Near-death by mini-van

You wouldn’t have thought that the man driving as if he was in a Formula 1 race was the same who had only minutes previously slouched in a chair at the airport and lumbered off to fetch the van as if he’d just run a marathon. At the beginning of the journey, feeling the effects of jet lag, I almost drifted off to sleep a couple of times but on each occasion was jolted into consciousness by the sharp movements of the car. I soon realised that attempting sleep would be futile on this journey. The driver’s earlier relaxed attitude had vanished the moment he had sat behind the wheel, to be replaced by his inner speed demon as he sped along the road at top speed, dodging in and out of lanes and cutting up a number of vehicles as he did so. As we were in fact in a 12-seater mini-van and not a specially designed F1 car, you can imagine what that must have felt like for a passenger. At one point he had to brake hard as the traffic suddenly slowed ahead and my stomach flipped as I thought I was going to go through the front seat. “Oh my God!” I exclaimed, eyes wide and hands clutching the seat in front. The driver merely laughed, obviously finding it very funny. Mai pen rai, mai pen rai, mai pen rai, I chanted under my breath.

The drive took a couple of hours along a monotonous stretch of highway, with only paddy fields and an occasional dilapidated building to gaze at, though I missed most of this as I diligently kept my eyes shut to avoid seeing every near-miss and to keep myself from feeling nauseous as the mini-van accelerated, braked and swerved. I was both relieved and amazed when we managed to reach Pattaya in one piece and, although I felt exhausted and slightly dazed from the theme park ride of a journey we had just made, a rush of adrenalin surged through me as we neared our home for the next year or so.

Late afternoon had turned into early evening and the light was fading fast as we passed row after row of shops and restaurants, as well as roadside food carts and night markets just beginning to open, all advertising their wares with the aid of blazing lights. Our driver dodged dozens of men on bicycles selling everything from feather dusters and brooms to toys from their side carts. I gawped at the sights flashing past my window - Pattaya was far bigger than I thought it would be. I’m embarrassed to admit that, despite knowing that it was a city, I had the naive idea that Pattaya would consist of unpaved dirt streets on which you had to dodge the elephants that would slowly lumber past, kicking up dust.

The mini-van had barely drawn to a halt outside the Amari Orchid hotel when my door was opened by a uniformed bellboy, who then took our bags and placed them on a trolley. As The Husband and I approached the doors of the hotel, we were greeted by a beautiful Thai woman wearing traditional dress. She lifted her hands to her face, placed her palms together in a prayer-like gesture, bowed her head slightly and said with a smile, “Sàwàt-dii khâ, hello and welcome,” before leading us over to a plush sofa in the lobby. Immediately, two ice cold drinks were placed on the table before us. Now this was more like the legendary Thai service I had heard so much about. Check-in was swift and done from the comfort of the sofas and, before we knew it, we were being taken up in a lift to our 15th floor room. From our balcony we could just make out the sweep of Pattaya Bay to the left and the bright lights of the city to our right. We were here, and I couldn’t wait to explore our new home the following morning.