Ah, dear reader, gather ‘round. For once, this isn’t a tale of high-seas adventure or a culinary catastrophe in the galley. No, this is a rare beast - a diary entry - chronicling the whirlwind winter of 2022 and the chaotic dawn of 2023. Buckle up, because if our lives were a movie, this would be the montage where everything happens at once, set to a soundtrack of fireworks, clinking cider glasses, and the distant hum of a fishing reel snagging on something unfortunate (more on that later). 

New Year, Same Old Spectacle

After a medieval Christmas and enough medieval feasting to make Henry VIII blush; with probably too much mead and not enough sense, we jetted off to Thailand faster than you can say, “Wait, did we pack the sunscreen?” Our Bangkok condo, perched like a smug seagull overlooking the Chao Phraya River, offers front-row seats to the city’s legendary New Year fireworks. And by “front-row,” I mean THE best view - so good, in fact, that Pookie’s family and friends descended upon us like a well-dressed, snack-bearing swarm of eager bees. 

By midnight, our balcony resembled the United Nations (if the UN served spicy papaya salad and debated which firework looked most like a disintegrating UFO). 

Now, if you’ve ever hosted a Thai family gathering, you know two things: 

1. There will be a lot of food. 

2. At some point, someone will suggest dragging you to a temple. 

Temple Run: and the Unbelieving Contestant

We were in Thailand for approximately 47 seconds before Pookie’s parents herded us toward a Buddhist temple. Now, as a card-carrying atheist with agnostic leanings (think of me as spiritually Switzerland), I’m not exactly the target demographic for religious pilgrimages. But even I can’t deny the sheer, golden extra-ness of Thai temples. They’re like someone asked, “What if it were like Versailles, but MORE?” 

Take Wat Arun, for example - a glittering monstrosity of porcelain and gold that looks like it was designed by a dragon with a taste for bling. Or Wat Phra Kaew, golden home to the Emerald Buddha, who, despite his name, is actually made of jade (Buddhist false advertising?). These places are ancient, awe-inspiring, and, most importantly, very Insta-grammable (is that a word?). Anyway, at one point, I tried to discreetly check my phone, only to have Pookie’s Ma give me a look as if to say, "Buddha is watching you!" I’m pretty sure Buddha has better things to do than monitor my Facebook feed, but I pocketed my phone just in case. 

The Great Thai Wealth Illusion (Or: How to Spot a Millionaire)

Now, let’s talk money. Or, more accurately, let’s talk about how Thailand looks like a “developing country” to the untrained eye, but is actually home to people who could buy your entire neighbourhood.

Take cars for example, here’s a fun fact: Thailand taxes imported cars at 350%. That means a £100,000 Porsche becomes £350,000 faster than you can say, "This is financial violence." And yet, Bangkok’s streets are littered with them like discarded lottery tickets.

The three white cars in the photo? (Porsche Ferrari & Rolls Royce) are all owned by the same person. I don’t know what this guy does for a living, but I’m pretty sure it’s either “international diamond smuggler” or “eccentric trillionaire who really likes white cars.”  Meanwhile, I’m over here sweating at the thought of Thai petrol prices and toll fees. 

Pookie’s Thai TV Debut (And My Failed Attempt at Being Messi)

Pookie, ever the culinary superstar, was summoned by a Thai TV station for an interview about her food. Our kitchen, however, is roughly the size of a postage stamp, so we commandeered a friend’s far more camera-worthy setup. As thanks, Pookie cooked a meal for them and some other friends, and, because we’d just returned from Spain, we decided - as one does - to throw a Spanish-themed dress-up party. 

My costume? Lionel Messi. 

“But wait,” you cry, “Messi is Argentinian!” 

Yes. Yes, he is. But he also played for Barcelona, and seeing as that’s just where we’d come from, that’s the flimsy justification I’m clinging to. (The real reason? I had a spare blue-and-red striped shirt and zero dignity.) 

Beach House Blues (Or: Anyone Want a Holiday Home?)

Before we met, Pookie bought a beach house near Hua Hin. It’s lovely—three bedrooms, three bathrooms, nestled in a gated estate. The only problem? Well to put it into context, the hammock in the garden has seen two naps since 2018. We never use it. So, in a fit of responsible adulthood, we listed it for sale. Know anyone in the market for a slice of Thai coastal paradise? Yes? No? OK Fine. I’ll just keep pretending it’s my “winter writing retreat”. 

Tour Guide Mode: Activated

One of the joys of Thailand is that someone you know is always passing through. This time, it was my niece Lexi and her boyfriend Alex, on a whirlwind Asian tour. Naturally, we morphed into hyperactive tour guides, dragging them to: 

- The Grand Palace (so much gold it hurts your retinas) 

- Icon Siam (a mall so fancy it has indoor floating markets), and 

- Mahanakorn SkyWalk (where I learned that glass floors are my personal hell) I’m not afraid of heights – in fact I enjoyed the 360deg LED filled elevator that took you from ground zero to the top in 50 seconds. I’m just afraid of stupid decisions, like walking on a transparent ledge 77 stories up. Alex and I celebrated our survival with a cider. Or five. 

Family Feasts and Father-in-Law’s Alien Encounter

Pookie’s family is enormous, chaotic, and wonderful. Gatherings involve enough food to feed a small army and at least one relative doing something inexplicable. Organised I’m sure by a chaotic squirrel on speed, her Dad arrives one day wearing an Alien mask for no discernible reason. (See exhibit A: the video proof of his descent into madness.)  The rest of her aunties, uncles and cousins are generally saner but definitely find every excuse for a good meal together and a suckling roast pig.

Chinese New Year: Because One New Year Isn’t Enough

Just as we recovered from January 1st, Bangkok exploded into Chinese New Year celebrations. Streets draped in red lanterns, fireworks cracking the sky, and more LED lights than a popular encounter with an extraterrestrial. So, yet another excuse for a party that it would be very rude not to attend. The Thai approach to festivities is simple: Why celebrate once when you can celebrate twice?   

Chiang Mai: Temples, Trekking, and a Fishing Disaster

Pookie decreed that after a decade of marriage, it was time I saw Chiang Mai. This northern gem, and Thailand’s second largest city, is a foodie’s dream, packed with temples, waterfalls, and crucially more friends we bumped into by sheer coincidence. 

Introducing Felicity (aka Flis) and Gordon, two people so effortlessly kind, they make golden retrievers look aloof. After selling their business (because, let’s be honest, excellence was just too easy for them), they embraced early retirement with one mission - spreading joy, one fabulous party at a time. Their party venue at this time just happened to be in Chiang Mai.

Our Chiang Mai highlights included: 

- Mac, Pookie’s university friend, playing tour guide and taking us to the oh so chic places to eat (Think air conditioning units in the middle of an open air garden!!). 

- Flis & Gordon, our UK pals, there to introduce us to midnight games of drunken Thai Pool (the game not the wet stuff), and

- Gordon dragging me fishing, where I narrowly avoided a repeat of my childhood eyebrow incident. 

(For context: The first and last time I fished, was aged about 8, was when my brother finally relented and took me with him fishing. After asking me to stand back and watch (which I dutifully did behind him) he skilfully managed to get both his hook (and attached worm) embedded into my eyebrow. Gordon, thankfully, had better aim.

The girls (Pookie, Mac & Flis) meanwhile went somewhere where dressing up and swinging your arms in public somehow made sense.

Vietnam: And a French Medieval Town… in Asia?

No sooner had we returned to Bangkok than Pookie’s parents whisked us off to Vietnam. The highlight? Ba Na Hills, a surreal French medieval village perched atop a mountain.

Cobbled streets, Gothic cathedrals, stunningly beautiful gardens all sat next to Giant Buddhas. One of the most famous aspect, is the golden bridge. Held aloft by giant stone hands - it’s like Disneyland had a fever dream.  It was brilliant to spend time with Pookie’s family and something we must do again.

Thailand’s Grape-Stained Welcome: A Harvest of fun, Elephants, and Very Good Decisions 

Our time in Vietnam slipped through our fingers like silk in a monsoon—too beautiful, too fleeting, and gone before we were ready to say goodbye. But adventure, like a particularly insistent party host, waits for no one. No sooner had we wiped the last drop of pho broth from our chins than Life (that cheeky orchestrator) handed us our next invitation: Harvest season at Monsoon Valley Vineyard - Thailand’s lone wine rebel in a land of coconuts and spice, where grapes dare to grow and wine flows like liquid courage.

Now, let’s pause here. A vineyard in Thailand? You’d be forgiven for imagining we’d misheard or perhaps overindulged in the local rice whiskey. But Monsoon Valley is real, a sun-drenched miracle where vines twist defiantly under the Thai sun, and the people? Even sweeter than their Muscat.

They’d been generous to us before - glasses always full and laughter always loud, so when they said, “Get here fast, the grapes won’t pick themselves!”, we obeyed like soldiers of merriment. Suitcases still dusty from Vietnam’s roads were repacked with haste (and questionable folding skills), and off we raced, two souls hell-bent on squeezing joy from every second. 

What followed was a harvest festival so vibrant, Bacchus himself (Greek, likes wine. Honest look him up) would’ve wept into his goblet. The air hummed with the sticky-sweet promise of grapes destined for greatness. We plunged into the rows, fingers stained purple, shirts clinging with equal parts sweat and enthusiasm, as if we’d always known how to tell a Shiraz vine from a Sauvignon (we didn’t). Around us, the vineyard buzzed, workers with sun-crinkled eyes sharing jokes we half-understood, baskets overflowing with fruit that smelled like summer’s last stand.

Meanwhile, Pookie, ever the saint, ever the whisperer of creatures, vanished into the emerald embrace of the vineyard’s elephant sanctuary. Yes, elephants. Because Monsoon Valley doesn’t just do wine; it does magic. These gentle giants, once burdened, now wandered like royalty in their sprawling Eden, and Pookie, with the reverence of a disciple, fed them fistfuls of fruit while I… well, I embraced my role as Chief Wine-Tasting Officer with the dedication of a monk in meditation. (Someone had to do it.) 

As the sun dipped, the festival erupted into a carnival of the gloriously absurd. Games were played, some involving questionable balance after the sixth wine tasting; some involving laughter so loud it scared the geckos. Strangers became accomplices, toasts were made to the moon, and at some point, Pookie might have attempted grape-stomping with the grace of a flamingo on a trampoline. (Evidence exists. Negotiations for its burial continue.) 

So, to Monsoon Valley - thank you. For the sticky hands, the sunburned shoulders, the elephants who reminded us that freedom tastes as sweet as ripe grapes. For the nights that ended with stars spinning above us like a disco ball for the cosmos. And most of all, for proving that the best adventures aren’t just found, they’re stumbled into, glass in hand, surrounded by people (and pachyderms) who make the world feel endlessly, riotously kind.

Final Thoughts: Thailand in Snapshots

If there’s one thing to take away from this odyssey, it’s that Thailand is a land of contrasts: ancient temples beside Ferraris, tranquil beaches beside chaotic cities, and family gatherings that could double as sitcom episodes. 

And next time? We return to Spain… where we get robbed. But that’s a story for another blog. Until then, keep adventuring, preferably without fishhooks near your face.