Exploring Thailand

Even having been blessed to have been based in a place where there’s so much to see and where other people pay to visit, I couldn’t completely do justice to Thailand. But I made a pretty good effort, I feel.

It all started with a couple of weekend trips to beaches south of Bangkok. My first foray was to Hua Hin, around three hours’ drive away. There I found a holiday resort complete with skyscrapers but with a cute town in its own right. The beach was large and pleasant, although the sea was by no means clean – Bangkok is such a huge city and inevitably the ocean is massively polluted. There are a couple of good markets including the eclectic Cicada night market bursting with handicrafts, and lots of lovely bars and places to eat, and overall it’s a perfectly nice place for a weekend escape.

Pattaya was a different kettle of fish entirely. I’d been here 30 years ago and found it depressing beyond belief. I’m not entirely sure why I went back. Possibly it was the proximity to Bangkok, a mere two hours by minibus. I was staying in the quieter end of the resort, Jomtien, and unfortunately I didn’t realise that my bargain public minibus dropped folk off on demand on the main expressway rather than the beachfront road, and that Jomtien was by no means the final stop.  By the time I did, I was some distance beyond my destination, which meant I had to first traverse an enormous dual carriageway, then traipse along a very long road with not a taxi in sight, flanked either side by building sites spawning new condos and resorts until I finally reached the coast. Despite this I actually rather liked Jomtien, not only because I could sit on the grubby beach for a couple of hours – the water here is an even muddier brown than at Hua Hin. I did however make the error of venturing into Pattaya to become depressed at the blank faced prostitutes, at least five deep, on the shoreline road.

My third sojourn to the beach, however, hit the jackpot. Koh Samet, which is more or less the closest island to Bangkok, a mere hour or so past Pattaya, did not raise my expectations as I was expecting more brown water, ugly developments and sex tourists. As a result I’d deliberately chosen what appeared to be the quietest part of the island, the very southern tip. We were staying at Ao Pakarang beach, a tiny bay flanked by bungalow type accommodation and a restaurant. I’m not sure if anything else is within easy reach, because in the three days that we were there we never moved from this blissful spot. To get there, we caught a public bus from Bangkok to Rayong followed by a speedboat which zoomed its exhilarating way through crystal blue waters straight from a holiday brochure past a succession of cute cottage-style resorts perched on tiny beaches. This was more like it! It reminded me of Koh Samui, where I’d stayed in 1989 in a rustic thatched beachfront cottage.

The speedboat dropped us off on a floating platform, complete with seats and a parasol, where we were winched into shore like Lord and Lady Muck. It was a little part of paradise, just us, the brightly-coloured lizards, fruit bats, cute zebra doves and a pacific reef heron for company, along with a mere couple of other holidaymakers. It was blissful indeed, with very little to do apart from watch the rise and fall of the tide, drink beer and eat food.

Closer to Bangkok, accessible as we did in a single day trip, is Amphawa train market. Admittedly, it’s a bit of a tourist trap, but I loved it. It’s basically your average, bustling local Thai market, selling mostly fruit and vegetables, fish, cooked foods but also clothing, material and so on. Except for reasons best known to the people who planned the commuter railway line running from Bangkok to this bustling community, the train tracks run straight through the middle of the market. Thus, several times a day, a huge train slowly edges its way towards the station. Shortly before it arrives, the stallholders, with an admirable lack of haste, pull back their wares which are displayed on trollies on their own little tracks enabling them to glide safely out of the way of the oncoming train, whilst pulling back their tarpaulin canopies like so many umbrellas. No sooner than the train has passed, mere inches from the produce and the spectators, then the little trollies get pushed back and the awnings unfolded again and all is swiftly as if the train had never been.

Slightly further afield is Kanchanaburi, towards the west of Thailand and close to the border with Burma. This quaint little town, perched on the Mae Klong river, is the site of the very famous bridge over the river Kwai. The bridge and the railway beyond it, the so-called ‘Death Railway’, were constructed by Prisoners of War, mainly from the UK, Australia and USA in 1942 when Japanese forces wanted to open up a supply chain into Burma. As many as 12,000 POWs died during the construction period and, staggeringly, it’s calculated that 90,000 local paid labourers also perished. The death railway itself is still functional, and we caught a clickety clackety train that trundles over several impressive viaducts and bridges. At Hellfire pass, there’s a lovely – if sweaty – walk on the old railbed, with chisel marks in the rocks at either side of the track speaking of the blood, sweat and lives that went into the making of the railway.

My final foray out of Bangkok involved a flight, as I was returning to Chiang Mai, in the north of Thailand, after another gap of 30 years. Chiang Mai has not changed a great deal. The relaxed atmosphere, low-rise buildings, markets and funky restaurants were much as I remembered them. The main reason I came to Chiang Mai was not, however, for retail or food therapy, but because I wanted to see elephants.  After a lot of research, I’d chosen the Elephant Nature Park, run by Save Elephant Foundation, which acts as a retirement home for abused elephants. The sad side of the elephant circus shows and elephant painters which tragically still attract visitors is the shockingly cruel way in which the elephants are forced to perform tricks totally contrary to their natural behaviour. It’s worth remembering too, that it’s pretty damaging to an elephant’s spine to carry a human on its back, so any park worth its salt will not offer elephant rides. Aside from visiting and supporting the park itself, the Elephant Nature Park has begun branching out into the community, offering local tribespeople a good income from tourists, providing their elephants are treated with respect. In turn this puts in motion an education process that teaches that ethical elephant ownership can reap rewards. Otherwise, elephants will often be hired out to unscrupulous circuses and the like.

The five elephants we interacted with – feeding them vast quantities of bananas and sugar cane, bathing them, slapping mud on them and walking them down to the river to wash it all off – had come to the tribe from the circus, in the case of the younger elephants, or from the logging industry, in the case of the older ones. It was a great privilege to spend time with these magnificent and sensitive creatures, which despite the horrors they had endured, were still gentle and trusting. It was a privilege to spend some time with these noble creatures.

Bangkok 30 Years On

I’m not entirely sure why was affronted that Bangkok had changed. After all, hasn’t everywhere – and everyone – changed since 1987?

It’s been a while since my last blog post, largely because being posted to Croydon, south London, didn’t inspire my creative juices. But this summer, I was fortunate enough to be posted to Bangkok, capital city of the land of smiles. Not only is it an excellent jumping off point for all sorts of destinations I was itching to visit – more on these in a later post – but Bangkok itself, being a city of over 5 million inhabitants, is a fantastic place to live for a while. I was staying right in the heart of shopping-mall land, sleek silver skyscrapers popping up like mushrooms, cranes littering the skyline. The only reminders of what used to be there are pavements curving round to where once was a road, and a network of tiny lanes on Google maps, showing were whole communities have been gobbled up to build the latest smart condominium. I fear that the city is losing its character, becoming like every other high rise Asian city. But who am I to decree that the good citizens of Thailand, with their considerable buying power, be denied their swanky malls, rooftop restaurants and squeaky new serviced apartments?

There are still echoes of the Bangkok of thirty years ago to be found. The traffic is still crazy, despite the very efficient sky train, and tuc tucs still ply for fares – expensive ones, as they’re really only for tourists now. Locals hop on the back of a motorbike taxi, the ladies sitting side-saddle as they weave perilously through the traffic. Street food vendors still line some of the pavements, smells of chicken and pork wafting along with the stomach turning eggy smell of durian. These stalls are a feat of ingenuity, packing utensils, parasols and even chairs and tables into what are little more than barrows. The food is always very fresh, such is the popularity and turnover of these stalls. I love Thai cuisine, with its fearsome tongue-biting chillies, along with a background of lemon grass, holy basil and coconut. The king of Thai dishes has to be Pad Thai, with its own squeeze of lime and sprinkling of crushed peanuts.

I did find a little bit of the Bangkok I remembered when I visited Koh San Road, where I had stayed in a hostel as a fresh-faced backpacker all those years ago, and it hasn’t changed a great deal. There is not a high-rise in sight, instead lots of laid-back restaurants, and the odd hippy wanding about, stuck in a previous decade. Although folk nowadays tend to be engrossed in their phone screens rather than chatting to each other and reading airmail letters from home.

The Chao Phraya river at Bangkok became my favourite place. There are several different boats that ply up and down and it’s a challenge figuring out the right one. Orange flag boats take you anywhere you like for 15 baht (35p) and were in my opinion the best, crammed with tourists, locals and monks. The boat operator is armed with a shrill whistle, screaming at high volume to everyone to move down the boat until they’re packed like sardines and the boat lies alarmingly low in the water. These boats don’t hang around, and many a person has missed their stop from being unable to fight their way off through the tightly-packed passengers in time.

Of course, tourists come to Bangkok for good reason. Temple fatigue came early to my life, in 1987 to be precise, so I allowed myself just one temple – Wat Po, containing the splendidly reposing reclining Buddha, complete with mother-of-pearl feet and marvellous toes. Even if I’d wanted to visit the Grand Palace I couldn’t have, owing to the then impending cremation ceremony of the hugely popular King Rama IX Bhumibol Adulyadej. He remained on the throne for an incredible seventy years until he passed away at 88 years of age just over one year ago. Thailand was been in official mourning for the following year, culminating in the month-log run-up to the ceremony when solemnity was stepped up. During this time, Thais wore only either black or white, which are both the colours of mourning, with buildings adorned with black and white silk. Bangkok became a sea of yellow chrysanthemums, yellow being the colour of Monday, the day the King was born. Haunting oboe music filled the air in shopping malls and on public transport. Huge advertising hoardings showed monochrome pictures of the King or a black and white montage of his life, and those that did still carry their original adverts did so in strangely muted colours. A staggering 12 million people visited the palace over the past year to pay their respects, waiting in line for many hours in order to do so. The golden funeral pyre – an ornate, extravagant affair, took a year to construct, and the funeral ceremonies themselves lasted a full five days.

Even though it’s an urban metropolis, Bangkok is still home to a surprising amount of wildlife. White egrets stalk around the edges of canals. The comical birdsong, so definitely meaning I’m in a tropical country, never fails to make me smile. The birds always have plenty to feed on, as there’s always tasty titbits to be stolen from the tiny Buddhist shrines dotted about every neighbourhood.  It’s not uncommon to see an enormous, lumbering monitor lizard, prehistoric in appearance, clambering round the banks of a klong or peddling like a miniature crocodile in the fedit water.

My stay coincided with monsoon season in Thailand. Of course it was hot – but also at times it was very, very wet. One minute the sky would be a bright clear blue, the next, menacing clouds would roll in followed by an ominous clap of thunder. Fast on its heels came the rain, ramrod straight, as if someone had turned on a shower. Give it half an hour, though, and the rain would clear and people would emerge back out onto the steaming pavements from under umbrellas and ponchos, with the air deliciously cooler.

Above all, Thais are lovely folk. Polite, always smiling, and with a great sense of humour. Even the packed sky train at rush hour is characterised by long, orderly lines.  Usually, taxi drivers switch on their meters. My grasp of Thai language stuttered and stopped after approximately three words but despite this, I was welcomed to this fast-changing city with a quite staggering hospitality. Bangkok, you will be missed.