Chapter 62

Goodbye Hotel California:

For the last four years ago I have wintered at the same hotel in BangTao. It is, in fact, a small Guest House containing only seven guest rooms.
It used to be run by Daniel a Frenchman of about my age, assisted by his,
much younger Thai lady friend.
It was excellent though the demands it made on my French linguistic ability were heavy. I remember meeting my son in Sydney and telling him that I was exhausted by so much attempting to speak a foreign language.
"Yes, Thai must be very difficult" he said.
"No not Thai, French" was my reply.
As always, in real life, there were some background tensions. Daniel's lady friend had two children and it was apparent that Daniel's relationship with them was not easy.

But despite this I had a good time. Daniel was a delight - a good host and amusing raconteur.

It was always going to be difficult running such a small operation profitably but even so I was disappointed when I arrived two seasons later to find Daniel had sold out.
However the two French ladies who had taken over the Hotel were equally good fun and things went on much as before.
The everyday tensions were of course different but as in all well run establishments stayed well in the background so that they did not intrude on the general ambience of the place.
Again I had a great time there and spent many happy evenings drinking pastis and speaking Franglais
. I was made rather more aware of the background tensions when one of the ladies returned to France and did not reappear. But all in all it was a good place to stay.

This year, once again, it was all change.
Before arriving I was told that yet another French lady had taken over the hotel. I was assured that nothing had changed, I would get the same deal and the hotel would be smartened up.
Well I don't mind a little smartening up, so long as I don't have to get too involved, though my instincts are perhaps on the reactionary side.
Oh well "plus ca change plus c'est le meme chose" I thought in my limited French.

Alas! things have not turned out well.

I arrived late at night to be greeted by the new proprietress , with her Thai man friend. Ok , I thought, it makes a change from the usual farang/Thai girlfriend scenario.
A bottle of tequila later I staggered off to my freshly decorated room.
As usual I had arrived before the high season had begun and I was the only guest.
That is usually no problem but this time it seemed to mean that I got no service either.
This didn't matter too much to me but became more important when my friend May came to stay with her daughter.

She was not impressed.

She was even less impressed by the continual fighting which appeared to be going on between mine hostess and her boyfriend.
Now I am slow at picking these things up but May suggested, with I fear good reason, that these tiffs were alcohol driven.

A few evenings ago I had a Thai lesson with my delightful Thai teacher, at the hotel.
In the middle of the lesson, which was being held in the front restaurant area, the proprietress burst onto the scene dragging her boyfriend behind her.
She was apparently attempting to throw him out.
We hurriedly finished our Thai lesson and at my teacher's suggestion I left the scene and headed to my local bar.
I had rather hoped that when I returned peace would have been restored.

It was not to be.

As I pulled up outside on my motorbike I was confronted by a burning mattress. It was leaning against the fence and was reminiscent of a Ku Klux Klan fiery cross.
I rushed over to the hotel. The restaurant area was bestrewn with burnt and smouldering debris.
Standing in the middle of it were two confused people.
Apparently they had succeeded in setting fire to their room.

I am not by nature a decisive person but ten minutes later, albeit at eleven o'clock at night, I was driving away from the hotel with my packed suitcase precariously perched on my handlebars. (Actually on the motorbike's front shopping basket.
I went back the next day and settled my bill. The proprietress was still in a state of shock.

So it is farewell to the Hotel California, or whatever it is called.

I wish it luck but I really do not wish to be involved anymore.

Footnote: I have just been reminded by Khun May that as we entered the hotel, heading upstairs through the scattered, burnt, debris, to grab our belongings, the proprietress suddenly, indignantly, said "take your shoes off". Even at the time I have to admit that that struck me as being bizarrely funny. Hey ho!!