New places, old places: I’ve always liked that mix in travel.
We editors don’t get out as much as Bob and Solly and Toni–the Travel writers on this page–but in four trips in 2002, I got my first look at some very cool destinations (Iceland, Edinburgh, Dublin . . . Pittsburgh), returned to a couple of perennial favorites (London, Thailand) and rediscovered–after a 22-year absence–my first “paradise” (Hawaii).
A few of the highlights . . . .
Favorite “new” island: Iceland. One day in the north beyond Akureyri, one day in the south outside Reykjavik. You can’t see it all on two stops in two days on a cruise, but you get the idea. Waterfalls, mudpots, geysers and lava fields; treeless plains stretching to the glaciers; a farm here, an endless field there: This is nature at its finest–and, sometimes, its most severe.
It’s literally and figuratively cool in an other-worldly way. During this mid-July visit, daylight lasted 20 hours and the night never got fully dark, yet the sun rarely shone and the temperature never climbed above the low 50s. “You don’t,” our cheerful guide said one day in a light rain, “come to Iceland for the weather.”
Favorite “old” islands: Hawaii. Since I gave up on my then-annual visits here in 1980 so I could see the rest of the world, I’ve been to a lot of gorgeous islands. Bali and Bora Bora, Guadalupe and Phuket–they’re all spectacular in many ways. But finally coming back here reminded me of just how special the islands of Hawaii are.
They’re all so wonderfully . . . foreign. Yet they aren’t.
Here, you do come for the weather. The dirty little secret of most tropical destinations is that, once you step away from the beach or pool, you will fry. Not in Hawaii, where the trade winds really do blow.
Of course, there are beaches and mountains (Waikiki won’t knock your sandals off–but, wow, take a look at that backdrop!), corny ukulele music and fancy drinks with little umbrellas. But even if you hate the beach, you can have a good time. Hawaii–especially Oahu and the city of Honolulu–has fine dining, excellent resorts, plenty of history and all the cosmopolitan things to do that you won’t find on your ordinary Fantasy Island.
Thailand, two ways: Two very different reasons brought me back to Thailand for the 13th time, which led to two very different vacations rolled into one.
I went to Bangkok to join visiting American friends, and enjoyed all the luxuries a traveler can have. I went to Chiang Mai because a Thai friend had died, and experienced a side of Thailand few tourists see.
Two years ago in my year-end review, I wrote about Sonn Vonganuwong, a guide/friend I have known for 12 years. A few of you even took my recommendation and hired him to take you around Thailand’s north. He was a Thai Dale Carnegie, full of energy, chatting up everyone we’d meet, showing off his country and all its–and his–charm.
On my half dozen trips, it wasn’t always where we went but how we went that was so much fun. We ate at roadside stands, slept in inexpensive Thai-style hotels, joined groups of Thais and avoided the usual farang (foreign) tourist traps. Sometimes on our road trips we even took his wife, Onn, and their two boys along.
And then, unexpectedly, he died, in August, from an aneurysm. He was only 49.
In late November, Onn and the boys, now 9 and 11, met me at the airport in Chiang Mai. The next day they were having a ceremony for Sonn at her house with a monk. It had something to do with his “bones” (ashes, I figured out, actually–Onn’s English isn’t all that good), and I was invited to attend.
His funeral, held months before, had been a big event. This was a small gathering of family and a dozen or so friends. Just what exactly was going on, I didn’t know (if only, I thought, I had Sonn to translate . . . ), but like a lot of more familiar religious rituals, it was the experience not the specifics that mattered. The monk sat in front of us on a bench, chanting and performing various rituals. Then, he dipped twigs in water and shook them–sprinkling us, the room, several boxes of gifts for the wat (temple) and a small urn wrapped in cloth with water. It was a solemn occasion, but happier than sad.
Afterwards, we had sandwiches and soft drinks. Then the monk and most guests left, and after prying the boys away from their video games and Saturday morning cartoons, we sat on the floor for a late breakfast.
At noon, Onn, the boys, several friends and I drove to a wat on the banks of the Ping River in downtown Chiang Mai, where buckets of various aquatic creatures were being sold. They weren’t for eating. Onn bought a bucketful, and we boarded a longtail boat.
After some brief chanting but little ceremony, Sonn’s best friend deposited the urn with his ashes in the water (it promptly sank) and Onn dumped the bucket overboard, freeing the fish, eels and turtles she’d bought–a Buddhist act of “earning merit.”
And then, with only a brief tear among the smiles, we went off on a two-hour river cruise just like any Thai or farang tourist would do.
Favorite hotels: This year, there were two. Naturally, one was in Bangkok, where the best hotels in the world come at bargain prices. I paid $199 a night (a lot, in Bangkok, though it included breakfast and a Mercedes to the airport) at the Sukhothai for an executive suite–a stunningly beautiful space, with a bathroom bigger than most hotel rooms. The most stylish hotel in town, it also has two of Bangkok’s best restaurants, Celadon (Thai) and brand-new, open-kitchen La Scala (Italian).
The other was in Honolulu, the Halekulani. Not quite as cheap (a two-room suite, about the same size as my digs at the Sukhothai, with a smashing view of Diamond Head runs about $1,500), but what is? It, too, comes with excellent restaurants, including the French-themed La Mer. I could have spent a week here without leaving the hotel.
Wildest place for Halloween: Honolulu. After the tourists go to sleep, Kalakaua Avenue comes alive with a mob of wacky creatures. A scream, in the middle of the Pacific.
True confession: Until last summer, I’d never been to Scotland, Northern Ireland or Ireland. Now I’ve been to Edinburgh and the Shetland Islands, and Londonderry, and Dublin–thanks to that same cruise that took me to Iceland. Only the briefest samplings, I know, but good ones–and I’ll be back.
Best meal: Gordon Ramsay’s in London. At $600 for two, it should have been. And was.
Unexpected pleasure: I wasn’t joking about Pittsburgh. It really is a cool and terrific weekend (or longer) destination. Try it. You’ll like it.
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Randy Curwen promises to write more about that visit to Gordon Ramsay’s, especially since he charged it to the Tribune. His e-mail is rcurwen@tribune.com.
