All Syl's planning kicked into gear early Friday morning. Matt and Sam rose at sparrow's to board Singapore Airlines to Bangkok via Singapore. Rich slipped into Sydney from Melbourne and we rendezvoused at the Chairman's Lounge after waking Mark at the 'yes there are two 5 o'clocks!' for the haul into Sydney.
I will neither confirm nor deny the gluttonous rumour that I had three breakfasts. Thank you, Neil Perry.
After some post prandial duty free shopping, where I concluded that I must have an eye wateringly elegant Harman Kardon Bluetooth speaker ( and to Syl I say, want and need are distinct, equally valid drivers), we were away.
The nine hour flight on Qantas was pleasant and uneventful. We all watched too many movies, dozed and gave thanks that we had no responsibility for the screaming baby in row 24.
Clearing Bangkok immigration and scooping up our bags was quick and easy. We were soon hooked up with Matt and Sam in the arrival hall crush, where a friendly resort staffer snaffled us and we followed in a conga line of cases to the minibus. Cold water and towels awaited and the 3 hour haul down to Hua Hin began.
It's a bit of a Hunter Thompsonesque blur, but there was the Bangkok skyline, morphing into mountains in a spectacular sunset, a three lane highway, four if you count the slip lane, which the Thais most definitely do, bumper to bumper trucks, cars, bikes bikes bikes, neon everywhere. At one point, a ragged fleet of hotted up Honda Jazz and Toyota Yaris hoons blatted their way madly through the chaos, backfiring like hand grenades and were gone.
We arrived after dark to our resort hotel on the beach, tired, hungry and slightly spaced out. We were whisked away to the club lounge, slipped a welcome drink and escorted to our rooms. We are sharing the hotel with a few hundred bejewelled, sari sashed Australian Indians, here for a wedding, who totter along the halls like extras in a Bollywood extravaganza looking for the set, but that's for another blog.
Syl, Matt and Sam a blur to bed.
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