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Next Door to Royalty
Once upon a time, over a century ago, when kings and princes ruled the land, the cream of Siamese society went in search of white sands and blue waters to escape the mad energy of Bangkok. They travelled south, and in the province of Prachuap Khiri Khan, 200 kilometres from the capital of Thailand, they found a city of pure gold and a land of spiritual beauty. This was Hua Hin. The King fell in love with the land's idyllic charm and its delightful beaches and so built a summer place and named it Wang Klai Kang Won (far from worries). Today, Hua Hin is known as the royal town of Thailand, the home of His Majesty, the King of Thailand. It is on this royal ground that Hua Hin Marriott Resort and Spa built a retreat along the Gulf of Thailand, far, far away from worries. It is a little kingdom of its own, where warm and fragrant breezes drift through open air lounges, and spacious guestrooms open up to the majestic view of the gulf. It was in this kingdom where I sought rebirth. Local color on the shore Hua Hin's small town charm is most alive on the beach of Marriott. Here, ponies canter about the shore, their owners offering a ride to children with wide eyed faces. Local vendors camp by the sand, selling their wares—balloons and lanterns and the fruits of the land, offering a festive color to the beach. Early morning we decided to scour the sand strip and bask in Hua Hin's golden sun. Two stray dogs scamper about, a rare sight in Hua Hin because of the Royal Initiative Project that offers refuge to 1,000 dogs found on the streets. These two seemed perfectly at home on Marriott's beach as they chased each other. We watched as they finally grew tired. One of them, a black mutt with a furry white chest, took a sniff of my fingers then ran into the water to sit down and cool off while the brown one took shelter under one of the deck chairs. Farther to the south, we could see the hills of Khao Takiap curve out to the sea, giving Marriott a feeling of seclusion. We walked the opposite direction until we reached the end of Marriott's grounds and found a sprawling property covered by lush vegetation. "The princess lives next door," explained one of the staff of Marriott with a voice of reverence. We were told that the royal family greatly valued their privacy and would wish to be left alone. Regretfully leaving the area, I daydreamed about the princess that lived next door. Oddity and opulence I did not need to trespass the princess' private dwelling to experience the grandeur and magnificence of royalty as around me, within Marriott's walls, everything reflected stately grace and understated elegance. Although most fixtures and ornamentation were huge and exaggerated, the feeling was tempered by classic Thai accents. The tall backed chairs, the doors that seemed to reach up to the heavens, the massive vases, and oversized pillows, were all grounded by delicate details like the dainty tropical flowers, the pretty patterns on the pillowcases, and the orange-tinged walls and floors.
In the middle of the lobby, a massive antiquated chandelier hung from a ceiling of distressed beams of wood, unusual but strangely appealing. The mix of historic and traditional-yet-contemporary is a classic Bill Bensley signature. The American born, Bangkok-based architect and designer believes in the dictum of "the odder the better," and this is evident in every corner of the hotel. By the entrance, a huge bed hung on bamboo and twine hinges. It swung gently as we sank under the layers of pillows. No walls hinder our view of the outside. Open and airy, every space was dusted with natural light, inviting us to sit back and take in the air of quiet magnificence. Process of renewal Mandara's wooden double doors opened a world within a world for me. Marriott's highly acclaimed Mandara Spa was a quiet sanctuary that helped me remember my body's wholeness and strength. Having come from an arduous trip, I had been feeling a little under the weather. The heat pressed on, dehydrating and oppressive. I was a little hesitant that an invasive massage would do me any good as all I wished was to lie down and let the entire world go away. The treatment proved to be renewing. Mandara's spa specialist suggested a detoxifying body treatment that guaranteed rejuvenation. Spent, I willingly obliged and allowed gentle hands to usher me through a maze of tropical foliage. We cut through the greens on a pathway of aged wooden planks and slabs of stone that seem to float on a pond of lilies. Under the heat, I walked, almost dazed until we reached the end of the path and another wooden double doors were opened. Inside was a private pavilion, walled only by manicured hedges and light curtains that fended off the intrusive rays of the sun, allowing only the soft summer breeze to waft in. Fans whirred hypnotically above as my therapist washed my feet with petal perfumed water. My treatment, the Green Tea Splash, started with gentle exfoliation. The green tree blend had anti-inflammatory properties that was supposed to hydrate and detoxify my skin. The soft kneading on my skin was a renewing process, and I immediately felt my blood stir. My weary spirit slowly followed as I was wrapped in a cocoon of batik fabric to allow the minerals to penetrate deep into my skin. Before long I was lost in oblivion, roused from my sleep only after some time when the therapist started a scalp and facial digito-pressure facial massage. While I showered off the green tea blend from my body, I felt the heat that had deeply seeped into my flesh quickly washed away. The cool water awakened my body and spirit to the possibilities that waited for me in the next few days. Ciao magnifico Close to dusk, the late sun lent everything around us a dreamy glow. We sat by the deck of Ciao, Marriott's Italian restaurant, waiting for Kai Olivier Kauder, Marriott's executive chef, to bring out the first of his masterpieces. A small candle on the table flickered, surrounded by pristinely white table linen. Everything around appeared clean, including the undisturbed sand, now free of the day's revelry, and the quiet ebbing of the tides. The horizon was a perfect line that cut between the sea and sky. Above, the sky hung low, with nary a cloud, a clean slate of powder blue. Anticipating the coming of the full moon, the world was quiet except for the chef's excited chatter as he brought out his first signature dish, roasted red capsicum soup with homemade spinach ravioli. The capsicum gave a deep red color and a rich taste to the soup which was cooked in olive oil, onions, garlic and bayleaf. The vibrant flavors were given meat by the homemade spinach ravioli stuffed with chicken, carrots, leeks, celery, and truffle oil. While the soup settled in our tummies, we watched a vendor on a bicycle riding past, selling grilled prawns and squid. I asked the chef jokingly if it was okay to bring the local fare to the table. He laughed and said he wouldn't mind at all. "It is where I get my inspiration from," he mused, referring to the local cuisine and the bounties of the sea. "The fresh and high quality ingredients influence my creations." Having lived in Spain, most of his dishes are influenced by Mediterranean cuisine. Although most of the dishes are Italian, they carry the Spanish tradition of freshness and high quality evident in the homemade focaccia that came with slow roasted garlic, creamy enough to be spread over the bread. The salad, baby spinach with orange fillet honey mustard dressing, walnut and gorgonzola cheese, was a delightful starter before Chef Kai brought in his piece de resistance: Canadian lobster with black truffle. Cubed meats of lobster were piled into half shells and drizzled with buttered shallots, garlic, and potabrillo. The soft meat was intensely flavored with brandy, white wine, lobster bisque, and cream and topped off with béarnaise sauce. It was a heavy dish that made us want to sink into our huge chairs and melt, but the meal wasn't over. Such an elaborate meal could only be concluded by an equally sinful dessert. Chef's Kai's crème brûlée had an interesting twist: rosemary. The custard cream's overwhelming sweetness was cleverly toned down by the herb's piney flavor. Rosemary is also known as the herb of remembrance. How apt, I believe, as the memory of the taste still haunts my tongue. |
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