Paul and Tracy's Main Blog

And sleep we did.... woke after 8am from a deep and very realistic dream where I was at Danielle's parent's evening and had lost her teacher (what made it weird was the bit where I was searching in the lady's loos...) and woke Tracy, who was still snoozing in the bed beside me (always a great way to start the day....). After a quick shower we headed up to the reception/bar/restaurant area for breakfast and with a glass of orange squash in hand we surveyed, with growing disappointment, the array of stainless steel trays that contained the “buffet”. It bore more than a passing resemblance to yesterday's leftovers, so we had toast. With jam. Which was nice. And coffee. Which wasn't.

After satiating our rumbling bellies, we made our way back to the bungalow and then out onto the beach, where we started indulging in something that we'd almost forgotten how to do, Nothing. We sat and read, me in a hammock, swinging gently in the breeze, whilst Tracy reclined on a wooden sunbed (that didn't look comfortable at all). Within a few minutes we were both lost in our own little worlds, soaking up the sun and enjoying simply being, making occasional trips into the sea to cool down. Boy, did we need this...





With the tide now in full ebb, or at least, going out, the shoreline came alive, with small hermit crabs and little fish filling the remaining pools of water, whilst on dry land the sand crabs emerged from their burrows leaving little balls of sand scattered around like an explosion in a ball bearing factory. At one point I looked up to see that Tracy had wandered off, and was sat on a rock with her feet in a pool mesmerised by the wildlife in miniature playing between her toes...contented... oh, yes...





Not to be left out of this idyllic picture, I wandered over with camera in hand to try and capture a picture that David Attenborough would be proud of.





I failed, obviously...

Returning to the comfort of the sunbed to continue indulging in one of lives truly great pleasures, reading a good book in the sun, I lost myself many times before my rumbling stomach interrupted me with a reminder that I didn't get this “oh, he's got a healthy appetite” physique without paying constant attention to mealtimes, and it was time for us to go hunting. A gentle stroll along the beach, made easier by the retreating tide, saw us emerge on the main road through town. Boy, it was hot, thirsty work, all that walking. So we sat down in a bar and ordered a pitcher of cold beer... Beer Chang for a change...





Angels dancing on my tongue? Oh, yes...

With thirst attended to it was hunger's turn next. We ordered light. A stir-fried spicy prawn dish for me, and the same-same-but-different for Tracy. With chicken, not prawn. And rice. And it was good. Damned good. Full of those ingredients that see me scouring the supermarkets in Chinatown of a weekend when cooking for my friends. Round Thai aubergines, pea aubergines, fresh green peppercorns (the “spicy” part, they leave your mouth burning hotter than the sun), kaffir and holy basil leaves and large, flavoursome red chillies. I need to move my kitchen here. And replace my back yard with a white sandy bay. And my commute with a gentle stroll along the beach, hand-in-hand with my wife. Excuse me while I cry happy for a while...

Having come over all emotional it was time to leave the bar before another pitcher threw me a curved ball and prevented me from moving.

Back on the beach for some more relaxation. If I do this much longer I'll be proclaimed dead and my belongings distributed to the young Thai girls so they don't have to hang around with the fat, ugly, westerners any longer and can afford to tell them to “Feck Off” like all the western girls they've ever met have.

When the tide had gone out far enough to make the walk into it to cool down a drag (about 10 yards, then!) we moved to the pool deck by the reception/bar/restaurant and cooled down whilst swimming towards the pool's horizon which coincided with the bay's. Boy, this is beautiful. Then we grabbed the notebook and went for a beer. And so I updated the blog (hope you liked it, that was yesterday's post) whilst sinking cold Singha and watching two fat, ugly, westerners cavort with two young Thai girls old enough to be their grand-daughters. I don't know how much they're paying them, but it isn't enough. Hell, there isn't enough money in the world for that. Or perhaps I've got it wrong, and it's true love. Though when we see them in the beachside restaurant later I see the same scorn in the girls faces when their men are looking elsewhere, and catch the conspiratorial glances between them. And the gabble-gabble of unintelligible Thai that flows in staccato bursts when the guys are busy lighting fags or chatting. Gotta hang together to get through this and to the money, honey...

Back at the reception/bar/restaurant I find a free wireless and upload pics and the blog whilst chugging cold Singha and interrupting Tracy's readings with my ramblings... She smiles at me and I go light-headed. Must slow down on the drinking...





With the blog only a day out of date I've had enough and we're hungry. We book an elephant trek for tomorrow, ensuring an early start, and head off down the beach in search of a restaurant and bar where we can ensure we don't get one. We find the perfect place – the “Porn Restaurant” - and grab a table on the beach, with chairs a mile apart and a stretch to the table, and order drinks. Not beer this time, Black Russian for Tracy and that ol' Thai favourite SangSom and Coke for me. And food. Spring Rolls, Stir-Fried Prawns in Ginger and Fish in Red Curry Paste. I get asked to select the fish from the iced display and pick a large grey one. As opposed to a large red one, which I think was a Red Snapper. Next time I'll bring my copy of the “Lonely Planet Guide to Thai Fish”. When it comes, the food arrives at once. But it's all good, Very, very good. The fish has been cooked to perfection and smothered in a freshly ground red curry paste, just like mama makes, if mama is native to these parts, not Cordon-Bleu trained and following Nigella and F'in Gordon F'in Ramsay's latest. Like I said, very, very good. The dogs looked appreciative too, as they paced the beach and laid down at our feet trying their best to look underfed whilst their bulging bellies gave the game away. Come on, guys, even I don't try that. And you've got no chance. I wouldn't feed my own dog at the table (if I had one), so you don't have a hope in hell. And Tracy's not the sucker for puppy-dog eyes you might think. I know, I've tried...





Well fed and well watered, we pay up and leave. Less than 20-quid for a meal like that, in a location like this. Including drinks (hic). Why are we going home?

We wander into town to collect supplies, whilst doing endless impressions of Colin's best joke. The one about the Chinaman who gets a job in US army logistics during the Vietnam conflict. When the tired G.I.s return to base hungry and thirsty he jumps out from behind a tent and shouts “SURPLISE!”. Wearily they reply, “No, you dumb bastard, you're in charge of supplies...”.

Armed with a bottle of SangSom and a couple of bottles of coke, and some beer for Tracy, we head back to the bungalow. Which is where I am right now. Creedence Clear Water Revival blasting out of the netbook (need some proper speakers before I do this again), SangSom and coke in one hand, bad typing in the other...

Cheers!