Chiang Mai is a charming place, but if your next destination is Ko Samui, there is very little to grieve about.
Flying between the two places is one of the most expensive forms of internal travel in Thailand. You can break it up with changes in Bangkok and trains, but given that it only takes an hour and a half by plane, it's worth paying the 150 quid just to avoid the hassle. Unless you're on a gap year, which I'm not, so there you have it.
My flight was at noon - a perfectly civilised time that involved no early start and would have me on the beach in the afternoon. As I ordered my obligatory in-flight can of Singha, the guy sat next to me started to strike up a conversation. He was from New Zealand, travelling with his young family, very friendly, asked lots of questions about where I was from and where I was going on holiday and so on. Then he started talking about his experiences of London, and how 'there hardly seemed to be an English person there'. I knew where this was heading. 'Every bar I went in, there was never an Englishman serving a drink.' Probably because they are all from New Zealand...
We landed at Ko Samui at around 1.30pm. The airport on this island is my worldwide favourite. It's tiny and deluxe - like landing on a golf course. My luggage arrived quickly, and I set off to find my transportation to the hotel. I couldn't see any signs with my name, or that of my hotel, on and so I decided to book a taxi. Having bought a ticket, I was told to head to a minibus in the car park. I was the first to board the bus. 25 minutes later, I was still the only person on board the bus and was sweating in the intense heat like a paedophile in a prep school. My driver was just stood outside, casually smoking roll ups and chatting to his mates. I started to get angry - this was valuable beach time I was missing. It just didn't make any sense as other passengers were getting into other minibuses and heading off into the distance. I asked the driver when we would be leaving, and he just shrugged his shoulders. By now I was beyond angry, and I picked up my bags and headed back towards the airport 'hut'. Fuck this, I thought.
Less than 10 minutes later I was sat back on board the same minibus waiting for it to leave. Having angrily demanded a refund, I quickly discovered this was the only taxi service at the airport. The other buses that had been leaving were, apparently, pre-chartered.
As the cramped and hot minibus eventually set off - almost an hour after I had originally boarded it - I wondered whether the driver would take revenge on me for my earlier hissy fit by ensuring I was the last passenger to reach my hotel. One hour later, alone on the bus and after an arduous tour along the east coast of the island, I was dropped off. The driver said he had 'missed' my hotel when we passed it half an hour earlier. As I got off the bus, I contemplated all forms of physical violence and abuse towards this utter cuntbag of an individual, but resolved to say nothing and just check into the hotel. Just forget about it...
The hotel were extremely apologetic about not picking me up from the airport. I insisted I didn't mind, when in actual fact I was extremely pissed off that it had taken more than two hours to travel a journey that should have taken around 15 minutes. However, I resolved to put it behind me as I was checking into an extremely swanky hotel that I could only afford because of an absurdly cheap internet offer. I was shown to my room, and couldn't believe how spacious and luxurious it was. At once I felt better. As I started to unpack my belongings, I noticed how absurdly hot it was in the room - sweat was dripping off me - and went to turn down the temperature of the air conditioning. Only trouble was the temperature wouldn't turn down - it was locked at 30 degrees, which is not the sort of level most people outside of the Sahara Desert would set it at. I contacted reception, they promised to fix it, I went for a swim and a walk along the beach and thought little more about it.
When I returned to my room at around 7pm to get ready for going out, I found that they had 'fixed' the air conditioning. It was now 29 degrees - warmer than outside - and wouldn't go any lower. By now, I was absolutely fuming about this and the airport transport fiasco and stormed to reception. I demanded to know why the air conditioning hadn't been fixed. After some feeble excuses, they offered to switch my room, which I wasn't very keen on as it would involve re-packing all my stuff. I turned my back on the receptionist, looked to the skies and, as you do, said 'oh for fuck's sake'. This then changed the atmosphere entirely. 'What you say, sir? Please don't use the word fuck. It very upsetting'. She looked like she was going to burst into tears. I haven't done any research into how offensive the use of the word 'fuck' is to Thai women, but judging by the reactions of the receptionist and her colleague, I'd say 'very'.
Anyway, to cut a long story shortish, I did end up switching rooms. Or, I should say, switching from a room to a beach side villa. The hassle and inconvenience I had endured meant I was upgraded to the most prestigious accommodation the hotel could offer - despite my foul mouth offending the staff. My new home was utterly amazing - private infinity pool, garden, huge bedroom and bathroom, separate living area.
As I ventured into town, and having apologised to the receptionist, I wondered if my fortunes were looking up...
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