Pattersons on tour

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Mochit bus station, Bangkok. ‘So sorry, no more buses to Chaing Mai. Busy for SongKran,’ tells the women in the 15^th ticket booth I have tried. Sweat pours down from my face, at this rate my family are not getting home for the 17^th. Ben and Erin remind me we are already late to the airport as I joined one last queue. I get lucky and soon a taxi is speeding us across the city to see my family for the first time in over 7 months.

Coming down an escalator I saw my Mum in a crowd of strangers who moved around her like a changing kaleidoscope. I ran to embrace her, flooded with the same emotions I’d felt when leaving the UK in August. The whole family looked more-or-less the same despite slight differences. John had grown both in height and a stubbly beard, Elizabeth looked more like a young women and Katherine had grown her blonde hair so it was long and flowing. We piled into taxis and joined the rest of Bangkok’s rush hour traffic for a good hour until we were at the Southern Bus terminal. Here we boarded a bus that would take us south to Krabi and on to Koh Lanta, where everyone thought they could catch a suntan.



Yet my family, like they do on every holiday we’ve been on, brought the British weather along with them. We bathed and sunned ourselves under a brooding sky that lit up with lightning and thunder claps, whilst a strong breeze blew the surf into an unsettled tempest. Thankfully it only ever rained at night so we spent our days lazing around the beach and exploring the island by moped. At one time Koh Lanta was surrounded by vivid and thriving reefs like that of Koh Tao. But after the devastating tsunami of 2004, dead coral now litters the beaches and only small shoals of fish can be seen feeding of the dead rock. However, on land I could not think of anything more enjoyable than riding a moped at 80km along free roads (even if I was sharing with John). After Dad had nearly skidded off the road in his newly rented tuk-tuk, we all drove off, sharing 4 mopeds, to tour the island. Over hills and through unruly hairpins we went, catching glimpses of beaches and panoramic shots of misty Islands framed between jungle and sky. We rode around till dusk but, after a day spent blipping everywhere freely, decided to rent them for another day.

Our last day in Koh Lanta was spent with Robyn and her family who’d just arrived from Udon Thani. In the evening we all ate together at our bungalows restaurant on Kong Klong beach. I watched as Elizabeth conversed with Robyn’s sister Maggie as an adult rather than a child. I felt a strange sense of pride that she was becoming more of a woman now with aspirations of living in Italy, (and less the kid who only dreamt of kicking her brother under the table).

After such pleasantries a very messy night ensued. Ben, Robyn, Maggie and I took over the karaoke at Funky Monkey where we earned free shots for our deafening renditions of I'm Yours, She Moves in her own way and Valerie (to name but a few songs we killed that night). Eventually Maggie and I headed back ahead of the others in a tuk-tuk. The night should have ended there. Unfortunately Maggie took it upon herself to disappear into the dark whilst the rest of us scoured the Island for her till dawn. She was later found at my parent’s bungalow no worse for wear.

So, on the back of 1 hours sleep we set off again for Krabi. Despite the town itself being littered with dog shit, we all piled onto a long boat and spent a memorable afternoon snorkelling round the remote Islands off the coast. We swam amongst shoals of colourful fish and rested on a small strip of beach where the waves met each other, either side on a causeway of sand connecting two small islands. Our last stop was at those famous limestone mountains that drop down into the Andaman sea. Rope ladders hung down, allowing swimmers a chance at scaling the rock without a harness. John, Ben and I climbed as high as we could before leaping off into the water in a series of bombs and belly-flops. We headed back and heard on the bus to Bangkok that Margret Thatcher had just died. This really has been one of the best days of my life.



On arriving in Hua Longpon Station in Bangkok, we found there were only 3^rd class train tickets to Ubon (and that I’d left my wallet on the bus). So we spent 12hours in the sweltering carriages with vendors passing through every 5 minutes selling everything from Cowphad krapow gai (sweet basil rice with chicken) to hammocks. By the time we had reached Ubon, the book I’d been reading was covered in ash from the smoke of burning crops blowing through the window. We all piled into a taxi/pickup truck and headed to the Sunee Grand. Ben and I acted as tour guides pointing out the sights like the Tung Si Mung and the infamous Bua. It felt good to be back in our home city where everything is so familiar and more welcoming than the tourist traps down south.

Our day out was fully planned and paid for by Pra Yang who’d hired a mini bus to take us around. First stop was our dusty house and everyone took turns in screwing their faces at our disgusting squatter (whilst I sorted my bank stuff out). Next we visited the Phana monkey sanctuary and had most of our bananas thieved by the biggest one. The Pra Yang tour took us to a monestary with a collection of odds and ends from the past 5 centuries. Relics included a windup gramophone, swords that we could play with and coins dating back 200 years. The day ended in Ubon at a Vietnamese restaurant where Pi Ying met us. Vietnamese food, by the way, is amazing and I recommend it to anyone who hasn’t tried it. Despite the dry heat in Isaan, I was pleased that my family had seen what I consider real Thailand and were treated to the famous Pra Yang hospitality that has earned her the name ‘khun Mare.’ The next day we said our goodbyes and boarded the 18hour bus to Chaing Mai for Thai New Year: Songkran.



Read almost any travel book and you will be told Chaing Mai is THE place for Songkran. Most of these books also describe it as one giant water fight. On the outset this is true: every street is lined with people armed with water guns and buckets ready to drench all and any passer-by. Yet Songkran in Chaing mai is less a water fight, more an anarchy of water throwing (with my dripping wet parent caught in the middle of it all). I re-joined Claire and, arming ourselves with super soakers, missioned to Tha Pae gate to rescue the parents. We all dined on steak sarnies at UN bar before departing to enter the fray once again.

The next few days were spent catching up with Claire, avoiding ice-water buckets and enjoying my last few days with the family. Tha Pae gate has two stages owned by Air Asia and Coca Cola which blast out both house and water into a throng of drenched merrymakers. Either side of the Coca Cola stage are two gigantic foam machines. At one point while Charlie and I waded our way into the foam cloud something unknown knocked against my leg. Suddenly a frothy monster, that must have been a small child once, burst out and disappeared into the crowds. Later on we drifted down a side street where two Thai girls gyrated on-top of tables outside a bar whilst the baying mob sprayed them and themselves. One white girl threw a bucket over both of us then stood there, arms and legs spread, waiting for us to shower her. As I said, less water fight more mayhem.

By day 4 I was wondering how I had spent 1,100 baht on water guns and saying my goodbyes to the family who were heading homeward. Knowing I too would be home soon made it sadder to say goodbye, (especially to John who I’d missed a lot over here), then back in August when all was still new. Yet later that night, as we walked past the moat where a man paddled around picking up dead fish, (Thailand’s a strange place), I thought about the plans for the next part of our travels. Plans to see the hippy town of Pai, to travel around Kanchanaburi by moped and tour the Islands one last time. This made me realise that just because the end is nigh doesn’t mean it has already arrived. Come on Thailand, let’s be having you!

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