Koh Samed in the distance

 Laem Mae Phim

This trip starts in Laem Mae Phim, a small fishing town in Rayong province, about 200 Km south east of Bangkok. To call it a ‘town’ is hardly deserved; Laem Mae Phim is simply a coastal strip with a beach and restaurants on the south side and some hotels on the north side. This is still a piece of undiscovered Thailand – at least for foreigners, or ‘farangs’ as they are called here – which is set to develop at a fast pace in the years to come. The farangs that do hang out here are mainly Swedes, looking for some sun and tranquility. Yet if the fast growing number of new hotels and condominiums is any indication, this peacefulness will rapidly disappear in the near future. But as of now, those looking for the famous Thai nightlife will find little of interest to them in this beach town.

Fishing boats on Laem Mae Phim beach

Laem Mae Phim is situated about 25 Km east of Ban Phe, a town that will be more familiar to farangs as most boats to Koh Samed depart from there. Road number 3145 runs along the coast between Laem Mae Phim and Ban Phe, with magnificent views of the Gulf of Thailand and Koh Samed. There is a wide hard shoulder on this road used by slower traffic, such as scooters and foodcarts, which gives a relative feeling of safety when riding on it. I use the word ‘relative’ on purpose as there is no greater waste of white paint than road markings on Thai roads. At least on a road bike it is acceptable to be wearing brightly colored lycra clothing, so at least make sure you are visible to other traffic!

In Laem Mae Phim one can arrange for cheap accommodation at independent hotels such as Villa Bali and Tamarind Resort. Both resorts offer a small private bungalow for anywhere between 1,000 – 2,000 baht. Those with bigger budgets should check out the X2 Rayong Resort. This weekend we check in at the Tamarind Resort which is managed by friendly Tom and his wife, for around 1,500 baht per night.

Road along Laem Mae Phim beach

Undiscovered Thailand

At 7 am, after an early breakfast, we ride west towards Ban Phe. The beach is on our left hand side, and some fishermen are preparing this morning’s catch for sale. Traffic is very sparse, and we see monks from nearby temples collecting alms from local villagers. After a few Km the road turns a bit inland and the scenery is getting greener. We ride past weather-beaten road signs pointing the way to deserted beaches, past fruit vendors, temples, hotels and small convenience shops. Tourism has not yet left its traces here…this really is undiscovered Thailand!

A small truck, loaded top, bottom, left, right and center with inflated airbeds and toys is driving in the opposite direction towards the beach. As the windscreens are covered with product we can’t see the driver, yet we do catch a glimpse of a cigarette holding hand poking through the inflated toys. We wonder how the driver is able to see at all.

The many street dogs don’t really bother us, and we have a very effective weapon against the more aggressive species: a firm well aimed squeeze in the water bottle usually takes care of business. After 10 Km we pass the brand new Pupphatara condominium rises, situated next to a Marriott hotel under construction. After another 2 Km we pass an older Novotel, the first big chain hotel along this road.

The road now turns back to the coast and we see the sun being reflected in the water of the Gulf of Thailand. After passing another new condominium and villa project, Oriental Beach, we ride through a small town where as long as we can remember an old rusty car is parked by the side of the road. The model looks to be at least 40 years old. We notice the tempting smell of charcoal grilled chicken.

Beautiful view of Koh Samed

Fish market

Not much further we join the coast again at Suan Son Beach. This is a beautiful tree-lined road with lush vegetation running parallel to the long beach. Whilst riding under the trees we have a beautiful view of Koh Samed in the distance. There are many small restaurants and bars along this beach. The beach is not the most beautiful or the cleanest beach in Thailand yet its undeveloped and rough character is appealing somehow.

We approach a busy fish market at 35 Km/hr and now we really need to hit the brakes. Thai usually don’t look for other traffic when crossing a road, and certainly not when there is food at stake. Those that do have trouble estimating the speed of a road bike. We ride a little further on the tree lined road and about 45 minutes after leaving LMP we enter the town of Ban Phe.

Disco bus

Ban Phe

Although Ban Phe is effectively a small and friendly coastal town, after the tranquil 25 Km behind us it now feels as if we ride into a metropolis. We see travelers in transit, minivans, (disco) buses, souvenir shops, markets and even a real Tesco Lotus supermarket. This all causes the relatively heavy traffic to move in all kinds of unpredictable directions, everybody seems to have a different final destination. English signs near restaurants, hotels and bars are the silent witnesses of the presence of farangs here, who are often in transit going to or returning from Koh Samed. We ride through the town as fast as we can, stared at by scooter taxi drivers that quite likely ask themselves why ‘rich’ farangs like us choose to ride a bike, the typical poor man’s means of transport here. 

Rest stop: pai nai?

A rest stop or any other interaction with the local Thai gives great but by now predictable conversations. The guaranteed first question is ‘pai nai?’ which translates into ‘where are you going?’ When, in simple Thai, we share our route of just under 100 Km, we are stared at in utter disbelief. Another tough sell here is explaining that we will finish at the same point where we started. ‘Thamaai?’ or ‘why, what’s the point?’. We try ‘okkamlangkaai’, ‘exercise’ but a resolute shaking of the head signals a total lack of understanding of what these crazy farangs are up to.

Checking out our bikes

Next, the bikes are subjected to some thorough research, which always starts with the bravest Thai feeling the tires. These must be pumped up a lot harder than expected, because usually other bystanders are invited to really squeeze those tires, accompanied with loud expressions of surprise. The next guaranteed course of action is lifting the bike. This too gives an unexpected result, although most Thai are familiar with ‘carbooooon fibuuuuuuur’ material, with that typical charming Thai emphasis on the last syllable.

'Hey, come check this out!'

After everyone finished lifting the bikes, it is time for the ultimate question that must have been on everybody’s mind. ‘Taorai?’ or ‘what does it cost?’. This is always a difficult moment. Should we give them the real price of the bike, an unimaginable sum of money for the average Thai onlooker which would confirm all prejudices against ‘rich’ farangs, or should we go really low and run the risk of disappointing them? Knowing that in the end it will all be compared to the price of a scooter, we decide to go middle of the road here. ‘Muen gan motosai’, ‘the same as a scooter’ it is then. ‘Peng mak!’, ‘very expensive!’, is the immediate reply. Those crazy farangs. They spent such a fortune on a bicycle, and for that same money they could have been riding a brand new scooter.

Mae Rumphueng

And further we go. We now ride over a small hill that is a natural divider between Ban Phe and the next coastal strip Mae Rumphueng. Nothing to worry about here, it is only a small incline of around 6% – we change gears and soon we leave the hill behind us. With a sharp right turn we enter the 10 Km long road along Mae Rumphueng beach. The sea here is known for its strong undercurrents; people drown here quite regularly. 

Mae Rumphueng

We ride past unfinished buildings and half empty condominiums, the sad remains of the Asian financial crisis in 1997. This coastal area looks rather desolate, and it is referred to as the ‘Gaza strip’ by a befriended restaurant owner in Laem Mae Phim. For around 600,000 Baht you can call yourself the owner of a small beachfront condominium here. On this strip we have seen quite a bit of development lately, just like with the rest of the Rayong coast. So who knows if that cheap condo will turn out to be a great investment.

Towards the end of the beach road we take a sharp right turn, past the local weather station, and we head north towards main road number 3 that connects the cities of Rayong and Chanthaburi. When we reach the town of Taphong we can turn left towards Rayong, just another 8 Km. As traffic on the road into Rayong is quite heavy today we decide to turn around instead and repeat the ride in opposite direction. Laem Mae Phim, our home base, is situated 42 Km to the east. That is 42 Km with headwinds from here!

Today I am lucky as I am passed by 2 ladies on a scooter doing around 45 Km/hr. I speed up, get right behind them and for a few Km I make a nice positive contribution to my average speed for that day. The girls think it is hilarious that I am able to keep up with them, and of course they also want to know where I am going: ‘pai nai’? Unfortunately they turn off the road not much later (careful: Thai brake before indicating, if they indicate at all) and I am facing the headwinds in full force once more. In Ban Phe we stop at the pier for a quick coffee, and about 3 hours and 85 Km later we ride back into Laem Mae Phim where we finish the ride with a little sprint.

Rest and relaxation

The rest of the day is spent with a Thai massage, a lunch on the beach with fresh seafood, a little swimming and some reading. In the evening Laem Mae Phim is rather quiet, but there are enough restaurants and little bars to still have a good time. Apart from excellent Thai seafood there are quite a few other options. Our favorite is the small Italian restaurant La Capanna, where Marco serves the best pizza in Thailand. Sausage and sauerkraut lovers can visit Tequila Garden. If your idea of fun is sipping cocktails on a deck overlooking the sea, then the Phish Café should be on your ‘must do’ list. It’s a beautiful teak wood bar with great staff!

Sunset at Laem Mae Phim

If you really want to party all out, then head to a nightclub in the city of Klaeng, 16 Km north of Laem Mae Phim, where without doubt you will be the only farang visitor. In the other direction, go around 15 Km towards Ban Phe, and you will find a typical Thai country style karaoke bar named ‘Sabai Sabai’. There is a serious party here every night; don’t miss out on watching the local lady boy brigade dance to Thai tunes. We’re going to skip on all this and have an early night though…tomorrow morning is the next cycling ‘stage’! 

I’ve moved half way across the globe, from a sleepy rural village in the west of England to the buzzing city of Chiang Mai in Northern Thailand in order to eat better. I haven’t been disappointed.

I remember the food writer and TV celebrity chef Jamie Oliver saying that he dreams about herbs. Surprisingly it is the only sensible and normal sounding thing I have ever heard him say. It’s not unusual for me to spend days or weeks thinking, and dreaming about particular recipes or food, although I haven’t yet dreamed about herbs…I’m sure though it’s only a matter of time.

The foods available in Northern Thailand must rank amongst the most interesting and amazing in the world. There are influences from everywhere in Asia including China and India and the fragrant dishes of Malaysia, Indonesia, Lao, Vietnam and Southern Thailand (the old Siam). It’s a giddy mixture and a life’s work to get to know and understand them all…but I’m prepared to give it a go.

One of the biggest differences between shopping in the UK compared with Chiang Mai is the strong market culture. There are excellent fresh markets throughout this whole region that sell the freshest and bestest food anywhere on the planet. Huge piles of mangoes, cabbages, chilies, coriander, strawberries, jack fruit, limes, bananas (five different kinds), lemon grass and every other fruit or vegetable you can think of, fill the buzzing markets. There are times down at my local market when you literally can’t get in…it’s absolutely packed with hungry shoppers buying their dinner on their way home (Tescos eat your heart out).  

The part of the market that I go to first is the rice section. Back in the UK rice is just something you buy and cook and don’t think a great deal about. Bang it in the microwave and it’s done in 2 minutes. In Chiang Mai rice is a revered commodity. There are endless types of rice available for sale, either piled high in big sacks, or already cooked in big steaming vats. My favorite and probably the most popular in this part of Chiang Mai is locally grown sticky rice. I had sticky rice once in London in a Thai restaurant and quickly wished I hadn’t. It was a bit like eating glue. The sticky rice here is completely different; it’s warm and soft…more like fluffy mashed potato than rice. It’s the kind of food that will always be eaten because, like mashed potatoes, it is so damn good.

Once I have my warm sticky rice I start to look for something to go with it.  There are different ways I can go from here. Either I could try some Thai soups or curries and dip the rice straight into it, or invest in a tiny pot of spicy dry chili sauce called “Nam Prik Ta Dem” which is popular all over Thailand made out of dark red dried chilis and salted fish. Some people do eat the rice and the dry sauce as a meal in itself…it’s the cheapest complete meal available at most markets that will set you back just 8 Baht (or one third of a Mars Bar using the International Confectionary Conversion table).

If though, I have a few baht left over, which I usually do, (unless I’m in the mood for two thirds of a Mars Bar) I usually think about getting something from the grilled section. Chiang Mai sausages are excellent and famous throughout Thailand, and the rest of the world if I had my way. There are also grilled fish which range from the excellent and locally farmed Catfish to the expensive Snake Head Fish with soft flaky flesh. There is also roast chicken, or honey marinated pork satay, or deep fried vegetable tempura,  or mini kebabs of roast garlic and red shallots or fresh water crab pate, or whole grilled squid with sharp and sour fresh lime sauce, or fried quails eggs, or crispy duck or any one of the most delicious and unusual foods in the world.

Today, when it’s market time I’m heading for the fresh fish and seafood section at the back of the market and I’m going to buy myself a big bag full of giant Tiger Prawns and perhaps some Soft Shell Crabs. I’ll then pop round to the fresh herb section and pick out some big bunches of Coriander, Lemon Grass, Basil and Spring Onions. I can’t wait to get cooking with all these fresh flavors.

If Jamie Oliver shopped down at my local market he’d find it difficult to work out the difference between when he was dreaming about herbs and wide awake!

Enjoy your food.

Hang on to your hats, one way round no bumping…here we go. This is a whistle stop food tour for the serious food lover around the magical jungle city of Chiang Mai, Thailand. Not for the faint hearted.    

Our day starts early with fresh brewed local coffee at my good friend Khun Sonthaya’s Coffee House. Now this might not sound too impressive, but good coffee is not that easy to find in a city strangely obsessed with instant Nescafe and condensed milk. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a big “condensed milk with everything” fan but first thing in the morning it doesn’t really cut the mustard, does it. Not for the likes of you or I anyway.

Khun Sonthaya only buys top class local coffee beans from a small company called HillKoff who grow their coffee on the humid mountain sides just outside of Chiang Mai. You can, as a special treat, ask Khun Sonthaya for the special Civet Poo Coffee that is now being locally produced by a small organic organisation up in the mountains. Let me explain.

At night wild Civets (a notoriously shy and illusive cat like mammal) emerge from their day time hidy holes to creep through the jungle feeding on whatever they can find…notably the freshest and ripest coffee beans which they are most partial to (apparently). As the coffee bean passes through their gut, acids remove the outer layer of the bean which gives the coffee a strong but smooth taste (I did say not for the faint hearted). In the morning a small team of poo hunters comb the mountain side for Civet poo in order to process it into tiny amounts of rare tasting coffee. The price as you can imagine is horrendous. In America it sells for between $35 and $50 dollars per cup.

After coffee, Khun Sonthaya will join us for the rest of our food tour. We’re all off to Ching Choo Chai breakfast restaurant on the outskirts of Chiang Mai. Don’t try to find it by yourself…you won’t. It’s out of town and in an odd location off the ring road. It’s a real “locals only” place frequented by everyone from traffic cops to bank managers. There’s no menu, no hanging about and no disappointment; it serves the best breakfast you will find anywhere in the world (and God knows I’ve looked hard). You have a choice of 3 things; pork and rice, pork ball soup and rice porridge with (you guessed it) pork. I’m going to treat you to pork and rice (Cow Ca Moo). The pork is braised for hours and is so tender it does actually feel like it melts in your mouth. The rice is local jasmine rice that is served with the cooking juices of the pork. To off set the smoothness of the pork it is served with a spoonful of home made pickled cabbage and wonderfully hot spicy red chilli sauce.

Apart from serving the best breakfast in the world Ching Choo Chai’s prices are fairly competitive. To eat breakfast here with me and Sonthaya it will set you back less than the price of a Mars Bar in the 7 Eleven. So, breakfasts on me. I am the last of the big spenders!

Okay, ready for lunch? We’ll warm up by stopping off at the side of the road to buy a massive bunch of fresh Lychees. We’ll munch our way through as we speed off in my old diesel truck to a lunch restaurant called “that Northern Thai chicken place next to the moat”. Every lunch time they roast hundreds of chickens on big outdoor grills made from old oil drums. We’ll order a couple of plump golden good’uns and some hot and sweet red chilli dipping sauce. As a special treat…just because you’re with us today I’ll treat you to what is literally translated as a “Pork Shower”. Great name isn’t it. It is a type of ground pork salad mined with spicy chillies and freshened with chopped coriander and mint. It’s a great accompaniment to anything. We’ll wash all of this down with iced lemon tea and some of their home made coconut ice cream.

Now then, lets have a walk along the tree lined moat to work up a proper appetite…the leafyness and coolness of which always, and rather romantically, reminds me of  Paris (sorry but it really does). To take our minds of Paris I’ll treat you to some mango and sticky rice as we walk along.

Finally, as the day is drawing to an end and the sun is slipping behind the ever present Suthep Mountain we’ll set off, back out of town to my favourite fish and sea food restaurant locally known as “That fish and sea food restaurant out of town”. It’s a big operation and incredibly popular with Thai families. It starts to fill up from 5pm onwards and is staffed by an incredibly efficient army of waiting staff. We’ll get a table over the big central pond near the fountain so the afternoon air is cool and fresh. Our smiling waitress won’t leave until we have ordered everything we want, so nobody gets left behind. We’ll let Khun Sonthaya order as it’ll be quicker. I’ll put in a request for both of us, what about; a whole Pomfret fish steamed with ginger, shallots and lime, stir fried spinney crab, a few oyster omelettes (just because they are so good), some rice and a spicy papaya salad, all washed down with a big iced jug of beer.

We’ll sit out late under the stars in the moonlit shadow of the mountains listening to the distant and strange whirring noise of the Nightjars watching the owls swoop down from the forests and the bats flitting about the street lights. We’ll relax and talk about food, maybe order a couple of Thai whiskies and think about where we should eat tomorrow. Or shall we just do it all the same again.?

Of all the cold beer joints in all the party towns in the world, we walked into Patong, Phuket, which is like (eternal spring break + extrovert full moon) x go-go bars + (souvenir peddlers)². Yes, Patong can get formulaic – fresh, colorful seafood unfurling down the strip as waiters urge you to come to their restaurant, go-go glamor pusses vaulting around poles vying for your attention, the bombastic blare of Muay Thai promoter pick-up trucks, and trinkets, trinkets, trinkets being hustled at you from all directions. That’s Patong to me, a garish, cheesy postcard, except that it’s alive, larger than life. It’s not even worth writing home about.

While dodging SCUBA dive touts and fake Rolex peddlers, I happened to turn my head to the west, and saw this. What a relief from the neon, disco balls and headlights on the other side! I weaved through a sea of tuk-tuks and rushed down to the beach, to erase the sights of Patong from my mind and inceptionize this nature-sent seascape into my consciousness.

Because it’s scenes like this that blow the postcards out of the Gulf of Thailand.

The Gulf of Thailand, off Patong Beach, Phuket.

You may think the idea of having 5 different types of bananas to choose from is entirely normal. But, I can assure you that if you had grown up on the outskirts of London in the 1970s were it was unusual to buy fruit at all (unless someone was ill) you would also share my amazement. 

When we were kids a sign of extravagance was to have a bowl of fruit on the sideboard. At Christmas it was joined by a small bowl of walnuts. There were only ever 3 kinds of fruit in the bowl, apples, oranges and bananas. The apples were soft, the oranges bitter but the bananas were at least a bland non offensive alternative. They usually disappeared first, then the apples and the oranges were sometimes left untouched and alarmingly none the worse for several years.

How can it be that you can get to 40 something years old and not realize there are varieties of banana. You would think that someone might tell you along the way, in the same way that you get to realize that the moon is not really made from cheese or the school nurse tells every boy their eyesight is so good they could be a fighter pilot (I was eighteen when an optician nearly killed himself laughing).

When I moved to Chiang Mai I basically thought that bananas were bananas. I had some vague idea that I had seen tiny, miniature bananas in Harrods or somewhere posh like that, which cost about a million pounds, but just assumed they were some weird affectation of the rich and famous (“Jeeves….make my bananas smaller!”). It is therefore with childlike delight that I can walk down the road any time and peruse several varieties of banana in my local market.

At the moment the market looks like a banana festival on Planet Banana. There are tables full of bananas of every shape, size and hue of yellow. I love the tiny finger sized ones that come in enormous bunches of up to 20 fruit. What I particularly like is the fact that you get so much for only 20 Thai Baht and when you eat them you feel like a giant. The flesh of these tiny fun sized bananas is a pleasing dark yellow. As different to the white anemic tasteless things we grew up eating as you could possibly get.

The fact that they are so wonderfully small and good to eat really does get me. Imagine being able to eat little water melons or growing tiny little juicy apples on little fairy trees. Moving to Thailand must be as close as you can get to moving to a different universe.

Although the tiny bananas are a knock out they do not have as good a taste as the big traditional looking fellows. My Thai friend told me that the literal translation for this type of banana is “good smell” which is certainly well placed. When you peel them they are beautifully fragrant which makes them irresistible. Although the flesh is whiter than the small ones they are creamier in taste and not as grainy and seem to command much higher prices.

In between these 2 extremes there are what I call “everyday bananas”. I get the feeling that people don’t really like them, that they are a bit common, which suits me fine. They are certainly the cheapest, I can get a big bunch for just 10 Baht or even 5 Baht if they won’t keep too long. They tend to be fairly straight and modest in size. The last bunch that I bought had hard black seeds inside like lead shot. It was the first ever time I’ve eaten a banana that has got pips. Will the wonders of Thailand never cease?

I have a strange affliction whereby I will almost certainly cycle down to the market this evening completely certain that I don’t need to buy any more bananas only to return with another huge bunch feeling strangely proud. My children are beginning to develop a pale yellow tinge although luckily for me the novelty of banana sandwiches has yet to wear thin. Perhaps I’ll buy just one more bunch.

The little-known story of an intrepid Second World War rescue operation out of Burma by a British tea-planter dubbed ‘The Elephant Man’ recently made international headlines

The life-saving elephant trek (by Gyles Mackrell)

Visitors to Southeast Asia often go trekking on elephantback—notably in the Golden Triangle region, straddling the Northern Thai, Myanmar and Laotian borders. Such outings often take in visits to hill-tribe refugee camps before participants make their return-leg ride back to base-camp via a raft or oversized inflatable inner tube. This kind of organized tourist jungle jaunt is so consistently popular it has become an established backpacker rite of passage. Most punters are unaware, however, that such expeditions have a venerable, historic heritage.

“It’s a remarkable story of courage, spirit and ingenuity,” said Dr. Annamaria Motrescu of Cambridge University Centre of South Asian Studies. Moreover, the escapade “took place at a time when no one was sure what the consequences of the war in the Far East would be.”

The mission in question was executed back in 1942 by a British tea-planter named Gyles Mackrell—dubbed by the press of the time as “The Elephant Man.” It saw the colonial-era trader braving torrential monsoon floods on elephantback in order to rescue hundreds of refugees from starvation. The episode played out amid the chaotic British retreat from Burma, while Japanese forces plundered a brutal advance in South and Southeast Asia.

Researchers are piecing together the unlikely tale of derring-do via Mackrell’s personal cache of letters, diaries and amateur films shot during the expedition, bequeathed to the Centre of South Asian Studies by Mackrell’s niece.

“The story is a sort of Far Eastern Dunkirk, but it has largely been forgotten since the war,” said Dr. Kevin Greenbank, archivist at the centre. “Without the help of Mackrell and others like him, hundreds of people fleeing the Japanese advance would quite simply never have made it.”

Born in 1889, Gyles Mackrell had spent most of his life in the northeastern Indian state of Assam, where he was an area supervisor for tea exporters, Steel Brothers. He was 53 when the Japanese mounted an initially devastating assault on British-held Burma in January 1942. By March, the Burmese capital of Rangoon was evacuating; in April, the army was beating a full retreat.

Tens of thousands of people—many of whom were wounded, sick and starving—fled on foot, trekking hundreds of miles through thick jungle towards the safety of the Indian border. Those who did not die en route and made it to the border in May then faced flooded narrow river passes dividing the two countries. Some groups of refugees consequently forced to camp out on the riverbanks stayed alive on food supplies airdropped by the British Royal Air Force (RAF). Other, less fortunate exiles had to subsist on fern fronds.

Mackrell knew the jungle and fluently spoke the dialects of local hill-tribes. Crucially, his work also granted him access to pachyderms—apparently the only reliable means of crossing the monsoon-flooded rivers.

“I promised to collect some elephants and move off as quickly as I could,” he wrote in his diary, after receiving an S.O.S. on June 4 from a group of refugees who had managed to cross the Dapha River by making a human chain.

In a series of epic forced marches, Mackrell reached the Dapha by June 9. He sighted a group of 68 soldiers

Route taken by Mackerell (hardly the better-known "Elephant Man")

trapped on an island mid-river. The films Mackrell shot show elephants tusk-deep in torrential rapids, struggling to make progress downriver. But when the waters fell briefly in the early morning hours, a window opened in which the soldiers were evacuated.

In the following weeks, Mackrell and his colleagues set up camp on the Dapha to help across a stream of refugees. His rescue party were themselves frequently short of supplies and fever-stricken; at one stage Mackrell himself had to go back to Assam to recuperate, before returning to the Dapha upon his recovery.

The dramatic operations had saved around 200 people by the time they ceased in September 1942. Mackrell even rescued the final group of refugees against the orders of the British government, who, acting on faulty intelligence, had ordered his party to relocate.

The archive features a note by Sir R. E. Knox, from the Treasury’s Honours Committee in London, noting the risk of death Mackrell faced during the evacuation “could be put, very roughly, at George Medal: 50% to 80%.” Indeed, Mackrell eventually received the George Medal. He was briefly celebrated as “The Elephant Man” in the British press in 1942—though “Mackrell was embarrassed by the attention he received,” according to Dr. Motrescu.

However, as the war progressed, his exploits became a forgotten historical footnote. He died in retirement in Suffolk in 1959. A short film chronicling the epic rescue mission using Mackrell’s footage is online at Cambridge University’s YouTube channel.

Considered the most charming of all Thai festivals, Loy Krathong offers beauty, romance and renewal. But what exactly is the event, how did it start—and where should travelers experience the celebrations?

Keeping charming traditions afloat: Loy Krathong

“It takes an endless amount of history to make even a little tradition.”—Henry James

Thailand loves festivals. Its relish for pageantry made it the world’s fifth-largest festival hotspot in 2008, according to Euromonitor International. And tied to national identity—therefore deserving its “sa-ngob (serenity) description”—Loy Krathong is probably the kingdom’s most charming celebration.

While the West generally associates full moons with sinister werewolf transformations and the like, the East sees its brightest nights as auspicious. The full moon of the twelfth lunar month signifies the end of Thailand’s main rice harvest. It is time to thank the Water Goddess Mae Nam Kongka (Mother Ganges) for her year’s supply—while symbolically setting misfortune adrift. This period of renewal sees couples wholeheartedly embrace romance.

FESTIVE FORM

Loy means “float,” while krathong refers to the trademark lotus-shaped receptacles that are floated in riverways and even at beaches across the country. These days, individuals, villages or provinces enter floats of myriad shapes and sizes—even motorized models—for competition. They all end up stocked with offerings of betel nuts, flowers, joss sticks, candles and coins then ritually launched onto canals, rivers and lakes nationwide. For couples, it can be an anxious time wondering if their respective floats will snuggle together or drift apart.

The magic, mystique and romance of Loy Krathong

Supplementary activities depend on the location. Any combination of processions, musicians, and marching bands, dancers, costumed theatrics and fireworks may accompany proceedings. Most Thai festivals feature beauty-pageant face-offs in honor of Nang Noppamas, allegedly a 14th-century lovely who pioneered the event.

DISPUTED ORIGINS

Some claim the festival derives from a Hindu tribute to the Vishnu. Others, including Thai King Rama IV (writing in 1863), base it on the Brahman Deepavalee ritual. Thailand’s official version teaches that royal consort Noppamas pioneered the krathong for the King of Sukhothai 700 years ago.

However, in The Great ‘Loy Krathong’ Myth! (2007) Stephen Cleary argues that the “legend” was invented by the Department of Fine Arts for an 1850’s novel. The available evidence suggests Loy Krathong descended from Cambodia’s Loy Khom (Float the Lantern)” festival in the mid-eighteenth-century Ayutthaya era.

WHERE: SUKHOTHAI… Hailing heritage

Celebrations in the original Thai kingdom hark back to its glory days

The first Thai kingdom is where Loy Krathong supposedly originated. Thais accordingly consider the World Heritage-listed Sukhothai Historical Park the most significant location for Loy Krathong. They really go to town with a spectacular light and sound show following a procession of oversized krathong from 17 Northern provinces. Locals also reprise bygone folk dancing and costumed theatrics to evoke Sukhothai’s renowned cultural traditions.

WHERE: BANGKOK… Avoid the melee

The metropolis only affords a single day to Loy Krathong, compared with five days elsewhere. Human traffic overcrowding the capital’s canals and riversides can spoil the fun. Santi Chai Prakarn public park and the Chao Phraya River from Krungthep Bridge to Krungthon Bridge resemble rush hour on New Year’s Eve. Lumpini Park offers more sedate going (disregarding kids swimming out to retrieve coins from the floats). To guarantee avoiding the crush, however, any of the five-star riverside resorts conduct civilized festivities—though you will have to pay for the honor.

WHERE: CHIANG MAI… Raising lanterns

Yi Peng festival "khom loi" lanterns create magic in Chiang Mai

Chiang Mai offers double the festival fun. Loy Krathong blends into the local Yi Peng revelry. The latter sends negativity skyward in Lanna-style khom loi lanterns. The sight of hundreds of fluorescent, jellyfish-like lamps gracefully floating overhead creates a magical atmosphere. Added to illuminated waterways, buildings, trees and gardens citywide, this makes the historic city a real crowd-puller during the festivals.

WHERE: MALAYSIA: Cross-border appeal…

Loy Krathong celebrations cross Thailand’s southern border to Kelantan in Malaysia, where celebrations focus in the Tumpat area. The festival reportedly draws lots of tourists, so is generously promoted by the ministry of tourism.

Eco-grumble: Foam krathong harm the environment, so natural materials are preferable. Eco-responsible revelers increasingly head for small canals, even swimming pools, to avoid polluting rivers.

In Bangkok: November 21, 2010; nationwide: November 17–21, 2010

As regular readers of these articles know, I like to spend as much time as possible at Northern Thai food markets. They are unquestionably the best in the world, or so I reckon. The range and quality of foods on offer is unsurpassed. Mountains of golden mangoes, water melons, dainty pots of fresh water crab pate, grilled catfish and huge bundles of bright green asparagus all jostle for space amongst a never ending sea of shoppers and hawkers.  

It’s tempting to tell you all the wonders of my local market but I fear that in my excitement I would ramble on for several hours if not days and forget why I started writing this in the first place, which is……setting the record straight on the mighty Thai Avocado.

Over the last 50 years agriculture in Thailand has undergone a huge revolution, largely, as far as I can work out, as a direct result from the incredible energy and vision of the King. Impoverished farming communities have been re-invigorated by impressive “Royal Projects” that grow and produce a wide range of unusual and organic foods; the Water Buffalo Mozzarella Cheese is particularly good, so too is the Smoked Rainbow Trout, the continental looking jars of Apricots In Brine, organic strawberry jam and the range of fresh fruit concentrates, my favourite being the earthy and salty Apricot (I’ve started to ramble). But one fruit, (or is it a vegetable) stands out in the markets, at the moment, as head and shoulders above the rest, and that is the mighty Thai Avocado.

I use the word “mighty” not as an exaggerated way to talk up this recent South American addition to the ever expanding Thai fruit and veg extravaganza, but as a way to describe accurately its massive size. I have never seen avocados this big in my life; they are the size of footballs. Had it not been for the fact that the word “avocado” is almost the same in Thai I really would have struggled to work out what it was (“Khun Alex want Awacaado”? Oh yes, Khun Alex certainly does).

The thing about them is not the size, although they really are whoppers, but the taste. Admittedly the super size ones have a more watery taste but the slightly smaller ones are unbelievably good with a super rich nutty flavour and a beautiful creamy texture.

At the moment I’m suffering from a mild case what might be called Avocado Madness. It’s a condition characterised by cycling to the market at the end of every day mumbling quietly to yourself “I wont buy any more avocados, I don’t need any more avocados…” and returning home in an elevated mood with a basket full of bright green “awacaados”. As all members of AA (Avocados Anonymous) know, it really is difficult to stop. One’s too many and a thousand is never enough. They’re so good and so cheap. I’ve made endless avocado dips which always seem quite special and remind me of Christmas, creamy coconut milk avocado curries and a wonderful pasta dish with avocados, cherry tomatoes, olive oil and basil. I’m nearing that stage where I think it’s perfectly normal to start most sentences with, “another great thing about Thai avocados is…..” and entertain the delusion that people really are interested. I think that soon I might have to detox on aubergines.

Unfortunately, and quite bizarrely, I have recently read that local home grown Thai avocados are of “inferior” quality to the imported Australian ones. As you can imagine I’m somewhat affected by this. I can only think there is some suspicious, underhand antipodeans food writing conspiracy going on. The local Thai ones are every bit as good if not vastly superior in quality and certainly in size and also of course in price than what I shall call from now on, the “New World Conspiracy Avocados”.  New world, old tricks.

So if you get a chance, wherever you are, trundle down to your local market and ask around for Thai avocados, they really are worth looking out for, especially if you’re reading this in Australia!

No, not avocados...strawberries!

Does a mysterious serpent really spew fireballs from the Mekong River every Buddhist Lent?

By Joel Quenby

'The Naga' serpent guarding Thai Buddhist temples (Main pic by Adam Baker via Flickr Creative Commons License)

The stretch of Mekong River running through sleepy Nong Khai province, 620 kilometres northeast of Bangkok, reputedly hosts Thailand’s answer to Scotland’s Loch Ness Monster. But this enigmatic Southeast Asian version—the “Naga”—supposedly spits fireballs that disappear in mid-air from his underwater lair towards the end of the region’s October rains (Buddhist Lent). Locals say the fireworks—called “bung fai paya nak (naga fireballs)”—have been rising from the mighty river for generations. Here are the main theories attempting to explain this bizarre phenomenon.

THE LEGEND
A cobra-like deity in Hindu mythology, the dragon-like Naga gets a Buddhist spin in Thailand. Legend has it that “phaya nak” raised Lord Buddha over a flood during his last pre-enlightenment meditation. The beast then welcomed his final incarnation on Earth by spitting fire skyward, at what became the end of Buddhist Lent. Similar, alleged displays of combustible breath have re-emerged beneath October full moons ever since.

(In folklore, Lord Buddha originally barred his serpentine devotee from becoming a disciple—offering a consolation prize: the Naga could guard temple entrances for eternity. This is why phaya nak coils around holy facades; streams down temple roofs; or slithers along the balustrades of northern Thai monasteries, like Chiang Mai’s Wat Phra That Doi Suthep.)

THE DINO-DESCENDENT THEORY
The Tourism Authority of Thailand (TAT) attempts to flesh out the legend, citing paleontologists on madtsoiid snakes—gigantic aquatic serpents that swum the world’s waters in the Cretaceous Period (the dinosaurs’ heyday, more than 65 million years ago). The dino-snake supposedly bore a crest resembling that of the Naga. Mirroring the hypothesis positing the Loch Ness Monster as a shy cousin of plesiosaurs, this idea suggests a dinosaur descendant could be living in the Mekong. This would make it a lazarus taxon: a species that seems to disappear from the fossil record only to reappear much later. The best known example of this is the coelacanth: a fish “rediscovered” by man off the coast of South Africa in 1938—65 million years after the species was thought to have gone extinct.

THE ‘RED HERRING’
Dive into this legend and an eye-catching photograph keeps cropping up. Often appearing on newspaper clippings or postcards, it purportedly shows a band of Vietnam War-era U.S. Servicemen stationed in the Mekong region in the 1970s straining to hoist an eight-meter silvery, eel-like fish. “Locals swear it’s genuine, and say all of the men in the photo met with messy ends,” reported Time in 2002. They presumably would not entertain the idea that the photo—of a giant oarfish found by Navy SEALs off the Pacific coast in 1996—originally featured on page 20 of the April 1997 issue of All Hands, a U.S. naval publication.

The famous, misplaced image (L) shows an oarfish. Is the "naga" a Matsoiid Snake? (2nd R)

Humans rarely encounter the oarfish species; man “discovered” its first specimen in Bermuda in 1860. Back then, the five-meter-long weirdo was described as “a sea serpent.” These days, the Guinness Book of World Records lists a subspecies of the oarfish family, dubbed “the king of herrings,” as the longest bony fish alive, at up to 17 meters long.

THE RISING GAS (OR JUST HOT AIR) THEORY
Nong Khai doctor and self-taught cosmographer Manas Kanoksin proposed his theory—the fireballs occur naturally via blobs of combustible methane bubbling up from the riverbed—almost two decades ago. In 2002, a committee appointed by Thailand’s Ministry of Science and Technology probed the riverbed with a submarine robot and monitored gas deposits for two years. The experts concurred with Dr. Manas: the “fireballs” result from the sun decomposing organic matter into flammable gases, claiming this explained the orbs’ uniform color, lack of smoke or sound, and eventual dissipation.

The TAT says, “Tracking studies have indicated that the phenomenon occurs in March to May, and September and October, when the earth is closest to the sun,” also noting, somewhat mysteriously, that the Thai Navy monitors the goings-on with “equipment installed along the riverbanks.”

The phenomenon in Thai pop culture, including 'Mekong Full Moon Party' (R)

THE MANMADE HOAX THEORY
Lonely Planet’s Joe Cummings reported accounts that “a hissing can be heard if one is close enough to where they emerge from the surface of the river.” Jason Gagliardi wrote in Time that, “To a cynic like myself, they looked indisputably manmade”—also quoting Montri Boonsaneur, a professor of geological technology at Khon Kaen University who conducted an underwater survey, as saying: “I don’t want to say the fireballs are manmade, but they’re definitely not natural.” In 2002, a Thai TV program attempted to prove the projectiles were actually tracer fire from the Laotian side of the river. The show reportedly provoked angry protests from local villagers—interestingly, on both sides of the Mekong.

THE VERDICT
“Some things are better left alone,” a 70-year-old riverbank resident called Pang told Time. “Don’t try to put the Naga to the test. He will become angry.” Perhaps clues lie within Mekong Full Moon Party—the Thai-made cinematic tribute to the fireball mystery. The film deftly balances the opposing theories, ending on a harmonious pop-spirituality note. Perhaps debate is preferable to discovery, in this case. In 2003, Lonely Planet suggested that a four-nation agreement between Thailand, China, Myanmar and Laos—to blast rapids along the Nong Khai stretch of Mekong to make the river more navigable—could eradicate “whatever subtle balance of nature has produced this mysterious event year after year.”

Try and catch the Naga Fireballs on October 23–24 at the City Pillar Shrine temple in Pon Pisai district, Nong Khai, Thailand.

Lonely Planet’s Tom Hall recently gave the UK’s Guardian newspaper his picks for the hottest tickets for young travelers looking for economical ways to navigate the region

INDONESIA: The Eastern Islands

Flying into Flores, though LP says go by boat (by Prilfish via Flickr Creative Commons License)

LONELY PLANET SAYS: “Flores is home to world-class diving, volcanic lakes and empty white-sand beaches. Start … from Bali via Komodo or Rinca on a Perama boat—you’ll pick up enough suggestions on the way to work out the rest for yourself!”

PHILIPPINES: El Nido

Volcanic beauty: El Nido (by Vanna GocaraRupa via Flickr Creative Commons License)

LONELY PLANET SAYS: “If you’re in search of stunning coastline and beaches, El Nido in northern Palawan is the place. This small, chilled-out town has plenty of amenities, but development remains slow meaning accommodation can be limited and the place never gets too busy.”

ASIA: The Andaman Islands

Not a lot in Havelot, I mean Havelock (by Kai Hendry via Flickr Creative Commons License)

LONELY PLANET SAYS: “Two and a half hours by ferry from Port Blair, the islands’ main town, Havelock, is a pretty good approximation of a backpacker paradise, with great snorkeling,  and cheap eating and lodging.”

ASIA: Bangladesh

Boating at dawn near the Bay of Bengal (By Joisey Showaa via Flickr Creative Commons License)

LONELY PLANET SAYS: “This underrated country might just be the world’s best-value country for travelers. Marvelous meals will cost less than US$1, and a midrange hotel room less than $10.”

ASIA: India’s Northeastern States

in Northeastern India (by Old Fashind via Flickr Creative Commons License)”]

Technicolor melting pot and spotting rhinos [inset

LONELY PLANET SAYS: “India’s final frontier—the “seven sister states” of Arunachal Pradesh, Assam, Meghalaya, Manipur, Mizaram, Nagaland, and Tripura—hides obscure tribal societies, forested hills and the feeling you’re breaking new ground.”