I'm not so much a fine-diner, but occasionally I do enjoy my little bit of luxury. So, for 2016 on my single blow-out meal (Cut me some slack, I'm a Uni student) I decided to head off to Koi Dessert Bar with two friends, RA and PT, for a somewhat late-birthday-ish-kind-of celebration.
I love good desserts. I'll put it out there.
... and I'm no food-blogger, but here we go.
Environment, etc.
The restaurant was very comfortable, to say the least. The Dessert Bar below did seem rather crowded, noisy, and a little too bustling, but the upstairs restaurant was nicely set out, spacious, and altogether rather generous.
Ambience, check. Good service, check. Cleanliness, check.
Okay, now let's get onto the juicy parts.
Food
Food came adequately with no real significant wait, which was great because we were super excited to try these dishes. Had it been any longer and we would have started eating our cutlery.
Dish Number #1 - Cool Cucumber
Yogurt with fermented green mango, cucumber, green almond and chilled cucumber lime
I personally felt like this was a really well-placed dish -- it was great to start off on. The little balls of yogurt burst inside your mouth, filling it with the perfect consistency of yogurt-y mixture. The lime juice around it (which they poured separately from a cute-little beaker) also balanced it out really well and went exquisitely with the yogurt.
The petals and greenery on top really were for aesthetics, and I'll be honest, they needed it because this dish did look rather simple. It also appeared rather small with the daunting, black abyss of a bowl, but boy, oh boy, once you popped one in your mouth, it far exceeded my expectations, at least. And although I may complain that it was a rather small dish, I admit that any more would have been too much, and the dish would have just become a dessert dish consisting of, pretty much, a bowl of yogurt.
It's rather difficult to infuse 'cucumber' into a dessert quite nicely -- I mean, it's not your every day dessert ingredient, would you say? I felt it was a great dish to start off the set menu because it was refreshing (worked wonderful with the lime) and small enough to get you started for the bigger dishes that were to come. It wasn't an insult to the senses or too 'in your face', which I think is what you need to start off and finish a dessert menu such as this.
Dish Number #2 - Moss
Pistachio mousse, caramel gel, white chocolate matcha dulce cremeux, pistachio sponge, matcha moss, apple blossom jelly, nitro lime and yogurt and green apple.
This looked impressive. Right off the bat. This was the well-known signature dish, and we were anticipating it greatly and it did not fail to impress in the slightest.
The dish looked like an artwork, especially with snow-like textures and the salient matcha ball. The different flavours of the dish really went well together and gave a refreshing new taste with each spoon, which is entirely different to the constant and unvarying spoonful-after-spoonful that you experience with other desserts. Depending on what you picked up in your spoon, the taste inside your mouth could be refreshing, electrifying, relaxing, or surprising.
A very special mention has to go to the apple blossom jelly which all three of us absolutely loved. It reminded us of jasmine tea and was such an interesting little side to the main dish. It seemed odd at first, with its little flowers (in the jelly itself!) but popping it into my mouth and letting it melt away slowly completely relaxed me and took me back to my love of tea.
Ultimately, I loved this dish. So, so much. I could have eaten four of these (okay, maybe not). The star of the dish: the matcha and the mousse, was perfectly done, and all the little details really added to the flavour and aesthetics of the entire dish.
Dish Number #3 - PB&J
Caramelised brioche with peanut creme, cassis pastille, strawberry and almond gelato
'PB&J' huh?
The name was a little deceiving I suppose. I walked in, unsure of what to expect. PB&J sounds so... simple! Certainly not what I was expecting to have at a fancy restaurant such as Koi.
But, I mean seriously, look at it. Look at it. It's beautiful. And the taste of it was, I suppose, what I expected (of peanut butter and jam) but also with these little added pops and twists here and there. For one, the base was crunchy which added a wonderful element of crunch to the dish (I love my crunch) and that balanced out the cream rather nicely. The alternating nut and jam helped balance each other out as well (I'm not a big fan of excessive jam, and so for me to say that this dish was really damn good... it's saying something!).
I must admit, the serving was slightly big. I can't exactly fault it, perhaps -- I'm not the biggest person with the biggest stomach, and personally I find jam and peanut butter (or nutty creams) to be rather filling (this was also our third dessert at this point). Nonetheless, I demolished the entire thing.
The almond gelato dashed on the top was also beautiful and offered such a refreshing break from the intense flavours of jam and nut that hit over and over whilst munching on this dish. I could eat an entire bowl of that smooth, silky gelato.
Also, I forgot to mention that this dish was eaten with the hands, not with cutlery, which was an interesting experience and fun, but it did sadly mean sticky hands, which is not fun.
Dish Number #4 - It's Too Hot
Passion fruit curd with pineapple sorbet, mango creme and kaffir lime meringue
My fears that this dessert would somehow be extremely spicy were quickly dismissed when this was served. Sadly, it was a hot day and a few of the dishes were left out a bit too long (the plates were also warm) and the pineapple sorbet had melted slightly by the time it was given to us (the picture here is of PT's dish -- my own was far too sloppy for me to take a photo of!).
But, the taste of it made up for this little downside. Now, I'm not naturally a big fan of passion fruit, nor meringue, yet I still find myself highly praising this dessert, so that's saying something.
However, I did find the meringue a bit too sweet, which was starting to overload my senses as this was our fourth dessert(!) and there were quite large slabs of it. Ultimately, I found the dish a slightly odd and intense flip-flop between the sourness of the passion fruit and pineapple, and the sweetness of the meringue, which was refreshing at first but slightly extreme by the end. It was a rather intense dish to end the set menu. Also, keep in mind that by this point we're all feeling a little full, so that might add to some bias.
Regardless, it was a nice dish, and any passion fruit or meringue lover would praise it far more than myself, and perhaps if it had been the first or second dish then I may have had different comments about it.
Overall, Koi Dessert Bar was a wonderful place to go. From the moment I tasted the first dish, all the way till the end, I pretty much had a smile on my face. This is a place I want to take those I love to, so that they, too, can experience the joy of good and well-thought-out desserts, far beyond any bowl of ice-cream or gelato that you can simply purchase at a store.
Though leaning towards the pricey side of things, for a once-a-year outing I can say that this was money well-spent. A big thank-you to RA and PT for the company and showing me the world of delicious desserts (I want to go back again... now!)
And, for those who have made it so far, congratulations. Here is a small selection of photos that I took from the Sydney Sea Life Aquarium (which we visited earlier in the day, before our massive feast on sugary-goods, which I do not condone but perhaps once or twice is okay).
Octopus
Moon jellyfish
Mud skipper
Great Barrier Reef exhibit. A sad reminder of what we are destroying up in Queensland.
By this time it had been one of the most jam-packed weeks of my life. The five of us had somehow traversed a great deal of Southern Thailand without getting lost, eaten, or starting World War III; several close-calls though.
We were either starting to get used to it, growing bored, or actually improving and becoming wiser individuals. Either way, we still found ourselves learning new things about ourselves, the Thai culture, and also each other, whether we liked it or not. Sometimes we learnt a bit too much about each other.
Sleeping; a past-time for any-time
One thing that started happening around this time was a constant desire to sleep. And also the ability to sleep almost anywhere, and anytime. Now, I'm not usually a good sleeper, but whether it was a twenty minute drive in the back of some bus, or an hour-and-a-half boat ride to Phi Phi islands, somehow I managed to conk out every single spare moment. No matter how bad the traffic, how hot the weather, or how rocky the boat, we all manage to get some shut-eye, and by gosh, we needed it. A week of slight-sleep-deprivation and walking kilometre after kilometre left us all exhausted and needing some recharge time.
Decorations on Phi Phi Island
A pinch of courage takes you a long way
Phi Phi islands are a big tourist attraction (more on this later). The entire island thrives on its daily supply of fresh Europeans, Americans, Chinese, and other tourists from all over the globe. Including five Australians from Sydney.
Some of the accommodation huts that were available, that we had deemed 'too pricey' initially.
Except, unlike the vast majority, we were... low on funds. We're University students, cut us some slack. So when planning this trip, we decide to opt for a semi-questionable accommodation called 'Gypsy House'.
We arrive, and realise it's a good kilometre inland, away from the bustling island life and also the nightlife on the other side of the island. Well, dang. Take it from me, dragging a suitcase through crowded streets of loud noises with a humidity that would make the ocean jealous is notcomfortable. Weaving through the back-streets of the island, we find ourselves among the locals -- that is, no fancy hotels, motels, or backpackers', but rather face-to-face with young Thai children playing high-jump volleyball, and sitting around chatting away.
In hindsight, I'm rather quite glad we picked this accommodation. As exhausting as it was, the refreshment of seeing the island-life away from the heavy commercialisation, and being among the locals was much more interesting, and I appreciate it a whole lot more in hindsight.
Also, we got lost. (Typical). Turns out, the grandious 'Gypsy Hotel' is not what we booked, but rather, the little small lodgings around the corner were ours instead. They were decent, though! And the hospitality was wonderful. We also received complimentary soap and bug-free beds, which was a change!
Eating was another aspect where I was proud of our courage as a solid-squad of five.
Rather than forking out >100 Baht per dish at a spotless, English-menu'd restaurant, with waiters and waitresses who were able to communicate with us, we decided to hit up the local spots. I.e., a small little food-supplier ('restaurant' is pushing it) with non-English speaking workers. Well, I mean, they could say words like 'pork', or 'fish', which was already a blessing in our books.
Yes, there was must confusion, slight frustration, and starving bellies. But, in the end, we snagged ourselves a cheap-eat that made our stomachs sing with joy, so I'm not complaining.
I've said it before but I can't emphasise the feeling of accomplishment when you get to have a taste of genuine cuisine in a local setting. Yes, perhaps we struggle, and perhaps we sit on wooden stools with no table cloth, but as long as you're careful and wary then I think it can really work to your advantage.
Tourism Hub; What country am I in again?
Walking down the street with five stray felines coming up to greet you is not something I anticipated to experience in Thailand. Perhaps Phi Phi Island isn't an accurate representation of the rest of the country (it by far isn't, but it does show a side of things that is unique to the place).
Phi Phi Islands is one place which makes you wonder where in the world you are.
If it weren't for the mass of Thai flags and flags of the King draped around the streets then it would be easy to forget we were still in Thailand.
In particular, as we roamed the Island Nightlife on the beaches, filled with bars and tourists, it didn't quite seem like Thailand at all. All around me were Europeans and a vast array of English-speaking tourists, all with a beer or cocktail in their hands, playing beer pong or dancing to hit pop-songs of the Western world.
One thing in particular that surprised me about Phi Phi Islands was how completely different it was from the rest of Thailand. There were live musicians playing acoustic covers of songs from the Western world, there were a vast array of drinks and food (pizza, fries, even an Italian restaurant) that really didn't seem to fit with all the Lucky Thai Massage parlors dotted throughout the island.
But I guess Thailand-tourism is still a part of what the Thai culture has become, at least on this little plot of land.
A view from the island
Nightlife, over-stimulation, deer caught in the headlights
The nightlife on Phi Phi Island was one thing (fire shows, alcohol, and drunk tourists? Somehow I don't think that's a good mix...), visiting the red-light district in Patong was a completely different story.
Really, the entire place was an insult to all the senses. In particular: the bright and flashing lights, and the loud sounds and megaphones as each club and bar tried to gather as much attention it could, competing against its neighbours in a high-bid screeching battle. Top that off with trying to weave your way through a crowd and holding onto all your possessions, and it's a journey tough-enough for the greatest of all heroes.
A sign seen on Phi Phi island
Very soon we learned that the best way to make it through this street with minimal interference was to keep walking at a face pace and to make minimal eye-contact. (The slow and the weak are left behind.) Barely-covered ladies would roam the streets, eye-balling anyone who looked their way and sometimes literally dragging you into their show-rooms (literally), or extremely persistent Thai women would approach you with laminated signs advertising their ping-pong shows, or various other shows that I don't even want to know about (there was a so called 'f*cking show', and by golly, I personally do not even want to know what was in that one).
The red-light district was an entirely different experience that I never knew existed in real life, nor did I think I would ever come across. It seemed like something out of the movies, especially as I wondered about the health and protection of these workers, the laws of the country, and also the effect this had on the children that sat around the bars playing connect-four (they were only seven or eight years of age!). It made me think a lot and thus on top of all the physical insults the environment brought, I was well and surely overwhelmed and exhausted.
Heavy Commercialism
The entire experience of Phi Phi Island and Patong Beach (with the red-light district) seemed unbelievably commercialised, quite beyond belief. Everyone seemed to be banking on tourists with cashed-up credit cards and a willingness for hedonistic expenditure that seems to only affect those who are travelling.
But, alas, us five little University students do not have the funds to live such a lavish lifestyle. So, we opt for the cheaper alternatives. In other words, often we slum it. The disaster bus ride (from my last SEA post) and our accommodation at D's corner (choosing unwisely to by-pass the 8 Baht fee for air-con) are plain examples of this. We justify it in hindsight by saying "It wasn't so bad... And it was... cultural. A genuine experience!" but really, it was just a decision we made and committed to.
There's nothing wrong, I believe, in picking the path that we did. There's also nothing wrong in paying a few more hundred Baht for a more comfortable stay. Either way, if you pay less, be prepared to accept the result, and we did.
Another thing that really placed strain on the situation was the constant, endless haggling of prices. To anyone who's been to an Industrialising Asian economy, this will be something you're familiar with. I've been to many Asian countries before, ever since I was a young child, and haggling and bargaining is something that I'm prepared to do, though admittedly I'm not the most competitive or aggressive shopper (I say this disappointingly, despite the negative connotations of 'aggressive').
It's obvious we're tourists. And thus, obviously, the shop prices are sky-rocketed into the air. At one point we were offered Thai pants for $6 USD and we followed through by asking for TWO pairs, for $5. Doesn't make sense, huh? But we got it in the end. It says a lot, doesn't it?
There's some conflict inside of me. Yes, sure, I'm from a well-off country. My family's income is reasonable to support us and $8-9 for a pair of Thai pants is, perhaps, slightly overpriced (for their sheet-thin quality) but affordable. Yet, at the same time, people here are paying $2-3 for that same pair of pants. I'm torn between equality, equity, justice, and charity. And it's hard and exhausting.
Local Food is Best Food, but take it with a grain of salt (and caution, and lots and lots of hand-sanitiser)
Sometimes you see amazing meals for great prices.
Take this pig trotter meal with rice -- one of the most delicious dishes the entire trip, found at a street market.
Local food is best food. I'm going to stick with that statement. The experience of their cuisine, of their prices, of their flavours, and of all the interesting and unique tastes that simply aren't available back at home to the same quality, is one of my favourite reasons for travelling to a completely different cultural context. One of the most memorable things about this entire South-East-Asia trip was the food journey that we took, especially in Thailand and in Vietnam.
At this street food market you could purchase a fish and they would grill it in front of you immediately.
Now, take it with a grain of salt, because local food can also mean lower standards of cleanliness and hygiene. And I can understand -- these are industrialising nations, some still developing. Laws of hygiene and OHS are non-existent, for they have far more pressing matters to address first.
But, all in all, if you're careful and cautious, things usually pass with no real disasters. Ensuring that food you consume is freshly heated and made, or being aware of any lurking flies or insects (covered food is best food) is usually enough to stop any dangerous stomach bugs. Additionally, resist the ice cubes, which I admit we didn't exactly follow, and about two weeks into the trip this caught up with us -- I escaped rather lightly and easily, but the same can't be said about some of my friends, so heed this warning.
One particular street vendor that I remember we visited was on the side of Patong Beach. We deemed it 'clean enough' after some observation, and thus decided to purchase some meals. I went for a grilled piece of chicken that I requested to be reheated on the flames, which they were happy to do, and by gosh, it was one of the BEST pieces of chicken I have ever had. I'm soft serving it.
Some of my friends decided to go for a Papaya salad, which looked absolutely enticing, whilst another went for noodles. So far so good, the salad was being made just fine, noodles were being boiled... But in the corner of our eyes we spot a little brown chocolate slip into the crack of the food cart. By 'little brown chocolate' I mean a cockroach. Oh boy. Yessiree. A cockroach. Actually, I lied. Many of them, in fact, not just 'a'.
Ehhhhhhh but they were just on the cart. No harm in that, yeah? Oh hey, she's mixing and crushing the Papaya salad for someone who ordered before us. Mmm-- t-the cockroach is crawling into the bowl!! A-- ... Did she just crush the cockroach on the side of the bowl with her fingers?!
Ehhhhhhh but at least it wasn't the Papaya salad for us, yeah? Oh hey, there's the pot of boiling water for noodles. Wait, is tha-- there's a dead cockroach floating around the pot of water, like it's doing somersaults or water polo or whatever cockroaches do in water. Yep. That's a cockroach.
Ehhhhhhh at least they've changed the water now. Fresh batch. Let's just try not to think about fact that five seconds ago there was a dead cockroach soup brewing away in that same pot.
Yes, at this point, we had already paid and committed. In the end, we walked out of that experience just fine, but we were perhaps one of the lucky ones. (Though, I feel I should defend ourselves and say that >90% of the meals we had did not have any issues -- this was just an isolated instance)
Drag yourself out of bed
After an exhausting week travelling all through Thailand's beaches, oceans, rainforests, and nightlife, we found ourselves back in the city and absolutely worn-out.
With a final day before we hit Bangkok. I won't even talk about the troubles and stresses at the airport with car pick-up, finding our backpacker's hostel, luggage being overweight, etc., etc., blah blah. At this point, we were all absolutely exhausted, running low on funds, our phone chargers were breaking, I lost my lens cap (though, later I found it in my pants' pocket) -- we were tired.
Despite that, the next morning, three of us decided to drag ourselves out of our deep slumber and trek our way across the city of Bangkok to reach the Grand Palace (Wat Pho) to see the Reclining Buddha.
We decided to take a shot and catch a bus there, which is always something that requires a leap of faith. ("What bus number are we looking for?" "Squiggly line 48"). We boarded, confused, and unsure about the price of the ticket or how things worked ("Where's the tap-on?!") so we dealt with it by shoving her money and hoping it was enough for the ticket.
Other things I noticed on this bus ride was the astounding traffic (it took is 1.5 hours to return back in the afternoon) and congestion of Bangkok streets (full of motorcycles like ants), as well as the lack of singlets (i.e., conservative, shoulder-covering clothing) -- it made me stick out like a thin piece of wood that has fallen or been cut off a tree(i.e., a stick). Also, we observed that you can alight and board the buses at almost any place along the road!
Taken from a cross-bridge in Bangkok
Traffic or vehicle safety is a foreign concept in many Asian countries, I feel. There are such a huge number of people that it remains almost impossible to have an effective road-system.
Half the time this means traffic doesn't travel more than 50km/hr and, consequently, seat-belts are not necessarily a requirement. Though, despite this, as you traverse up steep cliffs on a huge bus, winding around curved roads, you really start to wish you had a seatbelt to use (this happened many times on our bus-trip to Khao Sok National Park), but with a population so vast it almost seems like the death or injury of fifty or so people doesn't seem to matter so much.
Before arriving at the Palace we were almost scammed by a convincing Tuk-tuk driver that seemed suspiciously kind to us, and insistent that we take a 15 Baht Tuk-tuk ride and catch a 900 Baht long-boat, because the palace was closed this morning for praying. He even drew us a map and everything, and was ultimately far too cheery and willing to help us out, to the extent that it made us uncomfortable. (Guess what, as soon as we said 'No', his face turned sour and he turned around without saying another word. The temple was also open.)
Increased Awareness; perhaps it will translate
As a tourist I think you become a whole lot more observant. I think you begin to notice things that you really failed to appreciate in your home country on a daily basis.
At one point, on the beach in Patong, I realised how I would make the most of every single moment in Thailand, trying to capture it all, experience it all, and pay attention to every little detail and enrich my understanding. Back home, in Sydney, this wasn't the case. It took me a trip far away, for three weeks, to realise how much I had took for granted back home.
The amount of detail that went into these statues was incredible, and something I really learnt to admire. Hopefully this translates to greater appreciation back in Sydney.
A few other things that we discussed and realised at this point, was what seemed to characterise a tourist. It's always fun to reflect a bit on our own experience and how we stick out like sore thumbs.
Speak slowly in your native tongue, and hope they understand you, even though you're a visitor in a foreign country and technically you should be expected to speak their language -- really, the audacity we have to arrive and assume it's their responsibility to speak English!
Take photos of seemingly ordinary things, such as traffic signs, 'take off your shoes' signs. Excuse: "I'm taking in the culture"
Doing things even when you're unsure if you're allowed to (which is often the case due to lack of literacy of the local language), with the justification "If it's not allowed, someone will stop me." (Though, in hindsight, this kind of applies to every day life, even back home).
Doing a multitude of things incorrectly or stupidly and whipping out the excuse of being a tourist (we're trying our best, I promise!).
At Wat Pho Temple; one restored statue next to one that has yet to be restored.
And here ends our leg through Thailand. This was the hardest part of the entire trip because we were fresh off the plane, with peaking levels of confusion, and had yet to adjust to the new environment. We were lost, overwhelmed, and had a jam-packed schedule, and inevitably we crossed many obstacles and disasters and unexpected turns throughout our first one and a half weeks in South-East Asia.
Ultimately though, we learned a lot. An incredible amount. Far more than I could ever have expected or anticipated, and it was nice to know that the next leg would be a tour that would mostly require less work, and more kick-back relaxing times.
Long time no post, I am aware. I hadn't even realised that Part 3 was online on my Youtube but I hadn't written about it here.
Exams have decided to hit me with full-throttle, and now I find myself standing amidst the post-exam period with far too much time but also far too little to complete all the tasks I had forgone previously. In other words, all the responsibilities I rejected and post-poned earlier have now come glaring in my face. Yet, here I sit playing Pokemon Sun.
But with that finished up and in the trash, it's time to channel my writing skills yet again.
Part 3 mostly consists of us travelling through Thailand's natural landscape. Away from the city, away from the crowds, the shops, and the busy, death-defying streets of vehicles. Instead, we discover the rainforests of inland Thailand and a humidity that would make a sauna jealous.
Headaches, ahoy! Disaster moments may hit.
One of the most difficult things about organising this trip was the uncertainty of how our reality would turn out. Sure, we may plan to catch a bus at a certain time, for a certain cost, but often the resources we use for this information are out-dated, incorrect, or... people just do things differently. And there is absolutely nothing you can do about that.
With our heads set on a sturdy itinerary, we had planned to catch a bus from Phuket Bus Terminal 1 to Surat Thani, which would allegedly drop us off on the main road in Khao Sok, in front of Khao Sok National Park, which was where we were headed.
Taken from here.
It literally still says we can take this bus.
But, of course, no trip is free of disaster! I had found it suspicious that the first five days had passed without any major hiccup (except for a moment where our airport transfer tried to force us to purchase tours), and here it was, finally.
At least, this is what they told us: The bus route no longer ran. Our only options (according to the shady men lurking around the bus terminal for tourists) was a private transport van that cost a few thousand (overpriced) Baht. Yeah, no thanks.
So the five of us stood there in sweltering heat, starting to panic a little bit, and our fear slowly rising. These men weren't people we wanted to trust, especially with thousands of Baht, when the bus ticket we planned to purchase was only 160 Baht each. A flurry of vicarious hand-motions were used to assist our conversation with the ticket-seller at the terminal (as we ignored the men trying to strike up conversation and shove their signs in our face), who spoke very little English. Calling the help of her colleagues who had a slightly wider English-vocabulary, we still struggled.
"I think she means we can catch a bus to this little town, and then catch a connecting bus to Khao Sok?" (add a heap of uncertainty to that statement and you can start to imagine what our thoughts were like at the time).
Not the most reliable path to take -- we placed our entire trust into this ticket-terminal lady. If this didn't work, we would miss our entire tour and accommodation at Khao Sok, which we would not be able to go to afterwards as we had plans for Patong and Phi Phi.
So, we hopped on. We emptied out a few hundred Baht between the five of us and gave her all our trust as we huddled onto the most cramped and uncomfortable bus I have ever, ever, (ever!!) been on in my life (and hopefully, for the rest of my life). Even sardines in a can would stare at us with a twinge of pity.
Behind where I sat was also a radio speaker. Apparently, the bus driver is either an asshole who likes to deafen everyone, or maybe is slightly deaf himself, because by golly it was the loudest insult to my eardrums in a long, long time. And, it wasn't even music. It was some random talk show that consisted mostly (87.53%) of insanely bad animal sounds and emphatic voice tones that screeched the ears and tore at your eardrums.
I managed to fall asleep at one point and woke up with my back superglued to the seat. Superglued doesn't even cut it. I was ultraglued. Megatonne-freaking-stuck. And the animal sounds were still going.
Suddenly, the bus pulls over. In a small town. On the middle of the highway. And it's our stop. The five of us huddle off, no freaking clue where we are on the map, and are given the wise, journey-fulfilling instructions that all young heroes are provided on their achievements of destiny: "Bus come, twenty minutes. Wait there (points on other side of the road)."
O-Okay.
Crossing a six-laned high-way is no easy feat with suitcases and slightly deafened ears, but we manage. Three of us decide to go to the bathroom, whilst two remain behind to watch the suitcases and for the bus, in-case it arrives. Just as A, M, and myself have walked about twenty-five metres away, our periphery catches an enormous bus start to slow down and travel at a steady pace on the sides of the road. It hits us all at once like a baseball bat -- Is that th-- THE BUS??
A man sticks his head out the window of the bus and yells out something (???) to which I shout back "KHAO SOK!" (What did he ask? I shall never know.) He seemed to just nod, close the window, and then pull the bus over to the side. The three of us rush back (without relieving our bladders, but far too anxious, relieved, and also fearful, to even notice) and we hop onto this massive bus, full of people already, settle down and pray that this bus will make things right.
(Spoiler: it did.)
Standards drop
Kayaking has never been so shifty in my entire life.
Normally you anticipate that tandem kayaks can hold the weight of two, young men such as M and J (who likely total a mass below average) without any major difficulty. Well...
The kayak sunk.
Now, calling it a 'kayak' would be offensive to all the kayak population, so I apologise. It was more a plastic mould, reminiscent of the childhood giant plastic containers:
Without the balls, and floating on green-tinged water.
I admit, it was a beautiful lake with gorgeous surroundings, fresh air, and just an amazing view. But I was fairly safe in the kayak with another small friend, our weight totally less than one and a half adults. M and J were not so lucky, spending half their time bailing water out of their 'kayak'.
Though, my point is this: one thing I noticed was our standards drop considerably in a place like this. Perhaps it's the higher levels of confidence, feelings of invincibility (that seems to accompany tourism), or being far too excited and forgetting the word 'caution', but somehow, these 'kayaks' were perfectly acceptable at the time. Had this been in Australia, perhaps not -- perhaps we would have second thoughts. Perhaps. (Or maybe not.)
A bus ride like the one mentioned earlier, anywhere in a developed nation would be unacceptable, full of complaints, and just would not fly. I know it's obvious -- I mean, a developing nation is going to have a lower quality of services, goods, and logistics -- but at the same time, it's interesting how our personal mental acceptance can change so drastically, simply by the context we are in.
Is this change in mentality part of the travel experience? I don't know the answer to that, but it's a thought.
Different sides of things
Just a little side-note on how beautiful Khao Sok was.
One thing I loved most about this trip was the chance to explore a multitude of perspectives. Within a time-span of one and a half weeks, we were able to explore the beach-side, sea and island life, national parks, cityscape, and nightlife/red-light-district (next post) and have a balance between tourist attractions, culture, and simply immersing ourselves in the Thai streets.
To me, that's a big part of travel.
Despite all the hiccups and obstacles on our way to Khao Sok (I haven't even had my rant on the mosquitoes and poorly done mosquito nets -- I ended up sleeping with three mosquitoes sharing my bed. Wonderful.) the place was breath-taking and I saw things I hope I never forget.
