Beijing: Day 1

For J, who makes every day feel like a magical bike ride along Houhai lake , on our second month. 

Even before, it was never China, it was always Beijing. We were going to the sprawling capital, of an even more sprawling country, and we had only three days to do it. We had in mind an ambitious itinerary -- one that would include all the must-see tourist spots, plus an activity or two that had more of a backpacker feel to it. But upon closer study, we found out that the Summer Palace would take an entire day all by itself, and there was also the Bird's Nest and the Water Cube to squeeze in --which to be honest, I never really considered. Then there were the either/ors. Houhai Lake or the Drum Tower? Jinghshan or Beihai Park?

The question of how to get from one place to another was another pertinent question. With our limited budget, we listed down all possible modes of transport  in neat little columns  -- bus, bike or subway. Walking was always the first option, while taking a cab would always be the last resort.

The responsibility for finding our accommodations fell to J, and he showed me the website for a place called "Sitting on the City Walls." It was a hostel located in a hutong or a narrow alleyway. The name was charming enough, the pictures were good, and the reviews were glowing. We decided to take a chance and trust the good people at Trip Advisor.com.

People shook their heads in disbelief when they learn that our trip to China in February had been booked just a month in advance. It was challenging, sure, but -- as we found out -- not impossible. And so it was that on February 24, 2011, aboard  an 8pm Cebu Pacific flight, I found myself  in disbelief at the fact that the elusive dream of going to Beijing, was slowly becoming real. Starting with this -- the sturdy airline seats, the arrival cards we were filling out on our tray tables; the announcement over the speakers that were being translated from English, to Filipino, to Mandarin, and finally the flickering lights of Beijing itself, as we began our descent.

I've been to four Asian cities my entire life, but Beijing was the very first to feel different, from the moment I stepped into the airport. And it all had to do with the cold.

It was cold. So cold that we kept saying, "It's cold" as we walked through the terminal. So cold that when we first stepped out of the airport, we took a video of our breaths coming out in tiny tufts of vapor. We imagined we were dragons. We'd been transformed into little children -- compelled to state the obvious and prone to flights of fancy.

The first cab ride gave us a glimpse of all future interactions we would have in this city, whose citizens speak little or no English. We fumbled for our maps, our phrase book and a printed-out guide. Once we were satisfied that the cabbie had the correct directions,we settled into small talk and pleasantries. We were anxious to try our luck with the key phrases we had learned. "Wo xiao" (My name is....) "Ni hao" (Hello), came tumbling out of our mouths. At one point, I think I said pretty (piao liang) instead of friend (peng you), to describe my relationship with J.

And amidst the childlike chatter, it wasn't long before we were.... lost. The cab driver had to call the hostel several times before he finally dropped us off in a street, right smack in the intersection of darkness and nowhere.

It was right then, standing in the cold winter chill past midnight, lugging around huge backpacks, that the full meaning of a hutong hit me. Narrow alleyways that twisted and turned, whenever and wherever it pleased. I was sure that in the daylight, these streets teemed with quaintness. But right then it had all the charm of a labyrinth, and death by a Minotaur lurked at every dead end.

We asked a woman who made a wrong turn with her car, and walked through a couple more dark alleys. And then, just as we couldn't get any colder, we saw the red-lit sign of the two most beautiful words in world -- CITY WALLS.

The blessed relief of central heating welcomed us as we stepped inside. The lobby was a traditional Chinese courtyard -- and everything about it -- the red lanterns, the gentle terracotta warrior in the corner, the couch and its pillows -- glowed with warmth, and snugness and home.

The brisk and businesslike Lucy at reception ushered us into our 8-bed dorm room. I looked around to take in my very first hostel experience. Clean bathroom, check. Cozy bunk beds, check. Sleeping French guy in the other bunk, check. We whispered loudly and settled in noisily and the French guy tossed and turned until we finally turned off the bedside lamp and gave in to tiredness and sleep.


The following day I woke up to J's cellphone alarm that sounded like a police siren. Breakfast was dimsum and noodles, eaten in the courtyard whose glass windows let in the cold, gray light of the early winter morning.

It was at this time that we met Rick, who was just as helpful and friendly in real life, as he was through email. He told us we could exchange our peso to yuan through ICBC, a bank that could be reached by foot.

And thus began, one of several pilgrimages from our hostel, out into the main streets of Beijing. Our hutong was called Nianzi, and its residents went about their business with only a brief, curious glance in our direction. One of the first things we saw in the briskness of Beijing's street, was a "Ping Pong Park." Gray-haired men moving with ease and grace were tap tapping a small white ball with their paddles. Their wives sat on a nearby bench, watching and chatting. Not to be outdone, a couple of relatively younger men kicked a small object around in their circle. J said he wanted to join the pingpong game later. For now it was off to the bank.

If truth be told, having our currencies exchanged and having that take up half a day, was not anywhere in our carefully crafted, just-enough-for-three-days itinerary. But its true what they say in travel. The setbacks and side trips often afford you with disarming little surprises.

But first, let me say something about the cold again. It's the kind of cold that nips at your nose and clamps on your hands and face and makes you want to tuck in your scarf tighter around your head and wish for a ski mask. It's the kind of cold that makes you overly aware that all the locals' hands are bare (how could they go  about gloveless?) and the smiling, slant-eyed baby boy is dressed in lighter clothes than you (how could he smile without his teeth chattering?). It's also the kind of cold that will make you realize that the gloves you brought were no match for the chill,  and so we popped into a store and bought new ones.

Though the cold was a constant companion, we were nevertheless giddy at the very thought that WE WERE WALKING IN THE STREETS OF BEIJING. The thought of it pushed all complaints aside.  It helped us notice the bikes that weaved in and out of the traffic,the dogs with their handsome fur, the old timers, the ruddy-faced kids in their school uniforms. Because it was the middle of winter, we were the only two foreigners for miles on end. We felt like we had been dropped in the middle of everything, and we hardly caused a ripple. Beijing life went on as usual, and we were free to observe, unnoticed.

Beijing is a pretty straightforward city, and the path we walked on that morning, we would find ourselves traversing several more times in the coming days. It's a city whose sights and culture are so seamlessly blended with its everyday life, that you cannot compartmentalize errands and sightseeing into neat little boxes. On our way to ICBC, we noticed Drum Tower standing stately to our right, while Houhai Lake, spread out like a picture to our left. Tempting as it was to make a detour to these spots, we trudged on to the bank. Only to find out that Philippine peso can only be changed at the Bank of China.

But no bother, because just as we were heading back,we saw our very first street food vendor. He was selling some glazed treat on sticks --  colorful and shiny and completely unidentifiable. I eagerly took my camera out, and was about to click when the vendor noticed and shooed me away gruffly. No pictures allowed. So J and I stood there apologetically. We watched him plunging yet another stick into sticky, opaque liquid. Finally we felt compelled to buy because we had stayed there too long. We chose the one that closely resembled barbeque. But that turned out to be sour, flattened strawberries dipped in caramel glaze. Not the best combination of flavors, we discovered. We sheepishly laughed and decided to take a short, little jaunt to Houhai Lake. It was on the way, anyway.

The lake was frozen and huge. Many trees lined its edges, as here and there were pretty bridges and charming red houses. It was the perfect setting for a hundred and one Chinese melodramas.

Rickshaw drivers were parked along the bridge. Then something happened so unexpectedly, that  I can only attribute to the desperation that must come in, off-peak season Beijing. One rickshaw driver offered to take us around Houhai, and though we politely declined several times, he kept walking with us and wouldn't take no for an answer. Finally he grabbed me, and told J that he would only let me go if we agreed to a ride around Houhai. How our eyes grew wide and our laughter became panicky, until he finally released me laughing loudly that he was just teasing. We were a bit shaken but Houhai is too pretty and soon we were taking pictures and laughing at my would-be kidnapping.

But we still had to go to Bank of China and we had no idea how to get there.In the case of J - it's not true what they say about men and asking directions. He never hesitated to stop any stranger anywhere. But maybe he was doing it for the thrill of the interaction -- we stopped to ask directions at a FedEx, we asked two pedestrians on the street. Till at last, we said,let's just go back to the hostel and ask the ever-reliable Rick.

Rick said, to get to Bank of China,we had to take the bus. At Jinshang Dongjie stop, wait for Bus 111. Bus 111, as it turns out, will be another thing that we will call "ours," because we would ride it several more times.

Four stops and one yuan later, we landed in the glass and concrete world of Wangfujing, Beijing's 100-year old shopping district.The city's more modern side unfurled right before our eyes, with its shopping malls and designer boutiques. I sat on a building's front steps as J began to unfold his tripod. We began to take pictures of ourselves in the middle of the busy street, conscious that we were doing the most touristy thing on the planet. The anonymity was very liberating.

Still Wangfujing's decidedly consumerist appeal is not too far removed from China's communist history. One could, in fact, walk from here to Tiananmen Square, the most visible sign of the country's communist identity. After finally getting our currencies changed, we ambled on to Tiananmen, excited to officially start implementing our itinerary. As we made our way through streets and more streets, it slowly began to dawn on me that I didn't even know what Tiananmen Square looked like. That is, until we saw the huge photo of a stern-looking Chairman Mao fronted by Red Guards. When we entered, it was kind of hard to believe that the famed Tiananmen Square was actually what it said it was -- a square. A flat, concrete space, enclosed by four walls. Without the historical significance of Chinese students razed to the ground under Mao's orders, the square was just big, and there.

So after buying  a 10 yuan snack of salty crackers, we hurried north to a more promising destination -- the Forbidden City. At the gate, one had the option to rent an audio guide narrated by Roger Moore. But we decided to go at it guerilla style.

What I will always remember about the Forbidden City are:  the gigantic red doors with their gold knobs, the red buildings with their ornate roofs of green and blue,  how people kept moving in a northerly direction, how they swarmed the vast center space, and how we decided to escape the crowds and veer towards the right. Through the eastern doors, we meandered into a garden of long, softly curving streets, tall trees, chirping birds, and a feeling of isolation and secrecy. Perhaps the concubines sought this place.Maybe they escaped here when they needed to get away from the bustle of official ceremonies or the coldness of the squares and stone edifices.

As we joined the crowds back to the center, we began to be acutely aware that we knew nothing about the intimate details of the Forbidden City. So we tried to catch a phrase of two from paid tour guides in our proximity. From one such guide we learned that a building to our right was the human resources department of sorts of Imperial China, and this was where one would be scrutinized before being granted passage into this lost, secret world.

But that was all we learned. One building led to more open squares, which led to more open squares, where big iron jars were cordoned off and a Red guard looked uneasily about while his partner stood erect and unmoving. Guards and officials, in fact, roamed the grounds making sure people stayed away from certain gated-off areas. Parts of the Forbidden City were still forbidden, it seemed.

It was late afternoon when we finally exited the Forbidden City. It was a testament to Beijing's inherent charm that we had completely forgotten to eat lunch. We crossed the frozen moat surrounding the Forbidden City and strolled over to Jingshan Park, right across the road. Here we climbed the man-made hill, where atop sat a pagoda that afforded us a breathtaking, 360-degree view of Beijing. The ornate temple roofs of the Forbidden City were orange-hued in the fading afternoon sun. Among the modern skyline of skyscrapers and and houses, we tried to find Bird's Nest and Water Cube and tore our trusty map in the process. There, high above the city, we were given not only a place to rest, but also a bit of perspective. It was a literal bird's eye view on things as we neared the end of our first day in Beijing. And, overall, it was a deep sense of gratitude that filled my heart, as sure as the sun's slow descent on the horizon.

Soon it was time to head back, not to the hostel, but to Houhai lake, where some 300 or more eateries were located. It was as we were trudging back, that J had an idea, that would later on prove to be a stroke of genius. The operative word here, being, later on. See, he wanted to ride a bike to Houhai. Rick mentioned that the bikes we saw leaning on the hostel's front walls were free to be used by guests, anytime.

I am, by nature, someone who will try anything, at least once. So I said yes, but in the back of my mind, the cars and the busy intersection we would have to go through loomed ominously. Never have I tried biking on a highway before. But Beijing was a great (if scary) place to try. Besides, J promised to ride ahead of me, so all I really needed was to pedal close behind. No sweat.

And boy am I ever so glad that I said yes to that. Because even with the terrifying intersection and almost run-ins with cars that were not even moving, biking along Houhai lake is now one of the top experiences of my life.

We took our sweet time on that postcard perfect road that ran along the banks of the lake. The gray, frozen stillness of the lake to our left, the glowing orange lights of streetlamps and restaurants to our right. We passed by fellow bikers and dozens of locals draped on benches. We rode past a man in nothing but shorts doing jump ropes. As if that wasn't enough, we were also just in time to ogle at a man resurfacing from a hole on the surface of the frozen lake.

In retrospect, it was the very act of biking that tipped that night from being so-so to splendid. It heightened the  feeling that traveling always gives me -- that of being truly present in the now, unencumbered by past or future. Because it added that wind-in-my-hair, not-a-care-in-the-world feeling of childhood.That night the only thing that mattered was being with each other,  by the lake, with the lights. Nothing else.

Lost World: Phulay Bay

 

Nothing can ever quite prepare you for Phulay Bay. As we drove up to the resort, its tall and thick brick walls gave off the impression that we were somehow intruding into some secret enclave. As we ambled up a couple of steps, we found ourselves face to face with to two enormous teak doors. And what lay behind them, literally took our breath away. A huge square, closed in by plum walls, a wooden pavilion sitting at its center, surrounded on all sides by glass-like water. It took a minute or two to realize that to get to the pavillion, one had to step on floating squares that ran along its sides. Such was the effect of Phulay Bay that the mere act of walking on this floating path, was a magical experience in itself. 

At the pavilion, hotel manager Marta Martin, and executive chef Gaetan Biesuz welcomed us and smiled understandingly at our incredulous faces, while attendants offered water and cold towels. This theatrical welcome area was called Sala Srichan, now made famous by its cameo in the Hollywood movie, The Hangover 2. In the midst of superlatives and expressions of awestruck wonder, we managed to go over the day’s plans. “Your , JB will help you settle down,” Marta said. “And for now we’ll let you enjoy your room.”

And so we made our initial foray into the grounds of Phulay Bay, riding on the buggy driven by our butler, JB, as she navigated expertly through narrow roads bordered by bamboo and frangipani. Designed by renowned Thai architect Lek Bunnang, Phulay Bay was all at once modern and traditional, Moroccan and Thai. Walls were of an opulent mauve and purple color. Bamboo gardens could be glimpsed through colossal circular openings through the walls. Thai-style doors, roofs, and pavilions were everywhere. Water sprinkled unexpectedly from walls and onto the side of the road. At every turn and at every possible chance, members of the staff put their palms together to greet us "Sawadhika."I could not help but feel as if we had stumbled into some secret kingdom, and the experience was close to sacred.

Where the mountain meets the sea

The name Phulay Bay emerged from the combination of two words—phukag (Thai for "mountain") and thalay ("sea"). To most people, the name itself means nothing, until they see that it is a "Ritz Carlton Reserve," and all at once images of elegance, class, and luxury come swimming into their heads. Yet Phulay Bay is drastically different from any Ritz Carlton experience they might have had. As the first Ritz Carlton "reserve," the resort necessitated a whole new level of experience–one in which the location is exotic, the entrances dramatic, and the rest, a seamless blend of the traditional and the modern.

The royal treatment

The teak doors of my villa were high and heavy. They opened up to an infinity pool that looked like it was spilling over to the Andaman Sea. Right in front of this private pool, heavy sliding glass doors showed a double-king sized bed. Which one to enjoy first—the pool area, with its great view, or the room, which required a full-on tour all on its own? The full meaning of Marta's words "We'll let you enjoy your room," dawned on me as I walked slowly around. Behind the bed was another huge teak door with a lovely painting done in Lanna style–a style that originated in northern Thailand between the 11th and 18th centuries A.D. This one opened up to a sunlit hall (courtesy of a skylight that hit the centermost part of the area). The hall led to several nooks–his and hers changing and bath areas, all bright and airy because of the floor to ceiling glass walls that looked out into a garden enclosed by mauve walls.

This was the Royal Villa, which literally makes one feel like a princess in her elegant private quarters. It's just one of six in the entire resort. And though these Royal Villas are the most luxurious, and at 578 square meters are also the biggest, the rest of the rooms–the Pavilion Rooms, Reserve Villas, Beach Villas, Ocean Pavilion–each had something unique to offer.

"The details of the room are just beautiful and incredible," says Anna, who is from Germany but is based in Shanghai, and is celebrating her first wedding anniversary in Phulay Bay with her husband. They were staying in one of the Reserve Villas, which had dramatic wooden steps that led up to a private infinity pool and a small pavilion.

The Beach Villas, on the other hand, had a Jacuzzi and was just a couple of steps to the beach. The Ocean Pavilion had an upstairs terrace with a picturesque ocean view. All of them had magnificent interiors, done in white, creams, cozy browns, and complemented by the warm oranges of the ubiquitous Lanna paintings on mai yang wood. Yet all of them were laid out differently from the rest, a unique touch that makes guests feel as if their room is uniquely their own.

"Many of the guests, when they get here, have all these activities that they want us to arrange, like island hopping and jungle trekking," Marta says. "But they take one look at the rooms, and they say, 'Oh can you cancel some of the things we asked for?'"

Dining and beyond

And just as sleeping has been elevated to whole new level, so is eating in Phulay Bay. Executive chef Gaetan Biesuz literally walked us through the dining options that guests have. And boy, are they spoiled for choice. Chef Gaetan explains the beauty of such a good ratio of guests to dining options. The food and beverage outlets are able to cater to a specific style and taste.

Jampoon is Phulay Bay's international restaurant that gratifies all of the guests' cravings for comfort food. "Home Sweet Home," is, in fact, chef Gaetan's unofficial name for this restaurant, which serves buffet breakfast, and dishes such as pasta and noodles from the kitchen, and pork chops and steaks from the grill.

On the other hand, Lae Lay is the seafood pavilion, which has a dining deck surrounded by a clear glass of water and views that look out to the Andaman Sea. The seafood served here–red snapper, salmon sweet scallops, tiger prawns, and ahi tuna, to name a few–are all fresh and fashioned in such a way that it is a true fine dining experience, but done in such a relaxed atmosphere that a coat and tie is deemed unnecessary.

There's none more informal than dining and drinking outdoors at the infinity pool, the Plai Fah. One can just swim up to the bar, sit in the stools submerged underwater, and order up a drink or two. One of the best places to catch the sunset though, is Chomtawan. With lounge chairs and beds nestled on the sand, cocktails nearby, and even a baby elephant that is especially brought in for a bit of fun.

But of course, what's a stay in Thailand without a taste of Thai food? And this was precisely chef Gaetan's designs for Sri Trang. This restaurant is located a few steps from Jampoon, this outlet has large picture windows that show the resort's lawn where the whimsical pavilion which the producers of The Hangover 2 built for the wedding scene in the movie, and subsequently left to the resort. "I told the chefs–cook the way your parents cooked at home." The result is authentic Thai cuisine that was so good that Sri Trang was named as Asia Tatler's Best Restaurant for 2011.

As if these six dining outlets weren't enough, there is a somewhat secret, seventh dining option for Phulay Bay guests. It is one which might take place on a terrace under a star-strewn sky, in a private dining quarter with a romantic sunset backdrop or on the beach, with torches and the waves lapping lazily on the shore. "Dining Beyond" is an event that truly brings the chef and the guest together–the menu is specially crafted according to the guests' personal taste, and the location and all its attendant details, uniquely the guests' own.

We were able to try two of these. One was barbecue by the beach–a meal that ran the full course of salads, satay, grilled potatoes, lobsters, salmon, beef, and sumptuous cakes and pastries. Another was a sunset dinner at Sri Trang by the sea, where we enjoyed som tum, a sweet and spicy traditional Thai salad of green papaya, roasted peanuts, shrimp, and chili; gai hor bai toey, fried chicken wrapped in pandan leaves; and lovely braised chicken in sweet, creamy coconut milk called tom kha gai.

Emerald Lagoon

As hard as Phulay Bay makes it for you to leave its grounds, it would be a shame to miss Krabi's famous beaches. And so we were given a tour of Hong Island. On the beach in front of the Chomtawan restaurant, the resort's private hua thong (a traditional Thai long tail boat) whisked us to the island. A mere 15 minutes later, the boat slid through a narrow opening among rocky cliffs, we were slack-jawed at the emerald green lagoon embraced on all sides by majestic limestone karsts. Later on we found out that hong is the Thai word for "door", and the key to unlocking this "door" is the tide. (High tide to be exact, because it enables the boats to enter into the green lagoon.) Further on, we were brought to a beach with crystal clear waters and soft creamy sand–an ideal place for a picnic lunch, which was exactly what JB, our butler, packed for us. It was a splendid way to eat, savoring our poached lobster Caesar salad, khao pad (stir fried rice), and dessert of fresh mango and lychee, while watching a mom and her son build a sandcastle nearby.

Later on we got to chat with this mom, Alicia, a doctor from Cleveland, who was here on vacation with her husband and two young sons. "We've been all over the world–Greece, Mexico, Costa Rica," she shares, "But Phulay Bay has been the most beautiful [destination] so far."

A night lit by two thousand lights

Will Phulay Bay ever run out of breath-taking experiences for its guests? When we saw Sala Srichan at night, the answer was apparently, "no". Can it get more romantic than this: a pavilion that was surrounded by four walls of dancing candle light; soft, lovely melodies piped in through unseen speakers, a table set for two, surrounded by scattered rose petals? It was the perfect setting for a proposal–which was exactly what is was used for just the other night, as the staff helped a guest propose to his girlfriend by setting up the words, "Marry Me?" on the candle-lit walls.

No wonder it was voted on the Trip Advisor website as one of the most romantic resorts in the world. Sala Srichan alone trumps all other attempts at romantic settings, and yet there was the rest of Phulay Bay to consider.

It is a resort that is skillful in its marriage of seemingly contrasting things—the grand and the personal, the majestic and the intimate, the luxurious and the laid-back. It's almost like a lost fantasy land, where the best of both worlds can be had, and time has stopped to accommodate your own schedule. Is it such a surprise then, that one feels–with utmost certainty–that there is no place in the world, one would rather be in, when one is in Phulay Bay.

.Later on we got to chat with this mom, Alicia, a doctor from Cleveland, who was here on vacation with her husband and two young sons. “We’ve been all over the world – Greece, Mexico, Costa Rica,” she shares, “But Phulay Bay has been the most beautiful destination so far.”

Sheraton Krabi

A Tale of Two Resorts

Of course, almost everybody has heard of Phuket – the island on the west coast of southern Thailand, made famous by its beaches and its ubiquity in magazines and movies. But mention Krabi to the average person, and there’s bound to be a bit of head scratching. There is also the vague – but mistaken—notion that this place must have been named so because of its flourishing crab population.

Now that might have been my reaction too, had I not skimmed through an article on Krabi from five years ago. I learned about its limestone karsts, its 200 or so islands, its stunning blue sea, and the sleepy, small-town charm that characterizes some of the best-kept secrets of the travel world. That the rest of the world doesn’t know yet about this town, just 65 km or a three-hour-drive from Phuket, is enough for it to occupy an almost mythic, I-have-to-get-there-before-everybody-else-does position in my head. It was clear that Krabi was Phuket’s beautiful but shy and unassuming sister. The one who was enjoying her time in the shadows, a paradise for the better informed.

But as with many dreams, life somehow gets in the way, and they are shelved until they gather dust and  they grow dimmer with the passage of time. And so to be called out of the blue, a lifetime later, for the fulfillment of a dream long forgotten – a writing assignment on Krabi’s beaches – feels nothing short of a miracle.

We flew in to Krabi from Singapore, some 936 km away (from Bangkok it is 655 km to the south). Although it was the latter part of May, when the rains were to be expected, the sun was high and shining ever so bright. Krabi was welcoming us at its cheeriest.

As fate would have it, my Krabi experience was going to be by way of two of its most famous resorts: Sheraton Krabi and Phulay Bay, a Ritz Carlton Reserve. And so it was that my first experience of this long, dreamed-of destination was going to be shaped, in large part, by the resorts I would be staying in. They offered two, quite distinct, slightly differing, but equally captivating takes on the Krabi experience. The best of both worlds, so to speak. And slowly, it dawned on me, that for a first-timer, it may be the best way to do it yet.

Breathing ground

The very first thing that the Sheraton Krabi resort allows you to do is exhale with undisguised relief. After being cramped in crowded cities, airplanes, and airports, the spacious, 40-acre grounds are, literally, a breath of fresh air. The resort is just forty minutes’ drive from Krabi International Airport, and immediately it welcomes you with its airy lobby, and its huge wooden pillars that open up to the gardens and on to the sea. This was where we first met Wandee Pattrawee, Sheraton Krabi’s Marketing Communications manager. She urged us to freshen up with the requisite ice cold water and cold towels, before bringing us via golf buggy to our room.

And what a nice room it was—one of 264 that sprawled across the resort’s grounds. I was immediately drawn to the big and comfortable bed, which I found out later, was Sheraton’s signature Sweet Sleeper bed . It was so snug because it was designed to eliminate “pressure points.” Now while the bed, with its soft linen and down pillows was so inviting, an Italian chef and his specially prepared lunch, was also too impossible to resist.

Buon appetito!

There’s nothing very Italian about Thailand, nothing very Italian about the name Gecko’s either. Some of the restaurants in Sheraton, Krabi were named after anything that was found locally in the area. Thus aside from Gecko’s, there was also the Mangosteen restaurant.

Located near The Deck Pool, the name Gecko’s just works for some reason. And it has a lot to do with its friendly Italian chef, Francesco Lollino.When asked what dishes he could recommend on the menu, he just shrugged and said, “Well they are all special.” And indeed they are.

I unfurled the table napkin, and tucked into to tanginess of feta cheese and salty sauce of Spaghetti Bellini. Then , the sweet and salty medley of the Crab Salad. Now, the soft cheese and mushrooms of the Pizza Capricciosa. Last, the succulence of the Grilled Tiger Prawns. White wine washed down the meal, and satisfaction came by way of enjoying the contrasts of the experience. They just somehow blend seamlessly with each other –the very Mediterranean blue and white chairs of Gecko’s, the Italian touches of an open wood oven, the sad aria softly piping in through the speakers, and the very tropical setting of sunny Thailand.

Krabi’s crabs

Now if Sheraton seeks to transplant a bit of Western flavor –Italian with Gecko’s or a bit of a European pub feel with Coco Vida, which screens football games and movies (showing, what else, but Leonardo di Caprio’s The Beach, set in nearby Phi Phi Lei island), it has also taken great pains to make sure that the resort will retain its most Thai traits. Particularly, in making sure that the construction of the resort was always around Klong Muong’s natural features, and never through it. Case in point: the preserved mangrove forest located at the back of the resort.

A short trip on a back walk way showed us the exposed roots of the thriving mangrove population that Sheraton has carefully kept intact. Here is where the mangroves’ most interesting residents thrive: the Mudskipper, or more popularly known as “fish with feet,” (actually, these are called pectoral fins that have evolved into muscles which the fish use for jumping) because they can amble about on mud in chase of insects.

But the superstar of the mangrove community is the Fiddler Crab. With its one oversized, brightly colored claw, it is easy to spot in its brown surroundings. This strange creature puts its one-arm to good use: to mark of its territory, and to attract the attention of the females. In any case, the kids staying in the resort love this area, this bit of science that doesn’t feel like a regular biology lesson.

Lounge life

The afternoon was spent strolling along the beach that stretched 1.8 km in front of the resort. While some couples prefer to splash around in the clear blue waters or frolick around in the soft cream sand, one could also rent a kayak, go parasailing, snorkelling or scuba diving. But I found that the best way to enjoy this section of Krabi’s beach was through the dozens of blue-green lounge chairs that dotted the grounds facing the ocean.

Wandee showed us her favourite spot in the resort, several steps from the pool area, and in front of the swanky Malati bar (cocktails and lights in front of the sea!) It was a windswept green lawn, with a sprinkling of trees and lounge chairs. “Best place to catch the sunset,” Wandee said, and to prove her point, she showed me a stunning neon orange photo in her Blackberry, taken just the day before. And so the sun set beautifully on that first day, we ate dinner at another of its dining outlets – Mangosteen, where the pad thai was perfect, and the duck with crispy salad was divine. It was a wonderful, but long day. And it was time to try out just how sweet that Sweet Sleeper bed could be.

Four islands in a day

The next day woke us bright and early for an exploration of nearby islands. At eight o’clock, on the dot, the hotel’s bus shuttled us off to the pier, some 40 minutes away, where the Ko Phi Phi tour offered a choice of either the Four Islands Tour or Phi Phi Island. This tour could easily be arranged at Sheraton’s Tour desk, and costs around 1,200 baht (US$40). We piled on a big speedboat, a ragtag group made up of some 20 people – a Korean family, a Chinese family and several Thai families and groups of friends. As the boat powerfully propelled through the teal blue waters, with limestone karsts looming stately in the distance, small smiles began to play on our face—the inevitable offshoot of being surrounded by such splendor.

The first island, Pranang Beach, is more popularly known as Princess Cave. Though the waters are clear and inviting, and there is the option of rock climbing in its craggy walls, the real draw of the island is the makeshift shrine built for the princess whose legend lives on in its shores. Toi, our affable tour guide told me the story of a princess from a Muslim country whose travels in search of her long lost brother have brought her to this particular island in Thailand. This was where her journey ended, for she died without ever finding her brother. And so it is that local fishermen believed that every year, a man would die mysteriously because the princess would take them. As such they built a small shrine decorated with rainbow-colored scarves and strips of cloth, and phallic symbols to appease her, but also to petition her for everything – a mate, a child, and yes, good weather.

The next island, Tup, was just a dazzling white sandbar that connected to a nearby island, at low tide. Several of us took to that opportunity to cross to the other side; others lay on the beach and stared into to the miles of calm blanket of blue, and onto the giant limestones. Others fell all over themselves taking pictures. Indeed, this is the island where you would want to take lots and lots of pictures in, to show the folks back at home.

Back at the boat, we stopped in the middle of the ocean for two things. One was a photo opportunity of Chicken Island, so called because of a distended limestone rock that protruded just like how a chicken head would. The other was a bit of snorkelling, in an area that was rich with reef fish. Parrot fish, clown fish, idol fish, sea urchins—virtually the whole cast of Finding Nemo was out at sea that day. The last island, was Poda Island, or, in my head, “ lunch island,” as all that snorkelling and island hopping is a sure-fire way to work up an appetite. We picnicked under the nipa hut shade, feasting on chicken with coconut milk, egg omelette, rice, watermelons and pineapples. Korean, Chinese, and Thai languages mixed easily with each other; the small Korean boy, who, just minutes earlier was snorkelling with his father, was sleeping soundly in the middle of it all, not a care in the world. I knew exactly how he felt.

Krabi Town

Our island hopping morning ended promptly after lunch, and the rest of the day was spent touring Krabi town, which again, could be easily arranged through the tour desk. By around 6PM that day, I got my first real taste of Krabi, in plenty of its aspects. Here you would see, located behind Vogue Department Store, a gem of a night market called, “Krabi Walking Street.”

Open from 5:00 to 10:00 PM, Fridays to Sundays, Krabi Walking Street is a delightful network of street stalls, sidewalk vendors that offer everything from silk screened shirts, hand- painted art of Krabi scenery, locally made perfumes, oils and lotions, pretty sundresses, knives, axes, and of course food. We passed by a dreadlocked artist, sitting cross-legged on the road, drawing caricatures of couples, children playing traditional Thai gongs, and drums; people selling sushi, kebabs, fruit shakes, roasted bananas, fried quail eggs, baked mussels, lobster, prawns, pork barbecue and roasted squid among others. It was organized chaos, one that I didn’t mind getting lost in.

It was very crowded and nearly impossible to find a seat in the big square that served an al fresco dining area. But one of the vendors created a makeshift table for us out of his ice cooler and his own chairs. We couldn’t get over how big, juicy, and delectable the mussels (120 baht or around US$ 4) were, and how we suddenly had prime seats to the stage show, which included a traditional Thai dance. The young women moved around the stage slowly and gracefully, and for a moment, the bustling night market almost stood still.

Home Away From Home

On the bus on the way back to the resort, I got to talk to one of the guests. Luca from Belgium was travelling through Southeast Asia -- as a much-needed break from his real estate business back in Antwerp. He had spent the previous day in Pa Tong beach in Phuket, took one look at the party revellers who staggered home drunk at 5 am in the morning and jumped on the first bus to Krabi. He knew he wanted to stay at a Sheraton, based on previous experiences in these hotels worldwide. “I just needed a place to relax, to get my bearings, and I knew Sheraton would be the best place to do that,” he said.

Indeed, that is the overriding feeling of staying at the Sheraton, Krabi – its laid back atmosphere, sprawling grounds, its family-friendly vibe, its comfort food, is such an ideal base from which to explore the richness of what the rest of Krabi has to offer.

Beijing in February

So it looks like I am going to Beijing. I didn't want to say anything because I was a tad worried about the visa situation. But the travel agent told us last week that everything had gone well and the visa was ready for pick-up on February 10.

Needless to say, I am over the moon at this bit of blessing. I can now, finally, maniacally plan this trip down to the very last detail. With just three days in this sprawling capital, I would feel uncomfortable leaving anything to chance.

Which is not to say I won't welcome surprises or even setbacks along the way. I expect there will be some, but at least I'll know my way around or through it.

I've made a 3-day Beijing itinerary, which I thought was pretty nifty, but then I went online today, saw this very comprehensive site  and realized what an amateur of a trip planner I actually am.

So today, the itinerary will have to be beefed up and trimmed down at the same time.

I am enjoying this so much, I'll have to find a way to make a living out of this.

Some Vietnam Sights I Will Have To Miss (For Now)

Mia proposed this itinerary, for what she likes to call our "sojourney weaver" to Vietnam and Cambodia.

November 1: ETD: 11:30 PM Manila

November 2: ETA: 12:40 AM Saigon (Ho Chi Minh) : Whole Day Saigon

November 3: ETD: 7:00 am Saigon (via Bus) ETA: 2:00 pm Phnom Penh whole day PP, overnight PP

November 4: ETD: 7:00 am PP (via Bus) ETA: 2:00 pm Siem Reap whole day SR, overnight SR



November 5: whole day SR November 6: ETD: 7:00 am SR (via bus) ETA: 8:00 pm Saigon

November 7: ETD: 1:00 am Saigon ETA: 4:00 am Manila

One Sunday we decided to go online and talk about what to do and where to stay. The thing is, I would have wanted to stay a bit longer in Vietnam, to be able to visit sights such as Halong Bay, Hue and Hanoi.

Mausoleum of Tu Doc in Hue (from virtualtourist.com)

Limestone karsts in Halong Bay

We toyed around the idea of extending our trip in order to accommodate the side trips to Vietnam's other sights. But then we remembered Camarines Sur. Nine straight days and non-stop traveling and we were getting on each others' nerves.

So we decided to stick to the plan and settle for a city tour of Ho Chi Minh (funny how all the interesting places in Vietnam start with an H.) So we decided to split the planning - Mia would take care of the Cambodia leg of our trip, and I would oversee Vietnam.

It's the most overwhelming thing actually. There is just too much information from all sorts of sources. I've browsed through the Lonely Planet website, scanned a Frommers Travel Guide in a book store, hopped from one website to another.

I'm giving myself a deadline. Tomorrow, I will post an initial list of hotels and sights that I've collected. I'll try to connect with someone from Vietnam on Facebook as well. Let's see how that goes.

Friendly Neighborhood Airline

By now you might know that one of the best budget carriers here in the Philippines is Cebu Pacific. Every so often, the airline comes out with these promos for ridiculously low prices for any of their domestic and foreign flights.

I myself have flown from Manila to Cebu in January for 2,500 php (US 256 dollars), roundtrip. Or Manila to Davao, several times with fares ranging from 3,500 to 4,000 pesos (US 80-90 dollars).



The key really, is to know that prices plummet in November. I get the updates in my email, which can be activated by clicking their site here.

My best friend Mia and I have been wanting to go on a trip for a long time. So when Beijing and Shanghai fares dropped, we thought we'd go. But then we decided the visa process would a bit tedious for now.

So Southeast Asia then. She wanted to go to Cambodia, I wanted to see Vietnam. So why not both? We waited two more weeks because initially the plane fare costs 7,000 php (US 160 dollars), and we know it wouldn't be long until Cebu Pac would lower its rates.

And that was how, we were able to book roundtrip ticket from Manila to Vietnam for only 4,000 php (US 90 dollars).

Our trip is scheduled for November 1 until 7, and now we're just figuring out how the rest our trip will fit into a shoestring budget.

I Will Travel The World

My lifelong dream is to be able to travel all over the world. I always thought only the rich had the luxury to do this. Not anymore.

Starting with Vietnam and Cambodia this November, I vow to visit as many places in the world as I possibly can. And I'll show you how that's possible.