A Fire in Hua Hin

A Fire In Hua Hin


There's nothing worse than losing your child in a block fire.



After our idyllic rest in Petchburi, we were off again. Just two hours south of Petchburi is Hua Hin, a fabulous seaside town with cute guesthouses all over the place. We made our way from the station on a tuk-tuk.

When we were staying in a small town, it wasn't long before my daughter made friends with all the local kids. I let her go to their houses and do things in the area with them because it was safe and she had so much fun with them. She had to always tell me where she was going. Some people thought I was slack with my daughter's safety because I could read their expressions, but I didn't believe in keeping her beside me every second of the day. She'd be bored. If I was drinking coffee downstairs and my daughter came running up with a friend to tell me she was off again to do something else, I was sometimes asked "You just let her go off like that?" Um, yes, but if I didn't get a good vibe about the kid she'd met it would be no.

The rules were: the kids had to bring her back and she wasn't allowed on the beach or the main streets. Do these kids look threatening? Does my daughter look like she's not enjoying herself?







Aimee's little friends brought her to the local school one day, perhaps she was show and tell. I didn't know exactly where the school was, but it wasn't that far away. I was having a coffee and reading the newspaper at the Headrock Cafe when suddenly I heard a great commotion and shouting coming from up the street. I looked up and saw a commotion. When I stood up to see what was going on, I gulped when I saw people running towards me clutching their belongings and dragging suitcases and wooden wagons and anything else they could carry. They were yelling in Thai words that I couldn't understand and I looked around for somebody who could tell me what was going on.

Then I saw the smoke, billowing plumes of smoke rising above the flimsy wooden Hua Hin guesthouses that lined the street. Hidden behind the guesthouses were all the small huts, rooms, and lean-tos that house all the local Thais, and as I watched terrified people race by me, I wondered where the hell the local school was.



Couches, chairs, dishes, bed-boards, mirrors, mattresses, clothing, tools - everything that could be dragged from their houses was in the street and stacked in towering heaps. People in their panic started throwing water at the fire from small pots and pans, which made about as much sense as bailing out a sinking ship with a cup.



All of a sudden there was a roar from the flames and it looked like it was going to burn the whole block of houses down. The flames were racing up the dry tinder posts near to our guesthouse. Holy shit. Where's Aimee?



I raced up the stairs of my guesthouse two at a time and got my money and passport, then raced back down and into the crowd to search for Aimee. I didn't know if she was still at the school or what. Where the hell is the school? I ran around the streets calling her name, panicking, then circled back towards our guesthouse hoping she'd come back there. If they didn't get to the fire soon, every house would burn down because they were all built from wood.

It seemed longer than it was, but finally I heard sirens and horns blaring from the two fire trucks that were now snarled up in the narrow streets, desperately trying to navigate through the people and the household gear that was strewn everywhere, blocking the alleys. I tripped over furniture and pushed past people, including the firemen with their hoses aimed at the buildings, searching the crowds for what seemed like hours trying to find her when all of a sudden I heard 'Mommy! Mommy!' in the distance. I scanned the road again.

I couldn't see her, but she ran up behind me with her three little friends and grabbed on to me, babbling her story of the evacuation from the school and everybody running home and wasn't it scary? I grabbed her hand, breathing a huge sigh of relief. At the end of the street, we waited with all the others until the fire was extinguished and it was safe to go back in again.

Amazingly the firemen put it out - a catastrophe was thwarted!




Takiak Hill overlooking Hua Hin

Petchburi City

When we were over our food poisoning from Koh Samet island, my 8-year-old daughter and I got on a local train in Bangkok that was headed south, but after a few hours on the train it was time to get off and Petchburi City looked okay from the window. I discovered later that most travellers don't stay in Petchburi, they either make it a day trip or just bypass it altogether, but these are the kinds of places I love to discover.

From the train station at Petchburi, we boarded a local bus which was going to the Chom Klow Hotel. It was filled with half a dozen elderly Thais dozing with their jackets on in the stifling heat. We asked two old-timers if they were familiar with the hotel and they looked at each other and then back at us with blank stares. We asked another old gent and he gave us the same blank stare, so I wondered what was wrong with these people that they didn't know the location of one of the few hotels in town. I said the name of the hotel a few more times, with a different inflection, when an old man leaning over his cane at the front of the bus sprang to life and spat out Chom Klow. They all started laughing. Yes, yes, yes, that's it, they said, all suddenly coming to life and nodding their heads. Hey, that's what I've been saying, dude! Didn't I? But I'd obviously been using the wrong inflection. Aimee and I laughed and we all felt the good vibes and they cheerfully pointed out the hotel as the bus drove by it.

The Chom Klow Hotel was a scarred, faded five-storey block of cement located beside a muddy river that meandererd through the city. A bridge heavy with traffic crossed the river nearby. Our room in the back overlooked the water and after wondering how many mosquitoes would be paying us a visit that night to suck our tired blood, I dumped my bags down and collapsed on the lumpy bed. The fan croaked and groaned as it listlessly turned, doing nothing to dispel the steamy heat.



The first thing my daughter wanted to do was to go to a store and get some chips. I gave her a little money and she was off. Five minutes later I shot up off my bed and ran out of the hotel and up the street, searching everywhere. How could I let her go off like that? Where is she? What was I thinking? I couldn't believe that we hadn't gone through our hotel name, address, the one dollar in her little purse and getting a taxi routine.

I was starting to panic scanning the streets and sidewalks and shops near the hotel when I heard a faint voice through the traffic. "Mom! Mommy! Mommy!" I swung around and a redhead in an orange Thai dress stood there waving to me from across the street. Oh my god! I ran over to her, relieved.

We strolled around the town that night. Very near our hotel was a busy night market, filled with a smorgasbord of spicy Thai food. We gorged on all kinds of wonderful things while people turned and stared at us, sometimes reaching out to stroke my daughter's red hair.

An older gentleman of around 60 approached us and in perfect English he told me he was a retired school teacher and that he had lived in Petchburi his entire life. He would be glad to show us many interesting sites if I so desired. We chatted for a while and we strolled around the market before agreeing to meet the next morning at 8:30.

When Aimee and I went downstairs the next morning, Chumpion was waiting outside in his black 1950 Austin. It was an incredible old car to go touring around in and we had a great time bouncing over all the pot-holed roads to the caves and temples on the outskirts of town. We went to one of the four largest reclining buddhas in Thailand and when I say large, I mean massive. This great photo of a reclining Buddha gives you more of an idea of the vast size of these sculptures.



Here's a reclining buddha, although not the same size.



After visiting another cave and viewing some ancient artefacts, Chumpion took us to a floating library which was over 500 years old. It was just a simple wooden structure standing on stilts in a small pond. Then he took us to his home where we drank tea and ate pie and home-made biscuits. He told stories about Petchburi, Thailand's King, and his own life. He never married and his mother had recently died. I was so thankful for his generosity in taking us around to the caves and temples and then finally to his house, because we never would have seen what we did without him.

Remember what you have seen, because everything forgotten returns to the circling winds. Navejo Wind Chant



Kudos and good health to you Chumpion, wherever you are!

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