The Art of Spice

The Indian word “Masala” means spice, and the secret to the best Indian cuisine is the selection and combination of spices to create culinary masterpieces. Masala Art, in the Thong Lor 8 building, appears to have mastered the preparation and use of fresh Indian spices to prepare healthy, herbal, and delicious food.

The art comes in selecting the right spices in the proper quantity and form to complement particular meats and other ingredients. The adept combination of these spices, such as fresh saffron from Kashmir, helps to concoct olfactory treats that make your mouth water even before the dishes are placed upon your table.

Following a philosophy that a meal should provide a natural balance of spices to provide a healthy combination of vitamins, minerals, and fats, every ingredient is carefully selected, prepared, and applied. Not only are the spices brought over whole from India and then pounded, roasted, and powdered in Masala Art’s kitchen to maximize the scent and flavor of the precious ingredients, other ingredients such as the cottage cheese used in the Paneer are also freshly made by the adept kitchen staff.

Read the rest of the review and find out where Masala Art is located at … http://www.restaurantsofbangkok.com/articles/rob-reviews/masala-art-to-spice-with-love

French Dining at its Finest: Aubergine Bangkok

Tucked away down a side soi off Sala Daeng Road, there is a charming old house that was once the residence of various foreign diplomats. That the building once served such a function is quite suitable as its current occupant, Aubergine restaurant, has created an ambiance that is at once dignified and homey and whose staff is both professional and welcoming.

Aubergine features multiple dining rooms, each uniquely suitable for a different clientele, so it is recommended that you call ahead and reserve a table in the appropriate room to suit your needs: The glassed-in garden room is perhaps most popular for business lunches or a leisurely Sunday brunch; the wine room is most suitable for a romantic evening for two; and the bar area makes a fine place to dine alone if you must. There is also a large dining area up the house’s teak stairway that is ideal for large families or private parties, particularly as the adjoining rooms feature a balcony suitable for smokers.

Aubergine , as the name somewhat implies, is a French dining establishment, and as such, while ambiance is certainly appreciated, it is the food that is the centerpiece of the restaurant. The French menu has a slightly Mediterranean twist, incorporating French classics, such as coq au vin, rabbit stew, and foie gras (served with caramelized green apple), with tastes of the South of France, from where current Chef Chautard Jerome hails. Pastas, fish, and prawn dishes are ‘lighter’ fare Chef Jerome has introduced to the menu, which can be sampled a la carte or by selecting one of the two monthly set lunch menus, which include wine and a 4 course meal (starter, soup, main, and dessert for 490 or 790 baht depending on selections), and the 4 course dinner menu (1,990 baht). A soon to be introduced degustation menu featuring an 8 course sampling of the chef’s signature dishes should allow you to enlighten your taste buds to the rich and diverse flavors of Aubergine for a reasonable 1,200 baht.

A few dishes sampled on my visit included frogs legs in garlic and butter, frogs legs in almond cream, seared Hokkaido scallops with mushrooms duxelle, fennel, and smoked butter sauce, Braised Australian strip loin Bourguignon style, traditional French fish soup served with rouille and crouton, and the crepe suzette.

While I’m personally more familiar with Japanese than French cuisine, the seared scallops with mushroom duxelle brought the two worlds together in my mind. Though only the scallops themselves hailed from Japan, the perfection of taste, texture, and temperature of the ingredients of this (and other) dishes brought parallels to the grand traditions of both cuisines. The beef Bourguignon was rich and tender, while the mashed potatoes were perfectly moist and creamy. Even the traditional French fish soup (one of several rich and flavorful soups, including truffle and mushroom, lobster bisque, and traditional onion soup) was an experience as well as an exhibition of the perfect balance of flavors.

If you are looking for a bottle of wine to accompany your meal, you might do well to ask proprietress Jum to proffer a suggestion. Frequently found on-site chatting with regular guests, Jum has expanded her wine list over the years simply out of pure appreciation of fine French wines. Though her wine selection also features Italian, Californian, and Chilean wines (among others), this is a French restaurant, and Jum carries everything from Champagne to Semillon, the latter of which is a dessert wine with notes of raisin and apricot, a perfect accompaniment to the rich fine desserts.

Take your time to dine, as the French do, and you shouldn’t be too full for dessert; the desert menu also offers such a delectable selection of after dinner treats from which to choose you may have a hard time selecting which one (or two) to share. As I was informed the manager himself (the cheerful Mr. Dokrak Prungprued) prepares the crepe suzette at your table, I seized the photo opportunity for the flaming Grand Marnier and brandy, though I could have just as easily opted for the cherry jubilee flambé.

All in all, if you’ve never had fine French food before this restaurant is an outstanding introduction, and if you are an aficionado of French cuisine you are certain to be pleased, as three years of regular customers can certainly attest. While certainly not at the lower end of the price spectrum when compared to the noodle shops and other eateries in the Silom neighborhood, you are more than getting your money’s worth if you place a high value on taste, service, and ambiance. If you are looking for a great date venue with a special someone, a lunch venue to impress an important client, or simply love to eat and want to give your taste buds a treat: Aubergine.

Aubergine is located at 71/1 Soi 1/1, Saladaeng Road, Silom, Bangkok

For reservations call: 02-234 2226

A Brief History of Thailand

Earliest History:

Fossilized remains of plants and animals have been discovered in many areas of Thailand, particularly in the Korat Plateau in northeastern Thailand. Most of the animal fossils found are of dinosaurs, which date primarily to the Jurassic era though some are from the late-Triassic, the oldest such evidence of dinosaurs in Southeast Asia.

The dinosaur bones encased in sandstone in the Phu Wiang hills of Khon Kaen province included Phuwiangosaurus sirindhornae, a gigantic plant-eating dinosaur that had a long neck and tail and a small head. Four other species of dinosaur unearthed in Phu Wiang include Siamotyrannus isanensis, a smaller version of Tyrannosaurus rex, Siamosauraus suteethorni, a crocodile-like creature, Compsognathus, the world’s smallest dinosaur, and Ornithomimosaur, an ostrich-like dinosaur. In nearby Chaiyaphum province two other new dinosaur species were discovered: Psittacosaurus sattayaraki, a parrot-billed dinosaur, and Isanosaurus attavipachi, which is similar to Phuwiangosaurus.

Homo erectus fossils have also been discovered in Thailand. Known as the Lampang man for its discovery in Lampang province, the remains have been dated to roughly 1,000,000 – 500,000 years ago in the Pleistocene Era. The first evidence of humans living in modern-day Thailand was discovered at Ban Chiang, near Udon Thani in northeastern Thailand; grave sites and artifacts including bronze tools and pottery provide evidence of a society that is thought to have had knowledge of rice cultivation and occupied the area continuously from 2100 to 200 BCE, spanning the Neolithic to the Iron Age.

Pre-Thai Kingdoms (0-1250 C.E.)

Over the centuries leading up to the era of recorded history, Thailand was first peopled by Mon and Khmer groups and later by the Tai, an ethnic group that migrated from southern China to Vietnam and gradually into Laos and northern Thailand.

In the first millennium of the Common Era, Tai people had dispersed across Yunan, Vietnam, Laos, Thailand, and Myanmar fragmenting into various linguistic sub sects. Relatively minor players in the region throughout this period, the Tai inhabited the northernmost reaches of Southeast Asia, sandwiched between the kingdoms of Nan Zhao, Pyu, and Angkor.
Beginning in around the 2nd century CE, the Srivijaya Empire of Sumatra expanded its reach up the Malaysian Peninsula into southern Thailand. Nakhon Si Thammarat and Chiaya, Surat Thani were founded during this period to facilitate trade across the Isthmus of Kra.

Around the 6th to the 9th centuries, the fertile central plains were inhabited by a Mon civilization known as Dvaravati. Distinct from its neighboring kingdoms of Chenla and Angkor, Dvaravati remains a mysterious civilization that established cities surrounded by moats and earthen walls, Lopburi serving as an important religious center and Nakhon Pathom near Bangkok possibly its ‘capital’. While much is unknown about this realm, the Dvaravati had well established internal and external trading routes that were important to the development of Thailand and left a wealth of Buddhist artwork that testifies to the great influence Indian culture and religion had on the region.

From the 9th to the 11th centuries the Khmers of Angkor expanded their kingdom to include most of modern-day Thailand, with important provincial cities established at Phimai, Lopburi and even Nakhon Si Thammarat. Over several centuries many facets of the Khmer culture were imposed on/absorbed by the native population, which was becoming increasingly Tai as those populations migrated south. The temples at Phanom Rung, Phimai, and Lopburi are enduring testaments to this period of Thai history.

Throughout the reign of Angkor, Lopburi often asserted its independence and was clearly an important center for burgeoning Syam culture. The Chinese, who referred to emissaries from the region as representing “Hsien” or Siam (as it was apparently pronounced) documented a request from Lopburi requesting independence from Angkor as early as 1001.

In northern Thailand, Buddhist scholars from Lopburi founded a city-state known as Haripunjaya in Lamphun, northern Thailand around the 9th century (a Mon enclave that remained independent until the 13th century). Elsewhere in the north, the Tai people were fanning out and establishing their own city states, notably at Chiang Saen, where one of the first powerful Thai kingdoms, Lan Na, was originally established in the 12th century. The establishment of Lan Na, Sukhothai, and Phayao, three allied kingdoms founded by contemporary leaders, represents the beginning of the Thai history as we know it.

The Kingdoms of Sukhothai (1238-1360 C.E) and Lan Na (1259 – 1558 C.E.)

Thais began to emerge as a dominant force in the region in the13th century, gradually asserting independence from neighboring kingdoms. Founded by Khun Pha Muang and Khun Bang Klang Thao in 1238, the Kingdom of Sukhothai was named “the dawn of happiness” by its rulers. The Sukhothai Period is considered a golden era of Thai history, an ideal state in a land of plenty governed by paternal and benevolent kings, the most famous of whom was King Ramkhamhaeng the Great (c.1279-98), who greatly expanded the Kingdom’s borders. In addition to developing some of the most beautiful Thai art, the Sukhothai Kingdom is credited with developing the modern Thai alphabet.

Meanwhile in northern Thailand, King Mengrai’s Kingdom of Lan Na consolidated disparate realms, took over the city of Haripunjaya, and flourished for several hundred years, particularly after the founding of Chiang Mai (New City) as its capital in 1296. From its inception through its height of prosperity, the Lan Na people lived peacefully beside the Kingdom of Sukhothai. King Mengrai, founder of the Lan Na Kingdom was a powerful ruler and ally of both King Ramkhamhaeng of Sukhothai and King Ngam Muang of Phayao. Together these kingdoms were able to ward off the Mongol invaders who caused great upheaval in Asia during the 13th century, although a personal visit to Emperor Kublai Khan by King Ramkhamhaeng in 1282 arguably helped stave off invasion as well as the staunch defenses of Mengrai’s Lan Na armies did.

Following the death of King Ramkhamhaeng, the kingdom of Sukhothai rapidly declined and Lan Na expanded its influence over its neighboring kingdoms, many of which were former suzerains of Sukhothai. In the middle of the 15th Century Lan Na arts and literature reached a pinnacle during the King Tilokoraj period. However, after the king’s death, Lan Na weakened due to internal conflicts and Chiang Mai fell under Burmese control around 1564; while the Burmese occupied the northern region for a few centuries, they did little development, using Chiang Mai as a military base from which to battle the Kingdom of Ayutthaya, a mighty kingdom in the central plains that was gradually exerting its influence from the mid 14th century onwards.

The Kingdom of Ayutthaya (1350-1767)

No longer the paternal and accessible rulers that the kings of Sukhothai had been, Ayutthaya’s sovereigns were absolute monarchs and assumed the title devaraja (god-king), adopting Khmer cultural influences from the very beginning, but also having influences from Mon, Tai, and Chinese inhabitants. The early part of this period saw Ayutthaya extend its sovereignty over neighboring Thai principalities and come into conflict with its neighbors, including Cambodia, whose capital at Angkor the Thais finally were able to overrun in 1430-1431. By the 17th century, Ayutthaya (which had informally ‘adopted’ the name Siam, a name the Tai of central Thailand had been referred to as by China, Champa, and Cambodia) had established diplomatic and commercial relations with western countries and was frequently visited by traders from Holland, France, China, and Japan. However, in 1767, after repeated attempts, the Burmese invaded and successfully sacked and razed the city of Ayutthaya.

Despite their overwhelming victory, the Burmese did not retain control of Siam. A young general named Phya Taksin and his followers broke through the Burmese lines and established themselves in Thonburi. Seven months after the fall of Ayutthaya, Taksin and his forces sailed back up the Chao Phraya River to Ayutthaya and expelled the Burmese occupation garrison, though tragically the capital already had been looted and almost thoroughly razed.

Thon Buri Period (1767-1782)

King Taksin assumed the vacant throne amidst a state of disorder and established a new capital nearer to the sea, a move that would facilitate foreign trade, ensure the procurement of arms, and make defense and withdrawal easier in case of a renewed Burmese attack. He established his new capital at Thonburi, on the west bank of the Chao Phraya River, opposite modern-day Bangkok. Despite reunifying the kingdom, the rule of Taksin was not an easy one, the usurper lacking central authority. Dethroned by a popular uprising that led to his death, Taksin had nonetheless succeeded in holding the kingdom together following the chaos left by the successful Burmese invasion.

Founding of Rattanakosin to founding of democracy (1782 – 1932)

Born of noble blood, Tong Duang, a powerful general of Taksin’s army, became Rama I, the first king of the Chakri Dynasty and ruled from 1782 to 1809. His first action as king was to transfer the royal capital across the river from Thon Buri to Bangkok and build the Grand Palace and other royal structures with the bricks of ruined Ayutthaya. Rama II (R. 1809-1824) continued the restoration begun by his predecessor rebuilding the kingdom’s stature as a centralized, economically prosperous land. King Nang Klao, Rama III (R. 1824-1851) reopened relations with Western nations and established trade with China, further solidifying Siam’s role as the leader of the region.

King Mongkut, Rama IV, (R. 1851-1868) may have achieved western fame through the story “The King and I”, but won the hearts of Thais for his accomplishments including the establishment of treaties with European countries, thus avoiding colonization, and modernizing Thailand through many social and economic reforms. King Chulalongkorn, Rama V (R. 1869-1910) continued his father’s tradition of reform, abolishing slavery and improving the public welfare and administrative systems. Educational reforms, including compulsory education, were introduced by King Vajiravudh, Rama VI (R. 1910-1925).

Transition from absolute monarchy to functional democracy (1932 – 2010):

In 1932 a cadre of military officers and civil servants staged a bloodless coup d’etat, which transformed the Government of Siam to a constitutional monarchy, providing the nation with its first constitution and ending nearly 700 years of absolute rule by royalty. The new constitution established a National Assembly half appointed and half indirectly-elected, with full democracy to come later. The revolutionary government quickly factionalized however; after an unsuccessful armed uprising and another bloodless coup the military was able to increase its hold on the reins of power.
While King Rama VII had initially accepted his greatly reduced authority he abdicated in 1935 in protest of the undemocratic nature of the new regime. Following a period of uncertainty, the government chose 10 year old Prince Ananda Mahidol, who was attending school in Switzerland, to be king; for the first time in its history, Siam was without a resident monarch. For a number of years Thailand was on a path towards developing a stable and functional democracy.

In early 1939, political opponents of the increasingly fascist military regime were arrested and many were executed. The Prime Minister’s post was occupied by Field Marshal Plaek Pibulsonggram (aka “Pibun”) who ordered the name of the country changed from Siam to Prathet Thai (“land of the free”) or Thailand as part of an orchestrated nationalist movement.
Thailand then launched an invasion of French Indochina, setting off the Franco-Thai War (1940-1941). Japan mediated an armistice and a peace treaty that greatly favored the Thais and their territorial claims; however, on December 8, 1941, just hours after the bombing of Pearl Harbor, Japan sent its own troops across Southeast Asia.

Following a brief resistance (mere hours) Pibun called an armistice and threw his lot in with the Japanese, who agreed to help Thailand regain territories lost to the French and British. As a formal ally of Japan, Thailand declared war on Great Britain and the United States in January, 1942. Those who disagreed were removed from office, including Pridi Phanomyong, an influential member of the 1932 coup, who was assigned to be regent for the young King Ananda Mahidol.

While the Thai ambassador to the United Kingdom delivered the declaration of war to the British government, the Thai Ambassador to the United States, Mom Rajawongse Seni Pramoj, refused to deliver his. Ambassador Seni denounced the Phibun government and formed a Seri Thai (“Free Thai”) movement in Washington. The US Government found it prudent to act as if Seni continued to represent Thailand and openly encouraged the formation and development of the Seri Thai. A similar organization was established across the pond, despite a state of war existing between the UK and Thailand.

A coordinated effort between Thai Freedom fighters in the United States, United Kingdom, and Thailand was established to undermine the Japanese “occupation” of Thailand and by 1945 thousands of Seri Thai volunteers were under arms or had “infiltrated” the government. The turning tide of war, American bombings of Bangkok, and economic hardship across the country undermined the government’s authority and Phibun was forced to resign; the new Prime Minister, Khuang Abhaiwongse, was a member of the Seri Thai.

Aided by the British and Americans, the Seri Thai armed and organized troops in preparation of an uprising against the Japanese. In the end however, no uprising occurred as the Japanese surrendered to the United States on Aug 15, 1945 following the atomic bomb attacks.

The British were appointed the Allied agents for administering Thailand and the British government demanded major reparations; rumors swirled that Thailand might even be ceded to the United Kingdom, as the UK planned to station troops there indefinitely. Thanks in great part to pressure by the United States, including Betty McKenzie, a US State Department Employee who vociferously lobbied her government, the British guaranteed the complete sovereignty and independence of Siam. Returning seized territories to France eased Thai acceptance into the United Nations.

Ambassador Seni Pramoj became Prime Minister in 1945, and promptly restored the name Siam as a symbolic end to Phibun’s nationalist regime. “Thailand’s” first democratic elections were held in 1946 under a new constitution and Pridi’s People’s Party won a majority. Despite receiving substantial foreign aid from the United States however, stability was not to last in Siam.

Following the mysterious death of the young King, Pridi was forced to resign; without his leadership, the civilian government floundered and in November 1947 the army again seized power, reinstating Phibun as Prime Minister in 1948. Pridi was driven into exile and the king’s younger brother Bhumibol Adulyadej was crowned Rama IX, King of Siam in 1950.

The return of Phibun and military rule in Thailand coincided with the onset of the Cold War and the establishment of a communist regime in North Vietnam. Once again renamed Thailand in 1949, the country received enormous support from the United States, who was more concerned with containing communism than supporting democracy. Despite the extrajudicial, politically motivated removal of Phibun’s enemies and a new constitution that was quickly forsaken in favor of the old 1932 undemocratic political process, the United States and Thailand had a shared foes in China and Vietnam. While Thai student and press protests were met with repression from the government, the Thai economy was booming from trade with and aid from the United States.

A bloodless coup that ended Pibun’s career simply led to a series of changes in leadership more than changes in policy, and Thailand became an active ally of the United States in its war with Vietnam while doing little to promote democracy at home. However, the economic boom also resulted in both rapid modernization and westernization of Thai Society. Consequently, a growing middle class, particularly youth who had been exposed to American idealism, were growing discontent with the undemocratic rule of the military regime.

By the early 1970’s a number of student protests and each resulting government backlash had pushed Thai society to a tipping point. On October 14, 1973, a demonstration with several hundred thousand protesters demanding a new constitution erupted in violence. Tanks and helicopters supported thousands of troops who were sent in to gun down the protesting students. Chastising both sides, the King ordered the military rulers to leave the country and appointed a new prime minister. Several years of flourishing freedom and left-leaning political discourse at once exhilarated and destabilized the kingdom. A reactionary backlash led to widespread violence against suspected communists. In October 1976 an orchestrated attack on students at Thammasat University shocked the nation with its bloody brutality and opened the door for the military to once again seize power.

Since that time however, Thailand had been making a fitful progression towards a more stable civilian ruled democracy, albeit one that is punctuated by occasional, yet more benign military coups. One hallmark was the 1997 people’s constitution, the first to establish direct elections of all parliamentary representatives, provide checks and balances, and guarantee certain fundamental human rights. The most recent military intervention occurred in 2006, when the first prime minister to win reelection in Thai history was ousted following corruption and abuse of power allegations. Despite the upheaval, a civilian government was reinstated after a brief period and a new constitution aimed at preventing future abuses of power was nominally ratified by the people of Thailand.

Its not Vegas; Its Macau. Story by Trevor Ranges (2008)

Its not Vegas; Its Macau. Story by Trevor Ranges (2008)

They say “winning isn’t everything”, but it sure helps.  Especially when it’s raining in Macau, where you’re current rainy day options are basically limited to gambling and shopping -and even shopping is a whole lot more fun after scoring big on the tables.

Fortunately, in light of the billon dollar, towering testaments to the house edge, this is rapidly changing.  Macau is undergoing a 21^st century gold rush-esque boom of popularity and development; a Las Vegasification, if you will.  It seems the Portuguese had hardly seceded control back to China in 1999, when a new brand of colonists arrived: Swashbuckling hoteliers like Steve Wynn and the Las Vegas Sands Corporation.

If neon lights and choreographed pyrotechnics are the hallmark illumination in Las Vegas, towering forests of spot-lit cranes and the flare of welder’s guns are present day Macau’s.   The Portuguese may have contributed some beautiful baroque architecture and cobble stone streets to their former colony, but the new venture colonists are quickly leaving their own indelible mark on the city’s skyline.

One of the newest, and arguably the most impressive, is the Venetian Macau.  The Venetian Macau needs its own travel guidebook; perhaps even its own tour guides.  That said, its 12,000 strong staff, who hail from 56 countries, are exceptionally friendly and helpful.  Still, this is the third largest building in the world (after the new Beijing airport and the Pentagon).  It cost billions of dollars to build, contains millions of square feet of retail space and convention/meeting rooms, and welcomed its one millionth visitor less than one month after it opened.   The guidebook should advise: “Bring your GPS and a leash for your loved ones, there are a number of ways to get lost in the Venetian, not least of which is in the excitement of the world’s largest gaming floor.”

The Venetian Macau, satisfies the needs of almost any guest.  Families enjoy the mistrals and musicians performing on the cobblestone boulevards of the Grand Canal Shoppes, where Shop-o-holics splurge in 350 boutiques and couples are ferried along winding canals by opera singing gondoliers.  History and architecture enthusiasts can wander the dozens of replicated ancient buildings that form the Hotel’s exterior, within which sports enthusiasts watch tennis matches and exhibition NBA games, music fans enjoy international acts like the Black Eyed Peas and The Police, and tens of thousands of conventioneers meet, eat, and then catch nightly showings of Cirque du Solei.

Anchored by the Venetian, the Cotai Strip, an area of reclaimed land between the islands of Taipa and Colôane, will soon be home to a flashy five star promenade of resort-casino properties including the Four Seasons, Sheraton, Shangri-La, Hilton, Conrad, and Raffles.  After completion in the middle of 2009, the casinos and entertainment venues at each will be joined by the Hard Rock Hotel and Playboy Club, all of which should contribute some more fun, and perhaps a little sin to this up and coming resort and casino mega-strip.

Until completion of the Cotai Strip in 2009, however, downtown Macau reigns; while the locally owned Lisboa has the flashiest looking downtown casino, several Las Vegas affiliated properties have upped the ante in sophistication and style, making gaming more attractive and accessible to non-Chinese punters.

At the Wynn Macau, contemporary jazz meanders through the air of the interconnected and intimate gaming rooms, where floral print carpets, small trees, and ceiling fans contribute to an oasis of tropical elegance befitting the humid Macau climate.  The chic atmosphere is particularly popular with a younger clientele who keep the hotel at regular capacity, and shop for imported handbags and raiment from upscale European boutiques.

The lobby of the MGM features Salvador Dali paintings behind the front desk and a Dali sculpture in the main foyer.  Beyond the lobby, a towering atrium allows natural sunlight to illuminating an authentic Portuguese stone floor and the facades of “buildings” to either side of the plaza, which houses various fine dining restaurants and a champagne bar.  Sadly, the casino itself is nothing special: dark, smoky, and low ceilinged, with the standard array of games found throughout the territory, but little in the way of charm.

The multi-tiered gaming rooms of the Sands, the first Las Vegas operation to open its doors in Macau, hosts a predominately Mainland Chinese and Hong Kong clientele. In fact, all the casinos share this gambling demographic.  Consequently, more than 50% of the tables are occupied by Chinese games of luck such as Fan Tan, a game in which players wager on the number of plastic buttons that are randomly scooped under a cup, and Yee Hah Hai, in which wagers are placed against the outcome of three rolled dice that feature the likeness of golden crabs, shrimp, and goldfish.  Pai Gow, a game of Chinese dominoes, is also immensely popular, particularly with Hong Kong day trippers.  The Sands provides free shuttle service to its sister property on Taipa Island, the Venetian, which has the finest casino of the lot.

Back at the Venetian’s expansive four-in-one casino, which features restaurants and live music within its gaming area, the few visiting foreigners that have penetrated the smoky haze surrounding Chinese gamers and onlookers can typically be found at the blackjack tables, found in all the western operated casinos, or playing Caribbean Stud Poker.  Dealers speak English well and your fellow Chinese gamers are likely to wish you a friendly “Jok lei sao fong sone!”

If you are lucky enough to miss the rain or unlucky enough to need a respite from the casinos, get yourself a panoramic perspective of this eclectic city either after a cable car ride to the 350 year old Guia Fortress, atop the highest point on Macau, or during a skywalk outside Macau Tower, the 10^th tallest spire in the world.  From either vantage point you will notice neighborhoods where worlds collide and combine; the fusion of old world and new world, historical and commercial, European and Asian, is visible throughout Macau.

Nowhere in the city does old world charm meet nouveaux capitalism more synchronously than along the centuries old stone mosaic plaza and meandering cobblestone alleyways leading away from Senado Square.  The waving stone courtyard runs from the square to the ruins of St Paul’s, built in the early 1600’s by Japanese Christian stonemasons.  Along the way, colorful Portuguese buildings include the former Loyal Senate; the Holy House of Mercy, the longest running charity organization in China; and St Dominic’s Church, the epitome of Portuguese baroque architecture.

More increasingly though, the buildings are occupied by boutique stores from upstart clothing companies, whose items are manufactured in nearby Chinese factories and sold for perpetually run sale prices, and brand name outfitters, such as Quicksilver.  Wander the side streets further and you will discover shops specializing in authentic antiques and fine reproductions.

Dining in Macau also provides a delectable experience; the former colony having benefited from an influx of spices and culinary influences brought by the Portuguese from all corners of the world.  African, South American, and Indian ingredients meld with Chinese ones to create a unique Macanese cuisine.  While many Portuguese restaurants serve dishes that feature this combination of styles, there are strictly Cantonese Restaurants offering regional dishes, and of course a number of eateries that serve southern China’s world renowned dim sum.

For a quick bite, stop by Pastelaria Koi Kei, one of Macau’s most renowned snack shops.  No longer a simple street cart selling peanut brittle, this chain of take away munchies serves up a variety of delicacies, including Portuguese egg tarts and dozens of sweet and spicy dried beef and pork jerkys.

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The best place to partake in Macau’s east-meets-west fusion cuisine is Fat Siu Lau.  Tucked away along a back alley, across from Senado Square, this cozy little bistro has an old-world atmosphere and a longstanding reputation for fine cuisine (their signature recipe for pigeon is over 100 years old).  Other recommended dishes include curry crab, flavored with Asian spices, and zesty African chicken.  The restaurant is run by the 3^rd and 4^th generations of the founding family, so it’s unsurprising that the entire staff produces and serves outstanding cuisine.

For more traditional Portuguese fare, queue up with locals and expats at Restorante Fernando at Hac Sa Beach. Pitchers of sangria and large portions of authentic Portuguese meat and seafood dishes are the draw.  The ambiance is casual and homey, the décor brick walls and checkered tablecloths, and the service friendly and attentive.   While the menu is in Chinese and Portuguese, there are picture menus for visitors that include whole suckling pig, prawns in clam sauce, and charcoal grilled pork ribs, chicken, or sardines.  The owner is from the Azores Islands off the coast of Portugal and has been satisfying guests, both on the outdoor patio bar and within the two lively dining rooms, since 1986.

Its not Vegas; Its Macau. Story by Trevor Ranges (2008 – First published in Honolulu Advertiser)

Fictional Short Story by Trevor Ranges

Jonggan’s Red Wonderwear

Urbania has a curious cultural custom: all its citizens wear the exact same color on each day of the week.  On Monday they all wear blue, on Tuesday yellow, Wednesday orange, Thursday pink, Friday green, Saturday red, and Sunday purple.  The following week, the cycle repeats itself, and the week after that once again, just as it has throughout Urbania’s long and storied history.  However, just because they all wear the exact same color as each other on any given day, this is not to say that they don’t have any variety in their selection of raiment; there exists the normal range of materials, such as silk, linen, wool, and polyester. Furthermore, there are innumerable fashion designers who create seasonal lines of clothing that keep styles and designs fresh and new.  Women paint their toe nails to match their outfits and wear complimentary make-up and accoutrements for the appropriate color de jour. Hip youngsters even die their hair a different color each day of the week or don matching colored contact lenses.  Of course there is also the natural spectrum of shades and hues for each of the seven colors the Urbanians have deigned to wear week in and week out.   Actually, other than this curious custom of wearing coordinated colored clothing, the Urbanian society is not really any different from yours or mine.

Now while they all follow this habit rather strictly, and no-one could even conceive of intentionally breaking custom, a certain portion of the population has a secret: beneath their exterior façade of homogeneity they wear mismatching underwear!  Some simply wear random colored underwear that is different from the color they wear on top, while others coordinate some creative color schemes, such as wearing a sapphire blue bra and emerald green panties beneath a ruby red evening gown.  Those who engage in this secret practice take great pleasure in knowing that beneath their otherwise normal exteriors they are quite different underneath.  It fills them with great confidence and gives them a certain swagger because they know that they are special.  They even have on-line discussion boards where practitioners of wonderwearing, as it was known, can anonymously relate their elation about their subversively pleasurable secret.

On occasion, when those who wear mismatching underwear meet someone they like, there is a heightened moment of nervous anticipation as they remove their lovers and their own clothing and await the knowledge of whether their new partner has mismatching underwear as well.  When it is determined that they both wear different colored underwear underneath, it is a joyous epiphany (particularly if it is revealed that they both wear the SAME mismatching color). Indeed, this discovery is typically met with both exhilaration and relief; for while they are ecstatic to reveal to another Urbanian what a rebellious and individual character they are, they are also greatly comforted to discover someone else who behaves as they do.  However, this scenario is by no means an uncommon event because, far from being an unusual practice, nearly 90% of the population of Urbania engages in this “uniquely” rebellious manner.

The remaining 10% who continue to wear matching underpants are entirely unaware that they are, in fact, so abnormal.  Indeed, they are completely aghast on those rare occasions in which it is revealed that others behave in such an obscenely deviant manner.  Take for example, the case of Jonggan Figgerits, who had had too many cocktails at his company office party and needed to be helped home by a number of his co-workers.

Jonggan could barely keep himself upright as his compatriots escorted him up to his apartment and into his bedroom.  There, while beginning to undress him, one of his aides proposed a scandalous prank: they should dress him in the wrong color pajamas and set his alarm later than normal so that he would not have time to realize that he was meant to wear a different color to work the following day!  Excitedly agreeing to the plan, his fellows continued to undress poor Jonggan, during which time they realized that he was wearing mismatching underwear: red briefs, which were actually tomorrow’s color.  Exchanging furtive glances, each of the four was secretly impressed that Jonggan was like he was, but each was unwilling to say so, as none was aware of the underwear habits of the others.  Leaving tomorrow’s red underwear upon him, the team quickly dressed Jonggan in the improper blue pajamas, set his alarm to a much later time, and exited his flat, giggling about seeing Jonggan arrive at work dressed in blue when everyone else would be wearing red.

The following morning Jongan awoke with a start, peered at the flashing alarm, and reeling from the previous night’s inebriation, quickly donned an improperly blue suit over his red underpants.  He had no time to consider changing the red briefs, let alone shower, as he was almost certain to be late, and his boss was not the type to look kindly on dilatory staff, especially as a result of intoxication at a company office party.  As he hurried from his apartment to his car, to the office garage, and finally up the company elevator, he didn’t notice anything unusual.  If anything, he saw a blaring red throb pulsing through his brain; a painful haze created by the hangover masking everything beyond the confines of Jonngan’s determination to arrive at work on time.  However, as he stumbled out of the elevator doors, he was brought to his senses by a guffaw of laughter from the pranksters, who were eagerly awaiting his arrival.  Suddenly he saw the others red outfits. Peals of laughter quickly spread throughout the office, as more and more people scrambled into the foyer to get a look at the style pariah, the social miscreant, the clown wearing a blue outfit on a red day!

With the rising laughter Jonngan’s face flushed –which led to a number of comments about how at least his face was the right color, even if his clothes weren’t– and his boss burst into the room to determine the nature of the infelicitous noise coming from within his department.  “What in Urbania is going on here?!” he demanded, although it was quickly ascertained that Jonngan was the source of the disruption in what should have been an otherwise normal Saturday morning.  The bosses’ keen eyes redirected themselves towards the perpetrators of the prank who then averted their eyes, and attempted to stifle their giggling.

Jonngan bolted towards the bathroom to escape further embarrassment.  Upon seeing his reflection in the lavatory mirror, he noticed that his face was indeed a humorous red and he flew into a rage, tearing off the blue jacket, shirt and tie, and finally, the pants, which he fell over in the process of attempting to remove over his shoes.  Crying in frustration at only finally managing to remove all of the offending garb, he realized that he was still wearing red underwear, and his sobs transformed into slightly deranged, hysterical laughter.  Picking himself up off the bathroom floor he once again peered at himself in the mirror. Wiping his face clean with a tissue, he looked deeply into his bloodshot blue eyes, straightened his underwear, and exited the bathroom.

Shoulders square, Jonngan strode across the office as everyone quietly watched, mouths agape at their now nearly naked, but now properly color coordinated colleague. As Jonngan took his place at his cubicle, feeling at once both pride and humiliation, his boss muttered, “At least he’s not one of those freaks that wears the wrong color undergarments.” at which most of the people in the office felt briefly bad about themselves, and after which Jonggan never wore mismatching underwear again.

Trevor Ranges (written on the subway in Seoul, South Korea -2007)

Wat Paluangtabua Yannasampanno: Thailand Tiger Temple, by Trevor Ranges (2003)

In 1994, down a long dirt road in a generally remote, forested area of Kanchanaburi, Phra Bhusit Khantitaro, better known as Luang Ta Chan, decided to build a temple. Regardless of his original intent, shortly after establishing Wat Paluangtabua Yannasampanno, Luang Ta Chan began to discover the true purpose of the temple while collecting alms in a nearby village.

A villager approached the monk, explaining that he had discovered a wild chicken that had been injured. Although it had only one eye and one leg, he did not want to kill or eat the chicken so he asked the monk to take it from him. Luang Ta Chan complied and brought the injured fowl back to the Wat.

With clearly animated glee, Luang Ta Chan recalled how the chicken (a rooster) must have been a leader of the wild chicken community. Following the call of the injured rooster, dozens of other wild chickens began to arrive. Soon they had all established residency on the monastery grounds.

Shortly thereafter, a cow, its hind-quarters pierced by a hunter’s spear, managed to drag itself by its front legs to the incipient sanctuary. Likewise, a wild boar, whose back was broken after being struck by a car, found its way to the temple. The cow and boar both recovered and found a home at Wat Paluang Yannasampanno.

As the local community heard of the miraculous attraction animals had for this sacred place, more people began to send unwanted or injured animals to the temple grounds. In one instance, a farmer, unable to maintain his stock of cattle, gave them to the temple. Other livestock were spared from going to the slaughterhouse and released in the compound for merit making. Soon, in addition to cows and chickens, the 438 rai (175 acre) land surrounding the Wat became the home to over 2000 animals, including pigs, horse, deer, goats, antelope, peacocks, gibbons, and a leopard.

Then, in February 1999, tribal farm workers killed a mother tiger that had been eating local livestock near the Thai-Burmese border. They found her cub and reportedly planned to kill and stuff the baby tiger. However, because of a change in heart resulting from their unsuccessful attempt to kill the cub, they brought the injured tiger to the temple. Luang Ta Chan named her Pa Yu (Thunderstorm), and attempted to nurse the dying cub back to health. Unfortunately, her injuries were too severe and Pa Yu died 5 months later. Luang Ta Chan performed the burial ceremony and laid the cub to rest beneath a banyan tree.

Over the weeks and months following Pa Yu’s death, more injured or abandoned tiger cubs were brought to the monastery. First, two male cubs were rescued from poachers, then local villagers presented two others, and finally border patrol officers saved four female cubs to bring the tiger pride into balance.

Soon the temple became known as the Wild Animal Rescue Center and Tiger Conservation Project. A wall was built around the compound to help protect the animals. Within the walled sanctuary the majority of the animals roam freely, while the tigers spend most of their days in co-joined cages while they await the construction of their own individually cordoned off section of the sanctuary. Nevertheless, each afternoon at 4 p.m. the monks release the tigers from their cages and march them in single file to an isolated area of the reserve. Here the tigers are free to exercise their legs, roll in the dirt, and in general, behave like their miniature cousins, house-cats; stretching out upside down, yawning lazily, and playfully wrestling with each other.

Of course, standing 10 unobstructed yards from two giant, man-eating beasts having a go at each other is a bit disquieting. It is, however, also a very moving experience standing amongst seven large tigers in this quiet and natural environment. Besides, having been raised by humans, the tigers seem, by and large, disinterested in visitors, who can even pose next to the tigers for photographs. Indeed, the red dirt and complimenting orange of the monks’ robes and tigers’ stripes makes it both a tranquil and very photogenic scene.

Today, the sanctuary is not only maintaining a refuge for orphaned, wild tigers, but also breeding the tigers to help preserve the endangered felines. Sang Tawan (Sunshine), mistrustful of humans after having her nose cut when captured by Karen villagers, has given birth to four cubs over the past year. Her first two cubs, now age nine months, were raised directly by the temple staff, as Sang Tawan appeared not to know how to care for them. Her next litter of two was born four months later and the pair successfully nursed off their mother. Unfortunately, both of the cubs contracted an illness, apparently from contact with a visitor, and only five-month-old Fa Mai (New Day) has survived.

Since visitor contributions are the main source of income for the sanctuary, it seems necessary to allow these visitors to interact with the young tiger cubs. Feeding these enormous felines (weighing up to 180kg) a steady diet of dog food costs the reserve about 3,000 baht a day. Constructing new quarters for the tigers will cost a great deal more. Mandatory visitor contributions (farang) are 100 baht, but the conservancy also accepts greatly needed donations through direct deposit and with sales of postcards and other tourist memorabilia.

While some may argue that the tigers should not be kept in captivity, having been raised by humans, these tigers would have great difficulty surviving in the wild. Luang Ta Chan, acknowledging that his “pet” wild animals would not survive in the real wilderness, is planning to develop the area behind the temple into a 30 rai (12 acre) forest reserve to be known as “Tiger Island.” There, these well-pampered, semi-wild animals will be set free to live their lives in a more natural environment. Groups of researchers will be invited to study their adaptation behavior and when new generations of tigers are strong and “wild” again, they will be released into the Tung Yai Naresuan National Park.

Regardless of one’s opinion on how, or even if, the tigers should be stabled, considering that there are only an estimated 150-200 Indochinese tigers living in the wild in Thailand, the Tiger Conservation Project’s efforts to successfully raise seven adult tigers and breed three others is an honorable accomplishment. With encroachment on their land by farmers and developers, and poachers continuing to hunt them down, Thailand’s tiger population is in need of assistance such as that provided by Luang Ta Chan and the Tiger Conservation Project. If you have an opportunity to go and see these magnificent creatures, your donations will be greatly appreciated.

Wat Paluangtabua Yannasampanno is located in Sai Yok District, Kanchanaburi, approximately 37 kilometers along highway 323. In addition to preserving wildlife, the temple serves to propagate Buddhism and provide a serene environment for practicing meditation. Accommodation is available for those interested in meditation. Individuals wishing to make contributions or practice meditation can contact the temple at 03-453-1557(8) or visit the temple’s Thai-language web site: www.boonheng.com.

- Trevor Ranges. (2003)

A Big Fish Tale: The Thailand Naga Photograph, by Trevor Ranges

A Big Fish Tale

Andy Z. is a minor celebrity in Thailand. However, most people, Thai and farang alike, would probably not recognize his face; none would know his name. Nonetheless, many are familiar with a photograph in which he appears. The photo is on display in bars, restaurants, guesthouses, and markets around Thailand. It was even featured in last year’s box-office hit, Mekong Full Moon Party. Those who know of the photograph generally agree with the caption above it which reads: “Queen of Nagas seized by American Army at Mekhong River, Laos Military Base on June 27, 1973 with the length of 7.80 meters.”

Many people would be shocked to know it is Andy in the photo. In fact many have denied that it is him: “The first time I saw the photograph in Thailand I was at Chatuchak Weekend Market,” Andy explains. “I pointed at myself in the photo and said to the man who was selling copies of it, ‘That’s me’, but he just shook his head, laughed, and said ‘No, no, no.’”

It is not that he looks so different now than when the photo was taken that makes so many disbelieve his claim. It is because today he looks so much like he did on the day the photo was taken. In fact, Andy is now only 30 years old.

“No one would ever believe that it was me,” Andy recalls. “’No. Impossible.’ They kept saying ‘The words say 1973.’”

In fact, the photo was taken on September 19, 1996 at the Naval Special Warfare Center, Coronado, California. “We were on our morning physical fitness run,” Andy recalls, “when we came across this huge fish lying on the sand.” At 23 feet in length and 4 feet in circumference, it was quite a shocking site for the Navy SEAL cadets. “We called it the AGE fish, because if you saw it underwater you would rocket to the surface, exploding your lungs, hence AGE (Arterial Gas Embolism).”

After carrying the enormous fish back to the Naval Amphibious Base the SEALs contacted scientist H.J. Walker from The University of California, San Diego’s Scripps Institution of Oceanography. Walker identified the fish as an oarfish (Regalecus glesne), a reclusive fish that inhabits the depths of warm tropical waters around the world. Encounters with this enormous fish are rare and not much is known of their habits. The oarfish normally stay down at extreme depths of 700ft or greater.

Walker surmised that this particular fish had wandered to the surface because it was sick or dying, and then perished as a result of a laceration from a boat propeller. Andy’s recollection of the fish’s condition confirms this hypothesis, and a quick examination of the original photograph supports this conclusion, as a large cleave is apparent just behind the head, and another long gash runs along the bottom of the fish for several feet.

The Thai version of the photo has clearly been changed to mask these injuries. “In reality, the fish’s head was about to come off, but all the photos in Thailand have been touched up,” Andy explains, “especially the eyes.” While the eye in the altered photo does appear unrealistic, the smudging to cover the cuts is deceptively effective.

The original photo was taken by a Naval Special Warfare Center Public Affairs Officer, and was first featured in the Coronado Eagle, a small local paper, and then in the April 1997 issue of All Hands, a US Navy-owned publication.

How and when the photo first appeared in Thailand is a mystery equal to that of the mythical Naga which is supposedly represented in the photograph. The Naga, an underwater creature from Hindu and Buddhist mythology, is superior to humans, and is keeper of the life-giving energy that is inherent in fresh water. The claim that the photo was taken in Laos probably stems from the ancient belief that the King of Nagas reigns in an underwater kingdom called Muang Badan. Muang Badan was believed to exist deep beneath the Mekhong River, with its capital city lying below Nong Khai Province.

Nong Khai is a common place to find copies of the photograph and is a likely place for the origin of the Thai version of the photo. Famous for the annual fireball displays which occur on the full moon night of the 11th month of the lunar year, Nong Khai hosts tens of thousands of visitors who travel there to witness the breathtaking event. Called the “Bung Fai Phya Nak”, the Naga Fireballs, this seemingly natural phenomenon has been anecdotally ascribed to the Naga king paying tribute to the Lord Buddha in commemoration of the end of Buddhist Lent. It seems credible that the local legends of the Naga, the fireball phenomenon, and the pilgrimage of thousands of sightseers were fertile conditions for an enterprising individual to reinvent the photo of the oarfish as a part of local folklore.

When I asked one vendor about the story behind the photo she explained that the caption was indeed true and that all of the soldiers had died after eating the meat of the fish. Interestingly, this story has elements of both fable and fact behind it. The Thai-Isaan folk epic Phadaeng Nang Ai, which recounts the creation of the Mekhong River, describes the consumption of the Naga Prince Phangkhi by the people of Phaphong City and the killing by the Naga King of all those who ate his son. Coincidentally perhaps, the SEALs were challenged by Walker to try eating some of the fish. He had sampled one on a previous occasion and had said that the meat, when cooked, tasted like paper. Whether he or the SEALs had knowledge of the legend is unknown. Regardless, the SEALs declined his offer.

Even a government agency may have drawn a connection between the legend of the Naga and the photograph of the oarfish. On its website, which provides information about the Naga fireballs, the agency recounts the story of the 23-foot Phra Ya Nak – “The biggest freshwater fish captured in the Mekhong”. According to the site, the Naga was captured alive by US military personnel on September 28, 1996 and subsequently sent to the US for examination. The fish supposedly died the following month. It seems quite likely that this is a reference to the incident that occurred that very month in California; the only difference between the two, other than location, is a quote from unknown sources claiming the creature had “seven skin colors and light green blood”.

Even in the West the oarfish has been mistaken for the incarnation of mythical creatures. In fact, historical reports of a 56-foot serpent-like fish found on the shores of Scotland, believed now to have been an oarfish, may have spawned the legend of the Loch Ness monster. Early accounts of sea serpents in the Atlantic Ocean are also thought to have been rare encounters with giant oarfish. That being said, the Naga may well be real, but like the Loch Ness monster, it just hasn’t been verifiably photographed yet.

Contributor’s disclaimer: In a request by Andy Z. he asked to remain anonymous and unidentified in the photo. I also wish to make it clear that I am in no way attempting to disprove the existence of the Naga or the challenge the authenticity of the Bung Fai Phya Nak.

- Trevor Ranges

The Prabang Buddha by Trevor Ranges

Other than a few simple facts, the Prabang Buddha image, the namesake of Luang Prabang, Laos is shrouded in mystery.   This much is known: physically speaking, the Prabang is approximately 33 inches tall and weighs 110 lbs.  Both hands of the Buddha are raised in double abhaya mudra position (the meaning of which has suitably ambiguous symbolic interpretations, including dispelling fear, teaching reason, and offering protection, benevolence, and peace.)  Historically, the Prabang Buddha has been a symbol of religious and political authority, including the legitimate right to rule the kingdom of Laos.  Beyond that, there is much speculation.

The image has historically believed to have been cast of bronze in Ceylon (Sri Lanka) between the 1^st and 9^th centuries, although it has also been suggested that it is primarily gold, with silver and bronze alloy.  Regardless of composition, the double raised palms indicate a later construction, perhaps14^th century, and an alternate place of origin, possibly Cambodia.

Nonetheless, in 1359 the Prabang was given to FaNgum, the son-in-law of the Khmer king at Angkor, and brought to Muang Swa, which was subsequently renamed Luang Prabang, the capital of the newly formed kingdom of Lang Xang, or “1,000,000 elephants”.  The Prabang Buddha subsequently became a symbol of the legitimate rule of the king and a device for the promoting Theravada Buddhism throughout Laos.

In 1563, the Prabang was relocated, along with the seat of power, to the new capital city of Vientiane.  In 1778, Siamese invaders ransacked Vientiane and made off with both the Prabang and the Emerald Buddha.  The Prabang was returned to Laos in 1782 after political and social unrest in Siam was attributed to the image. Similar circumstances surrounded the subsequent capture and release of the Prabang by the Siamese in 1827 & 1867.

Following its return to Laos, the Prabang was housed in Wat Wisunalat, Luang Prabang’s oldest temple, and then at Wat Mai. In 1963, during the reign of Sisavang Vatthana, Laos’ final Monarch, construction began on Haw Pha Bang, a temple to house the Prabang within the palace grounds.

However, in 1975 the communist Pathet Lao rose to power, absolved the monarchy, and installed a communist regime.   The communist government, having little respect for a symbol of royalty or Buddhism may have handed over the Prabang to Moscow in exchange for assistance from the Soviet Union.  Other accounts of the image have it spirited away to Vientiane for safekeeping in a vault, where it may still reside today.

Regardless, there is a 33 inch tall Buddha statue, real or representation, housed behind bars in an unassuming room beside the entrance to the Royal Palace Museum (until Haw Pha Bang is completed). On the third day of every Lao new-year (April 13 to 15), the image is ferried via chariot to Wat Mai, where it is cleansed with water by reverential Laotians.

In regards to its authenticity, a respectable and reliable source told me: “People believe that it is real because the Prabang Buddha should be in Luang Prabang”.  Her cryptic response seems befitting this magical and mysterious sculpture.

Trevor Ranges (property of Fodors Travel Publications, a division of Random House Inc.  Reprinted here in hopes that they dont mind because you will now go out and buy the Fodors Thailand guidebook knowing what awesome research we put into the book!)

Trevor Ranges’ Journey to Koh Chang (2001)

Lying on the damp mattress in our small private hut, I was not particularly concerned with the mildewy smell, the mosquito-infested bathroom, or the disappointing mediocrity of the beach.   My girlfriend Nat and I had left Bangkok on the 11:30 pm bus and after five hours of fitful sleep we had arrived in Trat early enough to watch the sun rise up over the nearby Cambodian border.  Groggily we jumped on the 6:30 am ferry, dazed but excited by the great green island rising out of the sea like a mighty elephant, after which it is named.  An hour later we reached Center Point; a simple concrete pier, a small puddle filled dirt parking lot, and an expanse of jungle beyond.   Next, a 20-minute roller coaster ride up, across, and over the winding peaks of Thailand’s second largest island, packed like sardines in the back of a covered pick-truck (songtaew) to Haad Sai Khao, White Sand Beach.  Finally, after a 15-minute walk along the beach, burdened with bags, we arrived at our destination, Haad Sai Khao Resort, Koh Chang, and all I wanted to do was sleep.

However, the heat of the mid-morning sun and the overall unpleasantness of our lodging compared to the possibilities of the day roused us from our lassitude.  Soon we were lathered with Banana Boat, clad in our swimsuits, sunglasses, and little else, and we set out on what we believed would be a relaxing morning stroll.

Despite the misnomer regarding its color and the extremely narrow width of the beach, the granular sand was littered only with palm fronds and coconuts, and the crystalline waters lapped at our tired city feet.  We found the northern end of Haad Sai Khao pleasantly relaxing, much less developed than the cramped coast that began with the neat row of huts at KC Bungalow and then exploded into mini-villages of air conditioned, swimming pool, satellite TV, big-baht, western luxury.

While many of these resorts seemed ideally suitable for pampering oneself, and the variety of cafés and bars seemed adequate to support a vacations worth of dining, socializing, and revelry, we had come to Koh Chang Marine National Park to surround ourselves with natural beauty, not to indulge ourselves in voluptuary pleasure.

We continued our walk towards the southern tip of the beach and as the sandy shore slipped into the sea we walked along a stone retaining wall, onto some cool green grass, and then up a stone path leading us into the pleasant and natural surroundings of the Paloma Cliff Resort.  We found the resort more aesthetically pleasing than many of the others, and we had agreed that we were now officially searching for more suitable accommodation, but it was still early, we were rejuvenated by the walk, and we decided to continue south to the next beach; Haad Klong Phrao.

Having intended only a walk on the beach, my bare feet blistered on the blacktop as we ventured up the main road, passed frequently by seemingly smarter travelers on rental motorbikes.  Nearing the entrance to Klong Plu waterfall (where we would enjoy an incredibly relaxing and refreshing afternoon several days later) we were picked up by a songtaew and driven to Haad Klong Phrao.

We found ourselves in the “lobby” of the Haad Klong Phrao Resort, an open-air, single room through which we needed to pass in order to walk directly onto the beach.  The resort itself consisted of many upscale bungalows, innocuously set around a large pond.  While more appealing to us than the fancier white sands resorts, we were looking for something a bit more natural, more primitive, more genuine.  We politely inquired about the room rates and were surprised to learn that camping was possible on their grounds.  We mused about bringing the tent along next time as we came out onto the beach.

Here the sand was soft, and fine, and white.  It whispered muffled “barks” as it gently cushioned our steps, slipping silkily between our toes and caking our feet like powdered sugar.  Rays of golden sunlight danced upon the glistening, pellucid water; our shadows walked hand in hand along the idyllic and unoccupied coast.  12 hours after leaving Bangkok in search of paradise, we were imminently close.

As we walked we came upon an estuary, where the high tide had crossed over the beach, allowing a river to carve out an opening into the sea, and our path to the south was once again impeded.  Looking across the waterway, a majestic palm reached out and over the powdery white sand, arching gracefully as if it were yearning to drink from the sea.  Beyond that, the austere shacks of Tha Le Bungalows sat quietly, so silent and peaceful you could practically see the sun slowly bleaching the already worn and weathered huts.  Further down the coast, more palms swayed lazily above the strand, beckoning us to come and frolic on their deserted shore.

The river, although slowly moving, appeared well overhead at its deepest point.  Its opposite bank was 20 feet away at its nearest point.  Having earlier been the one shoelessly ill prepared for our aggrandized adventure, it was now my girlfriend Nat who hindered our continuation.  Although I could have probably thrown her shoes across the river, I was not so sure of her sunscreen, sundress, or wallet.  Nevertheless, as an accomplished waterman, I felt certain I could swim across the channel while holding a variety of objects above my head.

As I waded into the water, I thought of earlier adventures in Malaysia and Australia, and could therefore only superficially reassure myself that there were no crocodiles in Thailand.  Although I playfully joked about the “log” floating our way, fear overcame fact and I glanced nervously at it, feeling defenseless and edible as I swam one handedly through the chilly fresh water and onto the opposite shore.

Laughing aloud, we blithely skipped along the sand, past the ostensibly abandoned Tha Le Bungalows, amazed that we were the only people enjoying such a pristine place.  Perhaps the only way there was by swimming through a crocodile infested river!  Splashing in the shore-break, savoring the warmth of the sun on our bare backs, we delighted in our adventurousness; the seclusion, the sweltering heat, and the crisp coolness of the water conspiring to lure us into the sea, daring us to throw off our clothes and celebrate our good fortune.

Refreshed by our swim, we continued along the deserted shore.  Soon we came upon a large grassy clearing.  Dispersed throughout the field were a variety of rustic cottages sitting upon stilts.  Some had wooden stairways leading up to small decks with tree branch handrails, tables and chairs.  Others were built high above the ground like freestanding tree houses.  All the huts had thatched rooftops and shuttered windows; each hut quaintly designed in its own particular style. Coral and shell mobiles hung from various awnings and vacant hammocks dangled between trees.  The overall impression was of a small, isolated, beachside village, ideal for the get-away-from-it-all romantic holiday.  However, when we spoke with the staff of KP Bungalows we discovered that half of those delightfully thatched roofs leaked severely and the rest of the huts were curiously occupied.

Dejected, but still optimistic, we returned to the beach to restore our spirits.  This was easily accomplished when we discovered a rope swing hanging from a palm that was bent over the beach.  While swinging wildly above the sand, Nat observed a cluster of coconuts jiggling threateningly, high in the tree above her head.  Releasing the rope, Nat launched herself clear of the tree’s shadow, landing squarely on her feet.  The tree flexed upwards and one of the coconuts came loose, dropping to the sand with a weighty thud.  She adroitly scooped it up as if she had intended all along to dislodge it and claim it as her prize.  Raising the coconut victoriously, she proclaimed: “lunch!”

to be continued…

Trevor Ranges (2001)