Thailand

June 2003

The 3 hour Eastern China Airlines flight from Shanghai to Bangkok, Thailand was empty and in flight service consisted of throwing a rubber sandwich and a bottle of water at me and disappearing for ever. No beer. No movie. A shocking state of affairs. At Bangkok airport, there was a simple SARS scanner temperature test and a form to fill in (an English one at last). A "SARS" certificate and info pack was stapled to my passport to prove that I had been tested. It was 1am and I walked outside the airport, onto the main road and caught a local bus downtown to my old haunting ground of Banglamphu (Koh Sahn Rd area). It cost 14p. The taxis were quoting £7.25. My usual hotel was situated behind a temple complex and I had forgotten that the short cut closed at dusk. Walking through the grounds around 3am, I was surrounded by about 15 loud, stray (resident) barking dogs that howled the place down, before I shot a few and then exited, and took the long route round. This was my third visit to Bangkok and I covered the background in the first Thailand update from the previous overland trip.

Link to my first trip to Thailand

I spent 8 days in Bangkok, just getting organised and typing up those vast Mongolian and Chinese updates. They took an age. And even longer for you to read. Upon getting China (Part 2), my mate Neil, emailed and said "Mongolia 24 pages, China 2, 27 pages! You bastard". I quickly fell into a daily routine, revisiting my old places which were still around. At the bottom of Koh Sahn Rd was a cheap fruit shake stall, where I'd gorge on mango/pineapple/banana milkshakes for 14p a pint. Next door was my regular foodstall where I'd eat spicy Thai soup and a couple of rice or noodle dishes for 28p a plate. Lychees were 36p a kilo at the fruit markets. Late at night, I'd nibble on the 7p pork/chicken kebabs. Beer Chang was 53p a pint and at 6.4%, it wasn't taking any prisoners. It was blazing hot in Bangkok, around 36'c (day and night) with a lot of humidity. Five minutes on the streets and I was a dripping mess.

My hotel had been discovered by Lonely Planet and had become very popular (You know its good value when the Israeli backpackers have moved in). Consequently, it had declined in standard (no HBO or CNN!) but cost the same as in 2000. But they ran free movies all day/evening in the lobby area. As did every other place. Internet places had actually declined in number, but the cheapest was 43p an hour which was worth it just for the air conditioning. I spent at least 6 hours a day in this place. Sad or what? Laundry was 36p per kilo. I went to see the lady at my old camera shop and had 36 passport photos done for £3.50! Pirate CDs were £1.45. I merely quote all these prices to prove that Thailand is still an extremely cheap, comfortable and civilised place to exist, which was why I was back.

The Koh Sahn Rd area seemed very quiet compared to my previous visits. I'd say it was 50% emptier. As with the rest of SE Asia, Thailand was taking a battering in SARS destroyed, tourist statistics. The Phuket area, down south, was missing 90% of its usual tourists! And Thailand didn't even have SARS. The Government had just made a statement to say that if any tourist could prove they had got SARS in Thailand, the Government would provide $150,000 worth of medical care free. The decline in tourists meant that hotels were scrambling for trade. Mine had a 20% discount which brought the price back down to 2000 levels. But everything else seemed the same price as then too. The local buses which I used everywhere had only gone up from 3 to 3 and a half Baht. And the exchange rate was even better. In 2000 it was 62 Baht to the English Pound. Now it was 69 Baht.

Having already visited the major sights in Bangkok, I only made one trip to see the Chatuchak Weekend Market; 6,000 open air stalls, under cover in narrow alleyways, selling clothes, home accessories, lacquerware, textiles, foodstalls and a wildlife section. The latter was the only interesting place for me; cats/ dogs/ songbirds/ tropical fish in plastic bags and a bunch of strange things like tiny flying squirrels (as pets?). All those stalls and I bought nothing.

On June 1st, at 5.50am, Jill flew in for a holiday. This was my ancient girlfriend from 1980 who had contacted me via www.friendsreunited.co.uk and had visited me in Japan last Xmas. Having never been to Thailand, she had decided to take advantage of my presence here and come for a visit. It was a busy time for her. She had just sold her house and moved out 3 days before, left her job the previous week and would start a new job as soon as she returned. Once again I was "Mr Tour Guide'. I caught one of the all night local buses to the airport and gave her the VIP treatment of catching one back into the centre. Air conditioned, mind, at double the price (28p). That early in the morning, with no traffic, it was a very fast journey.

As part of her flight with Thai Airways, Jill had been given 2 nights free accommodation at a luxurious 4 star hotel downtown in the "posh" tourist centre of Thanon Sukhumvit, Bangkok's longest road, packed with high rise hotels and office blocks, shopping malls, fast food restaurants, tailors and endless street stalls selling fake designer gear. And I could stay too! The Amari Boulevard was a sumptious affair (against my ever lowering standards) with lackeys to carry in your bags and someone standing all day by the lifts because we obviously didn't have the strength to push a button. Carefully ignoring the "limousine service" outside, I didn't have the heart to tell them that we had caught a local bus there. Undaunted by my appearance and dusty backpack, they even had the audacity to freely upgrade us to a large "Delux" suite (normally $169 a night; I got a month in China's hotels/hostels for that).

I was tempted to stay in and just watch the giant TV in the wonderful cool air conditioning and soak in hot baths or sample the massive walk in shower every hour, use all the freebies, maybe pop to the rooftop swimming pool, and pretend that Bangkok did not exist. The mini bar had extreme prices. £1.15 for a bottle of mineral water. You could buy the same stuff on the streets at 7p! Hotels like this always make me nervous! We were saved by a large supermarket across the road. It was a simple matter of removing their supplies, filling the fridge with ours and then restocking with theirs when we left. Life had definitely got harder in Bangkok! After introducing Jill to Durian fruit which tastes great (like sherry custard) but which smells like something died, I made the mistake of storing it in the mini bar. The next morning, I felt like Jeffrey Dalmer disposing of a rather ripe dead body. No wonder they ban from hotels. Dinners were that traditional Thai favourite of take away western pizza (I'm so ashamed)

Amari Boulevard Hotel Homepage

One of the first things I got dragged into, was a tailors. Bangkok is full of tailors that will produce custom made clothes very quickly and unfeasibly cheaply. For $99, I was measured up for a suit, with 2 pairs of trousers, a customised shirt and tie. I was able to pick it up when we returned to Bangkok and it was an excellent fit. My first suit in, er, 7 years. You don't want to hear how much stuff Jill had designed and made.

I did get my own back by dragging her to the Grand Palace, Wat Po and the Vimanmek Palace; Bangkok's finest tourist sights. Having spent a week in Bangkok away from the tourist places, and pottering around the streets relatively unnoticed, it was strange to get the usual endless patter from the touts who saw a walking dollar sign on tourist heads. The scam around the Royal Palace/Wat Po is to tell you that it/they are closed until 4pm (or two hours after you have turned up) because of a religious ceremony or whatever reason and instead of hanging around, they will take you by tuk tuk to see a "standing Buddha" up the road and then bring you back. In reality, the palaces are open from 9am until 3.30pm. Lets just say, that these jokers got short shrift from me.

The 61-acre Grand Palace with its surrounding tall whitewashed walls was built in 1785 to mark the founding of the new Thai nation after they beat the Burmese invasion back. Most of it is off limits except for the superb `Wat Phra Kaeo; the holiest Buddhist site in the country. It is a jigsaw of structures defended by numerous 20ft tall Zahsha, gaudy colourful demons from the Buddhist scriptures called the Ramayana. The whole complex was surrounded by over a kilometre of painted frescoes on the outer walls detailing the stories from the Ramayana which were very impressive. There were a splendid hash of styles - golden stupas, glass mosaics and gold gilded statues everywhere. The enormous Royal Temple, supported by 112 golden Garudas (birdmen), and sparkling with gold and coloured glass, contained the tiny emerald Buddha made of jasper. Perched on a 30ft high pedestal, this is Thailand`s lucky emblem. Thailand`s power rests with this dwarf! We had to take our shoes off and sit and gaze while not pointing our feet at the statue.

Next door, the Wat Pho temple complex had 20 acres of lively shambolic structures. There were over a 100 golden gilded Buddhas surrounding the Temple of the Reclining Buddha. This was a massive 46m long golden Buddha who had reached Nirvana (his smile was 5m wide! ; obviously had a good night out) lying out like a beached whale. The elegant teak doors of the temple were decorated with mother of pearl. There was a children's festival going on inside, and I took advantage of the free iced coffee while trying not to grimace at the appalling, out of tune, children's singing. The things I suffer for a free drink.

Photos of Bangkok (Grand Palace at top, Wat Po further down)

Moved from a previous site and reconstructed in Bangkok as a summer retreat, by King Rama V in 1901(King Rama IX is now the king), Vimanmek Palace is the largest teak building in the world and built without a single nail. Verandas that looked out over well-kept lawns, flower gardens and lotus ponds encircled the L-shaped Celestial Palace. It was a magnificent 81-room building with very tasteful interiors (red, green, blue, pink colour schemes in different sections). We had the usual 45 minute tour and saw Thailand's first inside bathroom and shower, and the King`s golden throne (not the one in the bathroom!).

Outside, after the tour, there was the usual display of traditional Thai dancing. A bevy of colourfully dressed women came out and swirled around with wicker baskets. A couple of men did a display of kickboxing, trying to beat the crap out of each other with traditional weapons. It hadn't changed much from three years before, except that they were now charging 30p to take photos of the show which now ended with a tacky fan dance of every dancer carrying two fans each with a flag of the tourist nations that visit Thailand.

I was keen to leave Bangkok and when the Amari Boulevard finally told us to get out, we caught an all night bus to Krabi in the south. On the previous visit, it had been cheaper to do things independently by public transport, but now, major tour agencies catering to backpacker hotspots, had moved in and undercut the local prices. Hence for less than £3 we got reclining seats in a comfortable a/c double decker western tour bus for the 400 plus mile journey overnight which took about 12 hours. The bus was half full.

From Krabi, while most backpackers headed for Koh Phi Phi, we caught a minibus to the island of Ko Lanta, 90 minutes south, via two short ferry hops. This 25km long island offers a string of silken sandy beaches along the western coast, each separated by rocky points and strung out at wide intervals. The island was virtually deserted of tourists. A friendly Muslim girl on the minibus, passed around a her hotel photo album to the 10 tourists and when we opted to have a look, everyone else came too. We all stayed there too. For £3, we got a clean en suite bungalow with fan and fridge, 100m from, and a view of, the sea. The hotel resort was located on Ao Phra Ae "Long Beach", (just south of the main town of Khlong Dao), which turned out to be the best beach on the island and it was absolutely deserted. No litter, noone trying to sell anything. Just beautiful yellow sand and calm, crystal clear water, and an exceptionally peaceful ambience. At dusk, there was a spectacular sunset over the sea; an array of oranges/ yellows/ purples that blended and faded. At the restaurant, I sampled "Hot Pan", an immense Thai stir fry that sizzled on an iron plate.

We rented a moped (no crash helmets) for £3 and spent a day exploring the island's beaches. The 'road' was mostly deserted, except for mopeds. Sealed much of the time, it would suddenly turn into unsealed dust. Some of the beaches were littered with debris and crappy beach hut resorts were closed for the off season. There are only 20,000 locals on the island, the majority of whom are mixed blood Muslim descendants of Malaysian people. They would smile and wave as we rode past. We failed miserably to visit the Ko Lanta National Marine Park, because the road turned into a hill with a foot of dust. I couldn't even push the moped up through that. There was lush green vegetation everywhere and plenty of rubber plantations.

Over the hills and onto the eastern side, we found a lovely local village (Bam Hua Laem Klang?) which was spotless. The narrow paved main street had wooden houses on either side, flowers blooming and a new pier. Lunch at the foodstalls consisted of large chicken kebabs in a thick red chilli sauce (14p each), fried bananas (14p a bag), and a freshly chopped watermelon (20p) and a chopped pineapple (20p). I had already developed a bad lychee habit in Thailand and would consume kilos of the things. At 36p a kilo, why not? We explored the interior unsealed roads, took in the scenery and were glad that we had decided to choose our beach. Late in the afternoon, I had a game of football with some Thai locals and English lads. They ran rings around us, and we made feeble excuses because the heat was draining us. With so many other potential places to visit, 2 days and nights was about right for Ko Lanta. A really nice, friendly island, relatively unspoilt by tourism and very laid back. Recommended.

We returned to Krabi and caught a motorised long tail boat out to Railey Beach, around a lovely wild coastline of towering karst limestone cliffs and offshore islets protruding from the deep blue sea. Railey Beach (East and West) is actually on the mainland, but cut off by the limestone, so you can only get there by boat. We arrived at East Railey Beach, a motley collection of shacks and wooden resorts and lots of boats moored in the shallow water. The tide was out, so we had to wade in.

Following a path through the jungle (spot the monkeys), we arrived at West Raleigh Beach which was one of the most spectacular beaches I have ever seen. At either end of the curved sandy bay were massive sheer sided limestone peaks, covered in green tropical jungle. The bay was a wide expanse of beautiful, litter free white sand and emerald waters (it sort of changed from azure blue to seaweed green). The upmarket resorts were secluded from the bay by a line of coconut/palm trees. Their open air restaurants sat on the edge of the beach about 30m from the water. Locals dragged their longboats up to the beach and offered tourists trips out to the limestone islets or around the bays.

It is an upmarket resort area, but due to off season and low numbers of tourists, one place was offering 3 nights for £13. It was an en suite bungalow with fan set in a line of secluded bungalows about 3 mins from the sea. What a steal ! We later met a couple who had booked a plush a/c room, from the UK, two months before and they were paying £43 a night. I tried not to laugh. Honest. Our resort even had a decent swimming pool next to the beach too. I couldn't believe we were staying at such a nice place so cheaply. I was even more chuffed when Japanese tour groups arrived in speedboats from Ko Phi Phi on daytrips to see our beach.

Three days of sunbathing in roasting temperatures, lying by the pool, taking a dip in the sea, getting stung by jellyfish (which felt like stinging nettles), getting seriously sunburnt, snorkelling and swimming around the limestone cliffs to check out/swim through sea caves. Lovely food; fish and chips and hot and sour Thai soup. Morning exclamations of "Another shitty day in paradise".

Despite the heat, I also explored the area. Rock climbing is very popular here, and I found a practise climb and clambered up 120m of tree roots/ropes and cliffs to a look out over both beaches. It was a strange coastline. I seemed to stumble across hidden treasures that I didn't even know were there.

The most famous beach (between the Railay beaches and tucked between more cliffs) is Leam Phranang. The beach and cape are named after a princess whom the local fishermen believe lives here and controls the fertility of the sea. "Princess Cave" by the beach, contained an altar and a host of red tipped wooden phalluses (oo er) stacked as offerings to her (to insure large catches or maybe large erections. Who knows?).

The curved beach only had one hidden plush resort behind the palm trees. Nearby, off shore, were two huge narrow limestone pinnacles (50m tall?) which I swam around and explored. The nearest was "Happy Island". There were massive sea caves which you could swim through, as if the bottom of the rock had been hollowed out by the sea. While snorkelling, I spotted a blue and white sea snake that decided to get aggressive on me. Jill avoided any exercise, preferring to get her feet scraped and massaged by a local woman on the beach.

I'd conclude that the West Railey beach area is probably the finest beach resort area I've found anywhere in Thailand. It had everything you needed for a tropical paradise vacation. I'm sure in the high season, it is packed and expensive, but off season, it is a superb place to chill out. It seemed to attract an older population of tourist too. The tattoo and ring nose brigade were minimal.

Getting restless, on the last afternoon, I caught a long tail boat around the coast to Ao Nang for a recce trip. This was a nice quiet, clean, relaxed resort town by the sea (12km west of Krabi) with everything you'd need (including a road to Krabi/Phuket so less isolated). We returned there, with our packs, the following morning, to get the fast boat to Ko Phi Phi. The boat was full of backpackers sunbathing on deck. The boat stopped by a limestone islet and let us snorkel over lovely coral beds for an hour. There were plenty of colourful fish and giant clams to be seen.

Ko Phi Phi, 40km south of Krabi, is now well established as one of southern Thailand's most popular destinations. It is two islands, Ko Phi Phi Don and Ko Phi Phi Leh. The action is packed on the former, while the latter (a national park you can only visit as a day trip) is now famous as the location for "The Beach" movie. But when we pulled into the port/bay of Ao Ton Sai, it was painfully obvious that Ko Phi Phi had lost any magic it may have once had. It was a nightmare of scruffy tourist facilities, crappy and overpriced accommodation, construction, litter, and stinking piles of rubbish. After checking out some bungalows we decided that we'd been spoilt by Ko Lanta and Railay and decided to get off the island on the afternoon boat. Why settle for anything less? To me, it was a terrible place. I'm sure there are havens of seclusion on the island that you can still find, but you'll pay for the privilege, if you can stand the endless barrage of offers of everything coming at you. It just seemed so crowded and shitty. And definitely past its "sale by" date.

So we returned to Ao Nang, which came across as a nice, clean, friendly backwater town, with normal prices and decided to hole up there for three nights in a cheap, cool room with movie channel and fridge, just off the seafront. We rented another moped (£2) for a day to explore the lush, verdant, western interior. I was aware of the fact that US Sam who I'd taught with in Japan, had been killed here on a moped shortly after leaving the school last year. The trucks and buses did come past at a rapid pace, but the main roads had moped/cycle lanes which kept you off to the side. Noone wore helmits.

We pottered past the impressive and endless, inland karst limestone cliffs which dominated the whole area. The white, milky cliffs contrasted with the summits covered in thick tangly green monsoon jungle. In between them, were miles and miles of rubber and spiky pineapple plantations. Cream coloured sheets of latex (processed rubber) lay drying on washing lines outside the wooden shacks, many built on stilts. Bananas were also growing by the side of the road. There were many cheap Durian fruit stalls and I indulged yet again. A few local Buddhist monasteries appeared along the way. The majority of people seemed to be Muslim, many women and all uniformed schoolgirls, covered their heads. Everyone seemed to smile at us in the "Land of Smiles" which is always nice. At one point, we followed a huge elephant who was being transported in the back of a tiny pick up truck. It was strange to follow an elephant's backside for about 30 minutes (just going fast enough so we couldn't overtake). Not something you see everyday. It was nice to just take off down back roads to see what you'd discover.

But the only road is inland and away the coast, so we never saw the coastline. After delicious chicken noodle soup at Ao Luk, a busy centre where the local police were checking all driving documents, we made for Ao Phrang Nga Bay, which is also only accessible by boat. The inland estuaries were all surrounded by mangrove forests and mud. From here you can do boat tours around the bay to see "James Bond Island" (Scaramanga's hideaway in the "Man with the Golden Gun" movie), but the photos looked like every other limestone pinnacle we'd seen off shore and we didn't bother.

Photo of James Bond Island

It had been overcast all day, and on the way home, two heavy rainstorms descended within 30 minutes of each other. The humidity had been building up for days. We sought refuge under the bus shelters with the locals who laughed at the "fat bloke on the bike". The ground seemed to soak up the water like a sponge and within minutes the roads were dry again. We did 240km on the moped (Petrol was 20p a litre!) and the buttocks took a hammering. Jill enjoyed the moped ride, but the heat, insect bites, and dust (no more clean clothes) over the past few days (and having to travel with me), was starting to grind her down and she started to pine for the Amari Boulevard. She convinced me that we should fly back to Bangkok 2 days before her departure.

A local 'western' restaurant was offering an "all you can eat" for £2.50 and of course, I had to partake. Big mistake. Jill avoided it and had the last laugh. You forget that the food has probably been lying around for hours. The following morning, our last in the area, I spent rather a long time in the toilet. I wanted to visit Phuket and check out my prospective dive school where I would be based for the next few weeks.

We caught a local bus west from Krabi, back along the road we'd ridden yesterday, for a long 3 and a half hour ride. I thought I'd be ok (how much can you shit in one day?), but by the time we reached Ao Luk, at halfway, I thought my bowels were going to explode. I was seriously in trouble. I knew the bus would stop there, but had to stand up for the final 10 minutes in a tense mood to say the least. I indicated to the conductor that he may have an accident on board but he smiled (you sad bastard) and said that we were almost there. I was off the bus before it stopped and straight into the public toilets, throwing 3 Baht at the attendant. Oh the relief. The world dropped out of my bottom with a second to spare. It brought back unhappy memories of food poisoning in Pakistan.

Ok. I could relax. Don't eat or drink anything and I'd get there. I was fine until we reached the outskirts of Phuket and the road became very bumpy and suddenly it was "oh no, I'm going to explode again". More tense clutching of buttocks and repeat performance of Ao Luk. The conductor must have thought I was taking the piss yelling "Toilet, toilet" everytime we pulled into a bus terminal. Bloody restaurant. Always stick to local food cooked in front of you!

We caught a Songthaew (like a communal pickup truck with two rows of seats on an open ended van with canvas covering) over the hills of the peninsula to Karon Beach, and walked to Kata Beach to meet Benno, the German who runs the place. I picked up a pile of course instruction manuals to start reading and got the low down on everything. On the way back to Phuket town, we passed half a dozen elephants grazing in a field. I didn't even make the bus terminal before my bowels exploded again in a hotel toilet. Oh the shame.

At 6pm, there was an eardrum splitting rendition of the Thai National Anthem over the bus station loud speakers and everyone stood to attention (which was nice). When I went to the cinema in Bangkok a few days later, everyone stood for the National Anthem before the movie. It was just like England in the 1960s. I survived the long journey home. My backside was totally spent. Need to say, I passed on food that night.

A final morning in Ao Nang, watching Jill shop, and a Songthaew driver took us to Krabi airport for the 2.30pm flight to Bangkok. A rapid one hour flight that only cost £38. Unfortunately, we arrived at the start of Bangkok rush hour and it was gridlocked all the way from the airport. We sat in a local bus for (count them) nearly three hours! But nothing else was moving either. One hour plane flight. 3 hour local bus ride. Great. I collected my gear from my old hotel and by the time we arrived at the Amari Boulevard, it was 8pm and we felt shattered from the traffic.

So what were we doing back here? Well... Jill liked the place so much, she checked out their internet booking page and found 75% discount offers and booked from Ao Nang. I seem to remember her statement once of "I'm not a high maintenance woman". Of course not. In with the price was breakfast. Yesss! One of those all you can eat jobs. I was in my element. Cornflakes, milk, topped with cashew nuts and guava juice for starters, then scrambled egg, both chicken and pork sausages, fried tomatoes filled with grilled cheese, French toast, fried potatoes, chicken puffs and I forget what else, followed by fresh fruit, fresh yoghurt, fresh cheese, toast and jam, tea, coffee, donuts, pastries. Then I went back for seconds. I passed on the sushi. I was tempted to arrive at 5am and stay until 10am for maximum impact.

Having dragged her around some of Thailand's most fabulous scenery, I kept my head down the final day, for the more important activity of travelling, as we went "shopping". We picked up all our clothes from the tailors, and hit various air conditioned shopping malls where prices were being slashed everywhere. Nothing of which I needed to buy, but someone else did. Its amazing how fast a day goes, when you sit outside shops reading a book. Near the hotel were lines and lines of clothes stalls, all of which we seemed to visit. As I stood near one, a man came up with photos of women. "You want one?" he said. "I don't know, you'd better ask my wife" and pointed at Jill up the road. He burst out laughing and patted me on the shoulder. 5 minutes later, he was back offering me a "Cheap suit".

Jill had met a British honeymoon couple at the hotel who had stayed at Railay Beach. They were on the same flight home, and the three of them were carrying the world's supply of luggage (admittedly my new suit, and other stuff was included). We hired a minivan to take us to the airport (up the freeway in 30 minutes. Bye bye time. I think Jill may be sticking to more westernised countries in the near future, but I'm sure she'll look back and laugh at the insect bites, swollen ankles, jellyfish stings, dirt, dust, street food and remember the wonderful scenery and er, cheap shopping. I'm sure she won't be asking to come on holiday with me for a while! It was nice to have the company and show someone around places I'd never visited before. I caught the local bus back downtown and got stuck in Saturday morning gridlock. It was definitely time to leave Bangkok and head south. It was time to try and become a scuba diving instructor.

Mid June….From Bangkok, I headed back to Phuket via Malaysia. My one month visa was nearly up and it made sense to renew it at the border before starting my month long Divemaster course.

My last day in Bangkok was a quagmire of humidity and I sweated like a pig. Just after I stepped aboard the overnight bus at 7pm, a tropical rainstorm descended over the city. Within minutes, the gutters were full of water, floating dogs, lost babies etc. It was nice to escape Bangkok for a final time.

The familiar overnight ride, took me south and I awoke to brilliant sunshine at Surat Thani. Two minibus rides, via Hat Yai took me to the Malaysian border that I had crossed in Sept 2000. It was bucketing down with another tropical rainstorm. I walked out of Thailand, half a mile to the Malaysian border, got an entry stamp and turned right around, back to the Thailand border for another month’s free entry. I was drenched and looked like a drowned dog.

A minibus took me back to Hat Yai, but the 3pm bus to Phuket was full. Rather than hang around 6 hours for the next overnight bus connection, I caught a local bus to Trang which was en route. It was nice to see some new Thai scenery, and potter through villages full of fruit markets but the bus seemed to stop at every tree and the music on board was so loud, I had to plug my ears with paper. Inevitably, after 3 hours, the bus dumped me outside Trang in the dark and I ended up walking 2 km into town lugging my heavy backpack.

Trang seemed a friendly place. When I got my map out, people would stop to ask if I needed help, even if they couldn’t speak English. I discovered a cheap empty hotel catering for the few backpackers that stay here. I got a large spacious clean en suite room and fan and they even sold ice cold beer at street prices. Result. After 24 hours of sweating and getting soaked, I couldn’t face another second overnight bus ride to Phuket arriving at 4am. I must be getting soft.

A 7am air conditioned bus took me to Phuket via Krabi and a repeat of the bus ride that Jill and I had made a week previously. This time, with a stable digestive system, I could sit back and enjoy the ride, though the bus station toilets seemed very familiar! Been there, shat that. I reached Phuket by lunchtime, and caught a songthaew (open air communal bus) which dropped me outside the Dive Asia office at Kata Beach.

(Ed note; The rest of this update is about Scuba Diving. It’s what I do. You have been warned).

Just to recap. I had originally started Scuba Diving in Thailand back in Sept 2000 with Paul, my Welsh mate. We passed the Open Water and Advanced courses and I got addicted. During the rest of my overland trip, I dived in various places; Borneo, and Tioman Islands in Malaysia, Bali, Lombok and Sulawesi in Indonesia, the Great Barrier Reef in Australia (where I completed the Rescue Diver Course), Vanuatu and the Philippines. Back in the UK, my family had taken a holiday at Hurghurda, Egypt in Feb 2002 (the week before I flew to Japan), where I had dived all week and my brother Richard, and my father (aged 69) had both passed their Open Water courses.

It had always been my plan to end this trip by completing the 4 week Divemaster Course (the first professional qualification in diving) and if successful, move straight onto the Instructors course. I had the money and the time and it seemed an ideal opportunity. Maybe it would lead me into a new lifestyle and a new avenue of employment. I had considered Honduras, the Philippines and Thailand as possible places to do the courses. In the end I chose Thailand; firstly because it is a nice comfortable, cheap place to live and secondly because my selected diving company, Dive Asia was not only the best in Thailand, but had just been nominated as one of the best in the world for the Instructor course. Finally, I had visited Phuket for only one night, so the area was new to me.

Phuket is actually a large island off south western Thailand, connected by a causeway. There are endless beaches and it has been a package holiday destination in Thailand for the last 20 years. I was based at Kata Beach, a beautiful, quiet, enclosed sandy bay. Just north was Karon Beach, a long windswept beach and further on, over the hills was Pudong, the commercialised town where the holidaymakers based themselves. In a word, Southern Spain in Thailand.

Dive Asia is a German run company; inevitably, very efficient and organised in a German way (Ya wohl mein Fuhrer). Upon arrival, my contact there, Benno, had me driven to their Diving College up the road. Situated at bottom of the lush green foothills next to Kata Temple about 10 minutes motorbike ride from the beach. I checked into a lovely 3 room, en suite bungalow, with fridge, fan, table and hot shower. Not that I needed hot showers in the intense heat. This would be my home for the next seven weeks. The bungalows surrounded a vast pool, designed for diving and an on site restaurant. The main building contained four classrooms with multi media facilities and a vast library of resources, I’d need to access.

Dive Asia Homepage
Photo of Where I lived on Course

Here, I met Thien, an early 30s, minutely built, Californian/Vietnamese guy who’d guide me through the Divemaster course. He had arrived 3 years earlier on his travels, taken up scuba diving, progressed to Staff Instructor and never left. A bit of a taskmaster, he was to take my diving apart and rebuild it like the 6 million dollar man. My other instructor was Nick, 42, an ex restaurant manager from Tunbridge Wells, Kent, England (just down the road from my flat in SE London). Brendon, was a tall muscular 25 year old, South African, based in Ko Lanta (which I had visited recently), who was helping out at Dive Asia during the low season. He became the main academic support of the course and a good mate.

Essentially, there are 4 parts to the Divemaster course.
a) Dive Theory takes up a huge chunk. It was mostly self study on 5 subjects; Physics, Physiology, Equipment, the Recreational Dive Planner and Wheel (don’t ask) and Skills and Environment. It involved a lot of background research and endless tests. Christ, it was like being a student again.
b) Perfecting 20 dive skills in the water good enough to demonstrate to student divers as if you were teaching them (eg removing scuba gear underwater, controlled emergency ascent, out of air situations etc)
c) On the job supervision of student divers, who were doing their Open Water or Advanced courses. I’d help an instructor with their students as they did the courses in both confined and open water
d) A set of stamina tests, problem solving test, mapping a dive site and designing an Emergency Response Plan.

An English girl, thirty something, Michelle, also from Kent had started the Divemaster course a week previously. Based in Spain, she had been diving non stop for the last year (80 dives since her first course) and had excellent diving skills. But she was crap at the academic side (esp. Physics). Not having dived for 14 months, I was very rusty underwater. So we soon started to help each other. I helped her with the books and she helped me underwater.

Over the weeks ahead, I’d rent a motorbike (£10 a week) to tour the area and beaches during my rare free time. I became a regular at the local market; for Durian fruit (the really smelly fruit), and lychees (12 kilos for a £1 by the time I left. I overdosed on both those fruits), the local supermarkets (crisps and Beer Chang as the main food groups), the fried chicken stall near the temple for breakfast/lunch (Atkins diet? Try 6 pieces of fried chicken for £1 every day), the local laundry and internet café. It was rather nice to become a local and recognised after all those weeks on the road and here today, gone tomorrow.

I was living here during the (low) ‘rainy’ season. The humidity was intense. It would build up over 3 days. If you took a shower, you never stopped sweating for hours. Eventually, the humidity crashed into ferocious thunder and lightening storms at any time of the day or night. These would blow the electrics in the room/complex (no lighting/fan/water) which took hours to fix. The ground would be deluged by inches of water which was all sucked up. Then the wind would blow. One storm was rough enough to remove part of my roof. Ironically, considering the sun (when not raining) and heat, I barely picked up a suntan because I was either inside studying or covered in diving gear. The humidity just wore me down. How I pined for an English climate.

Two days after arriving, I joined the daily boat ride out to the islands off Phuket to renew my diving skills. At Anemone Reef, I descended for my first dive in 15 months and had serious equalisation problems. I was still suffering from a cold I had picked up in China and descending to 25m left my head aching because my ears never ‘popped’ with the pressure. I was whisked around in the strong current and saw the usual selection of scorpion, lion, and puffer fish. A second dive off the tropical islet of Koh Doc Mai island was a splendid dive over superb soft corals with moray eels poking out of holes, but my head was splitting with pressure problems. Back on land, I visited the local doctor for a check up. He diagnosed the remnants of a cold and put me on decongestant tablets and I was banned from diving for 5 days. A great start to the course. Not!

I buried myself into the theory work, did a Emergency First Response (First Aid) refresher course and checked out potential equipment to purchase. Up to now, I had just rented equipment as I travelled, but entering scuba diving on a professional level meant buying the whole show. With a 20% off deal through the Dive School, I ended up buying £1000 worth of gear; regulator, BCD, wetsuit, fins etc. The Dive Computer to wear on my wrist cost over £200 alone. Diving is not a cheap sport.

In the swimming pool, I had my first test at basic diving skills and I was terrible. I had forgotten everything I’d learnt on my initial course three years previously. I could cope with the theory. It was the diving skills which needed practice. But to practise, you need a buddy (you never dive alone). Michelle was busy doing her practical sessions with student divers and we never seemed to find time to practise together in the pool. I did cruise through the stamina sessions; a 400m swim in under 8 mins, 15 minutes treading water and a 800m snorkel swim where your head had to remain underwater at all times while you breathed through a snorkel.

Five days later, having recovered fully from the head cold, I was back on the boat with Nick for four dives in one day. The water temperature was around 30’c. At South Tip, (28m), the current was so strong, we were hanging onto underwater rocks just to stop ourselves being dragged off; I called it rock climbing underwater. After Banana Bay (24m), I helped Nick with an Advanced Student on his navigation exercise and we finished the day with a night dive. By now, I was using my newly purchased equipment. My wetsuit felt tight, but would stretch with use. My requested regulator had not been in stock and I had been upgraded to the latest state of the art model which was only a few weeks old. I had difficulty breathing from it, but thought it might just be me out of practise. How wrong I was.

The following day, back out on the boat, I saw 3 Leopard sharks at Anemone Reef, 3 more at Koh Doc Mai island and my first ever seahorses. They look quite sad underwater with their drooping heads. There followed more academic study for days on end. I passed the necessary exams on each subject but it took a lot of preparation and revision.

On the twelfth day of the course, my old buddy Forrest (Gump) turned up on his vacation. I had taught with him in Japan, before he fled to Taiwan. He was loving it there; better pay, fewer hours, cheaper prices and friendlier women! With a month off, he had decided to see some of SE Asia, but being Forrest (this was the guy who left his luggage behind when we went to Hokkaido), he was too lazy to buy a guidebook. He just flew to Bangkok and headed for me knowing I’d be able to tell him everything. He met a cool Dutch guy called Jhim en route and they both holed up at Kata Beach for a week to learn to surf during the day and hang out at the bars in the evenings where I joined them until 2am. This schedule was tough going when I had to be ready for the boat at 7.30am

I knew it was rough out on the boat one day that week, when I felt ill enough to sit at the back and found most of the other instructors and students hanging their heads over the side being seasick. Assembling our gear we were hanging on for dear life. The conditions were terrible with the boat rolling all over the place in electric thunderstorms. I assisted Sabrina, a German instructor with two English girls who were doing their Open Water course and where I learnt supervision on the job. I did 3 dives, 2 with the girls who found it tough work to demonstrate skills in swirling currents (Jeez, I was having difficulty holding them down and I supposedly knew what I was doing!), and a third ‘fun dive’ where my air disappeared fighting a strong current and I cut the dive short. I was actually glad to come home. It was the worst day’s diving I’d ever had.

Two days later, in better conditions, we went back out. On the first dive, I descended with Peter, a German Divemaster on a fun dive and near the end, he took me into a sea cave at 15m; a small opening into pitch black. With a good torch, it opened up into a sandy cavern; really exciting, my first cavern dive. Two more dives followed with Sabrina and the English girls who passed their course.

Back on shore, I took Forrest and his gang to ‘Sin City’, Pudong up the coast, for the night to check out the lap dancing bars. I left them at 2am to catch a motorbike taxi 18km over the hills to home. The next night, I heard Forrest tell his tales of woe. He had brought a Thai girl home who had stolen his wallet with his only ATM card. He had no cash, no credit card and would need Jhim to finance him back to Bangkok to sort out a credit transfer because Phuket did not have an American bank. That’s Forrest for you. Doomed, wherever he goes. Over the week, though, we had a great time and it was nice of him to come by. He never did learn to surf for shit, but the local ladies enjoyed the company of a tall good looking Californian. Ironically, Aussie Danielle (who I also taught with in Japan and who I had visited in Seoul in S. Korea) flew into Bangkok for a holiday on the same day that Forrest returned, so I linked them up with email and they had an evening together laughing over our life in Japan doing what we did best; drinking heavily.

In between the endless studying, I did two more days on the boat with Nick who was teaching a nice English couple, Scott and Nichola, who were backpacking around SE Asia, and like me, had decided to learn to scuba dive in Thailand. I was feeling more confident now and knew what to do with the students underwater.

In between the endless studying and days on the boat, I did two mapping exercises with Michelle at Kata Beach. This is where you take a writing slate underwater, take bearings, try and judge your distance, and describe a reef good enough for others to navigate. The first attempt was awful in bad conditions and little visibility. Just walking off the shore into the waves was bad enough. But a second attempt a few days later allowed us to do it properly and my resulting map was one of the best they had seen in ages. Not that there is much to see at Kata Beach reef! I came to hate that bloody beach.

Inbetween the endless studying, days on the boat and the mapping dives, Thien sprung our other problem solving exercise on us one morning without warning. “Ok. You have 5 minutes to plan how you are going to swop your equipment underwater only buddy breathing”. Let me explain, because this is a killer exercise. Buddy breathing is where you ‘pretend’ that you only have one air source (ie only one tank between you is working). You go through the whole ‘I have no air, I need yours’ signal routine and the one with the air, takes two breathes and passes their regulator to the other who is blowing bubbles (because you never hold your breath underwater; the number one rule), and who takes two breathes before passing the reg back. Continue ad nuseum. Meanwhile, you have both have to remove your scuba units (ie BCD, air tank) and swop them over. And then do the same with your fins and masks.

Buddy breathing was always my Achilles Heel. I could never seem to get enough air in two breathes to breath comfortably. It was always a panic exercise to get through. Now we had to do it for as long as it took to swap equipment. So Michelle and I disappeared underwater in the pool and got the buddy breathing routine going using her reg. Then she removed her scuba unit (oo-er), I removed mine and we swapped over (you unbuckle 4 releases, swing it off your back, sit it on the pool floor, swap them over and then put your arms back in the right holes and swing it back onto your back and do up the releases). We were still both breathing from her reg which was attached to the tank and sat on the pool floor between us.

That bit was ok. But when I came to remove my fins, I took a big gulp of water. My immediate reaction was to think ‘Shit. I’m drowning’ and pop up to the surface, but of course I couldn’t do that. I’m signalling to Michelle ‘Help! I need extra air to recover’ and I ended up taking three breathes to her two, but I’ll give her credit, she didn’t panic and when I had got enough air and calmed down, we commenced. We swapped our fins and masks and completed the exercise in eight minutes (no time limit). It certainly boosted our confidence. We both felt like we were starting to learn the ropes.

Another Skills Sessions practice, soon destroyed my confidence. Out of the 20 skills, I could master a third, struggle through a third and have no idea on the final third. I just hadn’t had time to anyone to practice with. Michelle, by now, was mastering her academic work, so we spent a few early morning sessions perfecting my skills. We also had to practice a Rescue Diving exercise (recovery and mouth to mouth).

Another day, another day on the boat with a Danish family (mother, father and 3 teenage daughters) with whom I had spent pool sessions along with Sabrina, their instructor. One daughter freaked and quit. On the boat, it was rough again with seasickness and the mother also bowed out. Before their dives, I did a fun dive with Nick, Michelle and Nichola, the English girl who had passed her Open Water (Scott was laid up with runny bottom!) and had started her Advanced course.

Back out at South Tip, we descended to 27m for a fabulous dive. Three huge Manta Rays, about 5m across (my first), came swooping around like black stealth bombers accompanied by an entourage of a dozen shark like Cobia swimming beneath the manta’s huge fins. The most majestic exhibition of marine life I have ever seen. Along with a shoal of huge 2 metre long yellowfin tuna, a leopard shark, two large triggerfish, two unicorn fish and a shoal of large barracuda, it was one of my most memorable dives. Manta Rays just take your breath away. One of the prized tropical specimens to spot. “Now. That’s what I call fish” I exclaimed at the surface. I told Nichola “It’s taken me over 80 dives to see these. You did it on your 5th dive. You might as well quit now”.

Photos of Manta Rays

On July 11th, about 3 and a half weeks after starting, Michelle and I were tested on our 20 basic skills and rescue diving exercise and passed. I had all but passed the Dive Master course. I was a bit dubious about my skills. I knew they still needed practice for the Instructors Course.

I was adamant that my regulator was faulty. I’m usually good with air and this thing was killing me. I had Brendon use it while we practised basic skills in the pool. He concluded that he could get more air from his snorkel. I returned the reg to the supplier to be sent back to Hong Kong. Somehow I had passed my DiveMaster on a faulty reg. The supplier gave me an old replacement reg (my initial choice) and thereafter I never had a problem.

My final exercise was to lead some divers out around Kata Beach reef. It was another awful day with zero visibility and rough waves. Just getting out there, I lost both my snorkel and compass strapped to my arm. I took them on a tour and saw nothing, and with about 1m visability I couldn’t even see the other divers. At the end of the dive, as the sand bed swirled around us, I finally lost them. We found each other on the surface, although the current had dragged them hundreds of metres away. ‘Don’t sweat it’, Thien said, ‘Everyone came back. You passed’. “I hate this bloody beach” I replied. So nearly a month after starting, I finally passed my DiveMaster Course.

To celebrate, Michelle and I joined Brandon and Natalie (who had passed the Instructor’s course the month before) in Pudong at an Irish pub, Scruffy Murphy’s to watch the rugby on TV and enjoy a pub guitarist called Lee Shamrock who could play anything. Its not everyday you get to see one person do ‘Stairway to Heaven’ and ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ on guitar and harmonica.

We had the weekend off before the Instructors Course started. Off the boat, we dived the ‘Kingcruiser Wreck’, a 1997 Japanese made ferry that had sunk to the 30m seabed. Good fun exploring the deteriorating levels with torches and huge lion fish lurking within. On the other 2 dives, I returned to repeat the previous cavern dive and saw my first shoal of squid.

Photos of King Cruiser Wreck

Other Instructor Candidates started to arrive for the IDC (Instruction Development Course); There were 11 of us. Along with Michelle and me were;

Ceri; Mid 30s, Welsh (Swansea) fitness freak (he didn’t drink; big mistake). Based in Oman as a school lecturer at a British military camp. Already an Assistant Instructor, he was well prepared for the course and was excellent at everything. He became my best mate on the course because he could teach me so much. Favourite expressions “Fantastic” and “Superb” with ironic tone. We were soon an item every morning at 7am practising the skills in the pool.

Swiss Steve; a 50’s slaphead from England, who had lived in Switzerland for 30 years and taught mentally handicapped kids. Wore a rubber hood when diving which made him look like the Cambridge rapist. He had no idea about the basic skills when he arrived and soon joined Michelle, Ceri and me for early morning sessions.

Alaskan Steve; early 30s lawyer from Alaska (with Florida partner! ) who had worked in Palau (where? Micronesia) as an Environmental lawyer. Tended to panic underwater, which made me feel a lot better when buddy breathing! Didn’t have a clue about the basic skills, but I spent a few extra sessions with him to brush him up. We also did Rescue Diving exercise practice together.

With regular morning practices before breakfast, I felt a lot better especially with a regulator that worked. Compared to the two Steves, I could see that my Divemaster course had paid off. I had been drilled thoroughly. Along with Michelle, the 5 of us practised the 20 skills endlessly. The idea is not only can you do the skill, but you have to demonstrate it perfectly so that a student can learn and copy you (just like I did on my first course). So for example, if the skill was removing and replacing your mask, you had to do it slowly, emphasising all the steps in slow motion with exaggerated gestures.

Also on the course were;
Singapore Steve; 30 something, interior designer, assistant instructor. Nice guy, but hopeless underwater on the basic skills when he arrived.
Stuart; 40 something. Dorset boy who had moved to Thailand and got a Thai wife. He had passed his Divemaster course with Dive Asia a few months before. Dyslexic so got extra time on the academic tests. Dorset and Dyslexic. I rest my case.
Elliot; 19. Space cadet from England. He was on a ‘gap year’ and was living in Thailand. Like Stuart, he had passed his Divemaster Course a few months before. He never stopped talking about himself. Even I shut up. Are all young people this boring? He could talk a good dive.
Eshan; 20 something Iranian. Excellent English. Since I had toured Iran in 1999 I was the only person on the course to know his country. When I taught him ‘Doh’ (slap on forehead), it became the course catch phrase. He loved it, even if he thought it was ‘Doooo’.
Teymour, 30’s something Iranian who had accompanied Eshan with the idea of starting their own Iranian diveschool. Minimal English. Really nice guy and very generous (like all Iranians I have ever met) who would have big problems with the course. ‘Doh’ became his middle name. Spent half the course wandering around with his digital video camera. We ended up calling him and Eshan Tom and Jerry.
Mali; 40 something American woman (ex military/state police) and one of most obnoxious Americans I have ever met. She lived next door to me with her 65 year old husband and yelled at him all night like (and using the language) of the drill instructor in the movie ‘Full Metal Jacket’ (“you ****** worthless ****** useless ****** old fart”). On the course, she was endlessly critical, and had mood swings like a seesaw, crying when she didn’t get her way. When she appeared some mornings laughing away, Ceri and I looked at each other and murmured ‘Someone took their happy pill today’. I stayed as far away from her as possible. She was a walking timebomb.

So basically, you had a course of misfits. We all loved diving and appeared to have reached a point in our lives where we had nothing better to do than become scuba diving instructors.

The Course Director was Bjorn, a fit 50 year old, really laid back, Danish man who had an excellent reputation in the business. I never saw him loose his cool and he was always positive about everything and everyone, even if they were hopeless. His favourite expression was ‘however…’, as in, ok you did well on that, however, we still have a long way to go.

Along with Thien (my Divemaster instructor) and Brendon, there were 3 guys (2 Belgium’s and an American) doing their Staff Instructor Course and they helped supervise us in the pool and on the classroom exercises.

The Instructor Course was an intense 9 day affair. Lots of classroom lectures, workshops, testing of all those dive theory subjects I had learnt on the Divemaster course (not physics again! Ye gods), learning to prepare and lecture or give presentations about a diving subject to students. In the pool, we went through the 20 basic skills and then started to concentrate on how to instruct students in confined water (the pool) and then open water (the sea). Every day was pretty much a 15 hour affair.

The PADI Instructor Manual (£120; ouch!) was 3” thick and the candidate workbook was 2” thick. Add manuals for every diving course, videos etc. The Instructor Manual detailed every scuba diving course, the standards, content etc. Every course had a template that is used by every instructor. Many of the presentations covered these courses; what was involved, the best way to teach them etc. Other presentations covered the Dive Industry, business of diving, legal responsibility and risk management, general standards and procedures, teaching children.

Having recently done the Dive Theory, it wasn’t so bad, except that they wanted 90% results (75% is the pass mark) and you resat different tests until you achieved it. Poor old Michelle must have taken 10 physics exams before she passed.

We learnt about Micro Teaching (where you present an isolated subject briefly) and were given two presentations to prepare; mine were on ‘staying warm’ and ‘diver stress and anxiety’ as part of two diving courses. Then we did prescriptive teaching, more expansive lecturing, on a subject but made relevant to the students experience. I did two presentations on ‘comfortable descents’ and ‘dry suit diving’. Presentations were the easiest thing for me on the course (with all my training experience) and I scored almost perfect marks on all four, even if I ignored the time limit. Poor old Teymour, the Iranian, had real problems. In the end he did them in Iranian with Esfan translating. But he wasn’t as bad as Mari who literally read her entire presentation line for line off a clip board and then lost it when the staff gently suggested that presentations involved a little more than that. “You ********” she exclaimed and stormed out.

The final paper exercise on the course was to get to know the Manual thoroughly, because of a General Standards and Procedures test. 50 questions in 90 minutes where you had to look up the answers in the manual; so you had to know where to look.

By the pool, we learnt to make briefings; what students would be learning, why and how they would be doing it. After the sessions, we’d do debriefings; what we did, the mistakes made and how they were solved. We noted down briefings on our slates in advance. I had 4 confined water briefings; regulator clearance, controlled emergency controlled ascent, hovering and removing replacing weight belts underwater. I also had 4 open water briefings; partial mask flood and clear, alternate air source (stationary), free descent without reference and buoyancy control.

In the pool, underwater, we formed two groups. One person would act as an ‘instructor’ and demonstrate a skill. Then each ‘student’ would practice the skill, but make a deliberate ‘mistake’. The instructor had to spot the mistake and correct it. We would all take turns and practise with different skills. It was comical sometimes, because people like Alaskan Steve were so bad at the skills to start with that it was difficult to spot his ‘deliberate’ mistake. I had never seen such a nervous diver before. The early morning gang then started to practise this scenario in the pool along with the basic skills. With removing and replacing the mask one day, I deliberately replaced my mask upside down (which means it is virtually impossible to clear the water inside) but to everyone’s amazement, I blew out through my nose and cleared the mask. We were all laughing so much we had to surface.

On another day, we then took this instructor and student exercise out to Kata Beach to do in the sea. The conditions were terrible. We swam out through the waves crashing into shore, descended and formed our instructor and students, with someone acting as ‘divemaster’ to help supervise. Everyone was pulled around by the current and it blew up the sandy seabed so much that it was difficult to see the students let alone any mistakes they were making. It is all about being in control. Making sure you have your students stationary, concentrated, relaxed and trying to anticipate problems when they are practising the skills.

The final pool exercise was to practise rescuing an unconscious diver at the surface and giving them mouth to mouth while removing their equipment and towing them to safety. We had all done this on our rescue and divemaster courses, but now we had to do it as if we were demonstrating… slowly and with exaggerated gestures. Some people’s gear was very difficult to remove and much swearing in between the mouth to mouth breathing was heard.

The days seemed to fly past. Always another exercise to complete or prepare for or repeat. It was like Scuba Boot Camp. Drill, drill, drill. Now drop and give me 20. People got frustrated with themselves or others, pissed off and increasingly worried about the Instructor Exam. But the Dive Asia method is to drill the candidates at a much higher level than the actual exam so that it all seems much easier in the end.

5pm Friday July 24th was the start of the exam. No chance to prepare. Half of us had started the Emergency First Response (First Aid) Instructor Course, the previous day and this morning we completed all the practical exercises. I was almost a First Aid Instructor before the exam started.

We were all driven in a Dive Asia van for 45 mins out past ‘Sin City’ Pudong to an isolated posh 5 star hotel complex (‘Thavorn Beach Village’) that had never been used for an Instructor Exam before. It started at 5pm. I hoovered up all the free food from the buffet while we waited for the start. We had an hour’s orientation talk by Gary and Mario, the two American examiners who had flown in from Los Angeles. There were 11 of us and about another 12 candidates from other dive schools. Then we were handed out slips with our team number and assignments. The gods were looking down on us. The ‘Blue’ team comprised of my breakfast team (Ceri, Michelle, Swiss Steve, Alaskan Steve and me). The only wild card was space cadet Elliot who could never be bothered to practise. At least we knew each other and how we behaved underwater. Ceri, sat next to me, breathed a sign of relief ‘Thank Christ for that. I think we’re through”. We all breathed a sign of relief at not being stuck with Mari, the walking time bomb.

We then did the 90 minute exam on Dive Theory. Five subjects (physics, physiology, equipment, RDP planner and skills and environment), Twelve questions each subject. Lots of calculations. I finished the exam with 5 minutes to spare and passed with scores ranging from 85% to 95%. Everyone from Dive Asia passed that one and it was a real confidence builder.

Back at the college, we all assembled in a classroom around 10pm to pick up any materials needed to prepare for the presentation. Back in my room and armed with Beer Chang, I put together a presentation on a subject from the Dive Master course and prepared my 3 briefings; fin pivot, regulator recovery and clear, and hovering.

A 6am breakfast on the Saturday morning, back on the van at 7am and back at the hotel pool before 8am. We geared up and split into our teams. Gary was our examiner. He was a nice relaxed 50 something guy with a good sense of humour (“I married a homemaker and when we got divorced, she got my home”) and I guess he enjoyed our sense of humour. We did briefings and then headed into the water for the Basic skills testing. The 5 skills (out of the 20 drilled) to demonstrate were; Scuba replacement and removal, fin pivot, mask removal and replacement, free flow regulator breathing and buddy breathing (stationary). Blue Team lined up underwater, and Gary, would set three of us off with a skill, watch us and then do the other three. As soon as Alaskan Steve took off his scuba unit, he was in trouble. The swimming pool was more buoyant than our pool and he kept floating up. We did the 5 skills and Steve was kept underwater to redo the scuba replacement exercise, with extra weight.

Then we did our ‘Instructor/students exercise’. I had to demonstrate Fin Pivoting and Ceri and Elliot were my students. Gary (behind me) signalled mistakes for them to make. I spotted them and put them right. Because you get marked on spotting the ‘correct mistakes’ our team had a code. If you spotted the mistake, the student would slap their forehead with a ‘Doh!’ to indicate to the ‘Instructor’ that he had spotted the right mistake. We all went through a skill as instructor or student. Once again, I managed to clear an upside down mask and our examiner burst out laughing underwater. Back out of the pool, we gave debriefings on the skill we had taught. I was astonished when Ceri, Michelle and me scored perfect 20/20 for the briefings/basic skills/instruction/debriefings. I guess all those early morning practises must have paid off. It was rare that 3 people in a team got perfect scores for the basic skills.

Back at the hotel conference room, we gave our presentations. I was first up and nailed 4.7 out of 5. Good enough for me. Everyone passed, even Teymour, the Iranian who did it in Iranian. There were comical moments when Eshan, who was translating, argued with him to slow down and not use such big words.

Finally, we did the 90 minute General Standards and Procedures exam using our instructor manual. I was happy enough to come out with 86%. Mari, the Witch from Hell scraped by with a 75%. God knows how she would have reacted with a fail. Teymour did fail and consequently failed the Instructor Exam. It was the only section he failed and would be able to repeat it back in Iran. It was a long day of testing.

Elliott was suffering with food poisoning (not from the hotel) and had to be taken to the hotel nurse half way through the exam, but since he was passing the exam when he was taken out, he was given a bye. Bjorn gave some of us a ride back in his pick up, including Elliott who was projectile vomiting off the back. I was glad I was in the front cab. At least it shut Elliott up for a while.

Back at HQ, Ceri and I went straight back into the pool to practise the Rescue Diving exercise. Bjorn said “When I teach the next courses, I will be telling students about your dedication and setting it as an example. Excellent… however….”

On Sunday morning, we geared up and headed to Kata Beach for the 8am start. Boy, did I hate this beach. Every time I had dived here, it had been a nightmare of waves, currents and sand reducing visibility. Fortunately, today, it was beautiful and tranquil. Tourists were sunbathing on the beach and watched intrigued when about 25 people all put on diving gear at the same time, surrounded by an entourage of staff instructors. We gave our briefings and headed out into the waves and descended underwater to hold our instructor/student sessions. Gary, concerned about Elliott who was still feeling under the weather told us “Just make sure he comes out of this alive”.

I did two skills; Regulator and recovery and hovering with Michelle as my Divemaster. I emphasised the control aspect, and spotted the deliberate mistakes of Swiss Steve. Gary shook my hand, indicating I had passed and told me to head for the surface. Ceri and Elliott had already been sent up after their sessions.

On the surface, we had the Rescue exercise. A Course Director from another dive school was examining us. I had to play victim first for Elliott and then Michelle popped up and she played victim for me. I played victim again for Alaskan Steve. Fortunately, it was pretty calm so it was easy to keep up the one rescue breath every 5 seconds while removing the equipment. It took about 10 minutes for each rescue exercise. Afterwards, Alaskan Steve and me descended and dived into shore over the reef. I needed to rack up 20 mins underwater to secure a dive. This was my 97th and I needed 100 before I’d be fully qualified.

Back on shore, we gave our debriefings. Once again, Ceri, Michelle and I scored 19 out of 20. It was all over. Everyone in my Blue Team had passed and only Teymour had failed in the Red Team, but not on the diving aspect. Our PADI Instructor Numbers would be sent in a couple of weeks and we would be authorised to start teaching.

There were congratulation speeches on the beach, photo sessions and back at HQ by 11am we washed down our gear and hit the beers. The exam was actually much easier than I imagined, but I suppose our endless drilling and my 6 weeks of preparation did the trick. I know that all those early morning sessions really improved my techniques and it is proof that you can do anything if you try hard enough.

In the afternoon, I did my Emergency First Responder Instructor final exam with a beer next to me. That evening, we were all taken to Pudong for a celebration meal, care of Bjorn. Smoked duck, steak and ice cream, followed by a trawl around the bars until 2am.

Over the next few days, as most of my fellow instructors started to head home, I did two more courses; the Nitrox Instructor Course and the DAN Oxygen Resuscitation Course. Nitrox is where you use higher blends of oxygen while diving, which needs special precautions. The Resuscitation Course was additional First Aid, where I learnt to give oxygen to decompression sickness victims and other scenarios.

On the following Wednesday, I was out on the boat for 4 dives using Nitrox. We returned to South Tip and were rewarded with another sighting of a massive Manta Ray, which swam within 7m of me. I literally turned around and it was right there. I was so surprised, my regulator dropped out of my mouth. On the second dive I came across a huge Scorpion fish. These are deadly if you touch them… give yourself about 30 minutes to live. They are so well camouflaged that they look like coral. The third dive was my 100th. We finished up with a night dive. But my torch batteries ran out almost immediately and I did it without a light (though the Iranians with me had them). I had spent 72 hours underwater on 101 dives (not counting all those pool sessions).

Photo of Scorpion Fish (ugly critter)

I had been away for 17 months and I had achieved everything I had set out to do on the trip (except visit Taiwan). It was time to come home. I booked a flight and wondered how I would get all my gear home without paying for extra weight allowance. My dodgy regulator had not been returned from Hong Kong. So a couple of hours before heading to the airport, I went to Pudong to the supplier who gave me a new regulator, the one I had originally ordered which had just arrived.

I was given 10kg extra allowance for my dive gear, carried all my manuals as hand luggage (which seemed to weigh as much as my backpack) and got away with no extra charges. I caught a 7pm Malaysian Airways flight from Phuket Airport to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. Here, the connecting plane had technical problems and we sat around, delayed for an extra 4 hours. Eventually we took off at 3am (local time). It was my 598th flight on an aeroplane. I was back in Heathrow on August 2nd at 9am (GMT), after 27 hours of travelling. My father and brother came down to meet me. It was nice to be back in England again.

But what would I do next?

Costs in Thailand for 72 days (in British Pounds Sterling)

Travel - £408.56 (inc £38 Krabi flight, £278 London flight)
Accommodation - £236.24
Food - £249.34
Other - £2147.34 (inc £61 for suit and £1884.52 for Scuba courses and equipment purchase)
Total - £3041.48

Grand Total - £4494.06