Posted by: Sam Olsen | September 29, 2012

Lost in Thailand

“It looks idyllic” beamed Aggie, as we poured over the marketing bumf for Koh Chang, a Thai island four hours east of Bangkok, and the potential destination for our mid-autumn break. “And you’re sure it’s child friendly?” we asked the travel agent. Yes, of course it is – where in Thailand isn’t?
Well, try Koh Chang. We arrived last night and were rather intrigued to discover acre upon acre of unfenced waterway criss-crossing the hotel complex. Add to that the healthy riptides on the beach a stone’s throw from the beach, and marble floors smooth and hard enough to make a hip-troubled pensioner think twice, and it is exactly the kind of place where small children thrive. All that we needed was some landmines scattered around and a crocodile or two on the lawns and we would have been truly set.

Keeping Lawrence out of imminent peril was, however, somewhat low on our list of priorities last night when we realised our suitcases were circling somewhere around the mainland. Some dimwit in Bangkok airport had forgotten to stow our bags on our connecting flight to Trat airport, the gateway to our holiday island. Having recently seen the Hangover Part II, I was tempted to comfort Aggie with the soothing words “Bangkok has them now, and she’ll never let them go” but the I’ve learnt my lesson on this: when in a crisis, witty quips from American comedy films ease the tension about as much as the cry of “Soap down!” in a prison shower complex.

So here we are, luggage-less and stuck in an advert for how not to child-proof your hotel. Luckily enough there was a minimart next to the ferry to the island which we managed to catch just before it shut, although their clothing selection was far from broad, or indeed suitable. To be fair, Aggie wouldn’t have known she didn’t suit semi-seethrough leopard print dresses until she’d worn one. My green sarong keeps coming undone – not helped by Lawrence’s tugging – but at least I managed to buy some new (ish) pants to hide my modesty. As for Junior, his sleeveless sailor suit really is something to behold. The Russians in the resort are looking at us with the shock reserved for seeing worse-dressed people than them for the first time in their lives: you know things are bad when a hairy Muscovite offers you his luminous two-tone shorts.

“At least things can’t get much worse” says Aggie. “We’ve got the biggest storm of the summer coming tonight” replied the receptionist as we checked in. Excellent.

Let’s just hope Bangkok lets our bags go soon. On the brightside, we won’t be mocking David Beckham’s dress sense anymore.


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