The hotel office at the pier was far busier than when I was last there, mid-November, with The Parents. Back then peak season was just about to start and there were only two or three other groups of people waiting to board the speedboat. This time, still just about in peak season and on a public holiday weekend, I entered the building to a wall of noise and what appeared to be complete chaos. Piles of suitcases covered the floor and large families, including numerous over-excited children, had positioned themselves over every available chair and sofa, as well as much of the floor not taken up by luggage. I started to feel concerned that this wasn't going to be the relaxing mini-break we had planned. I handed our suitcase over to a harassed looking woman who gave me a ticket and crossed our names off a sheet of paper. I then wasted no time in hot-footing it outside to a bench in the shade and to relative peace and quiet. The Husband joined me after parking the car and we spent a pleasurable ten minutes or so debating whether the man travelling with two women and two children did indeed have two wives.
To take us the few hundred yards or so down to where the boat was moored (we couldn't possibly have walked that distance, obviously), we all boarded a sort of train on wheels which looked just like those that theme parks have to ferry the really lazy people around. Five second later, we hopped on the boat - I knew from last time when I am certain that I flashed several of the boatmen that shorts are advisable here - and made our way to the front, where only one person was sat. I presume this was because it was the only part not in the shade but I always think the front is the most fun. It was fairly gentle until we left the marina when the boat picked up speed, bumping over several waves, the wind lashing at our faces. I was having a great time. The Husband kept a grin on his face, though I suspect this journey wasn't too kind on his hangover.
We checked in but, as we had arrived early, our room wasn't ready yet so we had to amuse ourselves for a couple of hours. We strolled down the beach and noticed that it definitely looked busier. Not I-can't-see-the-beach-because-it's-covered-with-deckchairs-and-people busy but it was certainly livelier than it was in November. Ao Prao Beach lies in a little inlet which is home to three hotels and is far quieter than many of the other beaches on the island. The section of beach in front of our hotel is never too busy, thanks to the individual platforms they place each set of two sunbeds, an umbrella and a table on. This way you'll never be too close to your neighbours on the beach. Genius.
After our walk and a very welcome swim, our room was ready so we followed the porter up to our villa set on the hillside, amongst lush rainforest. One of the things I love about holidaying in Asia is the attention to detail. On the bed they had arranged a purple silk runner into a fan and scattered it with flowers. On top of that they had fashioned an elephant out of towels, with petals for his eyes and nails. Even the bath mat had been fanned and a flower placed in the centre. We carefully moved the elephant onto the chaise longue rather than dismantle it when we went to bed that evening, which they must have noticed as the following morning a towel dog appeared on the dressing table and two towel rabbits had been placed amongst the toiletries by the sink.
After a spot of lunch - chicken fried rice and pad thai, both delicious - we retired to loungers by the pool, overlooking the beach. Well, I did anyway. The Husband's hangover seemed to have intensified and he passed out on the bed, for "just an hour". Two hours later he sheepishly made his way down to the pool, before realising he had left his book in the room. An hour after that, I decided that I had better go and find him in case he had tripped in a hangover haze and was lying amongst the trees with ants crawling all over his unconscious body. I found him asleep on the bed and did not hesitate to wake him. It was by now 5.20pm and so I dragged him up for a sunset walk along the beach. The fresh air seemed to revive him somewhat and we spent the evening engaged in a tense game of Travel Scrabble before a delicious meal of barbecued seafood on the beach. The highlight for me though was dessert, which I almost didn't have. I was looking at some platters of fruit when I heard someone call, "banana fritter". I paid the voice no attention, assuming it was for the attention of someone else. Then I heard it again, slightly louder this time. "Banana fritter!" I looked around to see one of the waitresses by the chef's station. She was smiling at me and pointing to a plate. "It very good," she cajoled. I relented. I took the plate from her and she looked pleased as punch. Two banana fritters lay on a lattice of chocolate sauce and I had to admit to myself that it did look good. I shared it with The Husband and it was incredible. In fact, it was so good that I had to order another one. What? I was on holiday!
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