Durian fruit are banned in many hotels and on public transport in much of Southeast Asia. Some people describe the persistent smell as raw sewage with rotting onions. However, other people enjoy the taste and smell of these large, spikey objects, calling them the “King of fruit”. I had been keen to try some ever since reading about them years ago. My interest was tempered with a certain nervousness. We had seen a few in Thailand and now, as we followed the Mekong river south, we were seeing more and more. Finally, after mentally bracing ourselves, we stopped at a roadside stall and bought some. The fruit is large, up to 30 cm. The flesh is buried quite deeply inside and it appeared to take some skill to extract it. The stall holder was skilfully cutting into large, spikey fruit and flipping the contents out into small, plastic trays. We bought some and, to my delight, found them delicious. The flesh is soft, yellow and oddly reminiscent of custard. Diane liked it as well. We were pleased. It felt like a rite of passage.
Arriving in Mukdahan Province we came across the Second Thai–Lao Friendship Bridge. This is one of several bridges built to improve trade with Laos. Traffic in Thailand drives on the left, as in the UK. While traffic in Laos drives on the right like most of the rest of the world. So associated with crossing the bridge is a lane-change, controlled by traffic lights. On the Thai side of the bridge a selection of dragons have been built. I have no idea of their significance but they were very bright and colourful. Made a nice backdrop for a cup of coffee while we contemplated the river for a while.
We continued south, following the Mekong river for a couple more days. At long last we got away from the choking smog caused by burning. The lowland scenery was one of endless rice fields. Thailand has a strong tradition of rice production. It has the fifth-largest amount of land under rice cultivation in the world and is the world’s second largest exporter of rice. Much of this is Jasmine rice. Less productive than some varieties but far more lucrative. At the 2017 World Rice Conference held in Macau, Thailand’s hom mali (jasmine) rice was declared the world’s best rice, beating 21 competitors. The Mekong drifted off westward across Laos before it headed south through Cambodia and ultimately Vietnam before emptying into the South China Sea via the ecologically important Mekong Delta. We had to turn back west to complete the great circle that would eventually bring us back to Bangkok.
We drove through rice for a couple of days. Each paddi was a vibrant bright green bordered with banana plants, palms and other exotica. Eventually we arrived at Ryan’s Resort. Ryan, we discovered, is actually called Gary and used to be a Disc Jockey in Derby. Through a rather random set of circumstances, he married a Thai woman, became an expat and now runs a lovely little hotel close to the border with Cambodia. The resort consists of a clutch of small bungalows, a swimming pool and a restaurant area. The restaurant features a well-equipped and modestly price bar along with a terrific wood-fired pizza oven. We were immediately made very welcome by Gary and the gang of international expats gathered round the bar. I suspect the gathering to be a regular occurrence. Later the oven was fired up and Gary cooked us pizza. In all honesty, I can say this was the best pizza we have encountered since Italy. By far the best ever seen in Thailand.
We stayed in the pretty town of Chanthaburi on the banks of a river of the same name. Arriving at our small hotel we were offered Durian fruit – although we had to eat it in the outside kitchen. Upstairs, Diane was rather surprised to find a mattress on the floor. It did, however, turn out to be quite comfortable. In the evening we wander along the river front with numerous small stalls and shops. As night fell, we settled into a very local restaurant for some excellent noodles and stir-fried rice. This was accompanied by freshly roasted cashew nuts served with chopped chillies – I really like this.
Last stop before Bangkok was the lively and popular city of Pattaya. Once a quiet fishing village, this is now a riot of resort hotels, high-ride condos, shopping malls, cabaret bars and 24-hour clubs. We took a taxi to the “walking street” full of hustle and neon signs. Someone shoved a laminated leaflet in front of me. Initially, it looked like an illustrated price list for gynaecological examinations but was in fact an invitation to visit the many strip clubs. We politely eschewed the delights of the ping-pong ball girls and managed to find a rather nice Indian restaurant for our first curry in months.
