Asia Summer Series: Hua Hin, Thailand (Part 2)

This is the final instalment of my previously published print articles on Asian destinations. Last post, I ventured onto the streets of Hua Hin, a beach resort town in Thailand. Now I reach the railway station...

The railway station is one of the most attractive I’ve ever seen.

Having been built in an age before air-conditioning, it was constructed as an open-air pavilion in a traditional Thai architectural style, with timber beams supporting a gabled tiled roof.

The whole thing is painted red and cream, with red tiles further increasing its brightness. A neat line of parked motorcycles in front of the structure underlines its sense of neat order.

It’s a pleasant building both to look at and walk through, but the real gem here is the second structure along the low platform. In an even more elaborate style, its roof features multiple peaks and small patterned windows punctuating its walls.

Though now unused, for many years this was the Royal Waiting Room, where members of the royal family would wait to board a train (perhaps reluctantly) back to Bangkok. 

In a continuation of the regal theme, across the rails from the station is the Royal Hua Hin Golf Course, laid out in the 1920s by a Scottish railway engineer. The course is open to the public and has some memorable features, including ocean and temple views from its links.

An unusual hazard, though, is the colony of resident monkeys which have occasionally been reported to make off with balls.

Heading back to the coast, I reach a small cove dotted with fishing boats, and several restaurants with timber decks jutting out over the water on wooden piles. It’d be an atmospheric place to have dinner, seated on the open-air deck and looking out at the sea.

The region around Hua Hin has its own royal-themed attractions, so one day I travel north to the nearby city of Phetchaburi to see the palace at Phra Nakhon Khiri.

This set of hills on the edge of town is famous for its beautiful gardens and the 19th centre palace at their centre. It was constructed by King Mongkut, the ruler immortalised by the musical The King and I.

Approached by a funicular railway which hauls visitors up the hill, the palace is a fascinating fusion of styles, with a large dose of European influence.

As I approach its entrance via a terrace lined by large white flowerpots, I feel it could be a villa in Spain or Italy (if the tropical plants were ignored).

From its windows there are fine views of nearby temples and greenery, and it’s interesting to tour the interior and imagine its original occupants’ life in this intersection of Thai culture and the Western world.

Another royalty-tinged attraction within day trip distance from Hua Hin is Khao Sam Roi Yot National Park, to the south.

Among its highlights are three caves, the most popular of which can be reached by boat. Within it is a pavilion built for the 19th century King Chulalongkorn, who visited it en route from Bangkok.

Back at my hotel, I ask one of its managers, Jutamas Boonrat, what she thinks is most distinctive about Hua Hin, considering that Thailand has so many beach resorts.

"The best thing is the powdery sand," she replies. "The beach is about five kilometres long from beginning to end, so people can enjoy walking or riding horses. You won’t see motorcycles or four wheel drives along the beach. It’s private and nice and quiet.

"I think the expression ‘less is more’ is perfect for Hua Hin."

Disclosure time: On this trip I travelled courtesy of the Tourism Authority of Thailand.

LA Beaches (In Transit)

In the course of my journeys as a travel writer, I often make notes about ideas for articles which I hope will sell later on.

Sometimes they do, sometimes they don't. Sometimes they surprise me by selling years later.

Occasionally though, an idea goes nowhere.

Such was the case with my half-day in Los Angeles, USA, back in September 2009, when I was en route to Montana with a group of journalists for a hosted tour.

I didn't want to venture too far from the hotel near LAX, given time was limited, so it occurred to me that a walk along the nearby beaches might make an interesting story for Australian travellers similarly transiting LA with time to kill.

I started from the shopping strip at Hermosa Beach. It was about 8.30am on a Wednesday, not a time you'd expect much street life; however, there were plenty of joggers, walkers, dog exercisers and cyclists passing by.

There were some fun business names here too: Baja Sharkeez, Cafe Bonaparte, Fat Face Fenner's Fishack.

The pier looked attractive, stretching out into the Pacific. I was surprised though at the flatness and depth of the beaches, quite different from the dune-backed Australian beaches I was used to:

This spaciousness lent itself well to beach volleyball courts, and I could see plenty of these...

... along with a statue honouring local lifesavers (known as lifeguards to Americans):

From the pier, I could see a real-life lifeguard setting up traffic cones to mark the patrolled swimming area:

Walking south along the shore toward Redondo Beach, I passed by houses which were built right up to the edge of the sand, no doubt occupied by the rich and/or famous. A good opportunity to examine some of California's distinctive Mediterranean-inspired architecture:

After an hour or so I reached Redondo Pier. This was quite different from the fingerlike Hermosa Pier - instead it was an enclosure of concrete, timber and steel, sheltering an off-limits stretch of rocky beach.

Redondo Pier clearly had a lively personality at a more festive time of week. Along one arm were arrayed a number of small timber restaurants - Chinese, Italian, seafood - with views over the water.

There was also a Great White Shark exhibition, and a stall selling hot dogs on a stick. The atmosphere was definitely that of a popular seaside pier from a century ago.

But it was mid-morning on a Wednesday, and entirely the wrong time to witness its energy in full flow. So I prepared to leave.

But before I caught a taxi back to the hotel, I ordered a hot dog (sans stick) for $2.50, laden with mustard, onion and pickles. It was good.

Poland 3: Baba Pruski Scores!

The mysterious lady reproduced below is one of the more intriguing fragments of Poland's past.

I first encountered the Baba Pruski - as the figure is called - in the grounds of the castle in Olsztyn. This small attractive city is the hub of Warmia and Masuria, an attractive region with numerous post-glacial lakes, green countryside and not that many international tourists.

The region also has a history of being traded between Polish and Germanic rulers, having spent centuries under both the Teutonic Knights and the Kingdom of Poland, later being part of the German Empire and modern-day Poland.

Baba Pruski (Prussian Woman) goes even further back than that, however, being connected with the pagan Prussian tribes who predated the Teutonic Knights' rule.

No-one's really sure what the statues were for, though one romantic theory says they were used to honour heroes who died far from home. Other explanations link the figures to legends of people turned to stone by witchcraft.

Whatever the truth, Baba Pruski has become a local icon, and fibreglass reproductions like the above are often used by Olsztyn to mark special occasions.

And what's the big special occasion in Poland right now? It's co-hosting, with Ukraine, the Euro 2012 football championship. Hence, wandering through the city centre, I happened across these figures in a park...

1. Here are the two Euro 2012 co-hosts, Ukraine in traditional garb and Poland a bit more fanciful in the national colours (and you can just see Denmark doing a Viking in the background):

2. It's interesting that the Babas representing nations which have once invaded Poland tend to be given a military theme. The German Baba is done out in the garb of the medieval Teutonic Knights, arch-enemies of the Kingdom of Poland. Behind him, by contrast, is the Irish Baba being green and cute:

3. Similarly, the Dutch are given a light, bright treatment:

4. As are the tasty Italians. You can just make out the Greek Baba behind this one, and the Croatian one in diving gear:

5. Russia is given some of Churchill's "riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma" treatment, rather than the expected warlike garb:

6. As is the Czech Republic (anyone know who the mouse is)?:

7. Finally, we're back to the warrior look. Sweden may make you think of such harmless things as IKEA and Volvo, but possibly the artist had as inspiration the destructive Swedish invasion of Poland in the 17th century, known as The Deluge.

And the girl is in that shot because her mother was having no luck at all in getting her to move on. When you have a Viking to point at while sitting on a beanbag, why would you?

Rail Trails of Melbourne

In the suburbs of Melbourne, Australia, the ghosts of steam trains pull their carriages along rails long-vanished.

But not entirely forgotten. Along the route of old suburban train lines lie fascinating walking trails and linear parks, each an insight into the city’s hidden charms.

Inner Circle

The most accessible is the rail trail along the former Inner Circle line, which runs from Rushall Station in North Fitzroy to Royal Park.

Originally this took suburban trains directly to Spencer Street in the city centre. Later, the station were closed and goods trains chugged along it.

Finally, the rails were removed and the reserve threatened with development. After an epic battle involving locals, unions and government, the route became a linear park, a long thin thread of green meandering across tram tracks and behind terrace houses.

It makes a charming walk. At Rushall Station, you can hear the gentle murmur of Merri Creek below. Then the trail curves through the patterned brick homes of North Fitzroy, built in the late 19th century.

Follow the track west and cross tram line after tram line as they head north out of the city. It’s fascinating to be walking along a walking trail which is so urban; light industry vies with Victorian homes and modern buildings, just a few metres from the former track.

The queen of the route is the former North Carlton railway station, now the home of a community centre. Though lacking a railway, the building is recognisably a former station, with its distinctive red brick structure. Then it’s on to Melbourne Zoo, passing beneath old railway bridges as you head west.

Outer Circle

The Outer Circle rail trail in the middle suburbs is a more challenging walk. Developed in the 1890s by land speculators, the railway line closed down almost as soon as it opened.

Reopened as a mix of passenger and goods lines, it was gradually removed during the 20th century.

It originally ran all the way from Fairfield Station to Hughesdale Station. All that remains now is the section known as the Alamein line, but the railway reserve is still accessible for most of the route.

The best section to walk or cycle is from Kew to East Malvern. Staring from the corner of High Street and Harp Road, look for the woodpile that’s been there since Victorian times.

Behind it you’ll find the trail, a surprisingly broad expanse of parkland running between houses, with signs marking the original locations of stations. It’s hard to imagine steam trains running through this green space.

Not so the section beyond Whitehorse Road. Here the trail runs through a narrow cutting, often deep below street level and crossed by a series of iron road bridges. It’s cold in the shade but quite beautiful, with ferns and vines growing down the cutting’s face. You half expect to have to dive out of the way of a train coming round the bend.

Once past East Camberwell, the trail follows the Alamein line; you can always cheat at this point by catching a train.

If you do, keep an eye out for Hartwell Station, which was once the railway station for the country town of Walhalla. It was relocated here in 1938 as the former gold mining town subsided into a ghost town.

Another station on the Alamein line, Willison, was opened in 1908 as Golf Links Station, serving the nearby Riversdale Golf Club. The club eventually moved away and the station was renamed in 1936.

Then the trail continues onward from Alamein station, crossing Gardiners Creek. It’s important to go straight on here; a left turn will have you walking across the golfing greens of the Malvern Valley Public Golf Course, interrupting shots. A walkbridge crosses a freeway and lowers the walker gently into East Malvern Station.

From here, a real train will take you back to the city - and the all too solid 21st century world.

This post was sponsored by GolfNow.com. Check out its site for golfing news and resources from around the world, including a golf course directory.

[With this 50th post for the year, Aerohaveno is taking a break until mid-January 2012. See you then... and happy travels in the meantime!]

Capel Secrets

The following article, written by me, was published in The West Australian newspaper in 2004; but why not spread the knowledge of this pleasant little town? Read on...

“Not just a one horse town”.

That’s what the local business directory says about Capel, in the southwest of Western Australia. But at first glance, you’d be doubtful.

The one horse is in fact Rogan Josh, winner of the 1999 Melbourne Cup. He lives in a paddock on the main street next to the local pub, with a big sign pointing out his identity.

It’s a generous space, and the thoroughbred seems quite comfortable in retirement, grazing contentedly with his pony companion. Capel may not have many famous locals, but it knows how to look after them.

The town started as nothing more than a 19th century rest stop on the stagecoach route between Bunbury and Busselton, which explains Capel’s position exactly halfway between the two busy regional cities.

It doesn’t look much more than a slumbering hamlet, and most traffic speeds by on the recently built bypass. Travel guides have little to say about it. But there are some interesting features to the area which make it worth a visit.

The first is wine. Capel sits at the northern edge of the wine-growing zone which stretches southward through Margaret River and beyond. From humble beginnings, viticulture has become a thriving industry. The local success story is Capel Vale, a winery situated two kilometres from the township on the other side of the highway.

It certainly impresses the visitor. A two-storey building hosts tastings, sales and an upmarket restaurant, with sweeping views of the vineyard below.

It’s easy to forget that the industry is relatively new to the southwest. Keith Warrick, Capel Vale’s sales manager, says its principal vineyard was a stonefruit farm 30 years ago. “The first vines were planted in 1974. They were a combination of merlot and chardonnay, which produce our two reserve wines today.”

However, Capel’s hidden jewel must be its beach coast. There are 29 kilometres of white sand beaches in the local shire, stretching along the Indian Ocean.

The best is Peppermint Grove Beach, eight kilometres from the town. Once a sleepy holiday village with fibro shacks, Peppermint Grove is fast evolving into a small coastal town. But don’t be put off. On a weekday, you can often be the only person on the sand.

Facilities are simple: toilets, a children’s playground and a few shelters on the sand. To the south is fast-growing Busselton and the curve of Cape Naturaliste, to the north is Bunbury and its busy port. But in the middle there’s nothing much to do except lie on the sand and relax.

If even this is too much like the big smoke, try Forrest Beach, Peppermint Grove’s sister beach a few kilometres south. It’s accessible by road, through flat, dry cattle pastures that reach right to the dunes. At the beach there’s nothing but some basic toilets, a bin and a couple of shelters. You can’t get more “away from it all” than this.

Capel may seem overlooked at present, but there’s a whiff of change in the air. Its proximity to rapidly gentrifying Bunbury and improvements in local infrastructure point to future development, and already land prices are rising. For the moment, however, it’s a sleepy town just off the tourist highway, with some interesting surprises on offer.

Note: As this article was researched some years ago, the author takes no responsibility for readers' reliance on the information within. Always check on the current wine/beach/retired horse situation before travelling to Capel.

The Readers Strike Back

This week I'm featuring responses from Aerohaveno's followers to two recent competitions - one about travel disasters, the other about travel to movie locations.

First up, let's hear from the readers re their experiences when travelling to silver screen locations:

Justine: "I'm embarrassed to admit it now but I went on the Sound of Music tour in Salzburg when I was a wee lass. And I loved it! Made me want to make a dress out of old curtains and hang out of a tree. The locations were stunning. Austria is gorgeous."

Alison: "Bells Beach was a location in Bruce Brown's epic surf film Endless Summer and is one of the great surf spots anywhere, anytime. Although it comes to life at the Rip Curl Pro held each Easter, the best time to enjoy its waves are when the surf circus has moved on, the autumn winds and lowering water temperature have sent the sissies north and it looks like rain.

Then as the corduroy sets roll in, it's just the other desperados and yourself carving your names on the waves. You come in when you can't recall how many waves you've caught, your arms are like spaghetti from paddling, your feet are blue and you can't feel them any more. Bliss."

Carole: "My movie location was Universal Studios in Los Angeles; lots of action, actors and scenes from great movies. It was fun to wander around and see Marilyn Monroe and other greats, ride the train around the set, and see duels, action and the flashing lights of movies. Next stop Universal Studios in Osaka, as I'm in Japan."

And finally, here's the winning entry in the competition to win a copy of Do Travel Writers Go to Hell?. The task was to write about a memorable hassle while travelling. The winner is Serehfa, with this fine remembrance:

"Quite a few years ago now I took a holiday in Egypt, partly on the invitation of my North African boyfriend who was going home to visit family in the next country and would meet me there.

Booking a trip went smoothly, my departure flight and arrival posed no issues. The trip however held some challenges. I actually managed to stay healthy for a few days before succumbing to the usual, 'Egypt Belly' in this case. That was manageable.

Snorkelling on the Red Sea coast was amazing; desolate desert above the waterline and coral paradise beneath. However when you forget to put sunscreen on the back of your legs, it can be awkward. By evening I couldn't walk. I was very surprised not to have blisters but somehow I escaped.

It was agony though, and I couldn't sleep and could barely eat my dinner. Of course, there was no help to be had - the tour guide only stopped places where the tour company got a kickback and was not the least bit interested in helping any of the party who got into trouble. She was an Aussie too!

Two days later we had a scheduled camel ride through some mountains; I lasted about 30 seconds before experiencing agony from the 'saddle' - actually a bundle of small logs with a rag draped over them, presumably designed to be as uncomfortable as possible for mount and rider!

Once again no assistance was forthcoming; I slid off the standing camel to the ground and was left to walk back to the highway, and sit for hours in the middle of nowhere until the tour returned and the bus showed up.

Even that, though, was manageable.

The final joy was the boyfriend. We had some new people join the tour for the last week, one of whom was a wealthy Rhodesian woman who was obviously there for a good time. Boyfriend started flirting with her to the extent that at one point they disappeared together in the evening... and at the same time he started to become physical towards me in an unpleasant way.

I had been warned about cultural differences, and here were my first row seats to the show. He had earlier insisted we say we were married to save his pride - so I was caught between the twin humiliation of revealing a lie or putting up with the antics.

There were parts of the trip that were excellent, however, and some lovely people on the tour with whom I did not get to spend enough time.

All up it was an unforgettable experience; no matter how hard I try!"

Thanks to all who entered the competitions!

Let the Post-Games Slump Begin

According to a story in eTurboNews this week, a new report has revealed that hosting the Olympics is not a surefire way to increase your tourist inflow. Rather the opposite.

Counter-intuitively, it appears that holding the Games actually acts as a negative, depressing the number of tourist arrivals from up to two years before the event, to two years after. Apparently the effect has been observed for every Games back to Barcelona in 1992.

The theory is that regular travellers stay well away from the host city for the entire run-up and the event itself, assuming (perhaps rightly) that the city will be in construction chaos and overpriced. It seems, too, that the aversion effect lingers for some time before the tourist masses feel it's safe to go there again.

This news made me curious about the Olympics before 1992; did the tourist interruptus effect happen then as well? Did the Nazi tourism minister curse the economic drop-off at Berlin in 1936? Did the tour operators of Antwerp in 1932, or St Louis in 1904, complain about the lack of punters?

And what about even further back? For the answer, let's cross to our commentators in Olympia, Greece, circa AD 393...

Sofia: "... so that's one embarrassed Senator who'll be careful not to worship both Dionysus and Aphrodite at the same time in future! Over to you, Yianni."

Yianni: "Thanks Sofia. In local news, there's been a big reaction to the Emperor Theodosius' decision to abolish the Olympic Games as of this year. The Emperor's spokesmen are claiming the decision was made for religious reasons, but some are saying there was another agenda at work."

Sofia: "That's right, Yianni. Apparently a recent report commissioned by the Olympia agora discovered that the Games have an adverse impact on the local economy, driving up prices and keeping visitors away for the rest of the year. Unidentified senior Senators say that local donors to the Emperor's military campaign funds applied pressure at the top."

Yianni: "And they now feel the way is clear for the development of Olympia as a tourist destination with a broader appeal. Outspoken businessman Dimitri Stathopoulos has, perhaps not entirely coincidentally, announced the development of a major theme park, Olympus World, which will feature rides and other amusements based on the mythology of the now-banished pantheon of gods. Detractors have pointed to his majority ownership of accommodation in the area, and his prominent role on the local council."

Sofia: "Mmmm. When we caught up with Mr Stathoploulos today, he had this to say: 'It's time for Olympia to catch up with the rest of the known world, and I'll bet my bottom denarius the place will be a thriving success long after the Olympics are forgotten. May God lay Olympia low with an earthquake if it isn't so.'"

Yianni: "Well, time will tell, Sofia. In other news, the annual fashion show in Mediolanum opened last night, and the fashionistas are saying that this year, barbarian chic is in..."

Back to the 21st century studio...