How did the Robin Lawrence cross the road in Phnom Penh?


The answer is as follows.  I set out for a jog a long the Mekong promenade this morning before breakfast hoping that the there would not be too many pedestrians or too much traffic around.  While I was right about the former I was very wrong about the latter.  0745 was very definitely part of the rush hour and the road to the prom was choca-block with motorbikes, tuk-tuks and cars.  The were no gaps  in the traffic.  The traffic speed wasn't that fast. More of a saunter-hour really but it was the volume of vehicles that left me initially defeated.  How was I to cross?  The answer appeared to be gradually, without stopping and in front of the largest vehicle possible.  Mopeds abhor a vacuum and will fill any available gap but gaps they can't fill are the ones in front of full width lorries and buses.  Eventually along came a cement lorry, 20 metres away and I went for it, walking boldly out into the middle of the road.  Halfway there.  As the lorry trundled behind me I weaved my way across to the other side between the on-coming masses.  Relieved, and only worrying a little about how I would cross back over, I went for my morning stagger.   I am sure that practice at road crossing makes perfect but even Tufty would have his work cut out in Phnom Penh especially I allowing the added danger of texting moped riders thrown in for good measure.

The plan was for all of us to rendezvous at a coffee shop across from our place for the night , The Riverwalk Guesthouse.  The place advertised "Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner" so it looked a safe bet.   No Lawrences were there when I returned.  Instead I found them all dressed in Lexi and I's room enjoying the satellite TV, namely a Barbie film.  Brilliant.  Our heroine was desperate to become a ballerina but in trying to fulfil her dreams she had to overcome several obstacles.  Firstly she and her best friend Hayley, who wore glasses and a sensible haircut, a kind of Velma to Scooby Doo's Daphne, had to avoid the offers of help and marriage from two idiot horse-riders.  One of them was apparently a lazy prince and the other his accomplished arrow shooting bestie.  The two women then  had to survive being geese and in particular Hayley/Velma had to avoid being shot by Princey's bow and arrow.  Luckily Princey had been trained by the Vogons and so missed our heroine's best friend by 20 metric metres as she struggled to fly away.  Surely her flying attempts were made all the more difficult thanks to the pair of glasses that she was wearing?  The person who really needed their eyes tested though was The Prince himself as he failed to even pass comment on a bespectacled goose.  Luckily it all ended and ended happily.  Barbie danced, heroic ballet dancer Siegfried watched on and some dodgy bloke with a moustache in the audience applauded.  Hunger and the need to put our brains back in meant that we were not able to watch any more, much to Trixie's disappointment.

Returning to the "Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner" place we discovered that it was really just a place for blokes to gather round and drink coffee and so instead we caught a tuk-tuk to the Central Market in search of breakfast.  Central Market is an ornate yellow, pentagonal building packed full of handicrafts, jewellery, fake designer goods and food.  The bread, noodle soups, coffee and fruit was all delicious.  But as with all Cambodian markets haggling is compulsory for everything.  Trixie stood on my last pair of fake designer sunglasses so I bought a replacement fake pair.  The first price was US$4 and the price I paid was $2.  Lexi bought a necklace. First price $7.  Price paid $4.  Would it not make sense to display fixed prices that include a sensible margin of profit for the vendor?  It all gets rather tiring as the over-pricing is not consistent.  We then saw some table mats with a initial price of $6.  Following the half it and haggle approach adopted earlier we offered $3 only to be met with a plaintiff "No.  Can not."  Eventually we settled on $4.50.  Did we get a reasonable price or did we fall victim to a pitiful lady?

One price that was about right was for the box of coffee that I bought to send to a former colleague and good-coffee aficionado.   One of the now retired secretaries at my former school loved real coffee, much like me and shunned the poor relative that is instant.  We got on well.  Well the least I could do was post her 250grams of Cambodia's finest brown stuff.  Our guesthouse was conveniently near to the main post office and so while Lexi and the children had a post breakfast stomach churn on the swings at a neighbouring park I set about posting the parcel.   I am used to over-staffing in Malaysia and perhaps a little more sympathetic to it in Cambodia given the relative poverty. However having six or more people involved in sorting it my small parcel was perhaps genuine overkill.  The main lady who staffed the "Overseas Ordinary Parcels" counter was assisted by one colleague who tore up the Sellotape while the main lady weighed the parcel pre- and post- packaging.  The other four people involved stood around and looked on some offering advice and suggestions other just alternating between a quick chat and blank staring.  One staff member though  fulfilled the very important role of mobile phone call fielder.  The lady sorting out my package (no rudeness intended) had to break off for a few moments to take a call.  The most tricky part of the whole the though was sticking all the stamps on.  The postal cost was 55,000 Riel and the largest value stamp was 4000.  After all that I hope the parcel arrives!







Siem Reap


We have had four pretty full days in Siem Reap, the city closest to the amazing wonder that is the collection of Angkor temples.  The temples themselves are amazing, even after more than 800 years many of them have survived in some semblance of stability and solidity despite invasions from Thai and Vietnamese armies, French colonists, The Khmer Rouge and now millions of tourists.  If the main temple builder, King Jayawarman VII were to see the results of his thousands of sculptors today I am sure that his feelings about the current state of the temples would be a mixture of slight disappointment at the historical looting but wonder that so many people are drawn to the place year on year.  He would probably be pleased that the visitors who come to the place also support huge numbers of Cambodians' livelihoods too.

We have only seen a very small part of the country so far on this trip but from my limited observations Cambodia does appear to be a fragile, yet very optimistic country.  The lengths to which our tour guide had to go to get himself educated are staggering.  Back in the late 1980s he raised the tuition fees for his private school English lessons by digging out and delivering ten cubic metres of sand from rivers for builders.  He then went on to study history and law at university and is now leading tours in a place that he still describes as a wonder because the money he earns from tourists is, in his words "clean."   

Our tuk tuk driver for the three days bought his own secondhand motorbike and rents his tuk tuk trailer from the owner of the hotel that we stayed in for US$30 per month.  We were the first foreign tourists that he had driven this month so he wasn't just glad of the work, he was delighted.  He was also a nice guy too.  He couldn't work out a way to buy the tuk tuk trailer, at nearly $800,  so, for the moment, he does the best he can for his wife and two children.

Then there is the childrens' hospital in Siem Reap.  90% funded by private donations from overseas the hospital management have stamped out all corruption and admit all children who need treatment free of charge.  As well as needing funds they always need blood, so it was a small duty that Lexi and I did this afternoon to roll up our sleeves and lie down for twenty minutes.  As this is Cambodia there were no tea and biscuits afterwards.  Instead we were offered a cold can of fanta and given a thank you bag including iron and vitamin tablets, information about the hospital and a t-shirt with slogans to encourage others to give blood.  We passed ours on to our driver, along with a tip, in the hope that by him wearing it he will help persuade others to call in for their can of fanta and do a good deed.

And then there are constructive and reconstructive projects and activities to help those affected by the 1970 to 1975 Khmer Rouge atrocities.  While 70% of the landlines that were laid in the country have been cleared there are plenty of people who are living with the affects of them.  But it is living with the effects.  At many of Angkor temples there were bands of amputee, sometimes double amputee, musicians playing traditional Cambodian instruments and music.  One drum player did not seem to let the loss of both hands and his sight stop him from playing well.

Despite the very many difficulties that continue to face the country there still appears to be a desire to work hard and develop.  But a note to the tourists in our hotel lobby this evening who were trying to avoid paying their tuk tuk driver for their journey: it is a very fragile existence here.  The $1 commission that our driver received for helping us to book our bus tickets to Phnom Penh is a very important $1 to him.  I hope the words that I whispered in the arguing tourist's ear had the desired effect.

Journey to Siem Reap - Beware of Smooth Men in Pink Shirts.


In Lawrence world doing anything before 0600 is considered to be night time and so should incur extra charges or double time payment.  It also feels slightly wrong too.  Catching a train at 0555, as we did this morning felt rather daft. It was the second part of our journey from Bangkok to Siem Reap in Cambodia, the first being getting a taxi to Hualampong Station.  Fortunately there are loads more taxis around the Thai capital than at Desa Park City so we didn't have to wait long, but just long enough to buy pieces of barbecued meat and bags of sticky rice for breakfast from Barbecue Lady and her stall at the end of the Soi.

Buying a ticket at the station was easier than when I booked our sleeper tickets and also very cheap.  Our combined ticket price for five Lawrences was 168 baht (£3.50 ish) for the five and a half hour journey.  We knew that the third class only train was not going to be luxurious, and it wasn't, but we did get seats together and the train did leave bang on time.  Ok it did arrive thirty minutes late in Aranyaprathet but at such a cheap price it would be rude to complain.  The train went through the suburbs of Bangkok and then into rice field after rice field and finally to the border town.  It was full of passengers for most of the journey as well as being well-populated by food sellers too.  There appeared to be three main sellers selling drinks and snacks the most notable one being a chap who was specialising in cooked meats.  At first the freshly cooked sausages looked quite appetising but as the journey went on they started to tire and whither somewhat becoming less appealing as the miles went by.  The lesson learned?  Avoid sausages on the return leg.

We arrived in Aranyaprathet at high noon and were soon captured by an enthusiastic tuk-tuk driver.  He took us to get the regulation passport photos taken, as required by the Cambodian Visa Police.  The official Cambodian Government website said that we needed two each, the shop only sold them in eights and the border police only wanted one of each.  There is a scam in there somewhere.

In total it took almost three hours from arriving at the Thai side to setting foot on official Cambodian soil.  By the time we did get through I was left with thinking "What was the point of all that?"  So what happened?

The tuk-tuk driver dropped us off at an office called Official Visa Service.  I had read up about these places and knew them to be a scam of some sorts. So did my best to keep all Lawrences out of there.  However our driver unloaded our bags in to the office quickly and a smooth looking gentlemen started trying to soften us up by asking us to fill in official Cambodian arrival and departures cards, which we duly did.  This Smooth Looking Gentleman number one, wearing a pinkish shirt, then proceeded to tell is about our transport options from the Cambodian border to Siem Reap.  "It is all official,"  he told us, "Free shuttle bus," and so we officially left the office, with completed cards and walked towards the Thai exit.  We went via a cafe for plates of rice, noodles and fried eggs as, by that time, it had been ages since breakfast.

After feeding we dragged our cases towards the Thai border, me leading, Lexi bringing up the rear and Trixie being a sort of mobile tourist attraction,  dressed as she was in her pink rain jacket and pulling her bee-shaped and -coloured suitcase on wheels.  Getting out of Thailand was relatively straightforward.  We had completed the necessary papers and so the Thai police, resplendent in their extremely tight fitting brown, lycra uniforms beckoned us through with grumpy grimaces.  I blame the trousers.

Next we had to buy our Cambodian tourist visas.  A small sign directed us to an out-of-the-way office where we filled in more forms, parted with US$20 each and got a sticker and more stamps in our passports.  I presume that the US$20 is put to some good use although a large part of it must surely go to pay the salaries of the twelve officers on duty: four to hand out the forms; say "Pay money!" and chuck the completed forms and passports to one of the seven officers sat behind a perspex screen and then one officer sat in a separate office being in charge.  While we waited for our passports to be returned Smooth Looking Gentleman number two, wearing a pinkish shirt, approached us and explained about our transport options in Cambodia.  In impeccable English he repeated what Smooth Looking Gentleman number one, wearing a pinkish shirt, had said earlier, namely that there was a free shuttle bus from the border to the bus station where we could catch our bus onwards to Siem Reap.  I was starting to smell a scam.

With passports plus newly added stickers  returned we left the visa office and walked towards the Cambodian arrivals area.  However because we were not in either country yet that meant that we were in a sort of no-man's land.  Nature abhors a vacuum and South East Asians abhor the strict anti-gambling laws.  Consequently there were loads of very posh looking hotels in no-man's land that were full of slot machines and the like.  No rules or laws broken as we were in a lawless state.

There was a massive queue at Cambodian arrivals.  Inside the arrivals office a mob of people trying to get into Cambodia soon became four queues lining up behind four police officers at four windows, working as slowly as possible.  In addition to this there was a thirty metre queue of people waiting to go in the arrivals office.  Reluctantly we went to the back of the queue, lengthening it by a few metres.  We were joined very soon after by Smooth Looking Gentleman number two, wearing a pinkish shirt, and smooth smile to go with it.  And it was now that Smooth Looking Gentleman number two, wearing a pinkish shirt, revealed the scam.  "You can join the VIP lane and do not have to wait," he said.  Really?  "Yes.  You only have to pay 200 baht per person and then go to the VIP lane."  That's about £20 for all Lawrences!  I was shocked.  But it all started to make sense. The slower the whole system worked the more likely people were to pay the bribe, I mean extra fee, and so this corrupt circle progresses.  Naturally I declined the offer from Smooth Looking Gentleman number two, wearing a pinkish shirt.  A few moments later a slightly less smooth, but still pink shirt wearing gentleman approached us and made us the 200 baht offer again.  We declined and then when we finally got to the front of the thirty metre queue Smooth Looking Gentleman number four approached and made the same offer.  I was too irritated by this point to look at the colour of his shirt, but it was probably a pinkish one.  

Two hours after leaving Thailand we entered Cambodia, principles still in tact although I did manage a brush with authority again.  I took a couple of photos of the queues and people seemingly drifting past the queues. Officer P048 took exception to this and demanded, in good English, that I delete them.  No amount of persuasion from me would shut him up, so eventually I did.  Lexi seized on this opportunity to ask officer P048 why we had waited so long, why there were so many police around doing nothing and why people were being asked to pay bribes to get past the queues.  As expected his excellent English deserted him.  He walked off, sat on his official stool and took out his iPhone 5.

We did eventually get into Cambodia.  But we had only avoided one scam so far.  After the big reveal of the VIP lane scam it was now time for the 'free shuttle bus' scam.  Various insistent characters, wearing the full range of coloured shirts this time, did their best to get us on to the free shuttle bus, only then to try to get us to pay lots for the very un-free bus from the 'official bus station' to Siem Reap.  Walking ten metres away from from the hustlers I got speaking to another bloke who offered me the option of a taxi.  Once I had got his initial 2500 baht price down to a more sensible 1300 ('plus 100 baht beer money for me, my friend, but don't tell anyone about the price')  he summoned his 'brother' (why do people like this always have a conveniently located 'brother'?) and we were off to Siem Reap.   About seven kilometres away from the border we saw the 'official bus station' deep in the middle of nowhere.  Naturally the 'brother' just happened to drop us off in Siem Reap right next to another tuk-tuk driver who he 'just happened to know.'  Maybe the two of them were 'brothers?'

 Eventful day and overall a good journey.

Arriving in Bangkok - 11 Years On.

Lexi and I last visited Bangkok together in 2002 on our way to and from a summer holiday in Lao.  In 2002 Bangkok was a loud, grubby and rushed place clogged with traffic.  Arriving yesterday, Wednesday, in 2013 I am delighted to report that in 11 years Bangkok has transformed itself in to a loud, grubby and rushed place clogged with traffic.


We left Dolphin Bay in a hired taxi, well a car owned by one of the restaurants next to Dolphin Bay, and were dropped off at Hua Hin Bus Station, ready to catch the high noon bus to the capital.  Peckish I collected some barbecued chicken, fish and sticky rice to munch on the journey only to be told in no uncertain terms by a very miserable bus host that these choicest snacks must not be eaten on her bus as they would make it smell.  I suppose the last thing any driver wants is the smell of freshly cooked chicken wafting around as they drive at break-neck speed to the capital.  So fast was the driver that he managed to knock almost an hour off the estimated journey time.  But he still suffered from Thai bus driver's contrariness though.  This manifests itself by way of the need to drive your public service vehicle at its maximum possible speed, almost bull-dozing as many vehicles as possible off the road and then, when arriving at any scheduled stop ambling, Clint Eastwood style, from bus to stop, smoking a cigarette in a relaxed manner and then returning to the vehicle for the next session of rally driving.  Overall I was quite glad that we were consigned to the back seat of the bus to receive the James Bond treatment arriving shaken, but our resolve was not stirred.

We arrived at Bangkok's Southern Bus Station and then set about finding our way to our chosen 'guest house.'  (Explanation of the inverted commas to follow.)  However before we could clamber on to the 511 to Sukhamvit Road the passengers of Bangkok were treated to the delights of seeing Lexi chase after our last bus trying to get back the barbecued chicken that we had careful not eaten while in transit but had carefully left on the bus.

The 'guest house' that we were heading for was called 27 Hotel and is on Soi 22 Sukhamvit Road.  It is also very cheap.  We had been loving the luxury of Dolphin Bay for 3800 baht per night (for two rooms) and then we checked in to 27 Hotel for 800 baht (for two rooms).  It is important to stress that Lexi and I found 27 Hotel  about 13 years ago on our first visit to Bangkok thanks to a Lao tuk-tuk driver who took us, again at high speed, to the place.  Then it was cheap and cheerful and clean enough.  Little has changed in the meantime.  It is still cheap, a bit less cheerful perhaps and certain areas could do with being a bit cleaner.  To give a flavour of the place I should perhaps mention a few of the signs that are helpfully displayed around 27 Hotel.  The price list offers and overnight price per room of 400 baht and then a short stay price of 200, a photocopied sign tells guests to take care when smoking and a handwritten piece of paper tells room users to do their best not to stain the sheets.  On reflection perhaps 27 Hotel has gone down a bit more than it should have done over the 13 years that Lexi and I have known it.  It still provides clean towels and hot water in the en suite bathrooms as well as aircon and soap.  However the howling cats are a new addition as was the small pile of cat waste in the corridor this evening.  I feel that we have now officially out-grown 27 Hotel and will have to go a bit more up market in Bangkok.

Tomorrow (Friday) we are heading off to Cambodia, partly by train, and I have also booked part of our train journey back towards KL.  What a process that was!  I went to Hualampong Station last night and assumed, wrongly that just as I had when we travelled from KL to Hua Hin that I could make all the necessary bookings at one station.  No.  I could book a sleeper train to Hat Yai from from Bangkok, no problem.  But I could not book from Hat Yai to KL.  The booking clerk told me that that was impossible as that was a Malaysia train.  But how come I could book at Thai train in Malaysia but not vice versa? Could they look on the booking system to check availability?  No.  The only possibility would be to get to Hat Yai and then book, hopefully, the train to KL from there.   Then it was time of pay.  I proffered my Malaysian credit card.  The clerk checked the time.  What?  Apparently credit cards cannot be used after 9.30pm.  It had tried to pay at 9.32pm and no amount of pleading would get the payment accepted.  Luckily there were plenty of cash points around.

Today's efforts at being tourists though was more successful.  We all enjoyed the tour around former silk merchant's house, Jim Thompson, clearly a man of style.  Despite disappearing in mysterious circumstances in The Cameron Highlands in 1967 he left behind a beautiful, tranquil place in the heart of Bangkok that has been preserved by the Thai Government.

Next we had lunch and then spent a pleasant afternoon at The Bangkok Art and Culture Centre.  There was a really impressive exhibition of local paintings called The White Elephant Collection as well as other thought-provoking works too. 

Final port of call was Lumpini Park where Rupert and Trixie enjoyed dashing around on the various bits of play equipment while Edwin and I drove swan shaped peddle boats around the lake.  At 6.00pm Edwin and I reverently stopped peddling, while all joggers  in the park ceased running and couples smooching at the side of the lake stopped smooching and stood for the Thai  National Anthem.  Then it was taxi back to 27 Hotel and sleep.  Someone who will be sleeping well the evening is the taxi driver who drove us to 27 Hotel as he will have a very full tummy.  Edwin, who was in charge of the bread bag, managed to leave it behind in the taxi.

Thai TV Choice

.Sneaking out of the heat and sun for a few moments I retired to the Lawrence room at Dolphin Bay Beach Resort and flicked through a few TV channels.  There was certainly a lot of choice, 25 channels is quite a lot to select from but, as all TV critics know, the number of options does not necessarily mean quality.  


I turned down the opportunity to watch two Thai ladies swap biscuit and cake recipes while being jollied along by a Christopher Biggins look-a-like.  The interview with the Egyptian foreign minister on BBC World was intriguing, if somewhat ponderous while Jack Davenport tried his best to do a Dick Van Dyke style cockney accent in 'Smash.'  Then I found the sport channel and baseball.  Crikey it is a slow thing to watch.  The pitcher spends several minutes adjusting his hat, moving his trousers around and mumbling into his catching glove before throwing a ball to the bloke clutching the bat.  In a break from the conventional urban use for a baseball bat the batter then swings the bat around and aims to hit the ball rather than threaten a random passer-by with violence, while some bloke standing behind the batter wiggles his fingers in front of his groin and possibly catches the ball.  Following this excitement the TV network then decided to show more shots of other men adjusting their trousers and hats while wearing grim expressions.  Clearly baseball is a game for miseries who wear clothing that doesn't fit. And the there is the 'Nick' channel where trendy American teenagers with daft names change their clothes from one shot to another.  One character even appeared to have changed her hair colour while travelling from her home to the airport.   Great stuff indeed.  But then my era was Rentaghost and the least said about that the better.

Prepare, Prime and Protect and The Special One of Thailand.

Sorry I made an error in my previous post.  The make-up tips guru is in fact Jeannie Mai, not Jeannie Looi, as I inaccurately mentioned.  Sorry.  And sorry that I still have no idea who she is.  After washing your mascara brushes in warm water using shampoo each week today's top tip is how to avoid skin problems caused by using make-up: prepare; prime and protect as that will stop damage to skin says the great lady.    Could using less make-up also be an option Ms Mai?


Perhaps I ought to follow some of Ms Mai's three PPPs advice when getting myself for my running /staggering around Dolphin Bay Beach Resort.  I am pleased to have lost a few pounds in the past months and am keen to keep them off so doing a spot of jogging here is part of my 'Protect Regime,' (take note Jeannie).  However preparing by eating a large pile of bacon, two  mugs of muddy Thai coffee and Leo's beer last night did not leave me in my physical prime.     Consequently, despite the cooling drizzle, my run was one that was fitfully punctuated by bacony sensations throughout.  Can I lay the blame at working in an, officially, Muslim country where bacon is priced so highly that it is a luxury food?  Consequently when it appears on tap, as it were, in Thailand I just can't say no.  Do I need therapy, I wonder?

However a meeting with 'The Special One' at the resort more than made up for my bacon based difficulties today.  Dolphin Bay really does go that extra mile for its guests and so yesterday when I asked at their office if there was anywhere that I could buy a SIM card their reply was "No, but someone will go into Hua Hin tomorrow (55km away) and get one for you."   Marvellous.  I went back to the reception today and was told that they did have a SIM card for me, but that I should really wait to talk to 'The Special One.'   Quietly hoping for phone advice from Jose Mourinho I returned later and met a cheery Thai lady who had selected the perfect fit for our needs, added 300 Baht credit and set the language to English.  Certainly more smiley and useful than Jose Mourinho when dealing with pay as you go phones and so she will now be allowed to take over the title, officially, of 'The Special One.'  Anyone fancy a chat?

Also enjoyed a cycle ride along the sea front this afternoon, a plunge in the pool after dark, and papaya salad for lunch.  2012 is the film this evening on Fox Movies.  Fox Movies' adverts keep telling me that I should "catch the awsomeness" but this film is far from awesome.  What disaster could possibly befall this specially selected band of people trying to save the world?  Oh, they are about to crash into Mount Everest. Come on Jackson, really.

At Dolphin Bay Beach Resort, Hua Hin, Thailand (plus beauty tips).

The most hassling part of the whole journey was getting out of Desa Park City.  We managed to leave the house without forgetting passports, tickets money or children but it took ages to get a taxi.  When I had tried in the past to book a taxi from DPC the reply came back saying sorry, no taxis.  So we simply tried  the stand and hope method.  Eventually, after a thirty minute wait, a taxi did stop and collect us, but it was not helped by it being Rammadan and fast breaking time.


Our 9.30pm train from Kuala Lumpur was bang on time and with the bunks already set up the children loved it.  Perhaps being really excited at bed time was not the best time to be excited and didn't guarantee a full night's sleep although credit to them they were surprisingly awake when we arrived at Butterworth at 5.23am.  By all accounts Butterworth isn't really the place to be so instead we walked the 200m or so to the Penang Ferry terminal and paid our RM1.20 / RM 0.60 for the first crossing of the day.  Paying our combined equivalent of around 85p was a splendid example of over staffing.  First we had to change our RM notes into coins from one staffed counter and then approach and aged, coin-only turnstile where staff member number two watched us put our coins in.  However as the children only turnstile, RM0.60 / 12p, was broken we had to give the coins directly to staff member number two who then gave the coins back to staff member number one at the counter.  Thankfully the return journey was free.

The ferry took us straight to the Penang Jetty Bus Station and thence the 204 bus took us at very high speed to Penang Hill.   Maybe the driver was on a speed bonus?  Rupert managed to get the very front seat, fortunately with a seat belt, and as we cornered and braked in the style of a rally driver Rupert held his arms in the air could be heard shouting "Weeeeee!"

The Penang furnicular railway is quite a construction and thanks to our ridiculously early start we managed to get the first train up in the morning.  That meant that along with our noodles and rice for breakfast we also had a cracking view.  The place was packed with mountain bikers who had come up the 800 metres under their own steam.  All looked suitably shattered.

Our next train left Butterworth at 2.30pm and chugged slowing northward.  All the way along we saw evidence of a new North-South line under construction but we all enjoyed the slow charm of the current service.  We had to get off the train at the border to complete the formalities of entering Thailand.  Fortunately there is no charge for Thai  visas for Brits.  

On arrival at Hat Yai our two carriages were connected to many more for the longest section of the journey on towards Bangkok.  However of much more interest to the children was the arrival of chicken and rice women.  Three insistent Thai ladies clambered in to our carriage holding trays of barbecued chicken and sticky rice and waved these delicious delicacies under our various noses.  Needless to say we bought five portions, despite the ladies trying to persuade us that six or seven portions would be better,  with pineapple to follow.  Partly due to tiredness and partly due to full tummies we all slept like logs.

The train was due to arrive in Hua Hin at 6.29am, but actually made it in just before 8.00am.  That gave us time to enjoy coffee brought to our places as well several competitive rounds of UNO.  Hua Hin Station is a very ornate place partly resembling a Thai Buddhist temple.  It was certainly being maintained like a temple with a squad of platform sweepers, cleaners and attendants keeping the place in tip top condition.

And so on to Dolphin Bay Beach Resort.  Tripadvisor.com have rated the place very highly and I can see why.  The various bungalows are set around two saltwater pools, one of which has a water slide.  The cafe / breakfast area overlooks the pools making them very parent friendly.  We have rented two adjoining bungalows with aircon, bathrooms and TVs which allowed us the dubious pleasure of watching an imported American police drama called, something like "Crime SUV 14."  In between the adverts we saw various well-made-up and suitably handsome officers standing in different locations explaining the complicated plot to each other while attempting to get a bloke released from death row and arrest a dodgy, bearded bloke.   Probably the most memorable part of the televisual experience was the brief interlude from Jennie Looi, I don't know who she is either, who spent a couple of minutes giving Lexi and I make-up tips.  Apparently if I do nothing else then I must make sure that I wash my mascara brush out in warm water with shampoo, NOT soap (she was most insistent) every week.  I must remember to buy a mascara brush as soon as possible so that I can complete this beauty essential regularly.

More beauty tips soon.

Let's Go Ride A Bike.

Those people who know it all, "They," say that you  never forget how to ride a bike.  That of course presupposes that can ride a bike in the first place.  Over the last few days, with the assistance of Grandma Sausages, I have been trying get Rupert to ride a bike.  On Monday he tried and tried and eventually managed ten metres in a straight line.  Great news.  There were only two elements of cycling that he struggled with though: cornering and stopping.  Whenever he attempted to deviate deliberately from the straight and narrow he fell off.  Whenever he considered stopping he simply had to grind to a halt and trust to good fortune, which usually meant he fell off.  In one spectacular move he did manage to steer completely off course, pick up speed, slalom between two large rocks and come to a vertical stop on a gravel path.  That was Monday.


On Tuesday we hoped for improvement.  Setting off on the path to the park the determined man did his best to understand the concept of straight line, despite the path being curved and off he set.  Amazing over the first five metres.  Not so amazing in the sixth metre as he steered straight into a lamp-post.  I had expected a clang as bicycle hit metal.  Instead we heard the dull thump of small boy against illumination.  Applying the get back on quickly approach he set off again, held in starting position by me, and soon picked up speed.  Again veering off the path he managed to avoid a concrete bench and hit a tree instead.  After much wailing and gnashing of teeth, and some tears from Rupert as well, he did complete a successful straight line again. 

Today he had a go on Trixie's bike instead, sans stabilisers,and mastered straight line as well as putting his feet down on the ground to stop too, but all of it involved me dashing behind him shouting wildly and gesticulating madly.  A little bit of progress.  Time was limited today though as Trixie had expressed a desire to try her bike without stabilisers.  Various crunches and crashes later she decided that today was not the day.

 All Lawrences and Grandma Sausages are currently in Melaka, showing the old city off to our guest before she returns home on Friday.  We then set off on our Thai and Cambodian sojourn on Saturday.  

Lexi finished school today and I broke up last Friday for our summer holiday.  It has certainly been a busy year although the jury is out about exactly how tired I may or may not be.  Lately I have found it extremely difficult to stay awake when at the cinema.  I am blaming some shocking films, although tiredness could have a part to play too.   Despite Kuala Lumpur cinemas being chilled down to very low indeed I managed to nod off when watching Monsters University pretty soon after I discovered they Sully and Mike were learning how to scream.  MU was meant to be a pre-qual but the fact that screaming had been proven in the first film to be less effective than laughter made me lose interest and find the seats very comfy indeed.  I found "Turbo" just as challenging this week.  The concept of a cartoon snail racing against fast cars was initially quite amusing but could not stop me from dozing.  However I had learned my lesson from MU though.  I knew that Rupert and Trixie would ask me what my favourite part was so I had quickly made a mental note of the Samuel L Jackson snail before having a bit of shut-eye.  At least I had managed to stay in the for the whole of these films though.  On a mission to see Epic recently the film was so bad that I left Lexi and children watching while I went to do the shopping instead.  I did finally manage to get to see Man of Steel at the weekend and did stay awake for all of it.  However I was prepared.  I took Rupert, who regularly jumped out his seat at the bangs and crashes, I also took a large cup of coffee in with me and went to the 1115 showing.  The combination of a small boy's jumps and squeals, caffeine and developing hunger did the trick.  Oh, and the film was better too.

No, I Don't Want A Massage. I'll Build A Wall Though.


I really like the temples of Siem Reap, Cambodia.  They are simply spectacular. This morning my school party set off at 0800 and first walked across The Rainbow Bridge, reputed to be the bridge from the ordinary world into the kingdom of Jayavarman VII.  A sort of hell into heaven experience.  Information from our guide meant that us teachers needed to check our students' ears and fingers to make sure they had the correct number.  Apparently criminals in the time of King J the VII had certain numbers of these appendages removed as punishment and so were not permitted to cross The Rainbow Bridge.  Fortunately all the party had the requisite number of fingers and ears and over we went.

The next temple site was Bayon, with its fantastic collection of faces carved in to the pillars and then we walked onto The Golden Temple and finished on The Elephant Terrace, the royal viewing area for polo matches and acrobatics.  The temples continue to create a sense of wonder and magic.

Hot and in need of refreshment the party returned to the excellent Tara Angkor Hotel for lunch before setting off to help out at a local primary school. The school, around 20km out of Siem Reap, in the depths of rural Cambodia, has 50 students on role and is free to those who attend.  Consequently it attracts lots of children.  My students' jobs there this afternoon were to entertain and teach the children while also starting to build an extension to the small toilet block.  Somehow or other my group of ten students ended up partnering up with another teacher's group and building a brick wall.  What do I know about laying bricks?  Very little indeed.  How many bricks had I layed in the past.  None.  Fortunately my colleague knew marginally more than me and the schools Headteacher knew the recipe for mortar so off we went. 

Amazingly we managed, thanks to a combination of the willing and the energetic to build four courses of bricks and start work on a small wall around a flower bed.  The real test of course is whether the thing is still standing when we return tomorrow!  I had to stand back and do a double take at one point though.  There was a combination of two English teachers, a PE teacher and me, Drama Man, leading twenty privileged kids from KL and between us all we were actually constructing something useful.

After another clean up it was dinner and then a visit to one of Siem Reap's Night Markets.  I really don't like shopping or browsing at the best of times and so mooching around lots of stalls all selling the same stuff wasn't my idea of fun.  Yes many of the goods were finely crafted but I really couldn't see anything that I needed or wanted to buy.  So I mooched some more, spent 0.75 US$ on a fizzy drink and mooched again.  I then came up with the idea of buying a Cambodian SIM card so that I could make a few calls.  I couldn't buy one without my passport, seemingly.  

Something I could easily have bought without my passport was a massage.  I was pestered nearly every step I took along the main drag by people seeking to mess around with bits of me in exchange for money.  As the title of this blog suggests I really don't like massages.  I genuinely do not want strangers laying hands on my regions and moving them around in strange ways.  It just doesn't seem right somehow.  There clearly must be a market in it though.  There were countless places offering such services.  There were also other services that some of these places and some of the associated taxi / tuk-tuk drivers were trying to sell me that I very definitely didn't want to buy.  And I started to get increasingly annoyed by assumptions made by too many people.  Yes I was a man mooching round a market on my own, but that does not automatically mean that I was wanting to buy sex in any of the varied forms in which it was offered to me.   Come on Siem Reap.  Please don't become seedy.  I don't know exactly why this 'service industry' has come about in this place but the laws of supply and demand are present in all business.  Could it be that thanks to the near extermination of a whole generation of Cambodians in the 1970s there is now no moderating effect of an elder generation on a younger one?

Beauty of temples plus hope of education and annoyance of seediness all in one very busy day.  More temples and walls tomorrow

Hair Raising Tips

I learned some startling stuff yesterday while having my haircut.  I have found it quite tricky to find a barber who is able to cut my hair in a non-Malaysian style, very short around the ears and then long on top.  I don't have a great deal on top so within two weeks of my snip I have usually ended up with a wedge shaped hairdo and fly away locks dashing out the side of my barnet.  I simply haven't been able to do a thing with it.

Recently though I  have found a barber who can cut my limited number of locks to a satisfactory style, style being a very inclusive term for a man with as much hair as me.   Yesterday this barber gave me some interesting advice when checking under her microscope for signs of follicles on the top of my nut.  Did I use shampoo, she asked?  I am quite proud of my limited shampoo use.  I haven't willingly used shampoo since 2002 those unwilling occasions being when Rupert has brought nits home from school or when a less enlightened hair-smith has gone at me with shampooing system and my guard has been down.  Anyway yesterday's fine barber claimed that she could see signs of growth.  "It is growing," she exclaimed.  What as you look at, I thought?  "No," she assured me.  And then she gave me the tip of tips.  Apparently what I needed to do was shampoo regularly to unblock the skin pores and that would enable my newly opened pores to sprout hair!  So that's what the problem was!  

I can't rush out immediately to buy shampoo as I have to send my bank account and passport numbers to Mr Daniel Smith, South African Attourney, who needs to transfer US$ 7.5million to me that was kindly left by the late Mr Edwin Gabriel.  Apparently it has taken a long while, since the sad demise of the late and non-existent Mr Gabriel to get the money to me as the will was contested by his non-existent son, Andrew.  Daniel Smith assures me that Mr Gabriel and I must have met as he was a widely travelled man.  I wonder what his views on hair shampooing were?  Shame we will never have chance to compare locks.