Other than the crystal clear waters, fish swarming around me as I swim over multi-coloured coral, and velvety soft sand cushioning my feet, it may surprise you to know that my overwhelming memory of Le Vimarn will be The Sound of Music. Yes, the classic musical film set in Austria featuring the Von Trapp family and Maria, the sweet and innocent young postulant. Why? Well, from morning to night the main restaurant in the hotel, where breakfast was served and which was situated next to the pool and a few steps from the beach, played the same music over and over again. Their only CD consisted of a lot of old jazz numbers, plus 'Do-Re-Mi'. Of course, a song taken from a film made in the 60s and set in Austria at the brink of WWII is an obvious choice to play in a five star resort in Thailand. It was rather surreal to be lying by the pool, looking out at palm trees and the tropical waters of the Gulf of Thailand, and hearing the inimitable voice of Julie Andrews singing 'Do, a deer, a female deer, ray a drop of golden sun, me a name I call myself, fa, a long, long way to run...' We did have a good sing-along to begin with, but upon hearing it for the tenth time (not counting the number of times it ran through our heads), it did start to become slightly irritating.
Snorkelling on the final day was better than ever, and I emerged as the Pied Piper of the sea. After encountering a huge shoal of black and white striped fish, I noticed that they were following me as I swam away. Each time I swam past fish, they joined the growing group of marine life keeping a close tail behind me. Eventually, I even noticed that fish were swimming towards me, only to join the crowd. As I took one last look behind me before swimming towards the shore, it seemed that every fish in the area had joined the party. It was incredible; a seething mass of multi-coloured fish of varying shapes and sizes following me wherever I went. It must have been the bright yellow flippers.
Later on, showered, changed and packed, we checked out and headed to the beach-side bar for a last drink before taking the speed boat back to the mainland. There was a cool breeze and I felt very relaxed as I sat back against the cushions and sipped my nicely chilled Chardonnay. Then out of nowhere, came a whistling sound and I was hit on the back by an unidentified object that exploded upon impact. Immediately came the distinct stench of vomit. I screamed and jumped up (careful not to spill any of my wine though, of course). "What is it? What is it? Have I been pooed on?" The splattered remains of the torpedoed object did look suspiciously like some sort of animal dung. As The Mother tried furiously to remove the pungent splatterings from my back, one of the waiters, presumably alerted by my screams, came over and asked us if we were OK. Once he clocked the brown substances on the cushions, sofa, and me, he informed us that it was in fact an over-ripe fruit which had fallen from one of the towering trees around the bar. "It smell very bad," he added, somewhat needlessly, as the whole area now stank of sick. The Mother managed to remove the offending splatterings from my top and, smelling slightly less of vomit now, I gratefully glugged my wine down. It wasn't the best end to an otherwise fabulous holiday, but then again, I've never had a tree poo on me before.
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