Calm in the Eye of the Storm

Matt and Amy had left for school, Paul had headed off to the office, pre-packing had begun when the OMG moment happened. “Helen we have a problem” was the stated twist on that other famous understatement. And so the wheels of panic driven organisation began to turn. Patrick was called, from his reeking smoke filled office he confirmed the offending package was still indeed in his safe. Phones rang hot. Luckily the ANZ network is now quite extensive throughout the country and the Branch in Sihanoukville was opened and the staff helpful enough to pop down and collect the package for the hotel (it helps when it’s their boss asking). The vital documents were then passed to a taxi driver who just happened to be doing the trip anyway. And in true Cambodian style the package was soon hurtling its way through the chaotic traffic as described in earlier blogs. . For a mere cost of $2.50 (plus generous tip of $2) the documents arrived in Phnom Penh 4 hours later. Where else in the world could you get service like that?
In the meantime we all went calmly shopping. First to collect the clothes from the tailors, then after to an incredible cup cake shop, run by an ex-pat who loves cake decorating and spending a huge effort in helping educate the local women in the art. Swanning around the shops and having coffee and cakes of this quality was an interesting insight into what goes on when the kids are at school and the husbands are at work. Tough life but someone has to do it. The practice Helen has had makes her the perfect host and tourist guide/shopping master.
We then headed off the markets, some up market (due to cost and the multiple stories) and some the same same (Cambodians would understand that line). The Russian markets were re-visited to collect the custom made jewellery. And all the while we were taking in the sights of the city in all its busy glory. From barefooted builders working amongst the tangle of power lines, the myriad of tuk tuk’s, the plethora of scooters – some of them interestingly weighted down by salad dodging Policemen.
Lunch was back at French Cafe on the river front and then the inevitable mad rush to pack and get the airport (picking up the passports along the way). A fond farewell to Helen (who was to be back in a couple of hours to collect her next set of visitors) and we were off. A short hop to KL for a 3 hour stopover, 2 of which was waiting in the slowest ever check in line. As it turns out the plane is only half full and being the seasoned travellers we now are we quickly capitalised on it and took over the spare seats.
Not much else to report on this trip apart from arriving in Tullamarine – which was a little better than last time (most likely due to lees concurrent arrivals) and into a hideously cold, wet day. A toasty open fire soon took the cold of the edges though. It took all day to unpack, sort out the plethora of bought stuff, wash clothes, get the goldfish and the post from next door, accept Webster back from Oma and we even got Louisa to netball. Tomorrow is back to reality (work and school for all of us) and thus an end to an amazing adventure.
We really need to thank the following players:
Helen for giving us a whole week of her life and showing us the town, the country and her new lifestyle with such enthusiasm and generosity.
Paul for the same and also for setting the whole scenario up in the first place.
Amy and Matt for spending their holidays with us and generously letting us impose on their space.
All the helpers of their household, they made our travels the easiest and most stress free we’ve ever had.
Charm for looking after Webster (“woof woof” from him).
Brian and Fran for collecting the mail and looking after the goldfish, including the bowel diagnosis of the one who regularly floats upside down (another time for that story perhaps).
The Assauws’ who kept an eye on the guinea pigs.
All the people of Cambodia – you’ve been through hell and are now pulling yourselves out of it with great tenacity, enthusiasm and most of all - friendliness. Please don’t loose those values; they make you unique in the world.

The long way home

Another leisurely brekkie by the pool was almost Faulty Towerish with and overworked waiter (aka Manuel) with no real idea of what we were ordering. Many attempts at ordering a Late’ ended up with either a long black or a glass of cold milk. In the end Helen settled for a cappuccino. Patrick (aka Basil) the hotel owner had a huge hangover and took 30 minutes and a couple of attempts to produce our bills – which were ultimately wrong as well. Sorting it out amongst ourselves we loaded up the van and headed along the coast to the seaside town of Kep. Inadvertently leaving the passports safely locked away in the Hotel safe. Along the way went through a variety of interesting towns, some perched precariously above the waters of rivers. Squalid and picturesque.
Whilst being distracted by one panorama we managed to launch a puddle load of dirty water over group of brightly coloured Buddhist Monks - who were minding their own business until we came hurtling along. Feeling guilty we decided to try and impose more of our evil western culture ways upon them by offering them a couple of dollars (well, everyone else here loves the stuff). We were politely refused. Suspecting something along the lines of enlightenment is not enabled through the all mighty buck we jaunted off on our merry way, whilst they headed back to their temple to prey for forgiveness for our souls and washing powder for their orange robes.
We passed through the town of Kampot – famous for its pepper. The roads got rougher and busier and we eventually ended up in Kep and a series of restaurants (perched half over the waters of the Gulf ) who specialise in crabs caught in their watery front yard and the previously mentioned spices. We had a great lunch, with the sound of the downpours on the tin roof being drowned out by the sounds of the waves crashing ashore underneath the floor boards. The wind and the rain were still doing their best to remind people that this is the off season.
Kep is full of empty shells of 50’s French seaside mansions which were gutted by the Khmer Rouge in the 70’s. They are just now starting to redevelop the areas infrastructure and it’s pretty obvious that in 2 or 3 years this place will also be back as an expensive joint in which to hang out.
We then headed inland amidst more driving rain and bumpy roads. The journey took quite a few hours as we got caught up in a tide of locals all heading into town after a weekend back home in the provinces. Overloaded cars, vans and busses were the mainstay – most of them with accompanying bags of rice. The road works went on for seemingly ever, just another item to slow us down well. We rode the wave of humanity for hours – it was never dull though – way too much to look at.
Taking a quick detour we headed to the local go-cart track for 10 minutes of high speed high jinks. It was getting dark and the place was closed, however the owner appeared on a scooter and a call or two later and people appeared form all over the place. Including one with an AK 47 slung over his shoulder. The carts were great fun and had everyone exhausted and exhilarated by the end of the scream around the bitumen. We then all piled back into the van (along with swarm of mosquitoes) and then rejoined the traffic back into town.
The parents then hopped out at Raffels Hotel for drinks in the Elephant Bar. This place is not cheap in anyone’s currency, but very well appointed and serviced. Jolly good show eh what?....
We all then headed out for our last dinner before heading home at a local favourite restaurant to soak up more Phnom Penh ambience and then walked home in the warm (but not too muggy) evening. Collapsed into bed blissfully unaware of the package laying half a country away and the ensuing chaos that would be the consequence.

A day on the beach

Breakfast beside the hotel pool and we all jumped in the van and headed to Otres beach. To get there we drove down a flooded, corrugated dirt track, lined by some very fragile looking houses.
The beach is defined by shacks of grass roofs; some are for accommodation and others for sheltering tourists or locals waiting to hassle them. We arrived in the middle of a downpour and quickly established ourselves in a shelter. Immediately we were surrounded by offers of massages, hair removal (using cotton) hand woven bracelets and freshly cooked lobsters. The only way to get rid of them was to say “later” to which they would say “you use me later”. The problem with this that when you use someone else later they get all grumpy.
Our area was controlled by a 15 year old girl running the show and getting everyone else upset, but at least she kept the hounds at bay, we later worked out her power base in that she was the owners daughter. Eventually some sort of balance ensued where they left us alone for a while so we could acclimatise. Needless to say however, over the course of the day our wallets and purses progressively got lighter and lighter as the dollars flowed out of them.
The waters of the Gulf were quite angry in the strong wind, although warmer than the rain coming down so we all braved the strong currents and small but powerful waves. The water has the same colour as the other side (Phuket) but not quite as a deep shade of yellow.
The menus are extensive and the resulting food was extremely fresh and fabulous, it was hard to see how such good quality could be produced in seemingly destitute surrounds – so it was a fabulously relaxing day being pampered by the locals. As this beach is so remote it was not crowed with tourists (and the fact that it is the wet season) – it’s a real gem and a shame that the wheels of progress are rapidly rolling towards it. The prediction is in two years it’ll all be bulldozed for expensive resorts. No idea how Paul and Helen discovered the place but we were extremely glad we experienced it before it disappeared.
Back to hotel, swim for kids , kip for some adults, blog for others. Afterwards we went to a five star resort at Sokha for dinner, which was very salubrious and fulfilling, no idea how many locals had been displaced in order to build the place.
Late night drinks at a party street up the road from the hotel was an interesting Insight into the seedy world of the of the tourist night life.

Off to the beach

Friday morning started lazily (compared to yesterday) – out of bed at 8:30 and hitting the shops by 10:00. First stops were to ensure the tailors were on track and then it was to market to market. No fat pigs but heaps more cheap stuff, and a bag to put it all in. We made sure it matched Mums new shoulder bag – just so she could continue to tell everyone about it.
This time we hit Central and Olympic markets. Olympic puts Spotlight to shame. More material of stunning patterns and colours than could be imagined. And this was one small area of the multi-storied, thriving with activity place.
All of this bouncing around town was courtesy of our driver of course, this type of service almost makes shopping fun. After a relaxing lunch in a small courtyard restaurant we rushed back to pack for our sojourn to the beach for a couple of days. The trip to Sihanoukville was another 4 hours on the roads, no games of chicken this time as our driver seemed to be happy to take things easily and keep his hands off the horn.
The roads were chaotic as ever though, this time exasperated by the never ending stream of trucks with containers (as we were heading towards the country’s ports). This is the wet season and we discovered a fascinating countryside with bright green fields in front of dark ominous skies and more ramshackle, poverty stricken abodes. And yet the people seemingly appear to be happy.
Torrential rain greeted us by the time we got to our hotel and continued for pretty much all of the night. Our hotel is run a French couple who refurbished it from ruins of the war era and is on the hill overlooking the Bay of Thailand. The lights of the harbour beyond silhouetted the trees on the ridge in an eerie glow as the rain lashed down all around us.
Driving though town on the way to dinner through the downpours in the dark was somewhat of a change for Cambodia as no one was moving about - it seemed everyone had ducked for cover somewhere or another. The Italian restaurant was full of "interesting" patrons and fabulous food. The Garlic bread alone is worth a mention simply for the amount of the stuff piled onto each slice. So whilst not much interesting to write about, the day’s activities had everyone exhausted and we collapsed into our comfortable beds and freezing air cons for an interrupted night’s sleep. Pity we didn’t notice the ceiling fan until the morning (note to self – look around room before going to sleep).

Sunrise over antiquity

It was recommended that we save Ankor Wat for an early morning event. This would enable us to get a unique postcard picture and avoid the crowds which frequent the place during the day. And so we dutifully employed our driver Mike to meets us at 4:30 am with a Tuk Tuk to take us there. On the way through the warm dark morning we slowly came to realise we were not the only people to come up with this clever notion. We were particularly concerned that everyone on the road was passing us, whilst being assured that our machine was working O.K., it sure did not sound and behave like it was. The ticket complex was open and a plethora of staff was around to make sure the revenue was flowing even in the wee small hours.
Ankor Wat is the largest temple in the world – this means that it can contain millions of tourists annually to watch the sunrise. Most of them were here today - swarming across the causeway like a marauding horde of glow worms. The gates and the walls of the complex completely failed in their design of keeping intruders out. As we all elbowed each other for the best vantage point the sky slowly changed from late crescent moon to tropical sunrise. Wasn’t overly spectacular (as far as sunrises go) but was still worth getting there for. Once we realised the scale of the place, we left the milling throng at the entrance and wandered towards the temple, snapping happily as we went.
By the time we left, we had completed a pretty thorough inspection of the complex (another fascinating look into ancient wonders) in relative piece – it appeared the hordes were only there to watch the silhouette of the complex become defined in the brightening sky – to actually come and look closely afterwards was too much, or maybe they just wanted breakfast instead.
Mike then took us to Akor Thom which contains the Bayon Temple. This was another fascinating example of Mankind’s creativity. The smiling faces beaming out in all directions was uplifting. Being all templed out, we then tuk tuked back to the hotel for brekkie and a lie down to make up for the early start.
A final dip in the pool preceded our noon checkout. To fill 3 hours before we hopped on the bus we used Mike to the fullest by visiting 2 markets and Pub Street for lunch. All very interesting and still cheap. Once on the bus we wondered how we could possibly last 4 hours cramped into the small seats. And so we headed off - 12 souls hurtling down the road with the sole aim of scaring as many people as possible. The road was safely wide enough for cows, motor bikes and passing cars, trucks and busses – if they were all heading in the same direction. Unfortunately it’s both way traffic which means the middle of the road (whilst defined by meaningless lines) is no-mans territory – heading out there takes a combination of timing, finesse, guts and the appropriate ammunition. Our driver’s key weapon was the horn. Mostly used for warning, sometimes for no reason at all, occasionally reaching a high level of creativity as an instrument
The ensuing game of chicken was an experience to behold. These roads are crowded, lined with ramshackle houses the whole way, people are always moving around them, on foot, pushbike, scooters (some carrying ridiculous loads), cattle driven carts, cars, buses, trucks – pretty much the whole gamut, also a plethora of skinny dogs wandering around as if they own the middle piece of bitumen as well. The game was going quite well – we won some showdowns, lost others and generally kept on track.
Just make the game a bit more interesting, the door to the bus jammed at our halfway stop (making a quick escape impossible) and it got dark and the roads deteriorated. This meant that the obstacles were still there, we just couldn’t see them very well. Our driver was up to the challenge though and the game went on..
We eventually arrived to the bright lights of Phnom Pehn. A short Tuk Tuk trip through town and we were back in the safety of the Clements compound to be warmly greeted and treated to a fabulous dinner. Needless to say we slept very well.

Off to Temple Town

Using the adrenaline of travelling to another town to ward off any self indulgent notion of hangovers from the previous nights exploits - we launched ourselves into the days activities. After another scrumptious brecky we were kindly chauffeured to the airport. As we were the only domestic flight leaving, we relaxed in the docile, yet luxurious surroundings of the Phnom Penn departure lounge, before hopping onto a propeller driven craft. Couriuosly, the seats were more comfortable, the ride nicer and the view better than those jet driven beasts. 40 minutes later and we came to Siem Reap (apparently the translation of which is the equivalent of giving the bird to their neighbouring countries).
Our driver Nick (suspect this is not his real name) drove us to the hotel where we threw our bags at the room and headed out post haste – apparently we need to be frantic in order to squeeze everything in. And squeeze them in we did. Our temple tour was fascinating and it easy to see why this place is generally the tourist focus of Cambodia. One thing no one mentioned was the exorbitant cost associated with seeing the ruins – however it appears the money is being ploughed back into the effort with well maintained roads, facilities and jobs for many locals.
First up was Banteay Srei Temple which was small (as it turns out) in comparison to the others. Very ornate and almost eerie (as they all are) when considering the amount of effort that went into building these structures over 1200 years ago. They still look great, possibly the eeriness is built up somewhat by the oppressive heat and humidity and the occasional waft of strange music drifting over the occasional breeze. The locals peddling their wares breaks the mood quite nicely though.
The countryside is very green and picturesque, rice fields, shanty towns and a plethora of rickety houses on stilts. Happy cows are prolific (apparently they must be happy because they are waving their tails).
Next we stopped at the Land Mine Museum and were thus duly reminded once again of the insidious nature of war and the stupidity of the human race in its ability to inflict pain on itself. Built in a tin shed by a dude with a chequered history we saw many remnants of armaments from all countries – it seems everyone has had a go here at one stage or another.
We then stopped off at Banteay Samre which was almost deserted, the only indication that someone was there was a faint hint of incense. Isabel and Dad were trying to find a way into the main chamber when we stumbled across a withered man sitting cross legged on a mat. He invited us to join him and took us through a ritual paying homage to Budda. Well – we assume that’s what was going on. After the mandatory lighting of the stick, waving it around and generally dripping in the heat he then told our fortunes by having us poke a stick in pile of inscribed cards. The accuracy of his predictions will never be verified as we have no idea what he was saying. After we dropped him a couple of dollars for his efforts he then lent us a torch so we could see what was inside the chamber. Total blackness surrounding a pile of rubble. We figured though the rubble was a broken statue of Budda – so we left with our question answered and possibly heading towards a bright future, or not.....
The next temple was the famous one in which Angelena strutted her stuff. It’s a hard fought battle, but the trees appear to be winning – given the forest seems to have had time on its side one would think it will reclaim its own eventually. The locals seem to be trying to capitalise on making the status quo last as long as they can though and subsequently are installing cranes and scaffolding to add to the ambiance.
On the way back we enjoyed the experience of some locals boys making a quick buck by singing for cash and then watching them scamper off into the bush when one of their seniors came along to see what they were doing.
When we got back to the hotel Dad made use of the internet and the girls hit the markets. Afterwards we headed off to dinner in the precinct of Pub Street. Full of tourists, great food (cheap) and not being hassled by the locals - a wonderful experience. It’s a pity it’ll be ruined in time by the ever increasing pressure of the buck.

Around Phnom Penh

Breakfast at Clements house was delightful and great start to a fascinating day. Seeing the town with Helen as the tour guide and Amy as her sidekick we headed off to try and get through the long list developed by napkin the night before.
After being measured for various garments and raiding a DVD shop we then headed to the Russian Market – named so for the type of tourists who originally started going there. This was a great place – a tad hot under the tin roof, full of interesting items and colourful people. We are starting to come to grips with the fact that the locals here are not so “in your face” as other countries – a very pleasant change.
Shops, shops and more shops and then lunch to restaurant with an Italian theme food and French décor (including the patrons). We then trundled aboard our chauffeured van and headed off for our history lesson. The Museum of Genocide was a stark reminder of the terror and violence bestowed on the masses through the Pol Pot era. The barbed wire is still there, the instruments of torture, the blood stains on the floor, the photos and pictures describing the horror made it all so clear, as did the tour guide who showed us her scares from the torture she suffered in the fields as 15 year old.
Being humbled and shocked at what humanity can do to itself we then headed off to the killing fields to see where the masses were taken to be disposed of. The Cambodians have gone/going to a fair effort to ensure this piece of history is not forgotten. And it should not be. 3 Million people killed, a society destroyed - all for the sake of a misguided political ideal.
Afterwards Dad headed off to drinks with the boys from work and a very interesting evening being shown around the various establishments. The town is very friendly and it was quite pleasant not to hassled every step by hawkers as per Thailand. The ladies went shopping at Pencil and purchased an Emelda load of shoes and had a massage after dinner. How very splendid.

A Long Haul to Cambodia

23 Hours Door to Door. Via Malaysia (just to tick off another country) and here we are – firmly ensconced in the Clements compound in Phnom Penh we get to sit back and reflect on our hectic day.
One benefit of flying out at 12:45 am means the traffic to the airport was non-existent, the car drop off easy, the wait to board ridiculous, the delayed take off understandable - considering the hurricane that was whipping through Melbourne at time. An extremely cramped sleep in the plane was bordering on unbearable. Similar to childbirth apparently – you tend to forget the pain so you keep going back.
Having 7 hours to kill in Kuala Lumpa, we decided to ignore the local’s advice and left the airport by catching a taxi and seeing at least some of the place. Malaysia seems to be a combination of palm plantations, buildings and preparations for more buildings. Without a doubt the economy is booming over there. We headed to a province called Putrajaya. We were hoping to get a sniff of the local culture – that we did – it just hasn’t been cultivating for too long in this area. It was, however, impressive. This is the seat of power in the country, a perfect balance of Government extravagance and Religious vigour all expressed in impressive buildings amidst picturesque waterways. They even went to the effort of putting a gondola on the water. Apart from the chipboard bowsprit we almost thought we were back in Venice........not really.
We did spend considerable time in the surrounds of the impressive mosque, The girls had to cover themselves up (fair enough too – just for the laugh of seeing then in their silly pink coveralls) and we had to take our shoes off in certain areas (after that long haul flight – they deserve the stench of smelly socks if they insist on us undressing). The religious education was immeasurable – we had no idea that Adam and Eve were Allah’s first prophets’ (he had thousands apparently) with Mohamed being the last. And they even have Jesus on the same genetic tree. So it all makes sense and finally we can put the whole argumentative divide to rest.
Enlightened, we went underneath the complex and had Nandos Chicken for lunch. Obviously the commercialisation of Peri Peri is endorsed by the Muslim faith. We caught the same taxi back to the airport. Ahmed the driver was adept at ignoring speed limits and taking up 3 lanes with one car. He also pointed out relevant tourists sites such as the home of the F1. The interconnectedness of all things is readily apparent on Malaysian roads.
A short hop to Phnom Penh, to be met by the warm hospitality of Helen and Amy was delightful. A notch downwards (societal wise) from KL with tight busy roads, poverty and general chaos was apparent on the way to the house (aka compound). Melbourne drivers could learn a lot from these people – it maybe chaotic, but it is friendly, people are patient, let everyone in and it all flows.
The Clements have a fabulous 3 level house in the better part of town. Hot and muggy after the Melbourne winter is a bit of a shock, however as we sat in the cooling evening air being watched over by gecko’s on the ceiling of the impressive front porch, we looked forward to a night on the town – possibly heading off to the Foreign Correspondence Club for dinner.
The dinner was great, the drinks cold and the company welcoming and very enlightening – there is so much to see and do here. The itinerary for the next day’s schedule was inscribed on a napkin and we eventually tumbled into our comfortable beds and collapsed in an exhausted slumber.

And so it came to an end

A very long overnight flight seemed to go on forever. Boarding at 10:30 Singapore time (12:30 local) they of course felt obliged to keep the lights on until dinner(?!!) was served. This took 2 hours. And of course they felt obliged to serve breakfast 2 hours before landing. This gave us 3 hours of quiet time. The girls slept toe to toe curled up on the floor and Neil and Ro tried the same on the seats. Needless to say not much sleep was had and after the long day previously we walked off the plane feeling like Zombies.

Melbourne airport has had some improvements over the last 10 years, none of them actually translate into efficient handling of the customer (except the trolleys are now free). And so we queued (2 plane loads) - single file past a sniffer dog, queued at through passport control, fought the crowds to get to our luggage carousel and then promptly fought our way back through the same crowd to get to Customs. Utter confusion and extremely poorly thought out. Makes you wonder why we try to attract international visitors here when we muck them around like that. And of course, there is no train connection ( whereas everyone else has one).

Luckily, once we were through, we were quickly collected by Herb and the quiet roads saw us home smartly and relieved that we’d actually made it with only a couple of hiccups. We spent the day forcing ourselves to stay awake, unpacking, and generally getting used to the extra space, whilst thoroughly appreciated the full fridge, and pre-prepared lunch and dinner (how cool is that!)



The girls put their charm bracelets together and the phone has been running steadily with people welcoming us home.
















And so to some transport stats we collated:-

Planes – 9
Trains (Metro) – 29
Intercity Trains – 6
Eurostar – 1
Cars – 7
Vans – 5
Taxi – 3
4WD – 1
Buses – 26
Ferries – 3
Gondolas – 1
Boats – 4
Cable Cars – 2
Parasail – 1
Ferris Wheels – 3
Quad Cycles – 1
Push Bikes – 3
Km’s walked - countless

So that was over 100 different trips on transport (woo hoo ! – no idea if that actually means anything or not).

As a final wrap up we’d like to say a special thanks to the following people.
Gabby – lift, Paris planning & execution, company and delivering the new drivers license.
Brian and Fran – The best next door neighbors who helped up all the way through and especially in our hour of need.
Polly and Paul for showing us a wonderful part of the world with fabulous hospitality. Midsomer Murders will never be the same.
Sarah, Nick, Nicole, Oliver and Rory for sharing their lives, their rooms and their house in such generous fashion (the quiet day at the cricket was, of course, painful with just the two of us).
Marg for preparing our home coming so nicely.
Herb for getting us home quickly and safely.
Everyone who left a comment on the blog. We reveled in knowing that people were out there watching and the feedback gave us made us feel at home even though we were so far away.
And to everyone who has tracked our adventures – we hoped you enjoyed the trip and thanks for sharing it with us.

Tomorrow, school and work (aka “The real world”) beckons. Until next time…..

Sky high over Singapore

Another early start saw us out of bed at 5:30 am, pack, pay, eat and be on the road by 7 for the start of the long (and somewhat) disjointed trek home. The road back to Phuket Airport seemed to take a lot longer than the trip in – even though that could not have been the case as all was very calm, it was most likely due to the daze that we arrived in 5 days earlier. It was interesting seeing the hordes of locals swarm down the steep entrance road on the plethora of motor scooters and tray trucks. All heading to position themselves to hassle the tourists.

The short flight to Singapore went well, except we were stymied by being dumped in the Budget terminal. Not the rent a car company – this means for the people that can’t afford a real air fare (apparently) As we had 10 hours to kill, this was not too much of an issue except we missed out on the free transit passengers tours that are on offer if you can afford an airline that uses the main terminals.

Deciding this was our fate we dropped our bags in the Left Luggage, jumped on the trains and headed into town. Another day another country and yet another city. Singapore is a very interesting place to visit and lives up to its reputation. Clean, efficient, new and also hot and muggy. We didn’t really have the energy to walk around too much so we decided to stroll over to the new wheel to see if we could afford it.

As it turns out, that cat was out of the bag again because the whole town was abuzz with birthday celebrations. We thought it was very nice of them to put on concerts, military parades, air force flyovers and the like just to recognize Rosemary’s big day. Luckily they didn’t ask for a speech as it was too hot and we were all pretty tired. So we walked around the blocked roads and got to the Eye (they call theirs the Singapore Flyer) to find discounted rates, no queues and we actually got a whole pod to ourselves. This backs up our previous theory that an attraction is only going to be really popular if you charge a lot of money to stand in queues.

It was a very insightful journey and we gained a reasonable appreciation of the place in our 40 minute loop. We also fund out the real reason why the Melbourne one was such dismal failure. Feng shui. Yep – here they got an expert in and he pointed out that it was going the wrong way – apparently they should follow the path of the sun. Our people in Melbourne really should consider these things. The Singaporeese also seem to have their Mykey system working perfectly well on the trains. What are our lot doing?

On the way back to the trains we stopped by some heavy artillery and then paused in an Irish pub to while away the hours. Given the price of drinks this was done in a very controlled manner.

Leaving the locals to continue the party celebrations, we made our apologies (due to the flight times) and we headed back to the airport for a whole lot more tiring hangin’ out, sittin’ around and waitin’ in line in order to get on to our last flight.

A day of high jinks and celebration

After our usual panic to get to breakfast in time, we headed over the road and onto the beach for some high flying adventure. We’d spent the last few days watching the professionalism of the Para gliders and they seemed to be doing a reasonable job. They send a driver up with the passenger, this dude breaks all the OH&S ever written and basically jumps on at the beginning (no harness or safteyline), pulls the strings correctly to get it airborne, then swings up and sits among the strings while the flight goes on and then helps guide the whole show to a gentle landing, which is required when the tides in as there is not a lot of room on the crowded beach in the situations. The tide was out for us however and the beach was mostly empty . And so we went. Isabel up, Isabel down, Louisa up, Louisa down, Rosemary harnessed, Rosemary can’t breathe, so Neil goes up, Neil comes down and there’s a hitch – one of the dudes helping was not looking and they almost landed on his head, not sure what exactly happened but the result was he ended up being dumped onto the beach unceremoniously, being dragged along on his knees by the parachute until they managed to bring the thing to halt. It was rather poignant that the song playing in the background was Flo-Rida (Get low) and he did indeed “hit the floor” and was indeed “low,low,low,low,low,low,low”. Luckily for them the only result was two scraped knees, a wounded pride (although in true style he jumped right up said he wasn’t hurt and walked off into the ocean to wash off) and no law suit. Rosemary flew without hitch after all of that and we were all very exhilarated after the adventure.
Afterwards we all headed off for massages, manicures, pedicures and hair braids – well O.K. not all of us got all of those things. Splashing around in the pool combined with a few shopping walks in order to tidy things up was the order of the afternoon before we got ready for dinner. Experiencing the change of the guard Phuket style (they have police watching the lifts), we then had a big surprise as a birthday cake was delivered to the door with Rosemary’s name on it. Someone let the cat out of the bag and it was a jolly good thing they did too, because none of us had thought to do so.
So we had dinner and have started to pack for the long trek home, this involves a 10 hour transit stay in Singapore – therefore we have no idea whether this will be the 2nd or 3rd last blog of the journey.

More of the same

As expected nothing extraordinary happened today. The weather was slightly more muggy, it had rained before we dragged our still jet lagged weary bodies down to breakfast however we saw none of that precipitation action during the rest of the day. The three girls headed off to massages and shopping whilst Dad sat beside the pool and read a cynical yet funny book based on life in the office. This had the weird effect of slowly bringing him down to earth and wondering what gossip maybe running rampant back home.
After rendezvousing back in the room we headed back to the posh pool (stuff the rules – it’s simply nicer – probably due to the lack of toddler wee) and we splashed around for a bit and then played stacks on the mill. The crowd was very impressed with our 4 person high stack. Next time we’ll bring a camera person as well, as it was we could only get our 3p stack captured.
Afterwards Dad and girls wandered back to the portrait caricature dude for a sitting for the girls. This took a fair bit longer than expected; the results were however, spectacular. This guy is a genius and deserves far more credit than the lowly fees they charge. Not to be confused the rest of the cheap rubbish everyone else seems to be pushing around the place.
On the way back we wandered though one of the hot spots which was just warming up the night. The seedy side of Phuket was just starting to rear its ugly head. As this is a family blog, details will not be expressed here, it was however interesting to see what potential the place has and it’s obvious that it’s not all just sunny beaches and cheap imitation goods that some people come here for.
Back home after dinner we’re relaxing in the room listing to the occasional doof doof of the super tuk tuks drift down the street as reminder that the city is still a buzz with whatever they do out there in the wee small hours.
The plan for our last day of relaxation tomorrow is to celebrate Ro’s birthday in style. This will most likely mean doing more of the same, again.

A quiet day in paradise

Not much to report today. R&R has that effect – after all – who really wants to know that the weather has cleared, it’s warm, not too muggy, the clouds have gone, the threat of storms looming over the sea have disappeared and all we are left with is perfect blue sky, wafts of cool drafts off the Indian ocean and tropical playground in which to explore?
And so ignoring the calls of exotic adventures and exciting places to visit (due to 5 weeks of high adventure – basically we couldn’t care less) we opted for a day of shopping in the nearby stalls, getting the washing done (the never ending chore – regardless of your situation and/or place) and making sure there were no more tsunamis’ rolling in. The later involved lounging around on deck chairs (suitably shielded from the sun by umbrellas which were constantly adjusted by our faithful umbrella attendant) and watching the ocean. Admittedly we nodded off sometimes so the vigilance was not as intensive as first suggested, however we always had an ear out for trouble – even if just to ward off the passing vendors of flutes and sarongs.
It’s somewhat disconcerting to be still overseas and yet seeing signs of Aussie infestation everywhere, we keep hearing Aussie accents all over the place; the stall vendors who have no idea who we are say “G’day mate” in order to start up a conversation and the beach is littered with our flags. Something just doesn’t smell right (those that have been here will know the double meaning that sentence has) .
In the morning the water was a beautiful shade of blue – into the afternoon it curiously turned into an interesting shade of yellow. It was still warm and pleasant bouncing though the waves so we put the change down to a differing light refraction from the moving sun. The locals were running a brisk trade in jet ski hire (motor cross on water – yay - a perfect way to enjoy a pristine aquatic environment – for the rider – everyone else gets to enjoy the noise, the fumes and the threat of being run over by some idiot who has less sense and compassion than a doofdoof enabled Tuktuk driver) and Parasailing - which created lots of nice fumes as well..
Izzy and mum had the pleasure of agreeing to the services of a local woman who smeared some sort of clear goop all over them and then told them to wait for 30 minutes before washing it off. Not wanting to wait that long they duly headed into the surf to cleanse themselves and thus the colour change of the water was explained....
Dad did his best to get some sort of sun burn by spending a couple of hours waiting for the perfect wave to body surf and everyone else basically just lounged around on the deck chairs and R&R’d. Eventually the dogs sleeping under the deck chairs moved on and thus we figured it was time to break into the exclusive pool back at the hotel. This is much more salubrious than the one assigned to those of us families that reside in the family wing. So snubbing the signs and the associated authority that decrees we were are not of the required quality to use these facilities, we sauntered right in, signed out towels, jumped in the pool, swam over to the pool bar and ordered a round of drinks. Luckily we did not have to raise our prestigious heritage and family lines in order to justify our audacious behaviour – unchallenged, we eventually paid the bill and left.
Two days left and we are now coping with the question – do we actually do something here that bloggers all over the world may be interested in – or do we just R&R a bit more? Oh the pressure – it’s almost too much to bear.

Sun, swims and shopping

Due to Breakfast only being served until 10:00 am we dragged our jet lagged bodies out of the air-conditioned room and through the muggy heat to lap up the resort like atmosphere of the buffet offerings. At least 200 people were getting into it, however due to the size of the facilities and the amount of choices available there were no queues (we do miss them terribly) and it was quite pleasant sitting in the breeze of the fan watching various people settle into position around the pool. Realizing that this was a good option to start the day with, that’s what we did as well for a few hours.
Mid afternoon saw us hit the shops in what we thought was the main drag (as we drove in through here yesterday). It’s dirty, noisy, smelly and confusing – at least the traffic is only one way in this area (an outcome of the tsunami inquiries). Everything also seemed a little quiet (maybe too quiet!) as in some sections we were the only tourists walking the stalls and some of the keepers seemed a bit surprised to see us. Walking the streets here, you face a barrage of locals trying to push their wares onto you. It’s annoying and sometimes confronting. Scams abound – we are starting to get attuned to them – sometimes it feels like you need a suit of armour to keep them at bay. Unfortunately we left all of those in the tower of London, so we need to resort to saying “no”, sometimes “no thanks” and avoiding sarcastic remarks like “if I wanted a taxi I would have taken up one the 10 offers I had in the last 20 meters – but thanks anyway so much for the offer old chap”. They actually have T-shits printed saying “No to massages and Tuk Tuks” combined with astutely placed swear words. Not polite but very funny.
After being insulted, chased down the street and sworn at for not buying a wallet he did not want , Dad decided retreat was the best option and left the others to the shopping spree and stomped back home, discovering another way avoid being hassled. Walk by yourself, don’t slow down, don’t make eye contact – it’s then pretty obvious that it would be best not to offer a manicure to this person. Perhaps the T-Shirt is a better option after all.
For dinner we headed down the main beach road of Patong Beach. We probably should have come here in the first place. Whilst the noise and the pressure is the same, at least it’s not as smelly (and the stall holders don’t swear at you). Possibly it’s more pricy though as this is where everyone that was missing earlier was hanging out. It’s very colourful at night - and noisy too as there are lots of TukTuks with Doof Doof. Which, like any vehicle in the world with doof doof; the only people who really appreciate them are their owners.
The girls got to have really cool drinks whilst we all had a great meal of Tai curries etc. Not that much cheaper than home, however the flavours were fantastic and we were all very happy with our choices. Braving the strip again to headed back to the hotel though the chaos ( incl. doof doof) stopping occasionally to get base prices from which to bargain with tomorrow.

The other side

Well here we are – made it the other side of the planet. The second flight was long and drawn out as we needed to sleep but our surroundings we not entirely amenable to the task. The girls did O.K. with Isabel curled up on the floor and Louisa using the two seats above. Ro and Neil spent the whole time trying to find a comfortable position. Whatever transpired as a possible solution only ever lasted a few minutes due to either lack of circulation of the stranger next to us inching his way into our space on every opportunity. Thus a fitful night of snatches of semi-conscienousness would be a good way to describe the trip.
Bangkock airport must have one of the biggest terminals in the world and managed to cover most of it when trying to achieve our connection. Once we had done so the next 2 hours was spend with Thai airlines, this was a much older plane, less technology and yet seemingly more comfortable – this may have been the result of not being hemmed in by strangers . More fitful sleeps interpreted by snack boxes ensued.
Upon arriving in Phuket we almost fell over in disbelief when our baggage was ready before we were. This just goes to show that the smaller the airport, the better it is. Our prearranged limo was waiting to spirit us to our lodgings. Back home this “Limousine” would be called a “Holden” or a “Magna” Whilst the car itself lacked in prestige badges, number of seats, mini bars and a Jacuzzi (we wouldn’t have minded) and thus proving itself worthy as advertised – the driver certainly made up for it by flashing anyone that appeared that they might get too close to him or was in front of him. Curiously, this sometimes worked. It would’ve worked a whole better if the windows were tinted; people don’t seem to mind giving way to VIPs’. They do seem to mind getting out the way of scruffy, tired looking Tourists whose only claim to fame is that they’d just spent 26 hours being abused by the airline system.
Arriving safety, the room is nice (no views and girls think the wall paper is a bit toddlerish) it should do nicely over the next four 4 days. We had a look at the beach, the street, the bar and then had swim in the posh pool. Dinner was great (a Thai banquet in the hotel) and the weather is really oppressively muggy. We should be able to cope quiet well when considering what we’ll be experiencing in a week’s time.

An Interim Update

We seem to have packing down to a fine art by now, even though it still took a while to get ourselves totally organised and into the cars. Our hosts kindly escorted us to the airport terminal and made sure we were safely on our way before heading off to other engagements. Their hospitality was fabulous and greatly appreciated. It will be wonderful to see them in Aus in the future so we can respond with some typical Aussie generosity in kind – prawns on the barbie – that kind of thing.
British airport security is totally over the top, shoes off, belts off (resulting in pants around ankles), body searches, fluids in containers in plastic bags – confiscate this one and you can by another just over there before you get on board. Ridiculous, demeaning and a money spinner. Needless to say this created a bit of stress. Due to poor planning in seating arrangements we are spending these two 6 hour stints cramped into our seats with little room to express ourselves. No aerobics on this trip – not when a bump from the person in front results in a tea spilt all over ones lap.
Leaving the patchwork quilted fields of bonny England behind us we find ourselves back in the same place as our first day. Dubai Transit lounge at 1:00 am is as busy as 1:00 pm. It also as hot apparently. It’s 36 Celsius outside and we have no indication of it at all. It’s about 9 degrees sitting here and feels like they’re pumping in the air from that shopping mall that has the ski slope in it. Hopefully on the next flight we’ll get some sleep.

A Spot of Cricket eh what?

In order to make the most of the Aussie tour of the homeland and the fact that they lost the last test and thus to determine how low they can slide we headed off to Northampton for a day of county cricket. This is the biggest event that’s happened in the town since George Best kicked six goals on the same ground some time in distant past (so we were told by the dude sitting next us).
Leaving the kids with girls, Nick and Neil headed off on the bus, train, bus and bus (via Milton Keayes) to the Northants home ground in Northampton. After sussing out the ground, the seating the lax security and general country attitude to the whole situation, we grabbed two deck chairs from the bar area, sat tem down on the edge of the ground and promptly had the best seats in the house for entire day.
Neils expertise shone through when he declared the two Northants batsmen at the crease were about to form a long winded partnership. When the next ball saw one of them depart (2 seconds later) the laughter from Nick was heard around the ground. Cricket wise we saw Aussie wickets tumble (6 of) for about 100 runs, We then saw the locals hit some quick runs , loose a couple of wickets, form a solid partnership (see !) , to see it eventually collapse and then declare a sporting declaration.
For those mad keen Aussie cricket fans back in Aus – don’t get your hopes up, they were struggling to beat a county side – whilst it was really hit and giggle – they did not seem to be a team capable of retaining the ashes.
The boys did however have a great day out. This type of cricket with a jovial happy crowd, relaxed officials, perfect weather and extraordinary seats was one to remember for a long time. The end result (game wise) is irrelevant.
In the meantime the rest of the clan did this :-
Car to train station, train to Oxford. wandererd around shops driving Oliver to a case of severe boredom. Boots, Primark (2hrs), sat on a hill next to Oxford castle and had lunch where they nearly fell asleep and then walked around some more. Then came home. Apparently they had a great day....
Tomorrow begins the journey back to the other side of the planet.............

Catching up with Jeremy

Due to a big effort the previous night in solving the world’s problems it was a late and yet fabulous traditional English fry up which got us started for the day (Thanks to Nick). We poured the families in the cars and hot the motorways amid thunderstorms and sunny breaks and drove to the city of Windsor. This is where HRH spends her weekends sitting in the castle on top of the hill overlooking her estates and making sure the commoners are adequately contributing to her wealth.
Whilst we hadn’t told her beforehand that we were coming we were somewhat miffed that she wasn’t in when we knocked on the door. Subsequently decided that to suffer the indignantly of behaving like Plebs we didn’t do the tour and went for a stroll around town instead.
Dodging deluges we spent some time having morning tea in a cafe before we jumped aboard the local version of the eye. Somewhat smaller but far more intimate we thoroughly enjoyed the oversized Ferris wheel and the views presented by it.
After a quick stroll along the banks of the Thames (wondering how good swan would taste depending on the basting sauce) we headed off to Great Fosters. This was the country residence of Queen Elizabeth 1st (so they said) and was where Rosemary first met Sarah and their very own Jeremy (aka Bridesheads). Through meticulous planning he was there to greet us at the gate and thus the boys and kids left them there to catch up on old times whilst the clan headed off for some chips and frivolity on the banks of the river.
After exploring playgrounds, geese and paddling pools in the heart of toffy England they headed back to collect the now inebriated (albeit happy that they caught up) girls, watched them break into the old staff quarters where they all used to work to discover the only change in 27 years was they now had showers as well as baths. Apparently it still smelled the same – most likely this is the dank smell of 16th century lodgings – no real way of telling.
So we whipped home on the motorways, enjoying the freedom of lack of control as far as speed cameras goes (100 mph – woo hoo! - A joy in a brand new rocket) and got home to Bucks in time for a knock up meal and game of Monopoly for the kids and bottle of Moet for the oldies. All in all - that was really fun day.

An afternoon in Stowe

Another sleep in saw us heading off for a late walk around the historic town of Buckingham. The nine of us (incl. Sarah, Nick, Oliver, Nicole and Rory) strolled down the road and diverted through the scenic gardens by the river and into the town beyond. Steeped in history and relatively untouched by the ravages of the nearby suburban sprawl, the city centre retains its charm. We did a tour of the old gaol before heading to the supermarket in order to collect our picnic vitals.
We then packed the tribe into the cars and headed off to nearby Stowe and the gardens contained therein. Sarah and Nick have an ‘in’ a House master in the exclusive school in the grounds so we snuck in a back door and snaffled prime parking spots (heh heh)..
The area used to be owned by a rich family who, being unable to afford the upkeep of the grounds handed it over to the National Trust to look after and the buildings have been converted into one of the most exclusive schools in the UK. Therefore the money and the care are still there, but it’s also available to the public.
We had our lunch on a lawn overlooking a lake surrounded by various monuments and afterwards the kids played a series of athletics (sack races, egg& spoon races etc) and we then followed up with a game cricket. Spiffing eh what – old chap.
We then went for stroll around one quarter of the grounds in which we saw pristine golf courses, lakes, rivers, status, monuments, replicas of Parthenon’s, ornate bridges and gentlemen’s retreats facing the ladies retreat a ¼ mile away (well out of hearing range). They even had an old castle built which looks majestic sitting on the hill, but when you get close it’s not actually that big. We all sat in the pebble house for a photo on the way. Most of these things are someone’s folly, as in some rich dude had too much money to spend so they whittled it away on constructions such as these. It was very picturesque and fascinating to see.
Afterwards it back home as the sun was over the yard arm we sat back and nattered whilst the kids amused themselves on the Wii before going through the back gate to the park and playing real games. Followed by an amazing dish of Scottish Salmon for dinner - Absolutely fabulous.

Via an ageless Henge

Leaving the pristine west coast and the wonderful friendly environment of Porlock we ploughed into the tangled web of the English country road system. This would have been an absolute nightmare if not for HRH Beatrice and her subtle links into the worldwide GPS network. Needless to say she performed faultlessly. No wrong turns, and straight to where we wanted to go.
Our first destination was Stonehenge. This sits in the middle of nowhere on top of a grass covered plain, doing nothing and being attacked by really strong winds and thousands of interested spectators, who eventually leave after realising that nothing is going to happen. That being said it is fascinating as to how it got there and why they bothered in the first place. It pre-dates the pyramids, and they got the stones from a long way away. Thousands of manhours of effort – just so Druids in the future could tell which was the longest day in the year? – Possibly not.
Anyway – we were very impressed with the way they’d set the whole show up with the private commentary machines and we didn’t really mind not being able to walk between the monoliths (soil erosion etc.). After having a superb picnic (supplied by Polly) sitting on the nearby grass we headed off to Avebury to have a poke around there. This was impressive, not just all the big rocks around the village (why? – no one knows) but also the local conical hill (why? - no one knows) and the pictures of horses on the hills (why? – no one knows). All of this implies a whole lot of effort of people in the past in order to make sure the people of the future would think about what they were doing. It could be a just sense of humour on their behalf.
We then headed off the Sarah and Nick’s place in Buckingham which is settled nicely in a green valley in middle of town overlooking bowling greens, tennis courts and the parklands of the university. After dinner we went for walk whilst the kids rode bikes. Much fun was had, chasing friendly black cats and playing a game called apple throwing (aka Scrumping).