The next morning we fly to Madurai. We have a fantastic hotel set high up on a hill, overlooking the city. We get there late because our flight was delayed. I am already happy because there are resident peacocks. I am not happy that my umbrella got stolen out of my suitcase from the only unlocked pocket. Air India. Avoid this airline if possible.

That evening we go and see the ceremony of putting Parvati to bed. It is in a lovely huge temple. Very colorful. People won’t stop taking pictures of me. The next thing I know, they hand me a baby. They want my picture holding a baby. The irony…

The ceremony involves taking a statue of Parvati, ceremoniously carrying her to her husband Shiva, changing her clothes, putting her in his room that has a curtain and singing to her. They do this every night (for hundreds of years now). Dress up dolly. We don’t get it.

The temples have beautiful adornment on the outside because during the time of strict casts, none of the lower casts were allowed inside the temple so the people would pray to statues from the outside.

The attention I am getting is starting to get to me. Our guide tells us that everyone has been asking if we are movie stars. They are sure I am famous. Only in India…

The next morning we see the old court and drive for hours to see the royal family’s summer residence. Nice enough, but absolutely not worth the hours we spent in the car. I am loving the animals on the streets–except for the dogs. The dog population has no control here. A leash? Forget it. Spay or neuter? Non-existent. We figured that feeding the packs of dogs was the excuse used by the entire country for dumping their garbage anywhere and everywhere. It really is filthy here. A wasteland? A dumping ground? All of the above.

Lunch was at a woman’s house. She converted her large home into a tourist attraction where you hang out with the locals. We had lunch off a banana leaf which was fun, delicious and a novelty. Since we were Westerners, we were given cutlery. Everyone else was eating with their hands. The food was excellent–we have yet to get rid of our heart burn.

That evening we go back to the same temple. The night before we were there and stopped by a store. We saw a carpet that we loved and had the night to sleep on it. Our guide was taking me back to see the temple elephant. I am in love with elephants. The night before I only has a brief amount of time with her. Tonight I am prepared with a wad of cash to keep her around. I don’t care if no one else gets a turn. The elephant is painted which I am enjoying. The elephant lets me blow in her trunk and I can’t stop kissing her. Marc is happy enough to photograph me and not get in on the elephant action. After, we bought the carpet.

More impressions…

Welcome to exotic India. “Incredible India!” as the advertising slogan says.

On our passage to India, via Kuala Lumpur, we got a hotel room in the airport (thanks for the valuable tip Erin) and slept for hours. It was needed.

In the airport, we toyed with the idea of buying the Lonely Planet book for India, but of course that was one more thing to schlep and it was almost 100 USD. We decided against it. Not before we read about our first destination–Chennai where the opening lines described the city as really hard to find anything to rave about. Great.

We arrived in Chennai late. The next morning we had our guide and our driver pick us up. Within minutes Marc and I both agreed that we were happy we weren’t driving ourselves. Cars were going every which way, no one was obeying the traffic lights and swerving around the various wild life roaming freely on the street which include cows, water buffalo, packs of dogs, and monkeys. The city of Chennai was flooded. The monsoon came late this year and because the city has no drainage, huge water floods (massive puddles) were everywhere. Of course we couldn’t get over how many people weren’t wearing shoes. Our guide explained that no shoes made their lives easier. It didn’t sit well with either of us. No shoes?

We went to a school for performing arts and saw some dancers. It was really interesting. No photography allowed. Horrible weather.

We saw a few Hindu temples. They were lovely. I have to admit that I can’t stand taking my shoes off. I have a fear that I am going to catch something and my shoes are going to disappear. This fear was solidified when we saw people hawking shoes on the street. They were such random shoes–men’s, women’s, casual, formal–all used and all different sizes. Suspicious.

We drove and drove–to see a gold temple. It was lovely, but very far to get there. Everyone was staring at us. More noticeably, they were staring at me. They were photographing me. I am the only blonde in sight. I am a foot taller than every other woman. I am either a big freak show or exotic. Still undecided.

We have good food, but of course we get heartburn. Trying to describe heartburn to Indians is not an easy task. What we wouldn’t do for a roll of Rolaids. We never have heartburn. We hope this doesn’t last.

We buy a sari. Marc is loving the colorful silks and is growing very tired of my black uniform. I try to explain that I am indeed switching it up. Which part? My earrings.

Sending home a package from India was an experience…

Other impressions…

After not spending more than two nights in a row in the same hotel, Phuket was our time to settle down, relax and revive. For six days we were going to stay at the JW Marriott in Phuket. Of course we had a bit of close call getting to the Bangkok Airport through morning rush hour but we made the flight–yep, we were those people running through the airport…

Arriving in Phuket, we had no idea where our hotel was located and we had to take a longer taxi ride to the northern part of the island. It was about 45 minutes away from “the next settlement”. Now we know that there’s a difference to Phuket Island and Phuket City. It was a beautiful resort at the beach. Of course I immediately started to panic–6 days of beach. No tours? No plans? What the hell are we going to do?

The plan had always been–do nothing, relax and recover. Our schedule up to this point had been pretty hectic. I begin immediately referring to our fancy resort as “The Ranch”. Many of my sentences started with “Meanwhile, back at the ranch…”

Here are our 6 days on the island of Phuket:

Day one–admire our great room and check out the various bars at the ranch. We also check out the restos. Since we are pretty far from anywhere else, there is price gouging at all the places on the ranch.

We watch the sunset while Marc joins (too much of a sportsman too dominate–but he easily could have) a game of beach volleyball. I was happy to be the photographer.

Day two–start with lavish buffet breakfast and my plate mainly consists of cheese. Have I mentioned that I miss cheese badly? Because Marc is a gold status member, not only do wet get a room upgrade, but a complimentary breakfast–hence the daily lavish buffets. Admittedly we were gluttons the entire time. The breakfast was really good.

We make a much overdue visit to the spa for mani-pedis. After we are through with our treatments, we are starting to feel like ourselves again.

We are starting to really relax. I am feeling calm and peaceful–despite the noisy Russians. Marc commented that the Ruble must be doing really well for the amount of Gucci clad Russians there were at the ranch.

Day three–a day trip to the stunning Phi Phi Islands. We start with a long boat ride to the place where the Leonardo di Caprio movie “The Beach” was filmed. It was just amazing, but full of Russians…

We went snorkeling off the back of the boat in what seemed like an aquarium. There were the most incredible fish–of all colours. Sadly our camera is not water resistant (I tested it out in the rice paddy, remember?) so unfortunately we don’t have any under water pictures.

We went to Monkey Island and just as you most likely guessed, it was full of monkeys. Of course the Russians wouldn’t stop feeding them. I was happy to take their picture–from a safe distance…

Another stop on our excursion was Egg Island. Marc wanted to go snorkeling again–so with a small bribe of a horrible cocktail, I joined him.

At Egg Island–you had to swim out from the beach to the reef. Did we mention the beach was full of Russians? The women are absolutely shameless–wearing underwear that someone must of told them passed for a bikini (perhaps if it was in black…) and the men all have big bellies, little Speedos, a cigarette hanging out of their mouths and a thick gold chain with an orthodox cross. Oh–la Russie!

We get out into the water and have already been warned to watch the coral. The water is very shallow. We start swimming with our gear. I am really not pleased that Marc has pinched me–hard. This isn’t like him–clearly he didn’t know how hard he got me. I lift my head out of the water to tell him that he hurt me. He was meters away from me. I have been bitten by a fish!

I frantically paddle myself over to him. As I am explaining what happened, another fish corrals me in the coral. I am using my flippers to get the fish to back the eff off, but he is standing or shall I say guarding his turf. He won’t let me go. I panic. In an effort to break free of the gangsta fish, I make my move, wallop my ankle in the coral and at that moment I am done. Done. I can’t swim fast enough to the shore.

We take the boat back to the marina and call it a day. The fish bite (yes indeed there was a scab) lasted longer than the nasty coral welt.

Day 4–we decide to head into Royal Phuket City. We are desperate for laundry and to have it done at the ranch is a small fortune. We take the ranch shuttle and I won’t stop singing a made up song to the tune of “Once in Royal David City…”. We hired a driver, found a tailor to mend Marc’s leopard pants (I did offer to sew, but he flat out refused my offer. He married a girl that can embroider, not mend) and increase the length of my hot pink kimono (didn’t take sitting into consideration). We also found a woman, who would do all of our laundry for the cost two golf shirts at the ranch.

We kill time by visiting the local markets, temples, massages (Thai massages are assisted yoga) and having cheap and cheerful food. We picked up our clean clothes and took an earlier shuttle back to the ranch. Royal Phuket City is a bit of a dive.

Day 5–we have a lie in and get a massage on the beach. It is assisted yoga once again and like all my massages in Thailand, the Thai woman starts walking on me. Yep, I have a small Thai woman taking a stroll up the back of my legs.

We hang out by the pool and read our books. We have a leisurely lunch by the pool and then in the late afternoon start getting ready for Pa Tong Beach. The place where we thought we were staying and all the action is.

We have it planned–watch the sun set, have a nice dinner, then head to see the drag queens as per Jeff’s recommendation.

This is where the story takes an unexpected turn…

I have seen Marc officially lose his shit three times.

The first time was when we went to see Sound of Music and Jenna was playing Maria, not Elisha (we avidly watched “How do you solve a problem like Maria”–the open casting competition). Marc was so upset we had the runner up, we ended up seeing it twice–once with Elisha and once with Jenna.

The second time I saw it was when we had been married for exactly one month. Marc lost his wedding band in our bedroom. Our cleaning lady sucked it up the next morning with a vacuum and of course threw away the bag (I bought him a replacement band the following day and we found it in the laundry room one week later).

The third time was in Pa Tong Beach when he didn’t see the drag queens…

After a good Thai dinner, we start looking for the lady boys. My Germ has never seen lady boys perform. He now has his heart set on it. Jeff didn’t tell us exactly where to go, just that their performance was a must see. We went from one end of Pa Tong Beach to the other, being barraged the entire time with:

Where are you from?
Want a tuk tuk?
Want to get a suit made?
Come inside my store–looking is free!

We are quickly realizing that we needed the time at the ranch. This kind of harassment was getting old quickly.

Marc is going crazy that we can’t find the lady boys. Crazy. He is having a full melt down. Finally we have a few drinks (at a rowdy back packer bar) with the promise that my lovelies will take him to Church Street and he can get his fill of drag queens. Sulking, he relented, but assured me that it wouldn’t be the same. Jeff–you should not have told us about the stage on fire…

Day 6–we have our monster breakfast and Marc lets me know (I don’t know why he didn’t mention this before) that there are small packages of both Nutella and peanut butter. His cargo pockets are stuffed full by the time I am done.

We spend a bit of time by the pool which is quiet because all of the Russians have left. We check out. We are on passage to India!

Back to the hotel we go. Three hours to Bangkok. We decide that since the day has been so incredible, we are going to end with a bang and finally take Jeff’s recommendation and go to the Bed Supperclub for a late dinner.

We shower and get ready. We take a tuk tuk over to the Bed Supperclub. This place is amazing. There is a white banquette that surrounds the dining area. It is literally a huge bed with white sheets and fluffy pillows. Shoes off, in we get. Drinks and dinner is served on a tray that your legs can slide through. The theme of the dining area is the seven deadly sins. Wrath, gluttony, envy, pride, vanity, sloth, and lust. There is a performance with the most incredible costumes designed to reflect each of the sins. They are haute couture. We are having the most incredible day of our lives.

The club finishes up its dinner service and there is a 2nd room playing more hip hop and pop music with a totally different vibe and atmosphere. More drinks, dancing. The dining room was all about the beets and performers. A highlight was a beat boy/popper who rocked it out on the deadly sin stage. He was amazing. We spoke to him after and told him how much we enjoyed his performance.

Of course it turned into a late night. Tuk tuk back to the hotel. On the ride back we talk about Larry and Jeff and thank them both from Bangkok for their fantastic recommendations.

As if this day wasn’t enough, on our way back to Bangkok we head over to an elephant sanctuary. The place is crawling with Russians. Something about Russians and Thailand…

We arrive and wait for our guide to get things straightened away with our ride. We watch a baby elephant, who I promptly name Rosie, do all sorts of clever tricks. I am first to volunteer and slide under her big foot and she presses it down on my back. Then I see all the Russians scrambling to feed her a bottle. Our ride is all set and we decide to feed her on our return.

The elephant we are about to ride approaches. I can’t believe our day. There is a baby elephant tied to his mother. This must not be possible.

I climb onto the seat that serves as a saddle on the great elephant’s back and Marc joins me. All I can think about is the baby who keeps passing under her mother’s legs and is continually on different sides.

We ride around a loop through a forest and are floating. We are high as kites on all this animal love.

When the ride is close to being over, the guide ‘driving’ the elephant hops down with our camera. He instructs Marc to assume his position right behind the elephant’s head, his feet behind her ears. The next thing I know, Marc is the one in charge. He is riding me around like a queen.

After an amazing photo shoot and yet again another unbelievable experience, Marc takes the seat beside me, and the guide takes us back.

I dismount the elephant and can’t stop thinking about baby Rosie. I am SO EXCITED to feed her a bottle. We approach the cashier and ask where she is. Sorry–you’ve missed her. She’s gone back. Her day is over. WHAT? This can’t be! I know that money talks in this country and smile at the lady. Please? We REALLY wanted to give her a bottle. We’ll pay extra. Enough said. Next thing I know we are getting walked to staff quarters to give Rosie a bottle. Marc has a bunch of potatoes (they were peeled and hard to distinguish, probably tapioca). We find Rosie and her handler. I love her. She is so lovely with her long glamorous eyelashes and eyes that reveal profound thought and intellect. I want to be best friends with her.

I feed her a bottle of soy milk that she just loves. I ask if it would be alright if I blow in her trunk. That is the thing with elephants. If you blow in their trunks once, they will know you forever. They never forget. Ever. I blow into Rosie’s trunk and give her a big kiss–a few actually. The only sad part is that Marc wasn’t ready for the perfect picture. We don’t have the moment properly captured on film, but it is captured in my heart.

I move to the side and let Marc have a turn with Rosie. He feeds Rosie the tapioca and she has her mouth wide open. She loves it. We are beyond happy–the day is surreal. Did all of that just happen?

We say a fond farewell to Miss Rosie. We blow her kisses and are happy clams.

We exit the sanctuary. Our driver slows down so we can see the monkeys hanging out on the side of the road. Our guide advises us that most of the monkeys in Thailand have rabies so it is advisable to not get out of the car and definitely do not feed them by hand. According to him, only the Russians do that…

And now, on to the Tiger Temple.

Years a ago, a baby tiger was found and brought to the monks–his mother had been shot by poachers. The monks, being monks, took the tiger cub in and raised him, and then other cubs who were orphaned were also brought to the temple. And a few other animals–often the ones that were in such rough shape, the slaughter houses refused them. It is a veritable Noah’s arc.

The monk who found the first tiger considers this tiger his son. He asked the tiger-will you behave and let the tourists come so I can build you a reserve? The tiger answered yes. That is how this story starts.

We arrive at the Tiger Temple in the early afternoon. It is closed to tourists in the morning. We are one of the first to arrive. We are EXCITED! We get into the temple and start off by petting some of the tigers who are laying down. The only thing we have been told is that you can’t pet them too lightly. If you pet them lightly, they will think you are a fly and will snap at you. Press down firmly when you pet them. DONE.

These tigers are exquisite. How anyone could shoot them with anything but a camera is beyond me. We were informed that the value of a tiger is more astronomical now than it has ever been, despite their protected status. The Chinese think that tigers are the ultimate enhancers of male virility. According to the temple, the Chinese demand for tigers are driving the costs way up and keeping the poachers in business. Are male virility aids not available in China? Have they not heard of Viagra? Cialis? I think anyone who purchase any part of poached tiger should be shot. Or be neutered. You will understand and most likely agree with me as soon as you see these pictures.

After we had our initial petting sessions, we did a tiger walk. Here is what happens:

Monks walk with the cats who are on leashes and you walk behind them with your hand on the tiger’s hind quarters. They take pictures of you with your own camera. We walk down into a canyon with the tigers. We heard a little talk by one of the staff members (a former volunteer from the US who couldn’t leave the tigers) and it was all I could do not to throw my hands up and ask where I signed up. I had visions of a fulfilling and satisfying career handling these majestic beats. Kitty–the big cat handler. But I digress. I haven’t got to the best part. The nursery!

We paid extra to go to a feeding session in the nursery. We are greeted by a Canadian volunteer originally from Brampton. He takes us to the nursery where we meet THE most stunning Swedish girl. Tall, blonde, skinny, gorgeous. She looks like a super model. I am jealous of her–but not because of her Heidi Klum good looks–mostly because of her job. She too was a volunteer and said that it doesn’t take much time at all to become really attached to the tigers. No kidding. I am only my 2nd hour at temple and am ready to say good bye to my career, my family, my life–just to be around these cats.

Into the nursery we go. There are 4 tigers. The room is really a nursery and is full of toys. Some of the toys look like regular cat toys–just on a larger scale. I officially don’t want to leave. Ever. We begin playing with the tigers. A broom stick with crinkly plastic bags on one end is a favourite. There are tires that they climb on. They have a blanket that they will lie on and let you pull them around. They are frisky and frolicking. I see one of the tigers jump up on Marc and take a bite out of his calf. I can’t believe it. In one day Marc has been bitten not only a leopard, but a tiger. He’s ok. I laugh and say that he was already bit by a leopard today. One of the other people in the nursery with us asked if it was the leopard over by the River Kwai. He told us that same leopard got his mother early that week…

After 30 minutes of playing with the baby tigers, we spend another 15 minutes feeding them. Through a baby bottle. I don’t think I have ever been happier in my life. I can’t stop kissing the tigers. They are so lovely, so delicious. I want one. I can’t live without one. Marc had to drag me out of there kicking and screaming. I was actually screaming silently because after their play session and a big bottle of formula, they are all knackered and sleeping. I LOVE them.

There is another optional add-on at the temple. Sign me up. I don’t care what it is or how much it costs. You can pay a minimal fee (I would have paid 10x more and it was a fraction of what holding the baby panda which just got bumped from #1, to #2 place in greatest life experiences) you could have a tiger put his head in your lap. I’ll do it! Marc is so delicious to every cat–including yours truly, he decides to opt out of this. He has been bitten 3 times in one day. I am actually a bit envious. I want to be bit by a leopard or a tiger. I can’t sign up for the next option quick enough. Here kitty, kitty, kitty.

Back down into the canyon we go. I take a seat right next to a 400 kilo sleeping tiger. Next thing I know they have lifted him up and put his massive head into my lap. Marc was allowed to stand behind me for some photos. We make an incredible family. The proud parents have never looked happier or more fulfilled. We don’t want babies. We want tigers! They eat boiled chicken. They drink water out of water bottles converted into squirt bottles. They are gorgeous. They are stunning. They are wonderful. They are loved.

After we are taken to visit with the rest of the tigers who are true cats and sleeping the day away. Peaceful in the sun. I want to spoon one. I find out it is frowned upon. We move from tiger to tiger, giving them a pat, introducing ourselves, taking pictures. Aware that every second we are next to these wondrous beasts that this is the 2nd greatest day of our lives (2nd only to our wedding day).

We can’t get enough. There are 47 tigers living in the temple. They are everywhere. We were just about to leave and a monk calls me over. He is there with his tiger. I begin petting him and the monk tells me to give him a kiss. Avec plaisir! Then the monk takes the tiger’s leash off and says–why don’t you take him home? Pack your bags baby. We are making tracks to Yorkville! More kisses for my 400 kilo tiger baby. Then I have to face the torment of leaving my beloved tigers behind and saying good bye. The monk wasn’t serious that I could take him.

I will go back. I will see them again.

I am starting this entry off with a proper shout out and thank you to Larry. A few months before the start of our journey, Larry sent me the PDF of a school project about tigers who lived with monks.

This is where I will start.

We wake up really early to drive 3 hours to the Tiger Temple (in case you want to go, we recommend to book our guide "Tik", who was excellent).

We are almost there, but we stop at the bridge over the river Kwai. While driving past, I spot a leopard. A baby leopard on a leash. We immediately head over to see the baby with the stunning spotted coat. There is a stand in front of a restaurant with 2 hacks who will let you hold, feed, and photograph yourself with the leopard. It costs 100 Bath (3 USD). Feeding time for the leopard is over. He isn’t hungry and large cats do not over-eat. He is spectacular. Have I mentioned his stunning, spotted coat?

I hold him first. He is a bit rangy, but I am quick. They give him a stuffed animal whose eyes he has already ripped out to calm him. I put him down and let Marc have a turn.

Marc takes a seat on the platform where the leopard is leashed and he starts circling–despite his short chain. The leopard walks over to Marc, who is smiling for the camera, and takes a huge bite out of his thigh. His brand new pants (literally bought less than 16 hours before) are ripped and he is bleeding. Marc being Marc, laughs, and holds him anyhow for the camera. We get unbelievable pictures because the leopard doesn’t have the stuffed animal in his mouth. Marc then holds him like a baby. Next thing I know, the leopard turns and gets him–a bite on the side of Marc’s jaw. Marc hands the leopard back and the hacks rush to treat him with a half full bottle of antiseptic (this has obviously happened before). I didn’t realize that he was bleeding as much as he was. I sort of missed the 2nd bite–however it is caught on video. The first bite was pretty bad and developed into a huge bruise as well as a scar. I thought the leopard only snapped at him the 2nd time–as he did me, but had no idea that the leopard got him already before.

We both can’t believe that Marc has a story to trump my rice paddy story, but he does. Talk about bragging rights. He got bit by a leopard–twice!

We walk over to the river Kwai bridge, which is nearby. Marc is still bleeding. We take some photos and add to our list of movies that we need to see on our return–Bridge On the River Kwai. We walk across the bridge and make our way to the other side of the river. On our way back we hop onto the platforms as the tracks are still live and a train is coming.

Lunch.

So after our previous bus experience, we decide that it would be money well spent to fly to Bangkok from Siem Reap instead of an 8 hour bus ride. Not only would we gain half a day in Bangkok, but we would also save ourselves the monster bus ride.

The first thing we figured out about Bangkok–you have to move forward with the understanding that everyone in the city is trying to cheat you. Everyone.

Our first night in Bangkok was the hotel that was included in our tour–the last night. Horrible. The hotel obviously understands that everyone in Bangkok will try to cheat you, so they operate with the mentality that hotel guests will do the same. In each guest room, there is a list of every article inside the room and the cost for that article (everything from a towel to a lamp). Break it or take it, you will be charged. Want a key? You have to leave a cash deposit. During our check-in, Marc handed them a credit card. No–cash only. I have never heard of such craziness. This wasn’t problematic for us as we were staying in Thailand for quite some time, but fellow travelers were leaving the next day. They wanted to use up their Thai Bath–not come home with the equivalent of 35 USD. Trying to exit the hotel, we were constantly accosted by ner do well tuk tuk drivers, permitted to solicit tourists in the lobby.

We had “included” in the cost of the ride from the airport to the hotel a city tour. A guide in a car picked us up and took us to a temple with a massive reclining Buddha which was impressive. Not a bad start.

Then the guide told us that we were going to a stone museum. I was excited that we were going to Royal Lapidary–so excited in fact that I took a picture of the outside sign. On arrival there was a girl sorting through various Thai Sapphires which is the country’s specialty. A few more meters in and through a special doorway was a huge jewelry showroom. Yep, they were pushing, hard, for us to buy jewelry. I kept explaining that we just got married and Marc had already bought me a lovely ring and we weren’t in the market for diamonds. How about your birth stone? I of course make things much more complicated by being born in April and therefore diamonds are my birth stone.

We went to another jewelry store (we walked in only for the welcome drink) and a tailor. We bought nothing. They weren’t pleased.

A mother daughter Swedish team on our tour went on a similar city tour and flat out refused to go to the jewelry store. We of course were fooled by the stone museum and royal lapidary. We’re suckers–I know.

That night we went to the Back packers road–Khao San Road. You can get everything and anything here. Want an Ontario health card? A driver’s license from Maine? An EU media pass? Everything. Also, down the center of this street–which is busting with people, everyone is cooking the most random things and the smells are horrible. It was pungent and a bit much for Kitty and the Germ. Hair extensions were the hot ticket item on the street. Using candle wax (from a candle) they bonded the long locks in. What was extra hot were the dread lock extensions you could get. I tried to convince Marc that it would be really funny–but he flat out refused. Chinese guys, Australian guys–everyone seemed to be doing it.

The following morning, we got up early and went to the Grand Palace. On our short walk there, everyone kept stopping us letting us know that we wouldn’t be allowed in because of our inappropriate attire. You could see my ankles (I was wearing low cropped Lulu’s and a black T-shirt–I was fully covered) they of course wanted to take us to their stores so we could buy the appropriate attire. Someone told me that he had read in Lonely Planet that it is common for people to accost tourists outside of the palace, convince them that it is closed, but will take them on a city tour–and we know how that turns out.

Inside the Grand Palace, we found out that Marc’s knee length shorts weren’t long enough and he had to borrow a pair of purple pants. He looked like he was wearing hospital scrubs. I laughed my ass off at the site of him. He left a deposit for the pants and away we went to tour the Palace.

The Palace was grand and gold–it felt very shiny and new, and I kept saying–Vegas style. That was it. It absolutely felt like the new hotel on the strip–The Grand Thai Palace Hotel.

The Palace was indeed nothing short of impressive. It was huge and fully restored. We witnessed the changing of Buddha statue’s clothes. Yep. The Buddha statue has a summer outfit and a winter outfit that they ceremoniously change with the seasons. We walked in during the removal of Buddha’s outfit. Sacrilege and not PC to say, but it really felt like dress up dolly. We were in disbelief. Really? You’re changing the outfits? I used to play that game with my Barbies…

We returned Marc’s borrowed pants, got our deposit back and made our way back to the hotel. We couldn’t move quick enough to get out of our shit hotel and into the brand new JW Marriott.

When we were being escorted to our room, the girl asked if we were going to Loy Krathong festival. It was an annual festival that lasted 3 days. This was the final night. The big night. We asked what time it was happening and she said it would get started around 6 pm. We had already made dinner reservations at Bed Supperclub–one of Jeff’s recommendations, but it was a late res and figured we could do it all.

We made our way down to the river. We hoped on a boat to take us to the Mandarin Oriental and arrived just in time to see the entire staff, dressed in costume make a grand entrance with music, drums, huge floats–full of flowers, candles and sculptures that would be lit up, and sending floating down the river.

We were pumped. We waited. We waited. Every now and then we saw a teeny tiny flower float make its way down the river. The clock was ticking. Our reservations. Jeff’s recommendation. We wanted to see the thousand floats, all magically lit up come down the river. We were sure it was going to be a once in a life time experience. We waited. WTF? The girl at the hotel had clearly lied to us. We had our purchases with us and were looking haggard from a long day. I then had the great idea of going back to the hotel, changing and insisting that they get us a waterfront reservation since the girl led us astray and we missed our highly anticipated hot reservation at the Bed Supperclub. Back we went, changed with rapid speed, had the hotel make us a reservation. We flew back to the water in a taxi, (as fast as you can fly in the notorious Bangkok grid lock traffic) in time to see the damn float parade.

We made it to the local restaurant that the hotel recommends. We’re totally overdressed. We see some fire works–big deal. We want to see flowers with candles floating down the river. Fire works? Canada Day, Victoria Day, Fourth of July–fire works are available multiple times a year and we’re not really fire works people (unlike Michel who just can’t get enough of them). Anyhow, while walking to a different hotel, we see one of the big floats that we saw earlier in the evening –being carried by hotel staff back to someone’s car. Seriously? The damn floats were for show and since the night was so windy, nothing was staying lit. Total bust. We were a bit gutted, starving (still no dinner), and no floating flower magic.

We officially hate Bangkok.