HIGH ON THAI!

Food and all...

A moonlit night, an outdoor table, next to a little water body, an aromatic luscious tropical garden with big blooming white and bright pink Frangipani, trees and more trees, flowers and more flowers everywhere, soft lighting and the dining table set for one! The Talay Thai Restaurant and Bar at the Hyatt Regency, Hua Hin, Thailand was shut for some renovation, but the management graciously agreed to serve its renowned authentic Thai fare at the outdoor seating of its Italian restaurant, Figs.  Dining is one thing that I find very difficult to do all alone, especially when the fare laid out demands being praised, talked about and even toasted. But I guess that's the price one has to pay if one is travelling for work - yes work believe it!

Like all highly aromatic cuisines, Thai food has its takers and its critics. I have friends who shudder at the very mention of Nam Pla (fish sauce), there are others who say at best they can have Thai food for one meal, period. There are also those, especially North Indians, who don't want their meals to have to do anything with coconut milk or coconut cream. Me- I always say give me Thai anytime. Maybe because I find nothing to complain about Thai food, I have always been fortunate to have sampled a wide variety and very, very lip smacking too. Okay I admit, I go to the other extreme, I like Durian too!  It might not be on top of the favourite fruit list but this much derided fruit looking like a cross between a jack fruit and a giant fig might reek to high heaven ( I refuse to use the word stink) when you cut it open, but once its cut, peeled, cleaned and served there is no smell, just a creamy melting taste, several notches above a ripe jack fruit. Once the spouse and I nearly had a major spat on the streets of Bangkok because I was hell bent on having Durian. The daughter diplomatically kept a safe distance and asked us to settle it out between ourselves. He did it his way- stomping off; I did it my way- biting into Durian.

With my blind love for Thai cuisine, it seemed criminal to be sitting alone and dining but what a woman has to do, she does and in this case it was binging.  Instead of spreading myself thin sample too many dishes, I decided to stick an entree, a mains and a desert and I am glad I did so, I could eat to my heart's content. The opening was the Green Papaya Salad with crispy soft shelled crabs. The tang of the papaya, the crispy crunchy slightly spicy crabs with peanuts, string beans, tomatoes and the works. One good thing about dining alone is that you don't have to be overtly concerned about social niceties,  I used my hands to munch away through the crabs. When I was growing up in a hill state, there were periods when in between our after-school and before-dark games, we would stop and seriously keep staring at the morning glory flowers to shut down - yes they do that, one minute you have this tall flowering plant, with its  long stem covered with colourful bell like flowers and next the bells shut, like clenched fists. It's not a slow process, its pronto, you look its open, you look again and its closed. We never managed to see the shutting down process however unblinkingly we stared. I guess that was god playing a little prank.  So when I saw a main dish with crispy pork and morning glory greens served with red rice, it was like moth to a flame. The pork was good, but after the novelty of actually eating morning glory greens wore off, I think I would prefer the greens where it was not and not on my plate.  The best of course was the coconut ice cream with crunchy water chestnuts and sticky rice, finished every bit.The night before, at McFarland House, the two-story pavilion restaurant at The Barai, the luxurious resident spa's restaurant, I had gorged on a green apple with mango, greens and more salad; sesame encrusted tuna with rice paper cones holding salad and a delicious sauce; a crispy skinned salmon with asparagus, mushrooms and peppers and still managed to finish a bowl of exotic fruits. Oh! before that I had munched through mango, prawn and coconut wafers and sampled straight off the oven roll with a fabulous tomato relish. And I am not even talking about the sumptuous breakfasts. 

McFarland House    

Then there were some that I didn't ingest, but which ensured that I had the best spa experience ever. Some of the best of Thai ingredients went into a custom Thai herbal compress ball and what was more exciting was that I was given a special class by two charming ladies, who not explained the philosophy behind it but helped me make my own herbal compress ball with some really exotic ingredients. The three and a half hour treatment at The Barai that included an open air bath (that made me feel like Cleopatra) was one of life's best experience ever.

That's the one I made! 

I loved everything about The Barai, everything. My room was a ground floor one (there are eight suites at The Barai) with its own swimming pool, a sitting room, bedroom and bathrooms (yep two) and the best part, a huge soaking tub in each suite, as well as a Thai bed area for relaxation and traditional Thai massage. Add to that a sprawling tropical garden all around, the beach in front facing the Gulf of Thailand and its paradise zone. Without the human touch, it would all have been beautiful but cold, the warm came from the suite's butler, the petite,  ever-smiling Amy. With Amy around you couldn't help but smile- hers was that infectious.    

The petite, pretty ever-smiling Amy

 

To be able to walk out solo after 9pm without a care in the world and no insecurity, hop into a cab and make for the Chatsila night bazaar is a dream come alive. I have said this before and I say it again - to be a woman, to not look over your shoulder and to not protect your front, to not duck around and step away every time you see a man about to cross your path, to not walk as fast as you can and to pray that you get safely to where you have to go at that time of the night is, well unbelievable. The night market at Hua Hin is just what a market should be - plenty of open air small stalls selling everything from the ubiquitous T-shirts to art works, to accessories to just about everything. Above all, delicious food. Yes, I did try some - bits and pieces including some melt in the mouth open-fire roasted scallops. Can still feel the taste! The best thing about it all, the really heartening one was to see young beautiful girls manning several of the stalls. Would that ever be possible in Delhi? I remember quite many years ago the tourism authorities had started a night market in the premises Hotel Ashok at Chanakya. Like the hotel it was a 5-star night market, but alas it went the way every one expected it to- died a natural death. Maybe one day..............it doesn't cost a penny to dream, does it?

 

 

 

On the way back my cabbie is a lady, Siri. She has a perpetual smile. All attempts to converse of course came to nought; she said no English and I had to accept that. I managed to learn her name because she gave me her business card and when we reached The Barai she jumped out, ran to fetch one of the staff who conveyed her message to me - if I needed a cab I should call her. I have kept the card safely, if I am ever in Hua Hin I know who to call.

Siri with the Smile

 
 

Beach It!

A long, long stretch of whitish beach, the waves rhythmic and almost hypnotic, the waters disappearing into the horizons and everything so mystical and magical. Hands up, I confess that there I was - a confirmed hilly-billy who snatched and snatches every opportunity to run off to the hill - loving every moment at The Khao Takiab (Chopstick Mountain) beach at Hua Hin, around three hours drive from Bangkok.  And wanting more of it!

Thailand has always been one of the favourite family destination, not too far, yummy food, fantastic seasides, gentle people, great shopping and more.  We have been fortunate to have made several visits and apart from the regular Bangkok, Pattaya, Phuket, Ko Samui, the tigers at Kanchanburi etc; there have been visits to other quite not well known places including Surathani ( The road side dish of steamed rice and pork curry still makes me salivate). Ko Samui was where an exasperated daughter pointed out to us that as parents we were not supposed to be taking her to pole dance shows. My feeble explanation that they were lady boys and not the real McCoy or real women, cut no ice with her and I had to leave abruptly with her and take parenting tips from her! Hua Hin was one place that somehow never featured in our itinerary. This time it was a solo visit, a work related one which was however more of an indulgence thanks to the special invitation from The Barai at the Hyatt Regency, Hua Hin. The luxurious resident spa fronts the beach and so there I was- armed with an umbrella, the only one sporting it- alone on the beach.

The Khao Takiab beach, I'm told, stretches over 12 km. In comparison to other hot spots in Thailand, Hua Hin is much quieter and peaceful, maybe sedate as those who crave the throng, frenzy and  exciting night life might say.  I loved the fact that Hua Hin is totally unlike and away from it all.  The King and the Queen live mostly in Hua Hin and that could be the reason why it is different, or as we Indians say hat ke! In fact, there was a ship anchored in the Gulf of Thailand which turned out to be royal property, the rest were usually small boats. To walk that entire beach and not have people asking you if you wanted to try some water sport was bliss. The tourists, not too many either probably because it was off season and the weather somewhat hot and humid, were mostly whites. There were some few Thai visitors too, mostly families and then there were some locals working on the beach - combing for shells and rock lobsters. Apart from a few restaurants - all housed in private properties- and a handful abutting the base of the Chopstick Mountain at one end, the beach was uncluttered. The beach had more private properties than hotels and some of them were really wow. All of them sported boards making it very clear that no intruders were welcome. So be it.

Thanks to the monsoon season, the colour code of the sky over the Gulf of Thailand, the clouds and even the sands on the beach changed several shades. At one moment the sky would be a deep grey, the clouds looking ready to burst into a frenzy of rain, the few trees around would sway madly and the humidity shoot up; a few minutes of light drizzle and the sky would clear, turning blue, the clouds sparse and white, and the sun rays would filter through the clouds turning the water a shimmery silver carpet, difficult to wean ones eyes away from.  It was as if someone up there was fitting in different slides into the kaleidoscope.

I didn't realise when I had fallen in love with it all! It didn't take me long to kick off my shoes and go bare feet, huge black umbrella tucked under my arm.  Though I would have given anything to have the family or friends around, I must admit that being all alone on a long, lovely beach was indeed a different experience, one that I was beginning to like.  There were some brave joggers; a huge bunch of school kids (study trip?) from Europe where the teenage girls spread themselves out on their brightly coloured beach towels, sporting chic bikinis, the boys seemed somewhat gangly, awkward and not-man yet; leisurely walkers; serious swimmers and having-fun-dipping-in-the-water and having-fun-trying-to-avoid-the-waves kind.    

 

What I was doing was trying to ensure that I didn't step on any of the tiny crabs - really tiny, think miniature- and their even tinier babies crawling all over the sand, popping out one minute from one hole and disappearing into the other. There were thousands and more all around and my attempt to keep staring at one particular spot and count as many as I could was a failed disaster from the word go. It made me cross eyed and crabby. (How could one resist that!)

Crab holes all around- don't bother looking for them, they are really really teeny weeny!

While the myriad crabs had the run of the place, the story of the shells were something else. There were quite a few of shell hunters on the beach with  their indigenous contraptions, each would push the contraption in a straight line as if raking the beach and then at a point, if they were successful, pull up the contraption and empty the shells in the net bag strung at one end of a pole. The shell seekers usually worked at the edge of the water, some in ankle deep water, some calf deep and some knee deep. If you kept watching them, it seemed both robotic and meditative. There were some fishermen too, waist deep or more into the water, patiently latching on their fishing rods. It was a bit sad too, that is certainly no way to make a living.

The Shell Seekers

The sight that will stay with me forever is the father and his little son hunting for rock lobsters. From a distance I couldn't figure out what the man was doing while his little boy either sat down beside him and watched what his dad was doing, or like all little boys ran around playing on his own and at one point even took off his orange shorts to attend to nature's call. Language was the hindrance but the man finally realised I wanted to see a demonstration of what he was doing. Armed with a metal fork in one hand and a tiny cylindrical roll of polythene in the other, he would squat on the sand, gently push in the fork into the sand and at the other end, barely two inches away, he would touch the sand with the polythene roll and suddenly, he  would lift a rock lobster and put it in his blue plastic jug, half filled with water. For the life of me I couldn't figure out what kind of fishing that was and how on earth he could make out that there was a rock lobster beneath that particular point.  Later  the beautiful, pleasant butler of my suite at The Barai, Amy told me that rock lobsters were usually not sold in the market either because after cooking it becomes somewhat glutinous, so that would be for private consumption.  

 

Rock Lobsters - Wouldn't want to try them

At at the right extreme right side of the beach was one of the chopstick mountain that looked like a giant rocky boulder, three fourths covered with greens. There's a small road that ascends from the beach to the temple and the monastery at the top and right at the beginning, on the left is a humongous golden Buddha statue, that too me seemed incongruous, a little out of place because of its size. A much smaller version would have looked better, at least that's what I feel. The setting for the temple and the monastery is however perfect and I am sure that the view from up there of the Gulf of Thailand would be stunning but, thanks to the dozen of monkeys, I hurriedly cut short my planned visit and scooted down. As I had made my way up slowly, taking in the changing sea view at every step, I thought I heard some chattering nearby. There were not much tourists around, except a few hanging around the giant statue and the small shanty like shops at the base of the road climbing up were all shut. Admiring the view all the while as I slowly climbed up, I failed to pay attention to my immediate neighbourhood and then, as the chattering increased I realised that there were quite a lot of monkeys perched all around, all eyes on me. I made an abrupt stop, turned around and somehow stopped myself from both screaming and running away as fast as I could. Sending frantic prayers upstairs, I walked down as fast as I could. It was then I thanked myself for tugging along the giant umbrella. if anyone dared to come close it would be a handy tool. Thankfully, I didn't have to use it.  

One of the small restaurant, right at the end of the beach and a little away from where the small roads climbs up the hill, is open. There's no coffee/tea, its water, cold drinks or good old Thai food. The two women, one elderly and one very young, are totally lost with English. Smiles and sing languages work beautifully. There's a stray dog seated languidly nearby. After some time he decides, its time for a dip and casually starts walking into the water. He sits for sometime and decides that he needs to walk further.  He strolls like he has all the time in the world, getting deeper and deeper into the water and in the distance I can see him all but his head submerged in the water.  
  

As the sun dipped into the grayish bluish horizon, the water indistinguishable from the sky, sitting at an outdoor table at McFarland House, the two floored pavilion restaurant of The Barai, it struck me suddenly that the beach where I spent practically the whole day had disappeared and the water was gently lapping the boundary wall. The tide had done its bit and the entire beach was now under water. It was surreal, the whole day the beach lay there and hey presto it was gone! 

Somebody Stole the Beach!

Next  morning the beach is back and all is well!