r&r

 Now Ian has joined me for the distinctly more laid back phase of the trip.  We are spending a few days in Jomtien, Pattaya’s slightly more decorous little sister a little further down the coast from Bangkok.  We are in a little resort hotel where our affable host, the Jim (or maybe that should be hostess, given his long history, as Madame Jim, as proprietor and performer at one of Pattaya’s premiere show bars)  is always there with a quiet word, his Glaswegian tones only slightly modified by years of expat living.  Now he has moved on from the razzmatazz of Boystown and created this elegant little oasis.  

It’s a good place to cool off in the pool, or chat with fellow guests, or just walk down to Jomtien beach, where for a few baht you can get an umbrella and a deckchair, and a cooling drink or even a hot lunch.  Ian and I also decided to explore some of the restaurants rated by Trip Advisor, and we did eat extraordinarily well, and cheaply.

On one occasion, leaving Ian back at base, a friend suggested I go with him on the little ferry over to an island, Ko Larn, just offshore, which has great beaches: palm fringed, white coral sand, azure blue sea – all the usual accoutrements.  My guide didn’t tell me before coming over that the beaches are some way from the ferry landing, and persuaded me to go by motorbike taxi on the island’s narrow tracks, scarcely more than footpaths.  So three of us on the bike – the driver, my guide (fortunately both of typical Thai rakish proportions) and me (not).   It was a bit of a switchback ride, with more thrills than a theme park, but arriving at the quiet beach it seemed worth it.  Just the place for a cooling coconut juice, spicy prawn fried rice, and a splash about in the aforementioned azure blue waters.  But the trip back proved more troublesome.  As we approached one of the hills, a Russian youth came zooming down and around a bend on the wrong side of the road, straight for us.  Correcting too late, his bike went over and came careening down the slope towards us right across the width of the path.  Our driver braked hard and turned right to the edge of the road but couldn’t avoid crashing into the fallen bike.  There was a slight pause, then our bike began to topple over sideways into the bushes at the side and there was nothing for it but to let it happen.  The land dropped away but the bushes held us and we all emerged without a scratch: which is more than can be said for the Russian, who skinned all his knees and elbows and looked a little dazed. 

So it wasn’t quite the uneventful interlude I’d hoped for, but by and large it was still a relaxing stay.