Tuesday 29 March 2011
Bangkok revisited
Our island-hopping days have come to an end for the time being. Next stop Cambodia, but to get there we must drop into Bangkok again to pick up a flight to Phnom Penh. Decide on a different location this time - close to the Chao Phraya River - in the ancient part of this vast metropolis where South-East Asia's very own City of Angels was born. (Los Angeles can't have everything its own way). Staying in a cute little hotel, the Bhiman Inn, close to the infamous backpacker streets of Khao San and Rambuttri Road. The Bhiman is in a top-notch location, with especially friendly and helpful staff. Most of Bangkok's must-see temples and sacred sites - Wat Phra Kaew, Grand Palace, Wat Pho and Wat Arun - are a short ferry ride away on the river express or tourist boat, while street stalls, bars and restaurants lie within easy walking distance. Our Swansea friends Noel and Pam have been a great help to us. Regular travellers here, they have provided us with a wealth of information on how to get the best out of both Bangkok and Thailand itself. They have been in the country the same time as ourselves and we had been hoping that our paths would cross. Unfortunately, we missed each other, but managed to keep in touch on the dog and bone - and their tips (Bhiman included) have been invaluable to we newcomers to this part of the world. Thanks, both - and the first one is on us when we we next see you in The Joiners. Promise. Just one of the their countless recommendations was the Gecko Bar - a short hop from our hotel. Noel reckoned on it being a great place to grab a few beers and watch the world go by. Head there on our first night back and grab two seats out front, spending a couple of hours chilling out over a few cheeky Changs and checking out the street and the colourful characters who inhabit it - locals, tourists and some grizzled and gnarled old ex-pats. The Gecko's a fun place to hang out, but it's not a good idea to sit too close to the drains - the smell would floor even Desperate Dan at six paces - and the distinctly dodgy toilets should be given as wide berth as possible. You do not want to go there if you can help it. Those black marks aside, the Gecko certainly scores in terms of cheapo drinks and atmosphere. There is oodles of energy around the Ko Ratanakosin and Banglamphu areas and the streets are particulary great to explore at night when the stalls, shop fronts and bars are lit up like a Christmas tree. Next day it's off to the Chatuchak Weekend market, which sprawls out over a vast area. There are reckoned to be 15,000 stalls and an estimated 200,000 visitors a day on Saturdays and Sundays. If you can imagine Swansea's Ashleigh Road covered wall to wall in stalls then that's Chatuchak in a nutshell. You can buy anything under the sun here - from crafts, clothes, shoes, jewellery, CDs and DVDs to snakes, squirrels and pedigree Spaniels and Labradors.We don't end up buying any squirrels, but do purchase a few knick-knacks, including a trilby for John (it loses ít shape within three days) and a pair of mustard yellow trousers for Chris (trousers still in good nick, but she has always looked after her things better anyway). It's the market to end all markets - our old mate and venerable Swansea Market stallholder Chris Clark would do a roaring trade here - but after about four hours in the sapping heat we are pooped and find a small stall selling coffee and biscuits, which revive flagging spirits. Finish our day with a visit to the Golden Mount - a Buddhist shrine on top of a hill which offers stunning 360% views of the city skyline - temples and river, huge shopping complexes, tower blocks, ultra-modern hotels and sleek skyscrapers reaching for the stars. The shrine also sports bells galore. Ring them all and Lady Luck is sure to come calling on you, so Thai legend has it. We have one day left of our second visit to this Venice of the East - and are spending the morning in the Sukhumvit area with Donna and Kevin Murphy. They are friends of Peter and Susan George from Ballarat in Australia, who we met and made friends with while visiting Ayers Rock. Donna has, via email, also given us some top advice on how to spend our days and evenings here. Time to meet up face to face. and we receive a really warm welcome from them at their fabulous apartment, which has great views looking out over the city. We thoroughly enjoy a couple of hours in their company - Donna hails from the States and Kevin is Australian-born - over coffee and mufffins (delicious). Chris reports Donna's Thai massage recommendation a winner - a tad painful at the time, but she emerges from it with renewed vigour and flexibility. While Chris has opted for a serious hour's massage, John, decides on a more traditional form of relaxation (well in his book) - bending his elbow outside the Soi 8 sports bar across the road, sipping a couple of cold ones while watching the world pass quietly by.Energy enhanced all round, it's a case of nipping around the corner to find Donna's tailor, Jack, who measures Chris up for a new suit - jacket, dress and trousers. It's quality gear at half the price you pay back home. There are further fittings to come - and we will be returning to Bangkok again - so more of that later. Head back to hotel via the elevated and superfast Skytrain. Speeding across the city through Sukhumvit, Asok, Nana, Silom and Siam Square on this silver bullet, with the snarling traffic ground to a fume-filled standstill below, feels like a scene from Harrison Ford's futuristic sci-fi film noir Blade Runner. We Bangkok Blade Runners are Cambodia-bound now, but we'll be returning here at least one more time. After all, we won't want to return home to Blighty without Chris's new suit.
Monday 28 March 2011
Thursday 24 March 2011
Phuket
The 'Pearl of the Andaman' is all things to all men, women and kateoys (ladyboys). Phuket is Thailand's largest island. It's also the most developed by a country mile, but to deny that it is beautiful would be criminal. This is home to huge cliffs, a twisting coastal road that is a photographer's dream - the higher you climb the better the vista below, and the sunsets between Nai Harn and Kata on the west are awesome - long stretches of golden, or pure white, sand and brilliant blue-green seas. There is certainly something of Corfu about it. Thailand meets the Med goes some way to summing it up. But there is another side too - plenty of tat, sleaze, girlie bars, strip joints, sex tourists (the number of 60-plus white males with young Thai girls on their arms is an eye-opener for us Sketty suburbanites) and some rather worse for wear British (I Love Thailand T-shirt) holidaymakers (no, we were not among them, we'll have you know). Bid our last destination Koh Lanta a fond farewell - maybe, and hopefully, to return one day to this unspoilt gem (our Diamond of the Andaman) and catch the ferry to Phuket. It's a three-hour crossing - one on a rather overcowded tub to Koh Phi-Phi Don. But we don't get off at pier. Instead we quite literally jump ship (suitcases and rucksacks too) - the two vessels berth side by side - for final two-hour journey on a much bigger and more comfortable craft. Plenty of room to stretch out in shaded area on middle deck - it's a really hot (35C) day - and enjoy some lovely island scenery on voyage across. Arrive at Phuket ferry terminal. It's baking, dusty, sweaty, chaotic and unattractive. Barry Island was never like this - even before Gav & Stacey's day. Bit of a lucky dip - and a little research (Lonely Planet doesn't half help) - takes us towards north-west coast by taxi and quiet resort of Surin Beach. Check into Surin Bay Inn, a nice family-run guest house/hotel, which has a lovely beach a minute's walk away. Soon discover a very different world from Koh Lanta here. Phuket so much more commercialised and westernised, and certainly more expensive than Lanta. Surin, however, we love. The beach is heaven-sent, and it's only two baht a day each (four quid) for the most comfortable sun-loungers and sun umbrellas on the planet. Waiters at the nearby beach bar also bring your drinks to your little table, so you don't have to move a muscle - which we don't very much. It's a place to relax, unwind and get one's teeth into the last of Stieg Larsson's Millennium trilogy. Twenty minutes south, however, it's an altogether different story as a taxi ride to Patong confirms. This is the Costa del Sol Thai style - lobster-red tourists with beer bellies, wall to wall bars, go-go dancers and clubs trying to outdo each other on which can top the garish neon lights stakes and pump up the bass volume the loudest. Sounds gross? Not a bit of it. A sense of humour and an open mind helps. Perch ourselves onto bar stools overlooking a street one back from the beach to spend a wonderful hour just people-watching as dusk turns to dark. Some spectacular Lola lookalikes pass us by - ''Girls will be boys and boys will be girls. It's a mixed up, muddled up shook up world'' (to coin a couple of lines from one of the great Ray Davies classics). Phuket has its fair share of kateoys or ladyboys (male-to-female transvestites) and Ping Pong (table tennis it's not) shows (you can look it up on Wikipedia. This is a family blog). Needless to say the Patong touts were out in their hundreds on raucous party street Soi Bangla after dark and we were offered plenty of PP opportunities, but politely declinded. We were having fun, but did we want more? Maybe when we are in our 70s. The Lolas, it has to be said, were stunning. Guys we defy you to tell the difference, and gals you would die for a figure like theirs, truly. In fairness, Patong - another serious casualty of the 2004 Boxing Day tsunami and which has since been reborn - was a blast for a few hours. The problem is you get Patonged and Ping Pong-offered out pretty quickly and, after being fed and watered, we were more than happy to hail a taxi just before midnight to drop us back to the more laidback confines of Surin. Phuket's a bit like football. For funny old game, read funny old place. It's home to peasants and millionaires, shanty towns and five-star hotels, smiling Buddhist monks and dirty old men chasing their young Thai girl dream. You can party until dawn, or do next to nothing. Take your pick. It's mixed up, muddled up and shook up - just like Lola. Cambodia lies around the corner, but to get there we are dropping back into Bangkok for a couple of nights. We are going to stay near to the river this time around - close to where the ancient city sprang up. Strangely a city we were at first ambivalent about is now luring us back. Underneath her brash and sometimes ugly exterior lays a secretive and seductive charm. Bangkok is a little like peeling an onion - there are layers galore. We hope to unravel a few more of its many mysteries on our next visit.
Wednesday 23 March 2011
Koh Lanta
Koh Lanta reminds us of Gower in some ways. This gem of a Thai island is 20 miles long and five miles wide. Like our little slice of heaven back in Wales - Britain's first Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty - it's a haven of tranquility, with off-the-beaten-track golden beaches and a green hinterland, though instead of sheep it's wild jungle monkeys you see on your travels here.
Lanta is a very different proposition to Koh Phi-Phi Don, our last port of call. Here there is little hustle and bustle. It's low-key and laidback - somewhere where you can wind down the pace and take life at a slow-burn meander.
An hour across the Andaman Sea by ferry from KPPD sees us arrive at the north tip of the island. We have heard that the best beaches are in the south, so that's where were headed.
On the ferry there are the usual touts, but none seem too pushy. Take a look at some leaflets before getting talking to a nice local Lanta lady who offers us beach accommodation at a decent price, with no obligation. She will take us there, and if we don't like it we can move on. Sounds fair enough.
Our 'taxi' is a 4x4 with an open back and luggage perched precariously on its roof. We clamber on board with some difficulty and are joined by two other couples - one Swedish, the other American - and a German lady travelling alone.
Quick introductions follow - the Swedes are a brother and sister who are staying on the island only a couple of nights, while Americans Kyle and Stacy and Monica, from Germany, are, like ourselves, planning on hanging around longer to see what Lanta has to offer.
Dropped off at the Coral Beach Resort. Bungalow just yards from a lovely stretch of sand is simple, but clean and with air-con. On the beach are traditional Thai shelters, and hammocks to relax in. There is also a nice bar with lanterns lit at nightime and a restaurant specialising in both Thai and international cuisine. It's a family-run resort, and both owners and staff appear extremely friendly.
The best way to see the island is by motorbike or scooter. Bit of a problem here - John hasn't ridden either for nearly 30 years. The last time was on our honeymoon in Crete back in September, 1981.
In for a penny, in for a pound, John decides to go for it, although the initial results are pretty hilarious. He takes off on a trial run looking distinctly wobbly. Easy Rider this is certainly not. Chris, very wisely, sits it out while he gets accustomed to his mean machine.
When he hasn't arrived back after 15 minutes Coral Beach owner Mr Phong sets out on his own bike to look for him. But somewhere along the road backing onto the resort they miss each other and John 'Born To Be Wild' Walters arrives back first in one piece, as does his bike. Relief all round.
Later over dinner and now in rather more confident mood, John informs Mr Phong that he thinks he has got the hang of riding on two wheels again, to which our Thai host, possibly more concerned about what state his bike would arrive back in than our intrepid traveller's fate on Lanta's rocky roads, casually remarks: ''Good for you, good for me.'' Quite.
Next day Chris plucks up the courage - and, boy, she needs it - to go pilion. A few sweaty and hair-raising moments along the way - mainly due to a couple of monkeys and a few hundred pot-holes in the road rather than John's erratic handling of the bike with a top speed of 40kmph - we arrive at a lovely, isolated beach unscathed for a cool down swim.
And that in a nutshell is how we continue to spend our days - scooter (motorbike) loopy riding towards the gorgeous beaches of Klong Nin and Kantiang (our favourite) in the mornings and afternoons, and chilling out in the evenings with our new friends Kyle, Stacy and Monica, who are all game for a laugh.
The five of us have heard that a three-day festival at Boh Lanta on the east coast of the island is supposed to be a fun event. Pile into the back of open-back taxi truck for rip-roaring trip along windy and twisty road to find that the festival is in full swing.
This side of the island is very different. Boh Lanta has a Chinese influence and timber-built homes, shops and restaurants sit on stilts. The coastline here differs too. Mangroves and mud replace the white sand and jade-coloured waters of the western side, but it is no less appealing for that. A walk out along the little town's long pier at dusk reveals a myriad of tiny islands dotted around the bay. The place has a very special charm of its own.
It's soon nightfall and the locals, some in colourful and traditional Thai costumes, are in serious party mood. The bars and restaurants are bouncing, the music is loud, the bass throbbing and the atmosphere genial. It's carnival time - a little taste of Rio on a remote island in Thailand.
There is some serious dancing in the streets going on, with locals and tourists letting it all (well nearly all in a couple of cases) hang out.
San Francisco-bound male nurse Kyle and his recently-graduated girlfriend Stacy - she is taking a few months off to travel before settling into a new job - can shake it on down a bit, as can Nuremberg resident Monica, who completed a week on a scuba dive boat before her arrival on Koh Lanta.
Oh well, if you can't beat them - and the beers we have consumed have certainly helped us lose any inhibitions we may have had earlier. Not a pretty sight, perhaps, the Walters dancing out in the open air way after the witching hour, but we go for it and actually have a blast.
It's been a late, late night (early hours actually) - and we return to resort eventually after a very slow journey by tuk-tuk, which regualrly runs out of steam up the steeper hills. Kyle and 'Papa' (tuk-tuk driver's name for John) have to get off on regular basis, so that the three-wheeled motor taxi can continue on its upwardly mobile path.
Five very weary and bleary-eyed (okay, tired and emotional) travellers bid each other goodnight (good morning would have been more appropriate) after what everyone agrees was a cracking time had by all. Chris has paced herself brilliantly, it must be said, which is just as well as she is off on a Thai cookery course first thing in the morning.
She joins three others - a Swedish mother and daughter and a girl from the Czech Republic. Aprons on, they learn how to prepare and recognise Thai herbs and spices - and then it's very much hands on, slicing, crushing and cooking their own creations under the watchful eye of their cooking guide.
On her return, Chris declares the course a big success, but proof of the pudding (actually three very different savoury Thai dishes) is in the eating. She has brought home the fruits of her labour and John, who has enjoyed a languid lie-in, is the guinea pig. Delicious is his verdict. Forget fish 'n' chips on a Friday night back home from now on. Must have been good.
Monica, meanwhile, is moving on and we bid her a fond farewell and good luck, while Michael, another American and Kyle's best friend, arrives at the Coral from China where has been teaching English.
He, like Kyle and Stacy, turns out to be top company too. Spend a smashing evening with them and some other new arrivals - German and Spanish - on the beach, watching the sun going down on the distant horizon behind the karstic island of Koh Ha.
Sadly it's our time to depart (Mr Pong is probably glad to see the back of us, although he is very gracious despite John's uncanny knack to look less competent every time he takes off on Mr P's prized bike).
Spend our last day at Kantiang. French toast with honey and coffee at Drunken Sailor first. This is a cool and hip little cafe, where you can lie in hammocks if you feel inclined. Chris does. John, deciding he will struggle to get back out of it, chickens out and plonks himself on a plastic seat instead. Coward.
Spend a last lazy afternoon on the powder-white beach at Kantiang, which also sports a funky and shady little beach bar named Same Same But Different. Fun place for a cool cocktail and cold Chang (beer).
It's time then to say our goodbyes (hugs and kisses all round) - to Kyle, Stacy and Michael, to another lovely couple, Kevin and Angie, from Essex, we made friends with a couple of days ago and to the Phong family, who have looked after us so well.
We have enjoyed a seriously chilled time at Koh Lanta - and made it without any motorbike mishaps. John feels very pleased with himself, particularly after learning from a brochure he has just picked up that statistically Thailand is one of the most dangerous places in the world to drive (or ride). Now if we had known that before ...
Next on our agenda is a three-hour sea crossing - change ferries at Koh Phi-Phi Don - to Phuket, commonly referred to as The Pearl of the Andaman. We are wondering whether it will live up to its star billing. Only one way to find out.
Lanta is a very different proposition to Koh Phi-Phi Don, our last port of call. Here there is little hustle and bustle. It's low-key and laidback - somewhere where you can wind down the pace and take life at a slow-burn meander.
An hour across the Andaman Sea by ferry from KPPD sees us arrive at the north tip of the island. We have heard that the best beaches are in the south, so that's where were headed.
On the ferry there are the usual touts, but none seem too pushy. Take a look at some leaflets before getting talking to a nice local Lanta lady who offers us beach accommodation at a decent price, with no obligation. She will take us there, and if we don't like it we can move on. Sounds fair enough.
Our 'taxi' is a 4x4 with an open back and luggage perched precariously on its roof. We clamber on board with some difficulty and are joined by two other couples - one Swedish, the other American - and a German lady travelling alone.
Quick introductions follow - the Swedes are a brother and sister who are staying on the island only a couple of nights, while Americans Kyle and Stacy and Monica, from Germany, are, like ourselves, planning on hanging around longer to see what Lanta has to offer.
Dropped off at the Coral Beach Resort. Bungalow just yards from a lovely stretch of sand is simple, but clean and with air-con. On the beach are traditional Thai shelters, and hammocks to relax in. There is also a nice bar with lanterns lit at nightime and a restaurant specialising in both Thai and international cuisine. It's a family-run resort, and both owners and staff appear extremely friendly.
The best way to see the island is by motorbike or scooter. Bit of a problem here - John hasn't ridden either for nearly 30 years. The last time was on our honeymoon in Crete back in September, 1981.
In for a penny, in for a pound, John decides to go for it, although the initial results are pretty hilarious. He takes off on a trial run looking distinctly wobbly. Easy Rider this is certainly not. Chris, very wisely, sits it out while he gets accustomed to his mean machine.
When he hasn't arrived back after 15 minutes Coral Beach owner Mr Phong sets out on his own bike to look for him. But somewhere along the road backing onto the resort they miss each other and John 'Born To Be Wild' Walters arrives back first in one piece, as does his bike. Relief all round.
Later over dinner and now in rather more confident mood, John informs Mr Phong that he thinks he has got the hang of riding on two wheels again, to which our Thai host, possibly more concerned about what state his bike would arrive back in than our intrepid traveller's fate on Lanta's rocky roads, casually remarks: ''Good for you, good for me.'' Quite.
Next day Chris plucks up the courage - and, boy, she needs it - to go pilion. A few sweaty and hair-raising moments along the way - mainly due to a couple of monkeys and a few hundred pot-holes in the road rather than John's erratic handling of the bike with a top speed of 40kmph - we arrive at a lovely, isolated beach unscathed for a cool down swim.
And that in a nutshell is how we continue to spend our days - scooter (motorbike) loopy riding towards the gorgeous beaches of Klong Nin and Kantiang (our favourite) in the mornings and afternoons, and chilling out in the evenings with our new friends Kyle, Stacy and Monica, who are all game for a laugh.
The five of us have heard that a three-day festival at Boh Lanta on the east coast of the island is supposed to be a fun event. Pile into the back of open-back taxi truck for rip-roaring trip along windy and twisty road to find that the festival is in full swing.
This side of the island is very different. Boh Lanta has a Chinese influence and timber-built homes, shops and restaurants sit on stilts. The coastline here differs too. Mangroves and mud replace the white sand and jade-coloured waters of the western side, but it is no less appealing for that. A walk out along the little town's long pier at dusk reveals a myriad of tiny islands dotted around the bay. The place has a very special charm of its own.
It's soon nightfall and the locals, some in colourful and traditional Thai costumes, are in serious party mood. The bars and restaurants are bouncing, the music is loud, the bass throbbing and the atmosphere genial. It's carnival time - a little taste of Rio on a remote island in Thailand.
There is some serious dancing in the streets going on, with locals and tourists letting it all (well nearly all in a couple of cases) hang out.
San Francisco-bound male nurse Kyle and his recently-graduated girlfriend Stacy - she is taking a few months off to travel before settling into a new job - can shake it on down a bit, as can Nuremberg resident Monica, who completed a week on a scuba dive boat before her arrival on Koh Lanta.
Oh well, if you can't beat them - and the beers we have consumed have certainly helped us lose any inhibitions we may have had earlier. Not a pretty sight, perhaps, the Walters dancing out in the open air way after the witching hour, but we go for it and actually have a blast.
It's been a late, late night (early hours actually) - and we return to resort eventually after a very slow journey by tuk-tuk, which regualrly runs out of steam up the steeper hills. Kyle and 'Papa' (tuk-tuk driver's name for John) have to get off on regular basis, so that the three-wheeled motor taxi can continue on its upwardly mobile path.
Five very weary and bleary-eyed (okay, tired and emotional) travellers bid each other goodnight (good morning would have been more appropriate) after what everyone agrees was a cracking time had by all. Chris has paced herself brilliantly, it must be said, which is just as well as she is off on a Thai cookery course first thing in the morning.
She joins three others - a Swedish mother and daughter and a girl from the Czech Republic. Aprons on, they learn how to prepare and recognise Thai herbs and spices - and then it's very much hands on, slicing, crushing and cooking their own creations under the watchful eye of their cooking guide.
On her return, Chris declares the course a big success, but proof of the pudding (actually three very different savoury Thai dishes) is in the eating. She has brought home the fruits of her labour and John, who has enjoyed a languid lie-in, is the guinea pig. Delicious is his verdict. Forget fish 'n' chips on a Friday night back home from now on. Must have been good.
Monica, meanwhile, is moving on and we bid her a fond farewell and good luck, while Michael, another American and Kyle's best friend, arrives at the Coral from China where has been teaching English.
He, like Kyle and Stacy, turns out to be top company too. Spend a smashing evening with them and some other new arrivals - German and Spanish - on the beach, watching the sun going down on the distant horizon behind the karstic island of Koh Ha.
Sadly it's our time to depart (Mr Pong is probably glad to see the back of us, although he is very gracious despite John's uncanny knack to look less competent every time he takes off on Mr P's prized bike).
Spend our last day at Kantiang. French toast with honey and coffee at Drunken Sailor first. This is a cool and hip little cafe, where you can lie in hammocks if you feel inclined. Chris does. John, deciding he will struggle to get back out of it, chickens out and plonks himself on a plastic seat instead. Coward.
Spend a last lazy afternoon on the powder-white beach at Kantiang, which also sports a funky and shady little beach bar named Same Same But Different. Fun place for a cool cocktail and cold Chang (beer).
It's time then to say our goodbyes (hugs and kisses all round) - to Kyle, Stacy and Michael, to another lovely couple, Kevin and Angie, from Essex, we made friends with a couple of days ago and to the Phong family, who have looked after us so well.
We have enjoyed a seriously chilled time at Koh Lanta - and made it without any motorbike mishaps. John feels very pleased with himself, particularly after learning from a brochure he has just picked up that statistically Thailand is one of the most dangerous places in the world to drive (or ride). Now if we had known that before ...
Next on our agenda is a three-hour sea crossing - change ferries at Koh Phi-Phi Don - to Phuket, commonly referred to as The Pearl of the Andaman. We are wondering whether it will live up to its star billing. Only one way to find out.
Thursday 17 March 2011
Wednesday 16 March 2011
Andaman Coast, Thailand
Heading off in search of paradise - and wondering whether we will find it on the Andaman Coast.
Leaving noisy, polluted, but exciting and atmospheric Bangkok behind and flying south to Krabi - travel centre and jumping-off point for the intoxicating islands that sit like jewels in jade-coloured seas off Thailand's south-west coast.
Our destination will include Kho Phi-Phi Don and its sister isle Koh Phi-Phi Leh - location for the film version of Alex Garland's best-selling book The Beach starring Leonardo DiCaprio. Then it will be on to laidback Koh Lanta and lively Phuket.
Paradise lost, or paradise found? We are not sure what to expect - powder-white beaches devoid of human footprints, dramatic sheer limestone karst cliffs and jagged jungle-clad pinnacles towering out of the sea, quiet nights star-gazing on sandy coves. Or will we encounter sleazy girlie bars and strip joints, rowdy late-night beach parties, fast food and neon lights.
Maybe we will find a little of each - The Good, The Bad and The Ugly - on our next adventure in this mysterious and magical country.
Koh Phi-Phi Don
We touch down at Krabi airport. Not sure whether to stay in the town overnight, or make for its ferry terminal. Haul our bags - two heavy suitcases and two rucksacks - onto a rickety old bus. Drops us at pier and we decide to catch boat to Koh Phi-Phi Don after booking accommodation at what appears to be reputable tourist info centre.
It's early afternoon and we find a spot to sit on the top deck. Boat quite quiet - groups of backpackers and fellow travellers on board, but plenty of room to stretch out and enjoy idyllic sunny abd breezy journey with those craggy karst islands dotting the distant horizon.
Nothing, however, quite prepares us for our first view of KPPD.
Despite the high density of visitors here, the approach by boat to this archipelago takes the breath away. Huge cliffs topped by verdant green jungle tower to one side of us as our ferry cuts its way through crystal-clear waters to the harbour at bustling Tonsai Village.
Now for the tricky bit - transferring our luggage onto a tiny longboat to get us to our accommodation at Runtee Bay, which entails wading out knee-deep into the sea and humping our heavy bags up and over into the boat - and then clambering into it ourselves.
There are no roads on the island - and the only form of travel to some of the more remote spots is by boat, so anchors aweigh. Runtee here we come.
Looks the real deal as we approach - thatched bungalows on a squeaky clean stretch of sand, but we are in for a rude awakening.
Our accommodation turns out be a joke. But the joke is on us and we are not laughing. Our 'beach' bunglaow is tucked away at the back of the resort and, to our horror, only half-finished. The bathroom is just a concrete wasteland, the washbasin is nearly falling off and the shower is stone cold. The bed is rock hard, with what looks like a towel to serve as a wrap. It's the scene outside, however, which really has us gasping. It resembles a building site, with masonry and rubble everywhere. Not a pretty sight.
We reckon we have been tucked up a kipper at Krabi, but we have only ourselves to blame for being so naive and not checking out the place first. We have paid a decent sum of money up front for a sub-standard room to some touts passing as travel agents. We have learned a valuable lesson the hard way - ask to see the accommodation before booking it. (And we thought we had left the con merchants behind in Bangkok. That'll teach us to be so trusting).
Feeling down (let down as well) but not completely out, we try to look for positives - and, in fairness, they come in spadefulls.
Hungry and tired we repair to a beachside cafe and, following delicious pancakes with honey, Chinese tea for Chris and Chang beer for John the world is starting to look a better place already. A quick gander at our new surrounds reveals a drop-dead gorgeous beach, bathwater warm turquoise-hued sea and coral-fringed reefs brilliant for snorkelling. Another bar and restaurant, with tables and chairs perched actually on the beach, create a much better impression.
On initially seeing our 'cell block' we had considered leaving there and then - there was no way we could get our money back (Krabi was 90 minutes away and the touts would have laughed us out of town anyway).
Amazing then what a pancake, a cup of tea and a beer can do to revive flagging and dispirited souls. Instead of making a hasty beeline for Tonsai Village (we may not have got a boat in the first place) we thought we would tough it out.
The next morning we awoke to another lovely sunny day, the beach was pristine white and the sea looked as inviting as ever. Out front the rubble was still there, but so too was an inquistive wild monkey who had come down from the forest behind us to check out his new neighbours. Spend the day doing a spot of snorkelling - lots of colourful fish, pink and blue coral and some of the most lethal-looking sea urchin spikes we have seen anywhere. Step on one of those and you are going to be in serious pain.
Meet up with and make friends with brother and sister James and Jude who, it turns out, are Welsh. Jude works in Cardiff and James in London and, like ourselves, they have stopped off at Runtee hoping to get in some serious R&R.
Now that we have got over the shock of our temporary abode we are really starting to warm to the place. Lazy days busy doing very little other than swimming, snorkelling and reading and three equally lazy nights drinking a few quiet beers and cocktails at the reggae-influenced One More Bar and eating some excellent fish dishes on the lantern-lit beach restaurant has worked a kind of magic on us.
To our amazement we find that when the time comes to leave we don't actually want to and that we have ended up falling for the place we thought we were going to hate. Strange days.
But move on we must. Have to see The Beach on Koh Phi Phi Leh - and decide on spending a couple of nights in the much busier Tonsai because it's an easier base to get to the iconic isle.
No messing about with tawdry touts this time around. Out comes our trusty Lonely Planet which recommends The White - a small mid-range priced hotel in the heart of the village. Yes, they have one spare double room. A result. It's small, but clean, furnished and finished, the shower is hot and the bed and pillows comfy. Hooray.
Spend the evening wandering around the streets of the village. It's busy, overcrowded even, but everyone is having fun. Tons of little bars, cafes and restaurants are all doing a roaring trade, while street market stalls try to entice you to buy their knick knacks and fancy - and sometimes none too fancy - goods.
KPPD has its fair share of critics. The moaners harp on that there are too many beach bars and clubs - that the place is ruined and overrun by backpackers trying to live the Leonardo dream. We disagree.
This is a place which on Boxing Day, 2004, bore the brunt of one of the worst natural disasters in living memory - the Indian Ocean Tsunami.
The hour-glass shaped land between Loh Dalum Bay and Tonsai itself was the scene of utter devastation as huge walls of water from an apocalyptic seaquake swept thousands of men, women and children - locals and tourists - to their deaths.
To see that this tiny community, whose infastructure lay in ruins only seven years ago, is thriving again is heart-warming.
Churlish detractors point to Paradise Lost. But the Tsunami did that, surely - not today's tourists and travellers. It is the visiting tourist who drives the local economy - helping its people to get back on their feet after the catastrophic events that nearly wiped the island off the map forever.
It was paradise once. It may never be again. Perhaps the Tsunami scars still run too deep and will never totally heal. But the fact that thousands and thousands of people are returning to KPPD ensures that this little tropical gem has a new-found energy and vitality. Just coming here and spending a little baht feels like you are doing something - however small - to help aid the islanders' recovery from the pain and anguish they so heart-breakingly suffered.
Today the place is buzzing again - and that can only be good. Long may it continue.
Koh Phi-Phi Ley
We can't leave here without visiting The Beach. It would be like going to San Francisco and turning a blind eye to the Golden Gate Bridge, visiting New York and not clapping eyes on the Statue of Liberty, or heading out to the great US south-west wilderness and giving the Grand Canyon the cold shoulder.
It's a must-do, crowds or no crowds, hype or no hype - and we are going come what may. Shame Leonardo won't be there to greet us, though.
After a bit of bartering with a longboat man he agrees to take us to the island and drop us on The Beach and return us safe and sound after three hours.
Deal done. We have the longboat to ourselves and are carried out over a lovely stretch of calm blue water. The limestone karst formations tower into the heavens either side of us as we head towards Maya Bay (The Beach).
As we turn into a narrow gap in the cliffs we catch our first glimpse of it - and we have struck lucky. We were expecting hordes of tourists, but there are only a sprinkling of boats on the shimmering waters of the bay and few lobster-red bodies on the sun-kissed sands.
On arrival take a walk through dense jungle-like forest to look out over the emerald-coloured lagoon of Loh Samah on the other side, where scuba divers are doing their best Jacques Cousteau impressions.
We quickly head back to Maya, which, despite its popularity, is still undescribably beautiful. It is ringed by towering peaks and crags.
Imagine being here on your own with not a soul around. It would be other-worldly - a Jurassic Park. You can almost see those dinosaurs roaming its jungles. We modern-day mortals must content ourselves with spotting soaring eagles in between taking cooling dips in Maya's inviting azure waters.
The three hours fly by. Our boatman is ready to return us to civilisation. We ponder on whether some travel books and newspaper travel sections are unkind to suggest that Maya is not the place it once was after Hollywood came, saw and conquered.
Perhaps it's not. Overrated it may be. Unmissable it certainly is.
Time for the Walters gang to move on again. Next stop Koh Lanta, which we are told is lovely. Time to get on our bikes then, or scooters actually. But that's another story.
Leaving noisy, polluted, but exciting and atmospheric Bangkok behind and flying south to Krabi - travel centre and jumping-off point for the intoxicating islands that sit like jewels in jade-coloured seas off Thailand's south-west coast.
Our destination will include Kho Phi-Phi Don and its sister isle Koh Phi-Phi Leh - location for the film version of Alex Garland's best-selling book The Beach starring Leonardo DiCaprio. Then it will be on to laidback Koh Lanta and lively Phuket.
Paradise lost, or paradise found? We are not sure what to expect - powder-white beaches devoid of human footprints, dramatic sheer limestone karst cliffs and jagged jungle-clad pinnacles towering out of the sea, quiet nights star-gazing on sandy coves. Or will we encounter sleazy girlie bars and strip joints, rowdy late-night beach parties, fast food and neon lights.
Maybe we will find a little of each - The Good, The Bad and The Ugly - on our next adventure in this mysterious and magical country.
Koh Phi-Phi Don
We touch down at Krabi airport. Not sure whether to stay in the town overnight, or make for its ferry terminal. Haul our bags - two heavy suitcases and two rucksacks - onto a rickety old bus. Drops us at pier and we decide to catch boat to Koh Phi-Phi Don after booking accommodation at what appears to be reputable tourist info centre.
It's early afternoon and we find a spot to sit on the top deck. Boat quite quiet - groups of backpackers and fellow travellers on board, but plenty of room to stretch out and enjoy idyllic sunny abd breezy journey with those craggy karst islands dotting the distant horizon.
Nothing, however, quite prepares us for our first view of KPPD.
Despite the high density of visitors here, the approach by boat to this archipelago takes the breath away. Huge cliffs topped by verdant green jungle tower to one side of us as our ferry cuts its way through crystal-clear waters to the harbour at bustling Tonsai Village.
Now for the tricky bit - transferring our luggage onto a tiny longboat to get us to our accommodation at Runtee Bay, which entails wading out knee-deep into the sea and humping our heavy bags up and over into the boat - and then clambering into it ourselves.
There are no roads on the island - and the only form of travel to some of the more remote spots is by boat, so anchors aweigh. Runtee here we come.
Looks the real deal as we approach - thatched bungalows on a squeaky clean stretch of sand, but we are in for a rude awakening.
Our accommodation turns out be a joke. But the joke is on us and we are not laughing. Our 'beach' bunglaow is tucked away at the back of the resort and, to our horror, only half-finished. The bathroom is just a concrete wasteland, the washbasin is nearly falling off and the shower is stone cold. The bed is rock hard, with what looks like a towel to serve as a wrap. It's the scene outside, however, which really has us gasping. It resembles a building site, with masonry and rubble everywhere. Not a pretty sight.
We reckon we have been tucked up a kipper at Krabi, but we have only ourselves to blame for being so naive and not checking out the place first. We have paid a decent sum of money up front for a sub-standard room to some touts passing as travel agents. We have learned a valuable lesson the hard way - ask to see the accommodation before booking it. (And we thought we had left the con merchants behind in Bangkok. That'll teach us to be so trusting).
Feeling down (let down as well) but not completely out, we try to look for positives - and, in fairness, they come in spadefulls.
Hungry and tired we repair to a beachside cafe and, following delicious pancakes with honey, Chinese tea for Chris and Chang beer for John the world is starting to look a better place already. A quick gander at our new surrounds reveals a drop-dead gorgeous beach, bathwater warm turquoise-hued sea and coral-fringed reefs brilliant for snorkelling. Another bar and restaurant, with tables and chairs perched actually on the beach, create a much better impression.
On initially seeing our 'cell block' we had considered leaving there and then - there was no way we could get our money back (Krabi was 90 minutes away and the touts would have laughed us out of town anyway).
Amazing then what a pancake, a cup of tea and a beer can do to revive flagging and dispirited souls. Instead of making a hasty beeline for Tonsai Village (we may not have got a boat in the first place) we thought we would tough it out.
The next morning we awoke to another lovely sunny day, the beach was pristine white and the sea looked as inviting as ever. Out front the rubble was still there, but so too was an inquistive wild monkey who had come down from the forest behind us to check out his new neighbours. Spend the day doing a spot of snorkelling - lots of colourful fish, pink and blue coral and some of the most lethal-looking sea urchin spikes we have seen anywhere. Step on one of those and you are going to be in serious pain.
Meet up with and make friends with brother and sister James and Jude who, it turns out, are Welsh. Jude works in Cardiff and James in London and, like ourselves, they have stopped off at Runtee hoping to get in some serious R&R.
Now that we have got over the shock of our temporary abode we are really starting to warm to the place. Lazy days busy doing very little other than swimming, snorkelling and reading and three equally lazy nights drinking a few quiet beers and cocktails at the reggae-influenced One More Bar and eating some excellent fish dishes on the lantern-lit beach restaurant has worked a kind of magic on us.
To our amazement we find that when the time comes to leave we don't actually want to and that we have ended up falling for the place we thought we were going to hate. Strange days.
But move on we must. Have to see The Beach on Koh Phi Phi Leh - and decide on spending a couple of nights in the much busier Tonsai because it's an easier base to get to the iconic isle.
No messing about with tawdry touts this time around. Out comes our trusty Lonely Planet which recommends The White - a small mid-range priced hotel in the heart of the village. Yes, they have one spare double room. A result. It's small, but clean, furnished and finished, the shower is hot and the bed and pillows comfy. Hooray.
Spend the evening wandering around the streets of the village. It's busy, overcrowded even, but everyone is having fun. Tons of little bars, cafes and restaurants are all doing a roaring trade, while street market stalls try to entice you to buy their knick knacks and fancy - and sometimes none too fancy - goods.
KPPD has its fair share of critics. The moaners harp on that there are too many beach bars and clubs - that the place is ruined and overrun by backpackers trying to live the Leonardo dream. We disagree.
This is a place which on Boxing Day, 2004, bore the brunt of one of the worst natural disasters in living memory - the Indian Ocean Tsunami.
The hour-glass shaped land between Loh Dalum Bay and Tonsai itself was the scene of utter devastation as huge walls of water from an apocalyptic seaquake swept thousands of men, women and children - locals and tourists - to their deaths.
To see that this tiny community, whose infastructure lay in ruins only seven years ago, is thriving again is heart-warming.
Churlish detractors point to Paradise Lost. But the Tsunami did that, surely - not today's tourists and travellers. It is the visiting tourist who drives the local economy - helping its people to get back on their feet after the catastrophic events that nearly wiped the island off the map forever.
It was paradise once. It may never be again. Perhaps the Tsunami scars still run too deep and will never totally heal. But the fact that thousands and thousands of people are returning to KPPD ensures that this little tropical gem has a new-found energy and vitality. Just coming here and spending a little baht feels like you are doing something - however small - to help aid the islanders' recovery from the pain and anguish they so heart-breakingly suffered.
Today the place is buzzing again - and that can only be good. Long may it continue.
Koh Phi-Phi Ley
We can't leave here without visiting The Beach. It would be like going to San Francisco and turning a blind eye to the Golden Gate Bridge, visiting New York and not clapping eyes on the Statue of Liberty, or heading out to the great US south-west wilderness and giving the Grand Canyon the cold shoulder.
It's a must-do, crowds or no crowds, hype or no hype - and we are going come what may. Shame Leonardo won't be there to greet us, though.
After a bit of bartering with a longboat man he agrees to take us to the island and drop us on The Beach and return us safe and sound after three hours.
Deal done. We have the longboat to ourselves and are carried out over a lovely stretch of calm blue water. The limestone karst formations tower into the heavens either side of us as we head towards Maya Bay (The Beach).
As we turn into a narrow gap in the cliffs we catch our first glimpse of it - and we have struck lucky. We were expecting hordes of tourists, but there are only a sprinkling of boats on the shimmering waters of the bay and few lobster-red bodies on the sun-kissed sands.
On arrival take a walk through dense jungle-like forest to look out over the emerald-coloured lagoon of Loh Samah on the other side, where scuba divers are doing their best Jacques Cousteau impressions.
We quickly head back to Maya, which, despite its popularity, is still undescribably beautiful. It is ringed by towering peaks and crags.
Imagine being here on your own with not a soul around. It would be other-worldly - a Jurassic Park. You can almost see those dinosaurs roaming its jungles. We modern-day mortals must content ourselves with spotting soaring eagles in between taking cooling dips in Maya's inviting azure waters.
The three hours fly by. Our boatman is ready to return us to civilisation. We ponder on whether some travel books and newspaper travel sections are unkind to suggest that Maya is not the place it once was after Hollywood came, saw and conquered.
Perhaps it's not. Overrated it may be. Unmissable it certainly is.
Time for the Walters gang to move on again. Next stop Koh Lanta, which we are told is lovely. Time to get on our bikes then, or scooters actually. But that's another story.
Thursday 10 March 2011
Sunday 6 March 2011
Bangkok
Crazy, chaotic, choc-a-block - that's bonkers Bangkok. Singapore, our last port of call, is slick and sophisticated - clean and crisp like a newly-ironed white shirt.
Thailand's steamy and sultry Venice of the East is the polar opposite. It's mad, sometimes bad, frustratingly unpredictable, hugely exciting - and as faded as your oldest and favourite pair of Levis.
We have flown into in an urban jungle where 10 million souls bust a gut to make an honest or, in some cases, a dishonest baht (50b = £1).
Bangkok is a total assault on the senses - a capital city where abject poverty (riverside shacks) and extreme wealth (five-star 30-storey tower blocks) make odd bedfellows - and where scams are two a penny. Its streets are frenetic, clogged with fumes from millions of cars, taxis and tuk-tuks (three-wheeled taxis).
Thailand's capital is a mass of contrasts and contradictions - one minute ugly duckling, the next a beautiful white swan.
You can take your life in your own hands crossing a street - and utter a little prayer that you made it safely to the other side - and, in the same breath, gasp at the sheer majesty of an ancient temple or palace that magically appears in front of you.
Unmissable is a trip along the Chao Phraya River - the main artery of the city - either by public boat (25 baht - 50p a head) or by chartering a long tail boat (1,000 baht - £10 a head).
We do both - and they are equally rewarding. Going public on the riverboat is crowded, but fun. The longboat experience on river and canals is a little like taking a gondola in Italy's crowning jewel - but without the cornetto.
The river is the lifeblood of the city, where you can watch vendors and hawkers sell their wares from creaking old boats - John buys a can of Chang beer for 40 baht (80p) from one - and the locals cooking from their rickety riverside homes perched on pillars.
It is used for trade, travel and even bathing. We Westerners and first-time visitors to this astonishing city watch a middle-aged man washing himself down on his humble wooden porch with water as murky brown as the Thames.
Whichever way you decide to journey on 'The River of Kings' (we did both for the experience ) the boats will bring you to a holy trinity of ancient temples - Wat Phra Kaew housing the former royal residence the Grand Palace and the nation's most revered icon the Emerald Buddha; the imposing and awesome Wat Arun, named after the India god of dawn Aruna; and, our personal fave, the magnificent Wat Pho - the oldest and largest of Bangkok's temples dating from the 16th century and whose centrepiece is the massive 46metres long and 15m high Reclining Buddha.
Breath-taking does not even begin to describe this gilt gold architectural wonder. Gob-smacking begins to do it justice, but also falls short. Mind-blowing - probably.
It's here at magical Wat Pho that Chris decides to have a spot of reflexology. As well as our new-found friend the Reclining Buddha, the temple also houses a massage school, with students of the age old art honing their skills inside two pavilions.
While John (Wat-ted out at this stage) is happy to catch his breath by sitting in the shade for an hour, Chris lets her masseur go to work and emerges from her experience feeling rejuevenated (although one of her toes hasn't quite clicked back into place just yet). John resists temptation for a wisecrack - feeling discretion should be the be tter part of valour. Toe alive and kicking a few hours later and all previous aches and pains banished. Massage declared a big hit.
From the old world to the new. While Bangkok is steeped in jewel-encrusted ancient and sacred sites, the city also worships at the altar of the modern.
The Skytrain at 25baht each is a great way to travel. This elevated rail network gives you a bird's eye-view of the city below. You are sailing above its notorious traffic jams. To the side are monstrous tower blocks, building sites that look like Ground Zero, homes that resemble tin shacks and also massive modern malls, shopping complexes and markets.
Some of these mega centres are tourist hot spots in their own right. The Skytrain takes us from our hotel in Sukhumvit to Siam Square. Housed there is The Paragon - the ritziest and glitziest of Bangkok's malls.
A walk to the nearby street markets will take into another world - one of pirated goods, where you barter for just about any item under the sun, including fake Rolex watches and Rayban sunglasses that look the real deal. The stalls, with their silk fabrics, jewellery, arts and crafts, are a riot of colour.
Food is taken seriously here and some of the best comes straight from the street. Day or night stalls entice you with their delicious aromas from noodle soups to fresh prawns and fried rice. Yes, there are top restaurants here, but you won't eat better or cheaper than at the street stalls. Like New York, Bangkok is a 24-hour city and there is nothing quite like taking the lift 46 storeys up to the Sirocco Sky Bar for a rooftop look at the world way down below as the sun sets. Here as dusk turned to night we sipped cocktails and Coronas (not the pop but Mexico's finest amber nectar), catching cooling breezes and star-gazing. Below us the city dazzled as brightly as any of the colourful figures we had stared at in awe at its temples and palaces.
Bangkok we discovered was starting to work its considerable magic on us. Sure there is widespread pollution, squalor and poverty, con artists, rip-off merchants, tuk-tuk (tuck you up more like) drivers on the make and the most improbable and ingenious of scams to lull you into a false sense of security (Temples closed for two hours today, boss. We take you in tuk-tuk for tour of city for 400 baht and bring you back when it has opened again. Yeh, sure buster).
Give it time, though, and you'll find (we certainly did) that underneath its outwardly lurid and often seedy skin lies a city of substantial charm and sights that are truly heaven-sent.
This steaming corner of South-East Asia is as diverse a place as we have certainly been to - a city with a distinct split personality. It's dirty, dusty, overcrowded and some of its punters downright dishonest. There is also much to marvel at - A Tale of Two Cities for sure.
Thailand's steamy and sultry Venice of the East is the polar opposite. It's mad, sometimes bad, frustratingly unpredictable, hugely exciting - and as faded as your oldest and favourite pair of Levis.
We have flown into in an urban jungle where 10 million souls bust a gut to make an honest or, in some cases, a dishonest baht (50b = £1).
Bangkok is a total assault on the senses - a capital city where abject poverty (riverside shacks) and extreme wealth (five-star 30-storey tower blocks) make odd bedfellows - and where scams are two a penny. Its streets are frenetic, clogged with fumes from millions of cars, taxis and tuk-tuks (three-wheeled taxis).
Thailand's capital is a mass of contrasts and contradictions - one minute ugly duckling, the next a beautiful white swan.
You can take your life in your own hands crossing a street - and utter a little prayer that you made it safely to the other side - and, in the same breath, gasp at the sheer majesty of an ancient temple or palace that magically appears in front of you.
Unmissable is a trip along the Chao Phraya River - the main artery of the city - either by public boat (25 baht - 50p a head) or by chartering a long tail boat (1,000 baht - £10 a head).
We do both - and they are equally rewarding. Going public on the riverboat is crowded, but fun. The longboat experience on river and canals is a little like taking a gondola in Italy's crowning jewel - but without the cornetto.
The river is the lifeblood of the city, where you can watch vendors and hawkers sell their wares from creaking old boats - John buys a can of Chang beer for 40 baht (80p) from one - and the locals cooking from their rickety riverside homes perched on pillars.
It is used for trade, travel and even bathing. We Westerners and first-time visitors to this astonishing city watch a middle-aged man washing himself down on his humble wooden porch with water as murky brown as the Thames.
Whichever way you decide to journey on 'The River of Kings' (we did both for the experience ) the boats will bring you to a holy trinity of ancient temples - Wat Phra Kaew housing the former royal residence the Grand Palace and the nation's most revered icon the Emerald Buddha; the imposing and awesome Wat Arun, named after the India god of dawn Aruna; and, our personal fave, the magnificent Wat Pho - the oldest and largest of Bangkok's temples dating from the 16th century and whose centrepiece is the massive 46metres long and 15m high Reclining Buddha.
Breath-taking does not even begin to describe this gilt gold architectural wonder. Gob-smacking begins to do it justice, but also falls short. Mind-blowing - probably.
It's here at magical Wat Pho that Chris decides to have a spot of reflexology. As well as our new-found friend the Reclining Buddha, the temple also houses a massage school, with students of the age old art honing their skills inside two pavilions.
While John (Wat-ted out at this stage) is happy to catch his breath by sitting in the shade for an hour, Chris lets her masseur go to work and emerges from her experience feeling rejuevenated (although one of her toes hasn't quite clicked back into place just yet). John resists temptation for a wisecrack - feeling discretion should be the be tter part of valour. Toe alive and kicking a few hours later and all previous aches and pains banished. Massage declared a big hit.
From the old world to the new. While Bangkok is steeped in jewel-encrusted ancient and sacred sites, the city also worships at the altar of the modern.
The Skytrain at 25baht each is a great way to travel. This elevated rail network gives you a bird's eye-view of the city below. You are sailing above its notorious traffic jams. To the side are monstrous tower blocks, building sites that look like Ground Zero, homes that resemble tin shacks and also massive modern malls, shopping complexes and markets.
Some of these mega centres are tourist hot spots in their own right. The Skytrain takes us from our hotel in Sukhumvit to Siam Square. Housed there is The Paragon - the ritziest and glitziest of Bangkok's malls.
A walk to the nearby street markets will take into another world - one of pirated goods, where you barter for just about any item under the sun, including fake Rolex watches and Rayban sunglasses that look the real deal. The stalls, with their silk fabrics, jewellery, arts and crafts, are a riot of colour.
Food is taken seriously here and some of the best comes straight from the street. Day or night stalls entice you with their delicious aromas from noodle soups to fresh prawns and fried rice. Yes, there are top restaurants here, but you won't eat better or cheaper than at the street stalls. Like New York, Bangkok is a 24-hour city and there is nothing quite like taking the lift 46 storeys up to the Sirocco Sky Bar for a rooftop look at the world way down below as the sun sets. Here as dusk turned to night we sipped cocktails and Coronas (not the pop but Mexico's finest amber nectar), catching cooling breezes and star-gazing. Below us the city dazzled as brightly as any of the colourful figures we had stared at in awe at its temples and palaces.
Bangkok we discovered was starting to work its considerable magic on us. Sure there is widespread pollution, squalor and poverty, con artists, rip-off merchants, tuk-tuk (tuck you up more like) drivers on the make and the most improbable and ingenious of scams to lull you into a false sense of security (Temples closed for two hours today, boss. We take you in tuk-tuk for tour of city for 400 baht and bring you back when it has opened again. Yeh, sure buster).
Give it time, though, and you'll find (we certainly did) that underneath its outwardly lurid and often seedy skin lies a city of substantial charm and sights that are truly heaven-sent.
This steaming corner of South-East Asia is as diverse a place as we have certainly been to - a city with a distinct split personality. It's dirty, dusty, overcrowded and some of its punters downright dishonest. There is also much to marvel at - A Tale of Two Cities for sure.
Saturday 5 March 2011
Tuesday 1 March 2011
Singapore
Singapore brings us our first taste of the exotic Far East - and we are excited to be in this historic and cultural melting pot for the first time.
We are stopping in the extremely affluent and modern high-tech island metropolis on our way to Thailand, where first call will be Bangkok.
Check into the Copthorne Orchid for three nights. It's a smart hotel with a decent-size pool - we'll need a quiet soak come tea-time as it's a hot and sticky 30C here - in a quiet residential area with an abundance of upmarket homes.
The hotel is a little way out of the city and its main attractions, so we make full use of its free shuttle bus service which runs guests into Orchard Road, the main shopping area and a mecca for every top designer label under the sun.
Feeling that the best way to see this former British trading settlement - it attained independence only in 1965 - we use the hop-on, hop-off open top bus and take a boat trip along the languid Singapore River.
Both forms of transport prove a rewarding experience, giving us a great insight into what makes this vibrant hot-spot tick with its fascinating and heady brew of Chinese, Indian, Japansese, Malaysian and British influences.
Chinatown is relatively unchanged from its earliest days, where traditions and centuries-old practices still flourish today in streets which bustle with activity, while the smells of curry powder, incense and perfume that waft from the area known as Little India are more in keeping with Mumbai or Madras - even St Helen's Road on a sultry summer evening in Swansea.
It's here in Singapore that we try out first taste of street food - enjoying an incredibly cheap meal (2.90 Singapore dollars a head, around £1.45 each) of stir fry with noodles - in a covered market stall, which boasts an amazing array of exotic dishes to suit every taste and pocket.
While there are fancy fine dining restaurants galore, Singaporeans appear to head in their droves to the hawker centres (huge indoor and outdoor food markets) for down-to-earth unpretentious, filling and cheap food - so for us it was a case of when in Singapore do as the locals do .......
Eating in these day and night markets is a fun and affordable way to stave off any hunger pangs. The food is cooked in front of you, so you know you are getting it fresh and the choice is mind-boggling.
Food aside, there are some other attractions! The Singapore Botanic Gardens is a major highlight, even if you are not particularly a flower lover. This 64-hectacre oasis of beauty and serenity in the middle of a bustling city boasts the largest collection of orchids in the world - and they really are a sight for sore eyes - even John (Chris is the one with the green fingers) agreed. He's learning, although Alan Titchmarsh he is not about to become.
Meanwhile, the man-made sight that stands out is on the marina - the gob-smacking statement that is the Marina Bay Sands resort. Owned by the Las Vegas Sands Corporation, it is a symbol of Singapore's reputation as one of the world's top travel destinations.
It is ludicrously over the top - this monster-sized structure consists of three brand spanking new high-rises linked together on top by a cruise ship-like structure which houses an Olympic-sized swimming pool - yet you can't help but admire the sheer audacity and vision of those who designed it. Welcome then to Las Vegas in Singapore.
The city - a nation too - really comes to life at night. Singa's skyscraper hotels and towering office blocks are awash with neon lights of every conceivable colour - but all in the best possible taste, of course.
Singapore is squeaky clean (drop chewing gum in the street and you are in big trouble. Wind Street offenders please take note) and very safe. It is virtually crime-free - and there is little chance of being hassled or hustled by anyone while walking the streets in the early hours.
John, however, did - and it was 10am - have occasion to firmly, but politely, decline the offer from a gentleman calling himself Sammy Boy to show him where the ''best tailor in Singapore'' would fit him up with the best and cheapest of suits. John felt he didn't really want to be fitted up or, indeed, stitched up, so he bade 'Sammy Boy' farewell without exchanging email addresses. Of course a visit here would not be complete without calling into the Long Bar for a Singapore Sling sundowner at the famous Raffles Hotel. Two of those for Chris and a few pints of Guinness for John make for a pleasant few hours - until the bill arrives. John declares himself to be feeling slightly under the weather - and it's nothing to do with his alcohol consumption, rather the cost of our late-night excursion.
But this is THE Raffles Hotel after all - we probably won't be passing by this way again sometime soon - and we feel we shouldn't really 'sling' our Singapore hook without a visit to this iconic and legendary watering hole. Would have loved to have been transported back to its heyday when the ex-pats would sip their G & Ts and smoke their Havana cigars, but even today the atmosphere here ain't half bad. Not the best monkey nuts we have tasted, though, but that's only a tiny quibble.
We are greeted on our final night by a torrential rainstorm. Just as our courtesy shuttle bus pulls in to drop us off for a night market nosh the heavens open. With no umbrellas to hand, our driver has a ready-made solution - cardboard boxes to put over our heads as we dash to escape the downpour.
Good call, drive. We stay relatively dry, though hardly cut elegant figures in this swishest of cities, to which we bid goodbye tomorrow morning before boarding our plane to Bangkok. Thailand here we come.
We are stopping in the extremely affluent and modern high-tech island metropolis on our way to Thailand, where first call will be Bangkok.
Check into the Copthorne Orchid for three nights. It's a smart hotel with a decent-size pool - we'll need a quiet soak come tea-time as it's a hot and sticky 30C here - in a quiet residential area with an abundance of upmarket homes.
The hotel is a little way out of the city and its main attractions, so we make full use of its free shuttle bus service which runs guests into Orchard Road, the main shopping area and a mecca for every top designer label under the sun.
Feeling that the best way to see this former British trading settlement - it attained independence only in 1965 - we use the hop-on, hop-off open top bus and take a boat trip along the languid Singapore River.
Both forms of transport prove a rewarding experience, giving us a great insight into what makes this vibrant hot-spot tick with its fascinating and heady brew of Chinese, Indian, Japansese, Malaysian and British influences.
Chinatown is relatively unchanged from its earliest days, where traditions and centuries-old practices still flourish today in streets which bustle with activity, while the smells of curry powder, incense and perfume that waft from the area known as Little India are more in keeping with Mumbai or Madras - even St Helen's Road on a sultry summer evening in Swansea.
It's here in Singapore that we try out first taste of street food - enjoying an incredibly cheap meal (2.90 Singapore dollars a head, around £1.45 each) of stir fry with noodles - in a covered market stall, which boasts an amazing array of exotic dishes to suit every taste and pocket.
While there are fancy fine dining restaurants galore, Singaporeans appear to head in their droves to the hawker centres (huge indoor and outdoor food markets) for down-to-earth unpretentious, filling and cheap food - so for us it was a case of when in Singapore do as the locals do .......
Eating in these day and night markets is a fun and affordable way to stave off any hunger pangs. The food is cooked in front of you, so you know you are getting it fresh and the choice is mind-boggling.
Food aside, there are some other attractions! The Singapore Botanic Gardens is a major highlight, even if you are not particularly a flower lover. This 64-hectacre oasis of beauty and serenity in the middle of a bustling city boasts the largest collection of orchids in the world - and they really are a sight for sore eyes - even John (Chris is the one with the green fingers) agreed. He's learning, although Alan Titchmarsh he is not about to become.
Meanwhile, the man-made sight that stands out is on the marina - the gob-smacking statement that is the Marina Bay Sands resort. Owned by the Las Vegas Sands Corporation, it is a symbol of Singapore's reputation as one of the world's top travel destinations.
It is ludicrously over the top - this monster-sized structure consists of three brand spanking new high-rises linked together on top by a cruise ship-like structure which houses an Olympic-sized swimming pool - yet you can't help but admire the sheer audacity and vision of those who designed it. Welcome then to Las Vegas in Singapore.
The city - a nation too - really comes to life at night. Singa's skyscraper hotels and towering office blocks are awash with neon lights of every conceivable colour - but all in the best possible taste, of course.
Singapore is squeaky clean (drop chewing gum in the street and you are in big trouble. Wind Street offenders please take note) and very safe. It is virtually crime-free - and there is little chance of being hassled or hustled by anyone while walking the streets in the early hours.
John, however, did - and it was 10am - have occasion to firmly, but politely, decline the offer from a gentleman calling himself Sammy Boy to show him where the ''best tailor in Singapore'' would fit him up with the best and cheapest of suits. John felt he didn't really want to be fitted up or, indeed, stitched up, so he bade 'Sammy Boy' farewell without exchanging email addresses. Of course a visit here would not be complete without calling into the Long Bar for a Singapore Sling sundowner at the famous Raffles Hotel. Two of those for Chris and a few pints of Guinness for John make for a pleasant few hours - until the bill arrives. John declares himself to be feeling slightly under the weather - and it's nothing to do with his alcohol consumption, rather the cost of our late-night excursion.
But this is THE Raffles Hotel after all - we probably won't be passing by this way again sometime soon - and we feel we shouldn't really 'sling' our Singapore hook without a visit to this iconic and legendary watering hole. Would have loved to have been transported back to its heyday when the ex-pats would sip their G & Ts and smoke their Havana cigars, but even today the atmosphere here ain't half bad. Not the best monkey nuts we have tasted, though, but that's only a tiny quibble.
We are greeted on our final night by a torrential rainstorm. Just as our courtesy shuttle bus pulls in to drop us off for a night market nosh the heavens open. With no umbrellas to hand, our driver has a ready-made solution - cardboard boxes to put over our heads as we dash to escape the downpour.
Good call, drive. We stay relatively dry, though hardly cut elegant figures in this swishest of cities, to which we bid goodbye tomorrow morning before boarding our plane to Bangkok. Thailand here we come.
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