I love a good sign of fall, and this one is pretty spectacular. Shot at a beach in Naoshima, Japan by narinnr, you have to love the beautiful blues behind the wildly decorated pumpkin. Looks like fall is just around the corner!
If you’ve got some great travel shots you’d love to share, be sure to upload them to the Gadling pool on Flickr. We might just pick one as our Photo of the Day.
Head up to Cape Elizabeth, Maine to cut up a pumpkin, and you may wind up with a return trip. Inn by the Sea is taking the New England institution of pumpkin carving to a new level. Spend two nights or more at this resort in October, and you’ll be given a complementary pumpkin … along with the accoutrements for turning it into a frightening or masterful Jack O’Lantern. And, be sure to make some time to sip a cup of hot cider by the fireplace afterward.
At the end of the month, Inn by the Sea will choose the winner. The judges work from a blind photo array, awarding points for creativity, artistry and the all-important fun factor. In November, check the inn’s website for the winner. If it’s you, Inn by the Sea will credit all the expense from your trip back to you – regardless of what you spent or how long you stayed.
The Pumpkin Art package includes two nights at the inn, breakfast for two each day at the Sea Glass restaurant and the pumpkin carving essentials. The rest, of course, is up to you!
After what feels like hours, the ferry disembarks on a small dock that ends where a group of Thai people in hats and sunglasses are standing. They’re holding signs for connecting rides to hotels or offering cheap bus fares to various beaches on the island.
I suppose one of the pitfalls of not booking anything ahead of time is suddenly realizing that you have no idea what your next move should be. Haad Rin? Haad Yao? Haad Khuat? Haad Salat? Names of beaches barraged my eyes and ears.
With one full day before the full moon party, all hostels were rumored to be fully booked, so it didn’t matter where I started the search. I only knew that it would be better to stay close to Haad Rin since it’s the center of activity, and staying there would mean avoiding late night taxis or buses when it was time to go home. A couple of tourists waiting to leave the island point to a woman that they recommend for a taxi bus, and I take their suggestion.
I jump in the back of a covered truck and am heartily greeted by a loud American with a southern accent and a t-shirt tied around his head. He uses a slew of expletives to describe just “how [ridiculously] crazy Thailand is” and asks the group of passengers if we can believe how “cheap [stuff] is here”. He says he might not want to leave and mentions that there’s nothing to go back to at the moment anyway. Eventually, he’s drowned out by the sound of the struggling engine as the truck strains to make it over a series of steep, twisting roads that lead to Haad Rin.
The island’s area is roughly 168 km², with an estimated 50 km perimeter, so it really doesn’t take long to get to get anywhere on the island. From the ferry to the beach where the once-a-month festivities are held, it’s about a fifteen minute drive.
We arrive in Haad Rin, and I make a dash for the first cheap hostel in my guidebook – Mellow Mountain Bungalows. The view is gorgeous. Bright sunshine, sparkling water, green hills and white sand. Luckily, there’s one bungalow available and the price isn’t bad – 350 baht per night ($10 USD). I force myself to overlook the fact that the toilet and shower are both out of commission – the likely explanation for the room’s late vacancy – and decide that the communal shower will do just fine. If that fails, there’s always the ocean, right?
Once I’m settled, my initial instinct is to rent a scooter and explore the rest of the island. In retrospect, this should have been my first decision after arriving on the island – and would be my recommendation for anyone traveling without bags that require a taxi. It’s cheaper and more fun to explore the island by yourself. Just remember to wear a helmet and drive cautiously – I think calling the roads of Thailand “unpredictable” would be an affectionate understatement.
Regardless, Ko Pha Ngan is probably one of the best places in Thailand to rent a scooter for the day. All of the roads on the island are quiet, two lane strips of asphalt that snake through beautiful forests and picturesque hills. There’s a few waterfalls that are easy to access, and enough beaches to sample to keep you busy for a few days. On my way around the island, I stop at a small restaurant owned by a Thai woman and her British expat husband. A crowd of British men are huddled around the bar, halfway through a “proper Sunday lunch” of roast lamb and mushy peas.
My favorite beach of the day is a spot on the Northern end called Haad Salad. There are giant rope swings, quaint guest houses and warm, shallow water. If it wasn’t on the opposite side of the island from Haad Rin, I’d opt to stay here for hours, but I’m short on time and decide to head back on the road while the sun sets in the west, and a full moon rises in the east.
I gun the scooter over the final few hills that descend into the beach. I’m relishing every moment of riding the curved pavement, the moon high in the sky, cutting through a paper thin layer of clouds. When I pull into the town, I can feel the buzz of energy in the air. By now, most of the tourists that are staying in Haad Rin for the party have arrived, and the tiny streets of the towns are packed with people.
A group of dutch tourists get neon paint patterned on their arms and legs. Four youngsters huddle around a friend in a tattoo shop. A pair of girls get their hair done at a salon. Hordes of people have already started dancing on the beaches to deep, resonant music.
Internet cafés are filled to capacity. I stop at one and count the number of screens that are logged into Facebook – 19 out of 20…and it’s the same at almost every cafe that I pass. Truly the mark of our generation. Maybe they’re making those last minute rendezvous from the Khao San?
I have no idea what to expect for the next 24 hours, but by the excitement that I feel in the streets, I have a good suspicion that I’ve come to the right place.
If you’ve missed the previous articles in this series, be sure to check out the entire Dim Sum Dialogues column for more on the road from Bangkok to Ko Pha Ngan.
We tourists are a curious bunch – apparently, by paying for our trip, some of us feel we are entitled to absolute perfection. In this lineup, we’ve listed several of the most insane lawsuits taken to court by tourists.
Have you ever encountered something so ridiculous on a trip, that you had to take your case to court?
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The case of the slutty Dutch girl and the kitchen staff
A Dutch family visited the judge demanding a full refund of their vacation, as well as compensation for having to move to a new resort.
Apparently the situation at their original resort was unbearable, forcing them to relocate to a more expensive location.
What the Dutch forgot to tell the court, was that their daughter had slept with the entire kitchen staff, forcing hotel management to fire most of them.
Verdict: case dismissed
The case of the stupid locals enjoying their own beach
A German couple pleaded their case at the local court, demanding compensation for a spoiled vacation.
The 2 Germans were very upset that their (public) Mauritian beach was also being used by locals. And obviously, the one thing that can spoil a vacation, is having to interact with the people that actually live there.
Verdict: local judge throws case into a local trash can
The case of the outhouse is not an acceptable bathroom?
A Swedish tourist visited his court to beg for a full refund of his vacation.
His complaint? His remote farm destination lacked in-building bathroom facilities, and he was forced to use an outhouse. Apparently this was just too much for him to deal with.
Verdict: case ended up in the crapper
The disturbing case of the do not disturb sign
It takes a special level of stupid to mistake the do not disturb sign on the inside of your door for a warning to stay in your room. That didn’t prevent one tourist from filing an official complaint asking for her money back.
When she arrived at her hotel, she got to her room, and stayed there for several days, claiming the hotel staff forced her to stay indoors. After a little digging, the court found that she saw the sign, and mistook it for a “don’t you dare leave this room” sign.
Verdict: This woman probably does need to be locked in a room somewhere.
The case of the loud mosque
A Dusseldorf court listened to the rants of a German tourist demanding his money back. His vacation had been ruined by the daily call for prayer at a local Turkish mosque. In the weird little world of this tourist, calls for prayer are to be silenced when he’s enjoying his vacation.
Verdict: Stupid tourist should be forced to listen to “case dismissed” every day for a week.
The case of the snores galore
Snoring people are everywhere – including airplanes. However, when a German tourist was treated to several hours of loud snoring on his flight to South Africa, instead of just chalking it up to another annoyance of air travel, he went to court to demand a full refund.
Sadly for him, the court had to explain to him that snoring people are just part of life, and told him to stop wasting their time.
Verdict: a snooze case
The case of the super fertile pool water!
There have been many stories of immaculate conception in history. But none was as weird as the story of a Polish girl that got impregnated through the pool water at their Egyptian resort.
The mother of the girl insisted that her daughter did not have sex, and that the only explanation had to be the filthy sperm infested waters of the hotel pool.
Verdict: This case is dead in the water
The case of nobody told me the fire could burn me
Burning Man may not be the kind of vacation destination suitable for everyone, but 50,000 people make the trip each year. This year, one visitor walked around the large bonfire, getting closer and closer each time.
Eventually, he tripped, and fell right into the flames, burning his hands. Because nobody had told him about the dangers of fire, he took his case to court demanding someone pay him for his stupidity.
Verdict: case fizzles out
The curious case of too many Germans
Brits and Germans have a very special relationship when they are abroad. And by special, I mean they hate each other.
Germans steal all the pool chairs in the morning, and Brits get drunk and wake the Germans up very early, forcing them to get up even earlier for their pool chairs (pardon the stereotypes).
One British tourist had enough – he took a trip to court demanding his cash back. His complaint? His travel agent had failed to mention that his destination was also popular with Germans. And apparently, too many Germans is enough to completely spoil your vacation.
Verdict: Klage abgewiesen!
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I’m a Southern gal through and through, and one thing we country folks know is our barbecue. For us, a platter of grilled ribs or chicken is our sole reason to exist. We can’t live without it, and we take great pride in executing our seasoned meats with our own unique culinary perfection. Whether you’re talking pulled pork doused in a piquant cider vinegar sauce or baby back ribs slow-roasted and bathed in thickly sweet molasses, brown sugar and ketchup, one thing is for sure, if there’s smoke, you can probably find me waiting patiently nearby with a big ‘ole stack of napkins.
So, when I visited St. Martin’s famous Village of Grand Case, which is universally known as “the culinary capital of the Caribbean”, I was prepared for an onslaught of mouth-watering dining choices, and that’s exactly what I got. While Grand Case is most famous for the many gourmand-friendly restaurants that line the charming, narrow streets of town (think foie gras and lobster tasting menus paired with fine French wines), it was the locally run outdoor barbecues or “lolos”, with their sweet, smoky aromas billowing from makeshift metal grills that had me at hello.
And, I mean literally at hello. After a rather stressful and lengthy travel day complete with a four hour delay in Philly via US Airways my husband and I checked into the the Grand Case Beach Club. Within minutes, starving and thirsty, we were back out the door, making the short walk into town when we were overcome with the fragrance of smoked meat. “Oh God,” I said, “I smell barbecue,” as we rounded the corner. And, there they were under a canopy of smoke– a cluster of outdoor eateries merely steps from the beach serving grilled meats, seafood and plenty of cold beer. We had arrived.
Each of these individual establishments boasted its own whimsical name such as “Talk of the Town” and “Sky’s the Limit”, and they were all packed to the gills with a mixture of locals and tourists noshing on oversized plates of barbecue chicken, ribs, whole fried fish, and grilled Caribbean lobster accented with sides of rice of peas, plantains and fried Johnny Cakes (a type of deep fried dough with just a hint of sweetness). The atmosphere was convivial and conversational as diners ate casually at picnic tables complete with plastic cups and plates. Waves lapped the nearby beach while Bob Marley tunes echoed from somewhere in the distance.
We started our evening at “Sky’s the Limit” following the age-old travel rule of hitting the restaurant boasting the largest crowd. It was not to disappoint. After being seated at our picnic table, one of the owners, a very pregnant young lady, handed us two plastic-coated menus with the phrase, “€ 1 to $ 1” emblazoned at the top, meaning they do one dollar to one euro equally, something vacationers should look for when traveling to French St. Martin, since while both dollars and euros are accepted widely, their conversion rates can vary.
Menu choices were straight and to the point, and boasted a la carte items described simply as “grilled chicken leg” and “Creole conch”. Combo platters abounded, which at Sky’s the Limit, came with a ginormous serving of six different sides: potato salad, mac and cheese, peas and rice, cole slaw, plantains and spaghetti (which seemed an odd pairing at first, but miraculously managed to complement the meal perfectly). Not being able to decide from the extensive menu, I had to default to the experts and ask our server what her favorite dish was, “Oh, you must try the garlic shrimp” she offered with a bona fide smile.
A couple of ice-cold Presidente beers later (which go for a whopping $1 each), my immensely-sized shrimp platter, which was more suited for a competitive eater, arrived along with hubby’s grilled rib platter. The price point for all this food? Twelve dollars and nine dollars, respectively.
The shrimp were expertly cooked and redolent with garlic and spice. A couple extra dashes of hot sauce sealed their perfection. Hubby’s ribs were all they were cracked up to be– tender and fall-off-the-bone. Interestingly, the ribs came sans barbecue sauce (as most of the barbecue items do) in favor of a simple marinade and rub, which tasted scarcely of citrus and cumin. An array of sauces are offered on each table for diners to add at will.
As I wiped my face and hands, I glanced over at the grill, which was being manned by a woman, who was clearly at home overseeing her fire. It was then I noticed that all of the grills, many that were fashioned out of oil barrels cut in half, were being overseen by women. In fact, out of all six lolos (which refers to the grill itself and not the restaurant by the way) every single grill master was a woman– one who spends each day and night on her feet, sweating over hot coals to churn out some of the best barbecue this Southern girl has ever tasted. It was an odd yet beautiful sight to see these ladies flipping slabs of meat and fish as well as any male pitmaster south of the Mason Dixon line.
Next day at lunch, we were back at the lolos for an afternoon of $1 Caribs,and to this time, sample some local seafood. Lunch began with boudin blanc made with fresh conch, a definite nod to the French influences that abound in the area. Next up, was a whole grilled snapper topped with pickled onions and peppers served with a mound of dirty rice and peas (kidney beans). Hubby had the grilled chicken platter, which like the ribs was flawlessly tender and juicy.
As we sipped our beers while watching a handful of local children jumping off a nearby pier into the crystalline waters of Grand Case Bay, I couldn’t help but think how at home I felt. Perhaps it was the familiar smoke billowing from the grills that reminded me of down-home pig pickin’s and barbecue’s back in my native Virginia or maybe it was the way our host beamed with familial pride as she moved back and forth from our table to the grill, serving as both waitress and master chef. Whatever it was, it felt like home, and set the tone for the remainder of our experience in St. Martin, a small yet mighty island on the Caribbean culinary map.
Stay tuned for St. Martin deliciousness….