Our next stop after Prachuap Kiri Khan was Hua Hin, a coastal city that had been recommended to both of us. I wish I could remember who actually told me to go there because I have to tell them they’re wrong.
Apparently it used to be a quiet beach city but now it’s overrun by tourists, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but Hua Hin seems to have reacted like an opportunistic con-man. All of the things I’ve loved about Thailand are completely absent in Hua Hin. Instead of the normal street stalls selling local specialities, the streets here are lined with aggressive salesmen hawking sexy massages, over-priced lobsters and western food that resembles wet cardboard. The usual smiles and hospitably I’ve become used to doesn’t exist here – no one smiles, they all look dejected and grumpy. They probably blame all the foreigners for turning their home into an inauthentic scam.
I can’t really blame them either – most of the Westerners in Hua Hin look like total nob heads. They’re all bald, scaly tattooed Europeans hanging onto young Thai girls as if they’re stars in a romantic comedy. There were probably more of these glisteningly pink horn-dogs than regular tourists. Of course no one is going to sell cheap local food if they know there’s a queue of creepy old dudes willing to buy a steak and chips for 400baht.
What about all the genuine white-guy, thai-girl couples out there. How sad is it for them?
Alan and I had a shite dinner in Hua Hin. We didn’t want to waste any other meals in the grimy city so we promised each other we wouldn’t eat breakfast until we’d ridden out. We found a restaurant on the edge of a new town spruiking some esoteric curries in bain-maries. We were chogging into a honey-sweet pork and egg soup and a yellow catfish curry when another biker approached us.
Vin: A joyous fellow with bulgy calves and an extroverted tummy. He hates wearing shirts and eating meat, and he laughs like a prepubescent super-villain. Most of his life was spent working in university management and living as a monk. On his time off he would bike tour on his own through China, India and South East Asia. He’s recently retired and he’s looking for somewhere nice to live in the Thai mountains. Until then he’ll live like a bachelor in his sister’s luxurious beach-side apartment complex – single though ‘Girlfriends bring more love but with more love is more suffering’.
This is the view for his balconies:
The two of us just finished jiggling our knees to the instructions of a passive-aggressive instructional dvd called Yoga for Obesity. We’re just about to leave for the local markets. I hope he doesn’t mind if I chuck up on his floor because I’m already severely bloated from the barrage of food he’s provided. Since he invited Alan and I we’ve had two platters of tropical fruit, a coconutty oat porridge with corn and raisins and a weird bubble and squeak like stew with some beans he foraged in a shrub.
While we were bathing our bike bodies in the ocean he said if we rode to Bangkok he would come with us. We could just sleep in temples and eat for free with the monks in the morning. Unfortunately Alan is already on a train on his way and I’m getting one tomorrow.
I’m in central Thailand near to Bangkok. As I’ve rode North I’ve noticed the food change region to region.
The further from the South I get I’ve found –
Crispy fried fish
Fresh vegetables on the table
Dishes you find in Thai restaurants in Aus
Pork in everything
Joke (an amazing Thai congee with egg and fresh ginger)
I’m trying harder to take more photos. I am using instagram now. If want want to see more pictures of what if been eating and what I’ve been seeing – nickjordan88 is my tag.