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Sri Lankan history

Basking in the shadow of its much larger neighbour to the north, tear drop shaped Sri Lanka has a rich and turbulent history. Colonised by the Portuguese, then the Dutch, before it was taken by the British and called Ceylon, a name many of you will associate with tea,

Sri Lanka is now a very proud independent nation, becoming a republic in 1972 and it was about to become the 54th country I’ve visited. 

In the years since, the island has been ravaged by a civil war that lasted for 25 years, ending only as recently as 2009. Many thousands of lives were lost in the fighting and it is little wonder that Sri Lanka has taken time to process the trauma.

Easter Sunday Terrorist Attacks in Colombo

Further devastation was to hit in the Easter Sunday terrorist attacks in 2019, with a number of tourist hotels targetted by suicide bombers. Across the city of Colombo, Sri Lanka’s capital, 269 people lost their lives, many of them tourists staying at the Shangri-La, The Kingsbury, and the Cinnamon Grand 5 star hotels. Not aware of the history at the time, we were to visit the Cinnamon Grand for a few cold beers on the last day of our travels in Sri Lanka.

As if they hadn’t been through enough, the country suffered an economic crisis that lasted from 2019 to December 2024. Potentially triggered by the terrorist attacks and then exacerbated by the COVID19 pandemic, the crisis resulted in unprecedented levels of inflation and electricity and fuel shortages.

It seems disaster is never far away in Sri Lanka, something we were to discover for ourselves in the very first week of our travels around the island.

Holiday Tradition

Our holiday started in the traditional way, with pre-flight drinks at the airport. A newly renovated Perth International terminal. It almost feels like the airport is entering the modern era. 

Our flight from Singapore landed in Colombo at around 11.30pm and we were shattered. Travelling from Perth, through Singapore (sadly bypassing one of my favourite cities again), and onto Sri Lanka had us turning our clocks back by two and half hours. Which meant our body clocks were now wondering why we weren’t tucked up in bed.

Clearing immigration was a breeze due to completing our electronic visas before leaving Perth. All we had to do now was negotiate a very busy South Asian airport as we neared midnight. Walking through arrivals to a cacophony of sound, and way more people than I expected for this time of the evening, I was still trying to process why we had to meet our hotel pick up driver at the post office.

“Head towards the post office”, were possibly some of the strangest instructions I had received when landing at an airport in the middle of the night.

Arriving in Sri Lanka

It soon became clear that this is where everyone got told to meet their driver. Colombo airport, officially called Bandaranaike International Airport, is rather small, and as you exit the arrival hall, into the street, turning left has you at a large blue facade, which through the day operates as the post office. In fact, it looked as though it was still open with a uniformed employee sitting behind the glass screen. After a What’s App exchange using my esim and a short wait we were soon in the minivan with one other female traveller, and her surf board, for our overnight stay at Kynrock Hotel, mere minutes from the airport. As we were not visiting Colombo until the end of our travels we opted for a hotel very close to the airport rather than taking a taxi for the one hour trip into the city.

Morning broke bright and sunny with the sounds of many foreign accents. It turns out we had a very large delegation from the Indian Red Cross staying in the hotel and they do love a “good morning” greeting, so much so that the noise from the corridor, “good morning” on repeat, acted as our alarm clock. As I always travel with fresh coffee it was a well needed strong black coffee that got my engines going for the day.

First Breakfast in Sri Lanka

With a rumbling stomach, and enticing aromas wafting down the corridor, we went in search of breakfast options. Our only option turned out to be a very expensive $12 AUD (2,494 rupee) for the “Indian breakfast”. My first chicken curry of the trip and it was delicious. A side dish of daal and a spicy Sri Lankan omelette and I was all set up for a travel day. 

We had researched the many ways of travelling around the island, and for the very first day we decided to do what many do, and that is to take a taxi. The thought of a three hour taxi ride would seem ludicrous at home, it would be like getting a taxi to Margaret River, but here in Sri Lanka a lot of locals make their living through these long taxi rides.

Sri Lankan Taxis

Through the local Pick Me app, Sri Lanka’s version of Grab/Uber, we soon had a car en route to collect us. What turned up was a completely different car, and driver, to the one in the app. However, he knew who he was picking up, and knew where we were going, so I didn’t question it. This turned out to be fairly common across the country and by the end of our travels we weren’t even batting an eyelid, we just laughed.

The car that did turn up resembled a box. A very small square box. We could only just get our two bags in the boot and then we set off, both struggling to get our rear seatbelts on. After fighting with the contraption in vain for about 10 minutes it became abundantly clear that they did not in fact work. Hold on tight, this could be quite a ride.

Arriving in Sigiriya

And so it turned out. We were headed inland, to Sigiriya, and for most of the journey we were either tailgating someone with the car horn constantly pressed and competing with the music blaring from the car’s speakers, or we were overtaking into oncoming traffic. I am not the religious sort, but I did offer a silent prayer to the big man upstairs. On our travels around the world we have had some hair raising taxi rides and this was right up there with them.

Our driver could not have looked more relaxed and as we peeled ourselves out of the car, exhausted, when we arrived at our hotel in Sigiriya, all we got was a very big smile. Very little English is spoken by the locals and a smile goes a long way.

Online paints a very different picture to reality, we know this. And yet I am still surprised to turn up somewhere and wonder if we are in the right place. The hotel looked deserted and mid construction with nobody to be seen anywhere. I even walked back to the laneway and checked the sign of the hotel. Yes, this was definitely the Lankapura Heritage hotel and the sign advertised, “Luxry rooms”. It was my first indication of what travelling in Sri Lanka would be like.

First Impressions

At home, chatting through where we would be heading, we both agreed that we had no mental image of what Sri Lanka would be like. I now saw that it was very reminiscent of travelling through much of South East Asia in 1999. At first sight, nothing much to greet the weary traveller, and then, places start growing on you. Such as when a couple of men appeared from nowhere with a cold guava drink to quench our thirsts and showed us to our room.

Cold air conditioning, a kettle for my coffee, a small fridge for beer, and an outside seating area overlooking the pool with great views across to Lion’s Rock. Things were already looking up. Now time for a stroll, find some lunch, a couple of cold beers, and check out the village of Sigiriya and continue making those first impressions.

Heading South

The route started out as so familiar. Merging with the stream of traffic heading south. The sun was rising, the skies were blue, and we were looking forward to some downtime in nature. With a bit of wine thrown in, of course.

What might surprise you is that our destination wasn’t Margaret River. I know it might feel to you that this is our second home. And it kind of is. Yet, there is a destination a little closer to home that has been described by many as the new Margaret River.

Ferguson Valley

Ferguson Valley is just over two hours south of Perth. Shaving over an hour off our usual journey down south. Leaving mid morning we were sampling some of Green Door’s excellent wines. Wines that were new to me on my wine education journey. I got to discover Monastrell. At least I thought it was new. 

A little bit of research showed me that I was very familiar with the grape, just under different names. You see, Monastrell is known as Mouvedre in France, and Mataro in other wine growing regions of the world. Everyday is a school day when you are studying wine.

However, this trip wasn’t specifically to study wine. I was very happy to learn recently that I had passed my exam for the WSET Level 2 in wines. This exam is not too onerous and does give you a very good grounding in wine, wine production, and the various grapes that are grown around the world. I am still percolating on whether my future contains WSET Level 3 and beyond, which are a big step up in commitment.

Our Escape Pod at Skating Goose Farm

My commitment for this weekend was to rediscover Ferguson Valley, a place we first visited a couple of years ago. And we were staying at the same location. The adults only luxury retreat at Skating Goose Farm. With only two cabins, called “escape pods”, Honey was to be our home for the weekend. Set amongst 150 acres of farmland, surrounded by Marri forest, this was the ultimate rest and relaxation location.

Sat on the deck of the cabin, watching the various birds flit in and out. We had a resident honey eater keeping us company in the flowering bushes in front of us. Numerous laughing kookaburras perched high in the canopy of trees serenaded us with their very unique song. A constant background buzz left us in no doubt where the local honey came from. And, as the light of the day started to fade, a mob of kangaroos appeared and surprised us by engaging in a fist fight with each other. We have seen a lot of roos, and this was the first time we have seen them boxing. It was quite the sight.

The Night Sky in Australia

As the temperature dropped, we moved onto a local Cabernet Sauvignon, from nearby Ferguson Falls. Swirling the wine in the glass, extracting the aromas, as I fired up the BBQ and cooked us a t-bone. Is there a better combination? Dinner finished and we were back on the balcony. The sun had set and darkness had arrived.

When you have experienced the night sky in remote Australia you will never need a television again. There is no better viewing than sitting, peering into the universe whilst it peers back. Wondering who is out there, watching us. It is almost a statistical impossibility that we are the only lifeform in the vast universe. We just haven’t found each other. Yet.

Without light pollution the night sky is unlike anything you have ever seen before. Awestruck we tried to count the satellites criss crossing the night sky. That was until our attention was immediately stolen by a shooting star streaking across the sky. It literally takes your breath away. And I literally hardly ever use the word literally. It is so often misused and misunderstood in the modern vernacular. 

Cabernet finished, and the traditional ritual of a whisky nightcap ending a great evening, it was time for bed. Oh, the silence. No noise of the neighbours above us doing whatever it is they do. Every evening. No city sirens racing to the latest emergency. Even the kookaburras were asleep.

10,000 Gnomes

Morning broke misty with amazing views across the paddock as the first light hit the fields. This was my cue to light up the BBQ and create our traditional bacon and egg breakfast. With the happy addition of a couple of chunky slices of black pudding.

Saturday started with a visit to what may just be the world’s weirdest tourist attraction. Although, we did find one even weirder, more on those frogs later. Gnomesville is exactly what the name suggests. A village of gnomes. A tradition that started out with one gnome has blossomed into quite possibly the largest gathering of gnomes in the world. It is a sight to be seen, and also a little creepy.

Estimates suggest there are over 10,000 gnomes, with the number growing each year as visitors from both Australia and overseas bring new additions. Covering a large area of forest that borders the main road running through Ferguson Valley I was astounded by the amount of visitors it had on the weekend we were there. And like us, not just visitors with children. A local institution, Gnomesville is a must visit if you are in the area.

Frog’s Hollow – it has to be seen to be believed

Slightly less impressive, but just starting out, is “Frog’s Hollow”. Taking the weirdness up a notch, Frog’s Hollow is a short 10 minute drive from Gnomesville. And here, frogs are trying to get in on the act. Only created this year, the number of frogs is starting to grow and it has a long way to go before it reaches the “fame” of its nearby Gnome friends. We were, unsurprisingly, the only visitors and it didn’t take us too long to explore. Who knows, 10 years from now and Frog’s Hollow might just be the next big thing in Ferguson Valley.

Lunch at Hackersley Estate

For now, we will stick with one of the Valley’s real highlights. Food. Lunch was at the impressive Hackersley Estate. With a view out across the paddock, watching a large mob of kangaroos hop past, we were there for the 3 course set menu. And it was delicious. Completed by glasses of their own Semillon and Verdelho, served a little too cold, each course was a delight. We completed the lunch with a wine tasting, getting to try the Mondeuse grape. A new one for me and a black grape that is native to France.

Rolling out of Hackersley Estate, our next stop was at Talisman Wines. A gem and a must visit. Driving down an unsealed road you could be forgiven for thinking you had taken a wrong turn. Trust yourself and turn left just after the converted buses that now double up as simple accommodation. We pulled up just 30 minutes before closing time and managed to get a full tasting from the very friendly Kim.

Set around a lake, Talisman Wines is a boutique winery producing some of the best wines of the region. The Riesling is a stand out and who would have thought of aging a Riesling in oak? Strange, right. And it works. As do all the wines we tried. The Chardonnay was exquisite and the Cabernet Malbec had me thinking of last night’s steak. And yes, reader, we purchased a selection to take home with us.

Ferguson Valley – a mini Margaret River?

Driving home the next day we reflected on our weekend, and pondered why we don’t come more often. Not owning a car is a constraint. One that means we can’t just pop down there on impulse. It takes planning and each time we hire a car it seems to drive itself to our spiritual home, Margaret River. That said, people are not far off the mark when they describe Ferguson Valley as a mini Margaret River. Vineyards. Great food. Breweries. And wildlife. What is not to like?

Dropping the hire car off we knew it wouldn’t be long before we were picking it back up. Four weeks long. For our next Margaret River trip. We will be needing some more wine by then.

In our last chat we discussed everything Chardonnay. And I am curious, have you been exploring with new expressions of this very versatile grape? I would love to hear what you experimented with and what you discovered about your palate.

Today, our palate shifts focus. From the green grape to the black grape. Yes, red wine is made from black grapes. What may surprise you is to learn that both grapes, the green and the black both contain clear pulp and juice inside. This begs the question of how do wines become different colours if the juice in the grapes is the same colour?

The magic is in the skins. And the skin on a Cabernet Sauvignon grape has a thick skin. Which is your first clue. It is the thick skin on the Cabernet Sauvignon grape that contains high levels of colour. But, how does that colour get into the wine? It is through skin contact.

The making of red wine follows a process. After the crushing of the grapes, there is a period of fermentation. With the skins in contact with the juice. The colour is absorbed by the grape juice and the result is a red liquid. The skins of the Cabernet Sauvignon grape also contain high levels of something called tannins.

Have you ever noticed that when you take a sip of red wine your mouth feels as though it is drying out? Your gums feel like they are attaching to the insides of your mouth. This is the effect of the tannins. Present in the grape stem and the thick skins of the Cabernet Sauvignon grape. Tannins in a young Cabernet Sauvignon are very high and if a wine is to be drunk young, it may well be blended with a grape like Merlot. The effect of this is to soften the tannins and make the wine eminently more drinkable, without the need to age it.

As Cabernet Sauvignon wine ages, often in oak barrels, the tannins soften and the wine takes on secondary and tertiary flavours of cedar, vanilla, and dried fruits, amongst others. Having flavours of “forest floor” may not sound appealing and this is a possible aroma of an aged Cabernet Sauvignon.

Now you know a little bit about the grape, how about a little of where it is grown. France is the homeland of Cabernet Sauvignon and the most famous region is in Bordeaux, widely regarded as one of the world’s finest wine regions. Needing a moderate to warm climate to allow it to ripen, the Left Bank of Bordeaux is well known for gravelly soils that allow for excellent drainage and heat retention which aids the ripening. Across the Gironde river, on the Right Bank, Merlot is the dominant grape, with Cabernet Sauvignon still playing a large role. 

From our previous discussion on wine labels, you will remember that “Old World” wine regions, of which France is one, rarely put the name of the grape on the wine label. This is where a little knowledge goes a long way. Now you know that if you are drinking a red Bordeaux, you are drinking Cabernet Sauvignon. Whether that is the dominant grape, or whether it is Merlot, depends on which side of the river the wine is from. Left Bank and you can be confident it is led by Cabernet Sauvignon. Right Bank, you are probably drinking a Merlot dominated wine.

Whichever side of the Gironde your wine is from, Bordeaux reds are a very distinctive wine, copied across many of the world’s wine regions. One excellent location to grow Cabernet Sauvignon is Margaret River, three hours south of Perth. With a unique maritime climate, similar to Bordeaux and with the Indian Ocean providing cooling sea breezes, Margaret River Cabernet Sauvignon has excellent balance, powerful tannins and wines that display aromas of blackcurrant and bay leaf notes.

For such a bold, full bodied, fruity wine, what would be a good food pairing? Before we explore that let’s just clear something up. The very best pairing is the one that you want. The one that you enjoy. Yes, some wines pair better with food than others. This is because of the flavour profiles in wine. Sweet wines pair better with sweet food. Crisp white acidic wines pair well with oily and fatty foods. This is why Champagne with fish and chips is a classic pairing.

And yes, there is a lot to be said by the maxim, “what grows together, goes together.” Anything Italian goes well with a Chianti Classico or an easy drinking Valpolicella. White wines do tend to pair better with fish and light dishes. You wouldn’t want your full bodied Cabernet Sauvignon with your delicately flavoured scallops.

What you would want with your Cabernet Sauvignon are grilled steaks. Hearty lamb dishes. Hard cheeses. The tannins that we mentioned earlier, that are high in a Cabernet Sauvignon bind to the proteins in red meat, providing a refreshing contrast.

All this talk is making me both thirsty, and hungry. I think I will head out for a glass of wine.

Cin cin.

How well do you know your Chardonnay?

When we last spoke, I was sharing that I have embarked on my WSET (Wine & Spirits Education Trust) Level 2 qualification. And that I am sharing my journey here, with you. Since civilisation began, wine has played an important role. Wine is history. Wine is story. Here is a little bit of my story.

The chapter we are writing today concerns the grape, Chardonnay. Yes, whilst it is named after a small village in France, Chardonnay is also the name of the grape. And, for those of you paying attention in the previous blog, you will remember that when produced in an “Old World” wine region, such as France, the name of the grape doesn’t go on the label.  Yes, I know, it can get very confusing.

Chardonnay in the 1990s

Which brings me to my introduction to Chardonnay. Kind of. Unlike here in Australia, the supermarkets in the UK sell wine as well as groceries. Here in Australia you have to find a bottle shop. The equivalent of an off licence in the UK. The convenience of being able to pick up a bottle of plonk with my peanuts was a wonder to behold when I started shopping and roaming the shelves of my local Tesco.

Being the late 80s and early 90s, supermarkets in the UK were flooded with wine from the land down under. And, to a little travelled (at the time I had seldom left the UK) Yorkshireman, the wines of Australia were very exotic. Labels with drawings of koalas, kangaroos, and boomerangs. Thankfully, over the years, wine producers have become a lot more inventive and a lot more discerning. These labels promised sunshine in a bottle. A slice of Bondi Beach right at home in Brighouse.

This was where my palate was introduced to Chardonnay. Wine that was almost yellow in the bottle. Overpowering flavours of oak. High acidity, not very well balanced by the fruit. Wine that even now, at a distance of over 30 years still makes me shiver. Maybe I had been put off from Chardonnay for life.

The Chardonnay Renaissance

Or maybe not. In the intervening years wine producers have realised that wine punters can have quite discerning palates. And after decades of wine drinkers declaring themselves as ABC, anything but chardonnay, they are being lured back to expressions of the grape that are sublime. Exquisite. Heavenly.

I am one such person. Being lucky enough to have one of the world’s best wine regions on our doorstep certainly helps. Margaret River produces only a small amount of Australia’s wine, and yet the quality is amongst the highest. If not the very best. And it was Margaret River that reignited my love for Chardonnay.

Margaret River Chardonnay

Gone are the yellow colours. Child like drawings of Australian cliches have left the labels. Long forgotten are the overpowering oak aromas, most probably obtained through the cheaper method of using oak chips, rather than the very expensive French oak barrels that are used today. Now, the wines are smooth. Elegant. Sophisticated. Think you don’t like Chardonnay? Then try one from wineries such as Vasse Felix, Cullen, and Xanadu. You may be converted.

You are not convinced? The oak flavours have ruined Chardonnay for life, for you? OK, I hear you. Bear with me. When you say you don’t like Chardonnay, I suspect it is the buttery flavours, caused by malolactic fermentation, and the oak, as talked about earlier. The secondary and tertiary flavours that are a result of a wine making choice by the wine maker. For a specific style of wine she is wanting to produce.

Chardonnay from France

Which means that the wine maker can equally make a choice to produce a Chardonnay wine without these additional processes. For example, Chablis, from the French village of the same name, produces mostly unoaked Chardonnay. The expression in a Chablis is a lot fresher. Dry and mineral on the palate. Refreshing. Not as one dimensional as an Italian Pinot Grigio, and not as complex as Chardonnay from Mersault in Burgundy, which uses oak barrels and lees contact for that secondary aroma of bread.

What I hope is becoming clear is that Chardonnay is a very versatile grape. Wine regions across the world fall between the 30 and 50 degree latitude, both north and south of the equator. Within that we have cool, moderate, and warm climates. Chardonnay grows well in all of them. With wine that bridges the scale from light bodied all the way to full bodied, with varying levels of acidity, I am convinced that there is a Chardonnay to suit you. 

It is not a time to be monogamous

Whether you like your wines aged, producing notes of hazelnut and mushroom. Or whether you like your Chardonnay young and fresh, displaying hints of apples and pears, this is a wine I encourage you to try. And don’t be monogamous. Shop around. Whether you are in your local Tesco, or in your neighbourhood Dan Murphy’s, see what is on offer.

Good examples can be found from Napa Valley in California. France has Chablis and Mersault, some of the world’s best Chardonnay. And there is Margaret River. Which I would suggest you try first. Just don’t tell the French. And if all else fails, stick to something that the Chardonnay grape does very well. Drink Champagne.

Salut, and until the next time. Live well, drink well.

Do you know your Chablis from your Chardonnay?

Do you know your Chardonnay from your Chablis? Your Sauvignon Blanc from your Sancerre? (these are trick questions, which we will get to later.”) Well, follow on with me as I go on a journey of discovery, deep into the world of wine.

My aim is to simplify things and make wine a little more accessible for you. It can be daunting, sitting in a restaurant and you are passed a wine list that looks thicker than a Harry Potter book. And the sommelier stands over you like she owns the world. Where do you start?

Start here, exploring wine with Fran.

The home of wine

Whether you agree that Georgia (the country, not the US state) is the spiritual home of wine, and whether you called your Shiraz, Syrah, I am here for you.

Starting out as a passionate lover of wine, my interest has deepened over the years and now I am embarking on Level 2 of the WSET (Wine & Spirit Education Trust). A globally recognised qualification in the wine world.

This journey may have been started with my sister as an early catalyst, presenting me with birthday gifts of a wine decanter and the voluminous “World Atlas of Wine” by Jancis Robinson and Hugh Johnson. This led to a membership with the Sunday Times wine club, my entry point into a selection of wine not available in my local Tesco superstore. At least not then. Things may well have changed in the intervening 20 years.

Wine tasting across the world

In those two decades I have been fortunate enough to visit cellar doors and taste some of the world’s best wine from across the globe. Day tripping in the Casablanca Valley in Chile. Cycling around the Malbec laden vineyards of Mendoza, Argentina. Sipping Pinot Noir in Sonoma, a neighbour to the world famous Napa Valley. In recent years I had the great opportunity to travel across the centre of the wine world. 

Just whisper it so we don’t upset our Italian friends. France. Travelling through regions such as Champagne, Burgundy, and Bordeaux had us tasting some of the wines that sing across your palate. 

Margaret River wine region

Closer to home, Australia has been where I have done most wine tasting. Having the Margaret River wine region on our doorstep is something that wine buffs can only dream of. A relatively recent member of the wine fraternity, the vines in this region only date back to the late 1960s. And in this short space of time Margaret River wine makers are making their mark on the wine world. Until you have tried a Chardonnay from Vasse Felix, have you even ever had Chardonnay? And the Cabernet Sauvignon? Full bodied, balanced tannins, and a long finish. Writing this has me heading to the butchers for a t-bone steak.

Live long, drink wine

However, this blog is about wine, not food. Not that you can ever separate the two. Food and wine have gone together since time immemorial. And, research from the Blue Zones, where people regularly live to over 100 years, suggests that part of that longevity is related to the diet which includes a daily glass of wine.

That is something I can drink to.

Short explainer

* Chablis is Chardonnay. Sancerre is Sauvignon Blanc.

Wine production is often defined as New World and Old World. France is a country that sits in the Old World and the wine labelling is based on location, not the grape variety. Hence their Chardonnay that is grown in the village of Chablis is named as such. Same as the sauvignon blanc wines that are produced in the village of Sancerre.

To avoid a lot of the confusion, and partly a marketing ploy, New World producers, which include Australia, label wines with the name of the grape on front.

Time to head out for dinner

Last time we spoke we had just arrived at the hotel in Phuket. A long travel day, and a long drive south from the airport, was almost made worse by my paying for the Grab drive twice. Have a read if you haven’t had chance.

After the happy hour beers we headed to our room to shower and freshen up. It was time to start exploring. And we followed our noses. No, it wasn’t the dreadful drainage that drew us in, it was the distinct aromas of Thai food. And it didn’t take us long to locate the origin.

Kata Walking Street

Navigating the busy streets, the constant scooters zipping in and out of traffic, and the constant shouts of “massaaaaaaage”, we were soon at Kata night markets. Cleverly branded as “Kata Walking Street”, there was every food you could want. And lots I wouldn’t. On our travels through Thailand we became familiar with each town having a “walking street”. Essentially, they were night markets to entice the tourists. And they work. Always busy, serving piping hot, fresh, delicious Thai food and cold beer.

Dinner was very enjoyable. And very cheap. We shared a dinner of vegetable spring rolls, a roti pancake with Nutella, and my all time favourite, mango sticky rice. My oh my. How does mango sticky rice taste so damn good. It wasn’t to be the last I had on this holiday.

Saturday in Phuket

Saturday morning started with sunshine and a fresh coffee. It long ago became a habit that I always travel, everywhere in the world, with freshly ground coffee and filters, allowing me to start each day with a life affirming cup of coffee. Sat on the chair on the deck, the sun reflecting off the swimming pool, and watching the local birdlife as they glided on thermals up high in the sky.

Saturday night reminded me of how what we take for granted in some cultures, is much less well known in others. In the restaurant that night we witnessed what I will call the “Birthday cake disaster”. There was a large table of holiday makers sat near us and one gentleman appeared to be the organiser. Surreptitiously heading to the counter and speaking to the staff in whispered tones, before taking his place, expectantly, at the dinner table.

Happy Birthday, to who?

A waitress appeared with a birthday cake. So far, so good. So far, what you would expect when someone in your dining party is celebrating a birthday. This is where it got weird.

The waitress just stood by the counter, nowhere near the birthday boy, and looked very happy whilst the whole restaurant started singing happy birthday. She looked slightly abashed. Did she think they were singing to her? She seemed to be enjoying the song, whilst being rooted to the ground with the birthday cake. By some crazy coincidence was it her birthday too?

The organiser looked perturbed. Wondering when the birthday cake was going to make it over to the table. It didn’t. When the restaurant had stopped singing, and collectively realised that the birthday boy was going to go cake less, the waitress promptly blew out all the candles on the cake, looked very happy with herself, and returned the cake to the kitchen. 

Cue lots of confused faces from the table. What was happening?

However, just hang on. Wait a moment. Here comes the birthday music again. Oh, and we have the cake again. With new candles. Deja vu. Between giggles, we all tried to join in again with a new rendition of “Happy Birthday”. This time the birthday boy did get to blow his own candles out. 

This was the best part of the evening. Dinner was a let down. Which is something I don’t often say in Thailand. Maybe the size of the restaurant, and the sheer number of tourists should have been a give away. The food was bland and rather insipid. A green curry that will linger long in the memory, for all the wrong reasons/

Thoughts of dinner, banished

Morning two dawned brightly and it wasn’t long before we banished thoughts of our insipid dinner. What I had for breakfast sounds like dinner and it was a lot tastier. Hotels in South East Asia serve breakfast in a buffet style. And I get to try many things that wouldn’t normally replace my Weetbix at breakfast time. This morning I got to enjoy beef massaman, fried rice, and pork noodles. And this was only my first course. Served with the usual terrible hotel coffee. Thank goodness for my travel coffee filter.

For me, breakfasts in Asian hotels are a real highlight. And with the dishes rotating each day, I made sure to try everything whilst we were there. With this, there are always a day or two, when travelling, that you crave some different food. A new cuisine. Dinner provided the perfect opportunity and so it was that we found ourselves at El Greco in Kata.

Going Greek in Phuket

If you find yourself in Kata, Phuket, and want a change from green curries and pad Thai, hunt down this Greek gem. We have visited a few Greek restaurants around the world, and some are definitely better than others. El Greco is one of the better ones. Calling in for dinner, we were please to see that both mousakka and pastitcio were on the menu. And both were excellent. Sadly, the beers weren’t Mythos, but they were ice cold. You could almost be in a small taverna on Mykonos island were it not for the choice of music. A live singer blaring out Creep by Radiohead. Definitely not Zorba the Greek. 

The night ended as many have done on our travels around Thailand. With some cheap cocktails. This time at a very cute converted combi van. And unlike the cocktails around the hotel pool, these ones actually tasted of something. And I am sure it wasn’t the dreaded methanol, so often found in cheap, illegal liquor in South East Asia.

Karon Beach

Afternoons in this part of the world see quite a bit of rain. As one of the storms passed, we strolled over the hill into Karon beach. Even with the rain gone, we were a little uninspired by Karon. It all looked a little unloved even by Thai standards.  Walking back we were glad we opted to base ourselves in Kata.

Phuket Town on two wheels

On our last visit to Phuket, as part of the world trip, we hired a scooter and visited Phuket town. So impressed were we that we decided to do the same from Kata. The morning started with bright blue skies and after a hearty breakfast of green curry, chicken noodles, and roast pork we headed to reception to hire a scooter. 200 baht (about $8) for the whole day.

With a visit to the Big Buddha on the way, we got into Phuket town in around 40 minutes. Parking up the scooter we went off to hunt for the wall murals that are so reminiscent of Georgetown in Penang, Malaysia. Phuket town has a very different feel to much of Thailand. With lots of old Chinese shop houses and boutique coffee shops, it is easy to see why so many tourists congregate here.

Time to lose some weight?

In one of the shops we were browsing in, if anyone had caught the end of one of our conversations they may have been horrified. Especially if they only caught the part where I was shouting across to Victoria that “she needed to lose some weight”. Good grief, what kind of husband is he?

The full conversation centred around any space she may have had in her luggage for souvenirs. As I had booked us a return flight home on a cheap airline, (that’s another story), we literally only had 10kgs of checked baggage. And we were at 10kgs. So, if Mrs C wanted to take some souvenirs home, in her bag, she would have to “lose some weight” from the bag. Context is everything. Stop judging me.

Phuket Police

Leaving Phuket town we headed to the beach at Rawai, following Google Maps. Emerging from a tunnel, we suddenly had someone riding at the side of us. It was a traffic cop on a motorbike.

“Follow me”, were the only words he said, before crossing traffic on his bike and motioning for us to follow. As he did, a couple on a motorbike rode right in front of him. Without helmets. They too got the “follow me” instruction. Thinking the policeman now had too much to think about, Victoria suggested we just “drive off”.

Yes, just drive off. Did she hear herself? We were on a 125c scooter, with all the power of a small hairdryer. And Victoria wanted us to zoom off and escape from him. She has been watching too many movies. Were we suddenly Bonnie and Clyde? I had visions of us being chased through Phuket, granted, a short chase, by the Thai police. I did not drive off. I followed him.

All the way to the police hut at the junction of a busy roundabout.

“International driver’s licence” he demanded. 

Shit. I don’t have one, I thought. The one I had expired a few months ago and is in a drawer in Perth.

“It’s back at the hotel”, I heard myself saying out loud. 

The traffic cop was using Google Translate to tell me I broken the law riding through the tunnel and the “fine” was 1000 baht. No prizes for guessing where that money is going. In no mood to argue about the tunnel violation, I accepted the fine. Perhaps he had forgotten that he had also asked me for my international drivers licence. A legal requirement for a tourist to drive in Thailand. I reluctantly walked to the nearest ATM whilst Victoria stayed with the bike.

Returning, I paid the fine to the policeman. A fine that went straight into his back pocket. And he quickly told me to go. And go we did, avoiding the tunnel. Perhaps we got off lightly. For the price of a chicken parmi and a pint back home we had probably put food on the policeman’s table for a week. Life is all about perspective.

No mud, no lotus

An overseas holiday often means a trip to the tattooist. And this was no different. On the last day of the holiday I turned up for my 3pm appointment whilst Victoria went for a bit of pamper time. She had herself booked in for a one hour Thai massage. Imagine my surprise when she came hobbling into the hotel reception to meet me afterwards.

Frowning through the pain she told me that she had just had the most painful massage of her life. The massuese had contorted and stretched her body to its limits. Of the two of us she thinks I got off lightly in terms of pain. My short visit to Tattoo 1% resulted in a small lotus tattoo, as a reminder that life is both sunshine and rain. I have friends who have suffered big losses recently. Part of life and very painful.

Final reflections

In the last few years we have now had a great opportunity to visit a lot of Phuket Island. And have enjoyed it. Now it is time to explore new parts of the world. Isn’t the best part of returning from one holiday the booking of the next?