golf club but we had to practice ahead of our trip to the Bukit Golf Club the next day. A few blisters later, we were ready...

...to tee off at the beautiful Cibudas Golf Club which was set high up in the green, misty hills of Indonesia and is surrounded by tea plantations. This is a great course for beginners as it's surprisingly empty and therefore without any pressure from players behind you. Erika and I watched Dad and Maria tee off with perfect 250 yard drives before we sliced and hooked our drives all over the place. Poor Erika thought we were playing croquet, judging by her swing and strike length. After hacking our way through 18 holes, with our muscles aching and patience running thin, we promised ourselves to take it up once we got back home. If you want to get out in the fresh air with some good mates and end the day with a few beers, golf is the way forward! Forget the stereotypes and make it your own.

After a couple beers at the course's club house we made our way back home but stopped off at a streetside place for lunch which looked out over the mountains.

We then journeyed on to Taman Safari so we could get our fill of big cats and orangutans.

A puma.

A cheeky monkey.

A rare white tiger. Absolutely beautiful.

"Keep driving. Nothing to see here, kids."

'I wanna be like you. ooh ooh...'

This is me laughing at the fact that the baby orangutan grabbed my hat and put it on his head. Little did I know that this little cute fella was seconds away from relieving himself all over my lap. Much to the pleasure of Erika and Dad.

We'd driven through the centre of Bogor a few times by now and the surrounding area had caught our eye. We could see red topped houses nestled next to the river in the valley and wanted to explore the narrow lanes that cut into it. There weren't many farang in the city itself, so were pretty sure that the sight of a blonde woman walking along the muddy market lane would turn some heads. It did and it also caused the market to erupt. The stall holders 100 metres in front of us knew we were there only seconds after we entered.

Yes, these are multi-coloured chicks.

Still, we wanted to travel, we got the travel. This was Indonesia without the frills, and we're sure Bogor will get those frills. It has a post-colonial charm about it and sits in beautiful countryside. The horse and carriages are still only for public use - but for how long? We carried on and went straight into the heart of the residential area of central Bogor and wandered down the winding lanes. You know those adverts you see of young khaki clad travellers being greeted by raucous local kids with big grins, grandmas sitting in doorsteps, mothers leaning out of windows? Yep.

This kid was selling homing pigeons.

"David Beckham!" "Manchester United!" "Chelsea!" "I love Torres!"

"Do you like Tottenham Hotspur?"

"Who?"

Well, we've reached our last day already. Erika and Maria woke up early (along with Dad and I) to go and do some Tai Chi. Dad and I joined the walk...

...but opted out of the Tai Chi. Which actually looked damn hard! There's Erika in the blue trousers in perfect choreography with the others.

One more large lunch later at a Chinese restaurant with their friends and before we knew it we were on a plane back to Bangkok. We had such a great time and will no doubt beat Dad and Maria at golf the next time we see them. I've clocked in a few hours at the driving range in Bangkok already.

Ah well, at least we knew we'd be on a beach again in no time, which will be in our next post.

Happy New Year!

Chandler's Compulsory Cuisine Club...

2010-11-18T13:31:00.004+07:00

It seems like our blog posts are getting further and further apart and I can only apologise for this and throw the old 'we've been busy' excuse...which is true. Our next post will be about our week's stay at my Dad's house in Bogor, Indonesia, which was great.

This post, however, is about our slow but complete metamorphosis into foodies. It's hard not to be one in Thailand, as it's everywhere. But we're not just talking about Thai food, we're talking about Japanese, French, Italian, Malaysian, Chinese, Vietnamese, Isaan, Indonesian, Texmex...I could go on. I remember living back in London and Erika and I would 'treat' ourselves to a disappointing tapas in Ealing every now and then. Or really 'splash out' and eat at a very average, cheap Thai restaurant. When we were in the UK back in July we realised how shamefully expensive food was over there and how many hours we (she) slaved over our hob every night after work to rustle something up. So we decided to take advantage of the considerably cheaper culinary delights on offer back in Bangkok. Rather than focus on good Thai food, which is what we eat everyday anyway (and it's ALL good), we wanted to focus on eating at decent restaurants that served food from around the world. I got out our Bangkok bible, the Nancy Chandler map, and saw that Sukhumvit Road was littered with good looking eateries. Not the cheapest, by far, but western food generally isn't over here. However, to put it into perspective, for about 20 to 30 quid each you can have a three course meal in a five star restaurant (including a couple drinks). I'll say no more. To make it more interesting and to force ourselves to eat at places we'd normally skip, we decided to work our way strictly East to West along Sukhumvit road (and the roads adjoining it) and eat at every restaurant, every month, no matter how long we decide to stay here. Whoever wanted to join us was more than welcome but we made a pact that we HAD to do this every month, no matter what. Good food in good settings at this price was too special to be missed. What's better than good food and good company, anyway?
Sound good? No? There's a McDonalds and a 'massage' parlour down the road for you, then...

September 2010 - Khun Ying Restaurant (Thai/Chinese Seafood).

Ok, fine - I know I said 'international cuisine' but this is Thai/CHINESE Seafood. So it counts.

We met our friends Simon, Joel and Laura at the restaurant and realised that, although this was a Friday night, we were only one of two groups of people here. Hmm, not the best sign at a seafood place. The setting is nice enough, if not a little minimal. Just off the hip Ekamai road it gives you the feeling that this place looks like it concentrates more on it's food than it's presentation. At first we were offered to sit inside the air conditioned room but it looked a bit characterless and claustrophobic, so we sat outside.

As soon as we looked at the menu, we'd realised this place meant business. Each one of us ordered a dish to whack in the middle and share. The service was pretty quick and before we knew it we were tucking in to some pretty amazing seafood: Red Snail Curry (my choice...), oysters, squid, a large fried fish, king prawns and I forget what else. The service was good and they keep your drinks topped up (just watch out for those new bottles of beer being opened without your requests...). After the meal we headed just across the road to a cracking Thai bar, sat on some stools near the road and shared a big bottle of Sangsom, which is Thai rum.

Unfortunately, two of our crew suffered severe food poisoning after this meal. Shame really, as it all tasted great but the turnover in the kitchen is a little slow...!

October 2010 - The Face (Thai, Indian and Japanese)

This place was up next on our East to West Sukhumvit foray. Wow. What can we say? We chose the Indian restaurant called Hazara. If you can imagine Jim Thompson's house (a beautiful Thai wooden house) converted into an upmarket restaurant, with soft ambient lighting, decorative plants, multiple floors with each table allocated it's own unique space...then you know you're in for a treat. Actually, considering the price tag on some of the food (550 Baht for a curry), it had BETTER be good. Which is was but obviously the price tag is mainly for the location, as the portions were a little small. There were about ten of us tonight, all sat along a long teak table and we pretty much had the room to ourselves. It does have a slightly formal atmosphere though, there was no background music which is the norm in Thailand and the waitresses were almost apologetic! Either way, although it hurt our pockets a bit (considering that you can get a curry in Bangkok for a third of the price) we all agreed this place was special. Afterwards our friend Mark suggested we go to the Iron Fairy on Thong Lor Road. We'd never heard of it but could soon see why - you could walk past this place and mistake it for a closed workshop. There's no lighting outside and the name of the bar is simply painted on a wooden sign. The only reason we knew it was the right place was because we could hear some live jazz eking through the cracks in the door. We entered the door, walked through some curtains and suddenly we were in a David Lynch movie. Dark, jazzy, surreal, projectors beaming black and white movies...you get the idea. Go there for a drink to start your night (you can only afford one), it's great.

November 2010 - Beccofino (Italian)

Originally we were meant to eat at Ana Garden, a Thai restaurant just opposite. But after Erika and I had sat down and looked at the absolutely disgusting prices on the menu, we soon realised that it was our fault: why the hell are we including Thai food in our club? And in Thong Lor?? We can eat this 400 Baht dish for 40 Baht every day of the week. Erika remembered that Beccofino, an Italian restaurant, was just opposite - and was the next restaurant on our list anyway. Sold. We arrived and the setting was understated but still pretty high class. We studied their menu, which wasn't only cheaper than Ana Garden's but offered a three course Italian meal for about 650 Baht. Double sold. We'd had a few cancellations, so it was back to the original crew (Simon, Joel, Laura and me)! Starter was great. A lot of salad with healthy gratings of Parmesan cheese on top (we cannot tell you how nice it is to eat this in Thailand). The house wine was great - 150 Baht a glass, which is cheap in Thong Lor. Simon and Joel showed us their tattoo's, the wine was tasting great, Laura pulled out a massive bar of Cadbury's chocolate that she brought back from the UK. It was all going so well...

...until the main course arrived. Luckily I ordered the chicken and not the pasta which the others had ordered. The waiters arrived with our dishes, hidden under a china bowl cover. Once all dishes were on the table, there was a big dramatic show of lifting off the covers to display our food. Needless to say, the awkward silence that followed must have been unexpected for the waiters. Normally, you see, when you make a show of presenting food, it has to be....special. Not a thimble-sized bowl of pasta. Make that: a tiny, thimble-sized bowl of pasta that would find it monstrously difficult to look at a normal bowl of pasta in the eye. I think I stared at their plates in shock for at least 20 seconds before Erika told me to snap out of it. Ok, it was a set menu. I get it. But that doesn't mean you should take the piss out of your customers, right? The waiter asked us if we wanted to choose our third course...no thanks, we're off to the Witches Tavern to eat some chips. I've never left a restaurant hungry before.

Laos - Vientiane, Luang Prabang and Route 13...

2010-10-09T18:40:00.006+07:00

In our last post we had visited Kuala Lumpur, a city that left us with mixed feelings about it. That was soon to be forgotten, however, because after out trip to the UK (for our second wedding blessing!) we spent two weeks in Laos. Well, what can we say? We absolutely loved it and sure you will too if you spend a few minutes reading this post...

Laos. Say it. 'Laos'. Before we came to Thailand we had no idea how to pronounce the name of this relatively unknown country that happens to be sandwiched between Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam, China and Myanmar (Burma). I pronounced it as 'Lay Oss' but it's in fact 'Laaow'. Once a kingdom in the mid 14th century called 'Land of a Million Elephants' and then ruled by French Indochina, Laos is now a communist country ruled by the Lao People's Revolutionary Party. Laos has had a turbulent recent past mainly due to it's involvement in helping the north Vietnamese during the Vietnam War. This led the United States to rigorously bomb parts of Laos, creating political divisions which accumulated into a civil war between the Pathet Lao and the Royal Laotian Government. Disgustingly, due to its involvement in the Vietnam conflict, Laos is reported as being the most bombed country on the planet per capita by the US. The Guardian alleges that there are 80 million (yes, MILLION!) unexploded bombs scattered around parts of Laos. Up to this day a few people a month still die or are maimed by these bombs which are still being found by bomb disposal teams across the country. Since the war, Laos has existed in the 3rd world whilst it's neighbours (with the exception of Myanmar) have left her far behind in terms of economics and infrastructure. Their darker history aside, however, we also heard of a country where you can buy freshly baked panini's right next to noodle stalls, of old French colonial mansions and a friendly people who walk to the beat of their own drum. About 10 bpm as were to find out!

As the plane descends over Lao, you realise how relatively untouched this country still is. Regarded as the most naturally preserved country in SE Asia you are greeted below with green rolling hills, muddy lanes and meandering livestock. Landing in Vientiane, the capital of Laos, looks as if you're landing in a small town in the middle of no where. Straight away we knew we'd love it. When we breached the check in and made it to the exit (there's only one) we were expecting touts shouting 'taxi' at us, only to find that we had to actually look for one. There's a brilliant quote in the Lonely Planet where they write that if you had to compare different SE Asian countries as tuk-tuk drivers, the Thai tuk-tuk driver would take you to a gem store, the Vietnamese tuk-tuk driver would chase you down the street for business and the Laotian tuk-tuk driver would actually need waking up. This is true. Although we didn't get a tuk-tuk into town, our taxi driver drove at walking speed. Overtaking a cow took about ten minutes. Everything was in slow motion, from the people walking along the main road to the motorbikes riding on pavements. Vientiane was going to be our decompression chamber after a hectic couple of weeks in the UK and we made it just that. A sleepy city, there isn't much that strikes you as arrive, although, like everything we saw in Laos, it's a slow burner. Set alongside the Mekong river, you can find temples tucked behind modern buildings and start up businesses that dot the road. Along the main drag, Nam Phu, is a simple row of guesthouses, bars and street stalls that cater mainly for the tourists. There weren't many and, thankfully, the sex scene here is hidden which is a nice change. We're not square, it's just that it's nice to walk down a street occasionally without seeing a group of vacant, miserable looking Asian girls being picked up by drooling farangs. That first night we ate at the noodle stalls on Nam Phu, still jet-lagged but not tired enough to avoid drinking the countries favourite export - Beer Laos. A very fine lager, indeed. Here's to Beer Lao, a beer that advertises it's products on speed limit signs. Yep.

We stayed at a guest house which is about a five minute tuk-tuk ride away from the river - the name of which escapes me as it was forgettable. To be honest, although the service was friendly and the rooms were clean, you can stay in better accommodation for not much more right next to the Mekong, which we did the next day.

One thing that struck me the next morning as we were walking down to the river front was that Vientiane, although wholly different in almost every respect, reminded me of Thailand back in the 80's, when I was a little nipper. This was a bit of a surprise for me because I hadn't had this experience since moving back to Bangkok last year, where I almost expected at least some kind of hint of my past. What brought it back was simply the fact that noise and air pollution didn't affect the senses of city life. The fact that we could actually smell the sandalwood on a busy street, or the coriander of a family's dinner wafting over a brick wall, the trees, the soil itself, tiger balm, fish sauce, clove cigarettes. These smells, I know it sounds stupid but it's true, hardly exist in Bangkok anymore, unless you're on some back road. The sounds were reminiscent too: the slow bang of a hammer on bamboo scaffolding, traditional Thai/Laos music, the cheap exhaust on a clapped out motorbike, bird song and...silence!

We went to see the Patuxai monument, a nod to the Arc De Triomphe in France.

You can climb to the top for a few thousand kip (12,000 to 1 quid, or 50 Baht).

A view of the Avenue Lane Xang.

We'd decided to hire a 4x4 to drive to Luang Prabang and headed out to find Europcar, the only car rental company in Laos with a website. Anyone read French or Laos?

For about 300 quid we hired a Ford Ranger 4x4 for eight nights - something that we'd be very pleased about later. We also found our new lodgings, the Lao Silk Hotel which is on Francois Ngin Street, just a few minutes walk to the riverside. This hotel was only 15 quid a night and it was clean and modern with air-con. Oh, and it happened to be next to a pub and a superb Italian restaurant called the Aria Italian Culinary Arts Restaurant. For any cheese/wine/pizza starved expat or traveller, this place is heaven. The food was excellent and we had never tasted red wine this good anywhere else in Asia.

We gorged ourselves and, with jet lag kicking in, headed back for an early night...after a pint of Beer Lao, of course. This beer is incredibly good, based on locally grown rice and imported hops and yeast from Germany. Beer Lao Dark is a really tasty dark beer and you can really taste the roasted malt. A large bottle is less than one quid. Mmmm...

Right. This is it. Jet lag dissipating and a 4x4 truck waiting to take us through the mountains to Luang Prabang. We were told that the 400 km trip from Vientiane to Luang Prabang, which is in the north of Laos, would take about 8 hours. Rather than drive the whole way we decided to break up the trip and stay at Vang Vieng on route. In fact, Phu Tang Resort, just 17 km north of Vang Vieng, is where we headed to. I'd never driven on the right hand side before and I'm quite glad that I learnt how to in Laos, as people drive here as if asleep. After a few km's of driving down a long busy stretch of road out of Vientiane on the Route 13, we entered into what would be the predominantly rural landscape of limestone karst mountains and rice fields.

Our trusty Ford Ranger.

Only four hours in, we arrived at Pha Tang Resort which is right on the Nam Song river, a Mekong tributary. Imagining a slow meandering river next to the resort's restaurant, we actually encountered a large, frothing beast. I didn't know how the restaurant, which was over the river supported by stilts, managed to stay upright. That aside, the rooms were great and we tucked into some delicious nosh whilst gazing at the karst mountain that overlooks the resort on the other side of the river. The only other guests there were some middle aged Thai men who, as the waiter told me, were with their Laotian 'Mia Noys', or 'minor wives'. Basically, their bit on the side. Unfortunately, the walls separating the rooms were pretty thin...

The view from the restaurant on the river.

The next day, we were off early. I've never had to dodge cows and goats on the street before but one thing you do notice is that everyone works the fields, including the kids. This is when it really hit us how poor Laos is.

And how beautiful.

Buffaloes working the farms were more common than any tractor.

And we passed miles and miles of rice paddies.

As we continued our journey higher into the mountains, the air was cooler, the clouds lower. As you can see, Laos' main agriculture is rice and about 80% of the population work it.

I got quite adept at dodging cows.

And kids.

We stopped for lunch and had this view presented to us while the staff went back to sleep after serving us.

Along the way we picked up a couple of hitch hikers, Dave from America and Nut from Thailand, who were on their way to Luang Prabang to meet some American college kids on a field trip. We only gave them a short lift along the road and dropped them off outside a guest house where I think they were going to organise bookings for their trip. Little did we know that we would hook up with them again later!

The roads begin to wind so much as you gain altitude, so much so that the longest stretch of straight road at one point was about 10 meters or so. The tourist buses taking travellers from Vientiane to Luang Prabang scream round these corners and rampage through the small villages that dot Route 13 at serious speed. These villages, although next to the main transport artery that connects northern Laos, are still incredibly untouched. All the housing is still wooden, something that we didn't see even in our visit to Chiang Dao, Thailand, last year. It seems the villages came first and then the road. To be precise, some sort of muddy track did exist as the main mountain pass, but the relatively new tarmac road has introduced large vehicles that everyone has to dodge every day.

The trouble with there being only one road is that there's no pressure release when traffic hits. Which it did. Big time.

The night before it had rained heavily, causing a few mudslides along the way. As you can see from the photo above the road is cut into the mountain with little to no mudslide barrier. Just round that corner in front was a slide measuring about fifty meters in length. The larger vehicles, being too heavy to challenge the slippery mud, had pulled over to let smaller vehicles through. Unfortunately the people coming from the other direction also had the same idea, creating a complete standstill. We pulled the car over and turned the engine off - little did we know it would stay like that for about five hours. About an hour in, a feeling of community arose as people shared food, water and what little information they had about the length of the tailback. An old Thai lady knocked on my window and gave us a bag of peanuts. The local villagers seized the opportunity to sell sticky rice and fruit. The fellow driving a Beer Lao truck decided it was time to open the crates and have a party. Car doors opened and blasted out 'luk thung', the upbeat and cowbell-heavy music of the farmer. Erika and I got out and started to play some cards on the back of our 4x4 whilst eating our peanuts. Night fell and we all wished for it to stay dry. At about 8pm, the cars started to groan forward, inch by inch. Someone knocked on my window again and it was Dave and Nut, the chaps we'd picked up the day before. They had hopped onto a local bus and were walking down the road to get some idea of the situation. Having seen the state of the buses and their death defying attempts to drive over the mud, we offered them a lift in our truck - we had two seats spare so why not? It was also good to have some company and to share experiences on expat life. We moved closer to the mud slide with me keeping the truck in 4x4 mode. I got out the car and tip toed my way down the dirt track to get an idea on what challenge laid before me, passing the wooden huts of the local villagers, all nonchalantly staring at this strange international mix of human life milling about their doorways. What I witnessed didn't fill me with much confidence. In fact it's safe to say I was quaking in my flip-flops. In front of me was a thirty meter stretch of road covered in three inch chocolate-thick mud that sloped diagonally from left to right. To the left was the mountain, to the right a sheer drop into nothingness. Let me rephrase that: a sheer drop to certain death. If you've ever witnessed a car attempting an icy or muddy road and you see it lose control, you'll understand what I mean when I say 'morbid helplessness'. You can only watch it happen, this slow-motion emergency, and hope for the best. We saw this happen dozens of times. I saw a mini van, full of petrified tourists, attempt the stretch of muddy road. The driver approached in first gear, ever so slowly, until the van lost traction and started to slide to the edge. Instinctively he pressed the brake - a big no-no as the van turned into a sleigh and slid towards the edge of the cliff. Luckily, about ten villagers ran up and pushed the van back on course. The driver, wide eyed now and aware of the danger, kept it in first gear, ominously sliding towards the other parked cars and the black hole to his right. After about three very long minutes he completed the 30 meter stretch. I was up next. By this time an audience of fifty or so villagers appeared and they lined the road, cheering me on. I told Erika and the boys to get out the car and to follow me on foot. I closed the door, started the engine, put it into 4 wheel drive and released the hand brake. As soon as the hand brake was released and I tapped it into first gear, I started to slide to the right and hit the brake. "Don't brake! Don't break!" this fella was screaming at me through my open window, which really helped to calm me down. I looked to my right as the back right wheel started to drag the truck towards the edge and had visions of it rolling down the hill. I was starting to panic as my truck lost control and lifted my shaking foot off the brake, which felt incredibly wrong given my current predicament. I lifted the clutch to put the car back into first gear and mercifully I stopped sliding down. The truck stopped, facing diagonally 270 degrees which allowed me to witness the villagers laughing their heads off at this very serious looking farang. I continued on in first gear with the truck sliding to the right every few meters or so and it felt like forever. My left foot was shaking as it tried to control the clutch because I couldn't use the brake. Finally, I felt the wheels hit the tarmac and my whole universe was locked back into shape. Erika and the boys jumped in, whooping with joy, and we headed towards Luang Prabang. It took about ten minutes for my heart beat to resume it's normal plod. We arrived in Luang Prabang at midnight and we followed Dave's colleagues (who'd met us in town) to a guest house called Phoonsab Guesthouse. We had no idea what the accommodation would be like but were presently surprised to be greeted with a large, wooden room full of teak furniture with a big double bed and a private enclosed balcony. Knackered, we crashed out.

The next morning we woke up and I had a look out the window to find we were slap bang in the middle of the main tourist stretch of road. A bad thing? Nope. All trucks and loud cars are banned in Luang Prabang to preserve it's World Heritage Sight ambiance. The noisiest thing we heard was the putter of a 'jumbo' tuk-tuk. I went downstairs and looked around the main street and I think you can say it was love at first sight. The mix of French colonial townhouses and the low hum of Laotian life going on in front of me seemed to complement each other in a setting that was so new to me.

Our room was the last window on the left. It looks smaller than it actually is in this photo!

Sissavong Road.

There are monks everywhere you look, weaving their way through the tourists who are lazily munching on croissants and sipping quality roasted coffee. A tuk-tuk driver pulled up in front of my beaming face.

Tuk-tuk driver: "Good morning! Would you like some ganja?"

Me: "Erm...no, thanks"

Tuk-Tuk driver: "Opium?"

Hello, Luang Prabang.

We got our cameras and wondered, which is what you do here. The main centre is hugged by the Mekong River to the north west and the Nam Khan to the east. Within the banks are quiet tree lined lanes peppered with old temples and European architecture. The big rolling brown rivers have the occasional boats puttering up and down them, whilst the tuk-tuk drivers relax and play French bowls.

We followed the curve of the river and found ourselves in a blissful daze. Did I buy the opium? Didn't need to! We wandered around the beautiful, old temples. The following pictures are taken from Wat Xieng Thong (where royal coronations were held 500 years ago) and Wat Manorom (which has an 800 year old Buddha image inside).

You can't hear it but about one hundred monks were chanting their evening prayer from within the red walls of this temple below. It was at this point we realised we'd come to a pretty special city.

We saw some monks in an art class and we weren't sure if we were allowed to bother them. With such a large tourism impact on Luang Prabang (although still subtle) I'm sure these guys get a little annoyed with curious tourists, gawking at them around temple walls. However, once you've saved up and travelled all this way, what's the point in hesitation? As we stepped up a couple of steps and caught their attention, all very young, we realised that they were very welcoming, albeit a tad shy. Buying a print by these young monks puts money into (hopefully) the temple's pockets, so we went and bought a print.

After thanking the monks, we went round the corner to witness a pottery class. Aware that, in Thailand at least, that monks aren't allowed to converse freely with women, I did most of the talking. I asked them where they were from, how old they were - the usual TEFL stuff! We were surprised to find out that they were mostly from Thailand and had come to Luang Prabang to study. Erika got this picture of one of them at work and I seriously think she needs to submit this to National Geographic or something!

Erika's website is here.

After a very hard day's strolling, we were persuaded by some people to get on a boat and go across the Mekong river to a new bar hidden in the jungle. As a Vietnam war movie buff I'd always dreamed of seeing this beast and finally I had the chance to get on it. The boat was a bit rickety but we managed to make it across.

And we stretched out on some cushions, relaxed with a cocktail...and got bitten by about one million mosquitoes.

As the sun fell, we called the boat boy to take us back over the river so we could have a look at the night market. Although the market has the usual SE Asian tourist goods on offer (t-shirts, sarongs, CD's) it has a huge range of local handicrafts and jewellery. Don't forget to barter - I did so in Thai and it worked fine.

I bought t-shirts, she bought stuff to hang/drape/decorate, we went to bed.

The Kwang Si Waterfall was next on our list. Having been disappointed with our experiences of water falls in Thailand, I really wasn't too fussed about this. What I was fussed about were the Sun Bears at the Bear Rescue Center just nearby. When we arrived, however, it was bath time or something and they were nowhere to be seen. We trekked a short distance to the varying pools of the waterfall where we witnessed some people swinging from a rope into the water.

The waterfall was stunning.

On our way out we considered buying some 'laos-laos', a traditional Laotian rice whiskey, normally housing the odd snake or scorpion.

And Erika chatted to this elderly lady who owns one of the tourist shops near the entrance to the falls.

We went back and wandered around the streets, just taking in anything we saw, eating at anywhere we passed. There's a place, un-named, on the bank of the Mekong that does BBQ food where you cook your own dishes in the center of the table - highly recommended. We sampled, at last, some amazing quality wine at two wine tasting bistro's on the main road. Both bars were as good as the other: low lighting, soft jazz, good selections of wines from around the world. You know, we were really slumming it....

Mostly, we just strolled about enjoying the Euro-Asian marriage of architecture and cuisine.

A family playing badminton in the street.

Here's one of the large tuk-tuk's called 'jumbo's'. Sleeping driver is hidden...

Every now and then you walk past some classic cars...

...whilst listening to the gentle chimes of bells reverberating against the breeze.

If there is a city in heaven, I'd like this to be it.

The next day Erika wanted to go to an infamous village of silk weavers and we headed off. It's about two miles north of Luang Prabang and down a dirt track. It took a while but we found it tucked away. In these shops you can watch very experienced women weave all kinds of Lao silk on centuries old wooden looms, and then buy some to support the community.

Indigo silk, naturally dyed.

Not THE shop but one of the shops on the way.

Weaving in action.

Drying the dyed silk in the sun.

And they start weaving very young.

Well, it was hard to leave Luang Prabang but we did. A perfect place for a honeymoon. We hopped into our truck and zoomed off back down Route 13 heading back to Vientiane. We weren't the only ones travelling on the road that day...

...oh, and we hit more mud. Luckily we'd arrived at the hot spots early on and didn't have to wait too long. We picked up a couple lads from Ireland, Shane and Barry, who we'd rescued from quite possibly the most ominous bus-ride ever. This was bitter sweet as we got to meet two lovely blokes who then repaid us (quite generously and needlessly) by paying for our accommodation that night in Vang Vieng. Cheers guys! We ended the night by having a few drinks and then left off to Vientiane the next day. Before we knew it, we were on our flight back to KL and then to Bangkok.

Laos was definitely the highlight of our travels so far and if you get the chance to visit this beautiful country before the hordes lay claim to it, do it NOW.

Until next time - which will be Jakarta!

Kuala Lumpur

2010-09-14T22:32:00.001+07:00

Since I last wrote, we've been to Kuala Lumpur, the UK, Kuala Lumpur again, Laos, Kuala Lumpur and Bangkok. We had to go to KL as Air Asia, our airline of choice, fly to London and Laos from there. Our next post will be about Laos which left a big impression on us indeed. With regards to Air Asia, be warned, as they do like to adjust their flight times a lot with their international flights (they changed three of our flight times). Oh, and our flight back to KL was delayed by four hours. What do you expect? You're scum!

So, on our way to the UK last July, we thought we'd take advantage of the KL stopover and explore the city. One thing you'll notice when you fly into KL are the palm plantations. Thousands and thousands of acres of the trees that produce the palm oil has now replaced the once rich and diverse surrounding rain forest of Kuala Lumpur. It's a shame but it pays. Two days is never enough to fully explore anywhere, which is why we decided to stay right in the heart of Chinatown, on Petaling Street. The hotel we chose was the Chinatown Inn - your typical budget inner-city accommodation: windowless but with air-con. This suited us fine as we were going to spend most of our time outdoors anyway. Little tip if you're going to stay at this place: bring earplugs as the cleaners seem to start work at 7am, the doors are thin and they shout down the hall at each other. Look on the bright side - it gets you out of bed so you can explore. I was going to complain but my anger was lightened by their cheery 'hello!' as soon as we stepped out of our room.

Straight into Chinatown and we could see that although the area was still orientated towards tourism, it wasn't as sanitised as the one in Singapore. Amongst the t-shirts, key rings and other what-nots you could still see Chinese fare. And look, there's an old man pushing a cart! What you do notice here is the prominence of the burka and it's a reminder that you're in a predominantly Muslim country. Just over half the population (which is mostly a mix of Malay, Chinese and Indian peoples) follow Islam, which was brought to the country from India in around 1200 AD. Having lived in ethnically diverse countries all my life, the sight of a sea of burka's was still new to me and, after living in Thailand now for about a year, it was odd to witness SE Asian faces peeping through the fabric. In this case, it was obvious that just around the corner from Petaling Street Kuala Lumpur was going to be a different experience to that of your more Buddhist cultural experience and we were looking forward to exploring. Just at the top of the street was a row of Indian and Nepalese restaurants. Hidden amongst the crowds and pollution from the city's heaving streets. I spotted a sign on a building, 'Nepal House', which was a restaurant on the third floor of a nondescript town house. We entered the doorway and climbed up some narrow stairs, walking past Nepalese men on our ascent. The restaurant, if you want to call it that, was dark, smoky and someone was playing bongo's in the far corner. Simply a long rectangular room with a kitchen in the back, this was a real hangout for Nepalese and Indian locals and it became immediately apparent that we were the only westerners and Erika was the only woman. Any curiosity from the diners, however, was soon ended and we tucked into our food. Lentils, rice and curried vegetables (Dal, Bhat and Tarkari respectively) was offered with an array of different meats. It was delicious. I think we paid the equivalent to a pound each for a huge lunch, which included free refills of Dal.

The rest of the day we hung out around Chinatown.

Day Two - we were pretty much rained out on this day. The skies opened up as soon as we left but we were adamant this wouldn't put us off our plan, which was to go to the colonial district and on to the Islamic Arts Museum. July must be a low season in Malaysia because we arrived at the recommended ex-colonial district of the British (Merdeka Square) only to find it resembling an abandoned ghost town. Building's were closed for renovation, grass was growing over the paving slabs and the underground station was boarded up.

On day three we did the KL Tower to get a bird's eye view of KL and it was very worth it. Although Erika has a phobia with heights, she mustered up the courage to follow me to the lift. The viewing pod is about 1000 feet high. As it's a communication tower the bulk of it is simply a hollow tube that the lift shoots up in - the wind blew the lift about and it felt like we were ascending on the outside. Out of the lift, it was all good.

And then downstairs to a mini zoo where we decided to be idiot tourists.

Then we checked out a couple malls...

...and the sun came out.

This is one of the most famous Islamic buildings in KL, the Dayabumi Complex...

...which you can walk past on your way to the huge Masjid Negara, Malaysia's national mosque which can hold up to 15,000 worshippers. This picture is just part of the internal structure. We seem to have misplaced the others, sorry!

Some Indian street food...

And of course, you can't visit KL without seeing the Petronas Twin Towers: standing at 1482 feet they are the tallest twin towers in the world. There is a huge upmarket shopping mall at their base and you can walk along the sky walk that connects the two towers. As Erika had just dealt with her fear at the KL Tower, we thought we'd give that one a miss...

Well, that was KL. It's quite hard to summarise a place you've only visited fleetingly but we would say that, although it's a 'vibrant city with a diverse culture', we don't really feel any desire to visit there again. Not sure what it is. Maybe some places need a bit longer but KL doesn't feel like it wants to be visited. If you lived there, however...

"Like Chang and Spanish for 'please'..."

2010-08-01T18:22:00.006+07:00

The title to this post is the incredibly ridiculous clue Erika texted me when I begged her for a hint for my birthday surprise. It was Friday the 11th of June and I was about to meet her at our flat. As instructed, my bags were packed the night before and I had my passport ready. Having absolutely no idea where I was to spend the weekend (was the passport instruction a bluff? how about the swimming trunks?) it was killing me that I couldn't suss out her clue.

Like Chang...Spanish for please.

We got into the cab at our flat and he pulled off. I knew that if he was to hang a U-turn on Ramkamhaeng from where we live, then that would mean the airport. If he was to carry straight into town, it would mean a couple nights in a swish hotel or a bus depot to take us....where?

Like Chang...Spanish for please.

The cab did a U-turn. Airport.

"Really?" I asked.

Erika just gave me a 'who knows' with her eyes.

"Ok" I said to her, Erika getting more smug by the minute. "Chang sponsor Everton. Everton are based in Liverpool. Like Liverpool....Por favor. Liverporfavor. No? Hmm. Scousers. Scouse por favor..."

"Don't concentrate too much on the football team" she said, "More on the sponsor".

"Ok. Like Chang. Chang is elephant in Thai, so...it's like an elephant...rhino por favor...horn...rhino horn...aphrodisiac por favor..."

Erika was getting a bit bored of me being useless. "Listen, forget elephants and scousers. Which beer is like Chang??"

"Leo? Leo por favor?"

"No, babe."

"Singha?"

"Keep going."

"Singha por favor...OH MY DAYS! NO WAY?"

"What?" Erika said with a smile.

"Of course! It's so obvious!"

I was born in Singapore in 1978. We'd left when I was about 16 months old and I'd never been back since. I knew nothing about Singapore. It's odd not being able to picture the place you're born, although it never really bothered me that much and I'd honestly not given it that much thought. But when I'd deciphered Erika's clue I'd suddenly became incredibly excited that I was about to revisit my place of birth - albeit 30 years on!

As I write this I’m in fact twenty minutes into our Air Asia flight from Malaysia to London, as we’ve just stopped off in Kuala Lumpur for a couple days before heading to Blighty. Erika asked me to get on with this post so she can start watching Gossip Girl on the Mac. Ah well, I’m still a nervous flier so this will keep me company until the wine is served. Our next post will be about this trip…

We took Singapore Airlines from Suvarnabhumi Airport in Bangkok and the flight was fine (it will be hard to beat the excellent service of Qatar Airways, our airline of choice from Bangkok to South Africa earlier this year). The flight was only a bit less than two hours and before we knew it we were queuing for a cab. I was breathing the air of my ‘real’ hometown for only the second time in my life. Unfortunately, the first things you notice as a new arrival in any airport are the mundane. Such as the uniforms the cleaners wear and the make of the luggage vans on the runway. I know…riveting stuff. But honestly, after living in Thailand for almost a year, the first thing I noticed was the organisation of the cabby's picking us up. This was starting to confirm Singapore’s reputation as a clean and efficient country and we were flying in from Bangkok, which is…well…the opposite (kor tort, krup, but that’s why we love you).

Into the back of the cab we went and were whisked away to our budget hotel, a windowless but clean place called Classique Hotel on the Jalan Basar road. We arrived late on Friday night and knackered after a working week, so went straight to bed. When I popped outside for a ciggy (will be quitting again in three weeks…), I suddenly got paranoid. I checked out the surroundings and could see that although this wasn’t the most upmarket area of Singapore, all the bushes were pruned and there was not one piece of litter anywhere. Not even the tiniest piece. It’s right what they joke about here – Singapore is a ‘fine’ country. Spitting, jay walking, littering…pretty much anything considered normal in SE Asia, is illegal. I made sure I blew my smoke as tidily as I could and stubbed out my cigarette in the ashtray outside. Then I stubbed it out again. Didn’t want to start a war…

Waking up early and wanting to see if my cigarette had caused Singapore to implode (it hadn’t), we made our way out to the street and started our wanderings. We headed south to Arab Street and stopped off for some noodles in a Chinese stall along the way.

Singapore is pastel coloured and things seem to be disciplined on the streets. Even the rubbish bins look neat and tidy and there was not one stray dog or cat to be seen. Living in Bangkok, where I casually spotted a massive rat running up a wooden toilet wall last weekend, had made me accustomed to seeing dogs, cats and other beasts on the streets. In fact, I prefer it – so long as they aren’t rabid. And hungry.

Arab Street is a road accommodating all sorts of Middle Eastern goods, such as colourful fabrics, perfumes, pottery and what not. The first shop we came upon made their own perfume and I found myself waiting patiently for Erika to go through every bottle in the shop until she settled on ‘rose’.

We meandered aimlessly a bit and suddenly found ourselves at the end of Arab St. This is something that would happen more and more on our trip to Singapore – the allocation of various cultural areas in this city is distinct. You can physically draw a line down a street separating it’s whole mini-culture from it’s neighbour. Singapore is small. If you’re up to it you could pretty much walk the whole ‘country’ in a couple days. Think of it as more of a city because the walk from Arab Street to the marina was only about thirty minutes.

The marina is where you’ll find the theatres and the iconic lion fountain. The surrounding skyline here, which also takes in the commercial part of Singapore, is pretty impressive. Especially the three skyscrapers that have a huge ocean liner on top of them…

As the sun was starting to really make itself known, we decided to hop on a tour bus run by a company called Duck Tours. It’s called this because it’s main attraction is an amphibious vehicle that can whisk you from the main streets straight into the harbour. We didn’t’ know this until we were on the bus….ah well.

First stop, Little India. If Arab Street was for fabrics, then Little India is for food. Sure, there are fabrics here but the first thing that hits you as you walk into this section is the smell of curry and incense. It’s a little bit more hectic here but still ordered, as if the government had installed some sort of ‘social upheaval index’, which would sound an alarm if anyone dared to bang a cymbal. Still, it has it’s own unique character and once again we were drawn to the careful, multi-coloured architecture that surrounded us. Even the old buildings looked ‘designed’ as if we were on a movie set. We found an Indian restaurant where we dug into some delicious cuisine.

Just round the corner are these two skyscrapers that are designed to trick the eye in thinking they are two-dimensional from certain angles.

We passed the famous Raffles Hotel…

…and the Singapore Flyer...

….both of which we visited later on that evening.

On the way back to our hotel we dropped into a little market nick named the ‘thieves market’. Not sure if it’s literal but it’s basically a boot sale where you can buy everything from battered old violins to old blank cassette tapes to rip off t-shirts.

A japanese all girl band getting ready for a gig somewhere...

As part of my amazing birthday present, Erika booked us a (pricey) meal on board the Singapore Flyer. It’s claim to fame is that it’s one meter taller than the London Eye. We turned up and our butler for the evening poured us red wine while we waited for our very posh ride. It’s a bit heavy on the old wallet but I’d recommend this for anyone. You share a pod with four other couples and get your own table right next to the window so you can look over the Singaporean skyline at night. Erika’s terrified of heights (but not flying??) and there were a couple wobbly moments when the wind shook the wheel but you’ll only have to brave it for an hour, which is two rotations. We ate a juicy roast, both dishes served in a rush by the waiters when the pod passes the embarkation area after the first spin.

You can’t go to Singapore and not have a Singapore Sling at the Raffles Hotel. Built in 1887 and named after 'The Father of Singapore' Sir Stamford Raffles, the Singapore sling was invented here by a Chinese bartender about 100 years ago. I loved this place – think Victorian architecture embellished with Malay and Indian fittings. Not that you’d notice it too much after a few bottles of red and a Singapore Sling…

Sunday, already? Yep. I’m 32 years old. We had enough time in the morning and early afternoon to quickly explore Chinatown and visit the house where I was a baby. Chinatown was much like Arab Street and Little India where it was not exactly wholly disappointing but not wholly stunning either. If you can imagine how Disneyland would design cultural centers, then this would be it. Chinatowns all over the world are normally chaotic and vibrant affairs where you would feel that you were on someone else’s turf. Here, however, there are no little alleys leading to frenzied shops, no ancient men barging their way down the road with trolleys full of chickens, no packs of dogs fighting over the last bit of buffalo tongue. Funnily enough, because of these organized neighbourhoods, Singapore takes on it’s on charm and character. Sure, it may not seem totally ‘real’ but you can’t suppress the human urge to make somewhere home, no matter how restricted home has to be.

Our last place to visit was the area where I was born. Luckily enough, on the bus going towards Nambly Close, where I spent my first few months on earth, we passed Gleneagles Hospital which is where I was born. For the first time in my life, and thanks to my wife, I’d seen where I came into the world. And on my birthday to match!

And on Nambly Close. Although I think the original bungalow has now been knocked down...

To sum up Singapore? Erika and I disagree. She thinks it’s amazing as it’s a bite sized Asia, and although it’s expensive (pint of Guinness was seven quid…during happy hour), it’s well worth a visit. My view? A great place to live if you just want things to work. If an engineer was to design a country, this would be it. Efficient, orderly and safe. I’d prefer to live somewhere with a little danger, maybe even a few surprises around the corner.

Although it was, quite simply, the best birthday present I could ask for.

Koh Ngam - a little slice of loveliness

2010-06-17T18:52:00.006+07:00

After the simmering chaotic atmosphere of the recent political turmoil in Bangkok, which lasted for two months, Erika and I decided it was beach time. Again.

When I was younger (so much younger than today...), I went to a little island called Twin Island. It only had one family owned resort on it called Twin Island Resort and I remember having the best grilled fish ever. If I remember correctly, we were the only people staying on the island, which incorporated a strip of sand connecting two tiny islands off the northern tip of Koh Chang, which itself is located near the Cambodian border. After doing a little bit of Googling, we found out that the island itself is called Koh Ngam and still has only one resort on it, albeit a newer one, called Analay Resort. A quick phone call later, we had booked ourselves three nights' stay.

From Bangkok, we got a bus from Suvarnabhumi Airport Bus Terminal on Thursday evening and arrived in Trat five hours later. Trat is the main town near the piers that ferry you to Koh Chang. As our boat was leaving early the next morning, we stayed the night at the affordable Residang Guest House. We highly recommend any budget watchers to stay here, it's clean, there's good service and it's not too far from the main centre.

We wandered around Trat the next morning, browsing through a couple of book stores and generally wasting a bit of time in this sleepy town. Not much seems to go on here but it's not a bad place to gather your thoughts (and toothpaste) before you head off to paradise. I got a call from one of the owners of Analay saying that their boat was in town stocking up on supplies and that we could hitch a ride with them for free if we fancied it. Never ones to let a free ride go by, we accepted and soon found ourselves sharing a tiny fishing boat with the driver and his mate. Halfway into our supposed one hour journey, the skies opened up and we were stuck in a bit of a storm. The driver's mate suddenly jumped into the ocean with a knife but we couldn't see what he was doing. He came back up onto the boat, which was by this time gathering some water, with a huge cut on his finger. Erika handed him a tissue to stop the flow of blood and we found out that he had to cut some rope that had tied itself around the propeller. The boat got going again, the skies cleared and we rounded the corner of our island. Only a little bit of drama considering that these shores were once rife with pirates...

That night the whole resort, which can only take up to 50 people, was literally ours. Dinner was cooked for us only and Neil Young, James Taylor and Kenny Rogers was playing on the stereo - this place hadn't changed since I was here in the 80's! The accommodation on the island consists of a few larger two storey houses with A/C and the rest are either fan or aircon double/twin bungalows. We were given a lovely little hut that looked right over the sea with a beautiful view.

We spent the day pretty much scouring the beach for shells and, with the quality of the ones we found washed up on the beach (now crowding our bathroom...thanks Erika...), we found that the coral out to sea is still pretty lively here. This was the most amount of coral we had seen and we weren't even snorkeling.

The day was slightly overcast and every now and then the rain would break through but who cares when you're having a beer and reading a book in the restaurant with the sea breeze keeping you company?

Nothing much more happened, which is pretty much what we want at the beach. We had dinner with the owners who told us about their other resorts which you can check out here: http://www.analay.com/. On Saturday the sun was out so we decided to hire one of the kayaks to explore the surrounding seas. We'd just walked along the edge of the rocks and loved the fact that we could just see the fish swimming around the coral from the surface, although we wanted to have a better look at the coral's ridge where the water was deeper. And, lo and behold, ten minutes in, as I was concentrating on keeping the kayak near the island, I saw some dark figures moving through the ocean. "DOLPHINS!!!!!" I shouted. We turned the kayak to get a better look and sure enough, there they were. Probably a pod of about five or six, not exactly leaping out of the water but simply coming up for air every now and then. TICK! Sorry readers, but we didn't take the camera with us (note to self: buy a cheap, water resistant camera).

We ate well too - we actually saw one of the staff catch our fish for dinner during the afternoon. The phad thai noodles were the best yet, as was the som tum (spicy papaya salad). One day I am going to simply tour all the beaches in Thailand and spend months just writing and eating seafood. Thailand knows how to do beaches.

The trip back to Bangkok was a joy as the owners (hello Vilasa, Salang and Songnam!) gave us a lift (thanks!). On the way they were kind enough to show us their fruit farm in the province of Trat which is famous for bearing tons of the stuff. We were lucky enough to be driving through the province during the annual fruit fair. Never seen so much fruit in all my life, from durian (the smelly one) to rambutan to banana to....well, the list goes on. The rambutan is the main crop the owners have and we can both now say that we are experienced at picking them...

Till next time, happy campers.

Bangkok, On Fire and Under Curfew

2010-05-23T19:11:00.001+07:00

A few weeks ago I mentioned on the blog that I wouldn't really report on the protests unless it affected us directly. In my last post I wrote that everything seemed normal outside and that people were carrying on as normal.

That started to change on Wednesday last week when I heard news that some protesters, angry at being driven away from their main compound earlier in the day, had set fire to some major buildings. As I write this it's been made known to us that about thirty buildings had been set on fire around the city, including Central World (Asia's second largest mall), the stock exchange building and Channel 3's building. The offices of Bangkok Post and The Nation, the two main western newspapers of Thailand, had been evacuated and the foreign press have taken off their green armbands for fear of random attacks. I remember when the news reported that the offices of Channel 3 had been set on fire. This was creepily confirmed by the fact they went off air, showing their standby logo. And then nothing.

I went to the roof of our condo and took this shot of a plume of smoke coming from the city.

Ok, we were still reasonably indirectly affected. However, at 8pm on Wednesday night, as I was walking down our village's main road with Erika and some friends, we were directly affected for the first time since the protests began two months ago: not by gunfire or fireworks, but by deafening silence. The 7-Elevens were boarded up with newspaper, the street stalls cooked their food until they had just enough time to turn the gas off before 8pm and all the other shops were already closed or in the process of closing. Even the street dogs, who normally feed off the scraps left over by the vendors, had retired for the night. One man we know who owns a stall told us he had to sleep in his shop for the night as he wasn't allowed to go home. We wanted a drink but the bars were shut - we suddenly felt very naive thinking that our village, ten miles away from the city centre, would not be affected by the curfew. Just ten minutes before, people were walking on the street but suddenly we were the only people outdoors. It was one of the strangest situations I'd been in. We headed to our friend's house for the evening and checked the BBC website for updates. That night, Erika and I walked home in eerie silence back to our condo and I filmed the Bangkok skyline from our roof to remember how quiet this beast of a city was. Before you watch the video, you need to understand that this was filmed at roughly 9:30pm, a time when the main Ramkamhaeng Road, which is essentially a motorway, is still busy and growling with the sound of traffic. It's a time where people still sit outside and talk, play music and eat. But we heard nothing, something that is incredibly rare for this city.

It's a shame that the Red Shirt's cause has now been ruined by the foolish acts of some 'protesters' who believe that this will somehow prove a point. What they fail to realise is that their point was proven weeks ago. We get it. The world understands. But a few misguided people have managed to completely erase the incredible efforts of their fellow protesters, who had protested peacefully in their camp for two months, in the space of a few hours.

Red Shirts update...

2010-05-15T23:04:00.001+07:00

Well, from our living room here in east Bangkok there may as well be no troubles whatsoever. It's been a sad day for Thailand - in fact, a sad three days.

Once you live in Thailand long enough to connect with some of the people and you start to fuse yourself into the rhythm of life here, you can't help but feel the anger, frustration and sadness towards the current situation in this country. The thing is, if you wander around the village where we live, you wouldn't believe that the Thai army are encircling 5,000 Red Shirt protesters just a few miles away in the city. Life in Thailand is carrying on as normal, albeit with a slight tension in the air: a quiet knowledge will show in people's eyes as you walk down the street, televisions in roadside stalls will be stuck on the news channel, no one will be wearing red or yellow.

As an expat, I know even less of the situation and watch the BBC World News for updates - I tend to ignore the English speaking press here, as their alarmist reporting of the situation makes me sick. Believe it or not, we're tuning in to the Guardian and the Beeb website for more accurate and unbiased reports on the situation.

We are lucking enough to live in a village which is inhabited mainly by the Thai middle to upper classes, so it shouldn't be a surprise to see lots of yellow flags flying here - the Yellow Shirts are for the current government. In fact, most of Bangkok are 'yellow' as this is essentially a class issue; the rural poor are marching on the streets of the urban wealthy.

Whatever your views on this, and they're best kept to yourself if you're an expat living in Thailand, it seems from reports on the net that Abhisit will not take this lying down and has vied to strengthen the military presence in the troubled area.

The detachment you feel as an immigrant here is surreal - I wasn't sure whether or not to be angry with the farang who appeared on the news fighting with the Red Shirts. Who was he? A bored idiot, wholly different from the people he was defending, with nothing better to do? Or was he a global idealist, simply fighting for the underdog? Judging by his comment, 'I thought this was the land of smiles', I'd go for the former. Mate, the Tory's are back - go home and protest against that!

My point? If this were in the UK, I'd have an opinion. Over here, with little to no knowledge of the workings of the Thai political system, I just feel like an ignorant voyeur. Time to brush up on Thai political history...

We really hope that for the sake of this special country, and for the people protesting, that this will end peacefully.