Your guide to what’s on, by Jonathan Tan

July

HONG KONG – ALL DRESSED UP

5 – 8

Ready yourself for a tantalising fashion feast during the Hong Kong Fashion Week’s Spring/Summer shows. Into its 17th edition, Fashion Week continues to provide one of the biggest, most vibrant platforms for leading Asian designers and suppliers to forge new links between influential buyers the world over. Expect a mainland-Chinese surge that aims to place China on the world fashion map. Pre-register for free admission now. www.hktdc.com/fair/hkfashionweekss-en  

19 JUNE – 11 JULY

Provocative lacquer paintings by acclaimed Vietnamese artist Truong Tan are on display at Thavibu Gallery (Silom Galleria, Silom Rd, Bkk) in “How to be an Angel”. www.thavibu.com  

9 JULY – 15 AUGUST

International artistes are set to enthral at the HK Cultural Centre Grand Theatre in the International Arts Festival. www.hkiac.gov.hk  

16 – 18

Enjoy a lovely evening picnic at Singapore’s Fort Canning Park while watching “Ballet Under the Stars”. www.singaporedancetheatre.com

21 – 25

Brace yourself for four days of racing and partying at Six Senses Phuket Raceweek, featuring sailboats across all classes. www.phuketraceweek.com

August

4 AUG – 4 SEPT

Staged in Singapore, bedroom farce Boeing Boeing tells the story of a bachelor with three flight-attendant fiancées. How long can he keep up the juggling? www.wildrice.com.sg

6 – 8

The 2nd Samui Film Festival takes place at exotic Tamarind Springs Forest Spa. Catch movies about pop artist N’Dour in I Bring What I Love and American documentary Food Fight, from a woodland vantage point. www.samuifilmfestival.com

12 – 14

Not quite all the tea in China – or India – will be available at the Hong Kong International Tea Fair, but there’ll be tea ceremonies aplenty. www.hktdc.com/fair/hkteafair-en

14 – 26

Singapore is set to host its first Youth Olympic Games (YOG). Some 5,000 athletes and officials will come together to illuminate sporting history. From football at Jalan Besar Stadium to rowing at Marina Reservoir, the YOG covers almost all corners of this diminutive city-state. Officials are hoping the Games will further “ignite the passion for sports”. Plan your Singapore experience at www.singapore2010.sg

4 SEPTEMBER

The 3rd Six Chefs Six Courses Charity Dinner presents an artistic menu seeking to encompass the “six senses”. Hosted at Six Senses Hideaway Samui’s ‘Dining on the rocks’ outdoor eatery, top chefs will display their craft at a benefit which aids local children with special needs. www.sixsenses.com

For some they’re just a means of transport, but for one classic boat builder, the ocean journey is always the destination. As Luke Clark finds out, Vincent Tabuteau’s biggest journey may be still to come.

photography by Brent T madison

If you ever meet him near the beach, don’t be surprised if Vincent Tabuteau gazes over your shoulder, searching for silhouettes. Just as we might look for that familiar face at an airport, Tabuteau often instinctively scans the horizon for a mast he knows, searching for a familiar friend.

While many who know him think of Tabuteau as a tour operator, the Frenchman’s true calling is boats. He has been around them all his life, from the small wooden models he built as a boy to those he has constructed over a 25-year career. Now, having recently left the travel industry, he is working with boats again, engaged in the day-to-day business of selling and maintaining yachts through his Phuket-based company, Asia Marine.

Yet while modern fibreglass vessels pay the bills, Vincent has no passion for plastic. His heart is firmly with building and refitting classic wooden boats. “You’re working with a piece of art,” he says, his French accent now baring traces of Thai. “You make sure that everything you do will not destroy the feeling and silhouette – the culture and the story.”

Tracing culture through storytelling has been a theme of Vincent’s career. As part of his previous work managing East West Siam, he helped create the Asian Oasis Collection, a journey-making group of classic wooden boat journeys and charming eco-lodges in Thailand and Laos. Through the experiences, travellers had both a dose of luxury and a slice of a romantic past, when travel was more of an adventure.

“People want to have a step into the past, to get something different to what they have at home,” he says. “It’s fantastic when you put people on boats and they appreciate that they’re on a classic, like their grandfather sailed on. That’s very satisfying.” Like any craft, Vincent says the culture of boating was embedded in his genes.

But his relatives may have frowned at leisure boating.

“My grandfather would say, the boat must do its work, it must make a living. For him the idea of going yachting was very strange.” Summers in Vincent’s hometown of Saint Malo, Brittany were scattered with boats everywhere – while boyhood stories revolved around epic battles on the Channel with the English. Vincent started building his own small replicas at a young age, a hobby he continues today.

He recalls stories his maternal grandfather, Joseph Jestin, told him about voyages of the past. “He went around the Cape Horn on a sail-only craft in the late 1800s. He’d see a model in a museum, and would know every single rope, because he’d been up in the rigging.” His father meantime, a naval officer, took the family to far-flung places like Brazil, giving his son an early taste for travel.

After completing his engineering studies at university, Vincent was drawn to the idyllic coasts of Greece and Turkey, spending six years living on boats, working the Mediterranean charter business. Then, in what would prove a turning point, at the age of 30 he grabbed the chance to put his theoretical boat knowledge of boat design to good use. But first he’d have to fly half a world away.

Arriving on Phuket in 1983, Vincent skippered a small sailing boat on day trips across the Andaman Sea, mooring in front of the Pansea Hotel. Soon the property’s French owners became interested in building a traditional Asian-style boat. Like the mythical hand-drawn map in Alex Garland’s novel, The Beach, they showed Vincent a blueprint of a Chinese junk, designed by French architect Dimitri Leforestier.

“They asked me to contribute to the brainstorming. With my mechanical engineering background, I was the only one who understood the technical drawings – so they offered me the job of project manager.” So began one of Tabuteau’s most fondly remembered real-life adventures, mastering a craft on the fly that would eventually serve him well for a quarter-century. Working with his friend Jan Jacobs, Vincent set out from mid-1984 on the construction of the Suwan Macha, on the banks of the Chao Phraya River in downtown Bangkok.

“Building a boat was such a challenge. It was very intense over one year, living like carpenters by the side of the river. But it was interesting too, because of the mixture of modern technology. There was a fusion of cultural techniques to build that boat.”

The Suwan Macha was designed as a classic junk, with a hull built with a long-lasting cold-moulded, or laminated wood technique. Cold-moulding is a composite method of wooden boat building, using many layers of thin wood, glued together and moulded into shape. The result is a hull similar in strength to fibreglass, with no leakage, and little threat from termites. Vincent says cold-moulding is usually intended for lighter timbers. “We used takien tong, a strong and heavy tropical wood. It was too stiff , and resistant to sanding and bending. So it was a hard job, but the boat is now nearly indestructible – 25 years later, she’s still working Phang Nga Bay.”

Language was another hurdle. “I couldn’t speak Thai, and none of the carpenters could speak any English – and even less French.” Building was complemented by Thai language classes, before convincing a Bangkok shipyard carpenter to follow their crazy blueprint. “They’d never heard of laminated wood, and at first refused, thinking the boat would sink. man out to sea, and not only had we never seen a junk rigging before, we’d never sailed with one. So we had to learn, alone, how to sail with this rigging, immediately after getting into the ocean. And the first night at sea was stormy, with over 35 knots of wind.” Would the epic boat-building mission come to nothing?

“Here we are outside, in the middle of the Gulf of Siam, and we didn’t really know how to handle it,” he says, laughing. Thankfully, the five-man crew, including Jan and his brother, eventually got the hang of it. “We survived, we didn’t capsize. But it was a bit tense – there were strong winds, and we didn’t know how to put the sails down.”

To justify his efforts, Suwan Macha would reward Vincent We had to boil samples of cold-moulded frames to convince them, then later adapt the technique to tropical weather.”

Building a classic wooden hull was one thing, but nobody in Bangkok knew how to build wooden junk rigging, something last practised in the 1950s. The net was cast even wider. “We were lucky to find a 70-year-old junk captain in Pak Nam. He and his old sailing partner visited the construction site once, then redesigned the original five-panel Siam rigging in the schoolyard of a temple with a very specific bamboo type that we had to collect from the jungle. Thankfully, and remarkably, the bamboo structure fitted to perfection the first time we hoisted it.”

Vincent smiles wistfully, remembering the chapter’s final saga. “The most incredible thing though was bringing the junk from Bangkok to Phuket. We could not take the old with many years of service, and what had started off as a one off project would ultimately turn into a collection of classic wooden boats, either built to their original design, bought and refitted, or adapted for travel purposes. In the end, his grand total number of projects came to four junks and a motor vessel in Phuket, five teak barges in Bangkok and two steel river transport boats in Laos on the upper and lower Mekong River.

While the tourism business was the spur for each project, Vincent was glad over time to play a small part in reviving some of Asia’s maritime heritage, helping bring a degree of prestige to once-humble barges and junks, often viewed as being solely for trading, or even piracy. The new-look wooden boats have the added benefit of bringing pleasure to those on shore – and with backdrops such as those in Krabi, or along the Mekong River, the classic silhouettes on the horizon help paint a mental picture of the exact scene a century ago.

Vincent fondly recalls a classic boat gathering in the French town of Brest. “When you have a gathering of old boats, the harbour resembles those boats. I really like this atmosphere – you could be in a Joseph Conrad story.” While he’s no great believer in mysticism, Vincent maintains that handmade boats have their own character, or soul. “People who know old boats will recognise each silhouette from far away – even just by the mast alone. But if you have two plastic boats, they look exactly the same. It kills the romance, or the feeling of boating.” Then he casts a cheeky look, as if thinking exactly what I’m thinking. Of course, if you one still wants to buy a plastic boat, he can help you out there too. After all, even romantics have to pay school fees.

So once he is free of commitment, does Vincent dream of sailing around the world?

Probably not, he says. “You really are the slave of your boat. It’s always the first priority. When you go ashore, you’re a foreigner. But there are a lot of advantages. You can leave whenever you want, and there are no neighbours. There’s a lot of freedom.”

A big reader on boats, he is fascinated by the fact that geographically boat development has so often been in sync, despite minimal contact. “When you look at the architecture of boats, you find that their evolution is very similar in time, from countries that didn’t even know each other. In Borobudur, you have a picture of a 3,000-year-old back-sailed boat. It’s like a catamaran with sails. It’s a similar boat to Ulysses’ ancient Greek vessel.”

While leaving terra firma may not be in the pipeline, another boat building project very likely is. Were it not for recent financial upheavals, he might be in the middle of another big junk now. “It will be like the first one I built, but twice as big.” Yet further confirmation that he’s truly crazy? “No, I nearly got investors, and they stopped last minute.

It will be a nice boat. A 25m junk will be a one-off; I don’t think there is a tourism junk like this anywhere else.”

Having learned the rigging and hull with Suwan Macha, this time the project will be more straight forward and no less rewarding. “It’s not that I don’t like the other side of my business. But when I draw a boat or build models, I never build modern boats. It’s always an antique. They are complicated to sail, and you need people who know them – but like people, each is different. There’s an identity there.”

VINCENT TABUTEAU’S CLASSIC BOAT-BUILDS, RESTORATIONS AND ADAPTATIONS:

1984 SUWAN MACHA

Helped build from scratch this 16m laminated Siam junk. Still operated by Asian Oasis.

1988 MEKHALA 1, 2 & 3 Helped refit three 19m teak rice barges into floating hotels with six air-conditioned rooms on Bangkok’s Chao Phraya River. Still operated by Asian Oasis.

1988-89 JUNE BAHTRA 1 &2 Helped restore two 18m Malay junks, originally built in Terengganu, Malaysia, in iron wood. Still operated by Asian Oasis.

1993 JIT JAI Helped refit this Siamese junk first built in the 1970s.

1994 MAGIC EYES Helped refit a teak rice barge, still operating school field projects on the Chao Phraya River.

1994 MAHA PETHRA Helped build from scratch a 22m wooden motorboat from takien tong wood and traditional planting.

1995 LUANG SAY & WAT PHU Helped refit two passengers steel boats in Laos, now operating as cruise products on the Mekong River.  

ASIA MARINE Boat Lagoon, Koh Kaew, Phuket; www.asia-marine.net ASIAN OASIS Tel: +66 (0)2 655 6246; www.asian-oasis.com

Bangkok Airways flies five times a day between Bangkok and Phuket. Visit www.bangkokair.com for more information

With coconuts used to make everything from mattress stuffing to musical instruments, from cosmetics to cooking, Linda Vergnani visits Koh Samui to discover why the Thais call this prolific palm the “tree of life”

ILLUSTRATION BY PAOLO LIM FOR ILLUSTRATIONROOM.COM.AU

Twenty metres above the ground, in the crown of a palm, a pig-tailed macaque with a vicious leer named Koh concentrates on trying to loosen a ripe coconut.

He twists and turns the heavy nut around in his front paws, a tiring task for such a small animal. Down below, his trainer and owner Sampong Malichim utters soft instructions. Suddenly the monkey yanks the nut free and it hurtles down like a cannonball, crashing a few metres from his owner’s feet. Soon the ground seems to be exploding with coconuts. Harvesting around 300 a day, little Koh is part of Samui’s vast coconut industry.

When the monkey descends to drink a mug of water, Malichim explains that he bought Koh three years previously to help collect inaccessible nuts. Because Koh is now 21 years old, he harvests fewer coconuts than younger monkeys who can bring down 1,000 a day. As Koh bares his teeth at me, Malichim laughs: “He used to try to bite me too. Since I have trained him, he obeys me and hates everyone else.”

Samui is home to 32,000 acres of coconut plantations. While outsiders think of these palms as simply a backdrop for a tropical holiday, the trees yield an astonishing multitude of products. Different parts of the nut are used to make everything from furniture stuffing to the sounding board of the traditional saw sam sai (a three-stringed Thai fiddle).

Coconuts can be used in erosion-preventing geotextiles, earrings, handbags, cosmetics and confectionery. The leaves can be woven into baskets and hats, while the wood is used for furniture and transformed into items ranging from pepper grinders to ice buckets.

The clear coconut water provides a perfect electrolytic drink – dubbed “nature’s sports drink”. The gleaming flesh yields milk, cream and oil, essential ingredients in Thai cooking. No wonder, then, that Thais call this prodigious palm the “tree of life”.

Today, the macaque has been brought in to harvest coconuts at Samui Ridgeway Estate and Spa, a luxury hideaway on a mountaintop with tranquil views of off shore islands. The estate’s director, Shelagh Foster, supports local growers and craftspeople by commissioning specially designed coconut furniture, crockery and gifts for the retreat. She has also developed a range of coconut spa products that are used at the estate and leading hotels across the island, as well as being exported to countries such as Canada, Russia and France.

Previously the HR director for UK clothing giant Next, and a buyer for top London department stores, the businesswoman is now the marketing director for Simply Samui Spa Products. Foster founded the company after falling in love with Samui’s lifestyle and moving to the island with her family six years ago.

Entrepreneurial and energetic, Foster says: “I wanted to do something to help the people here.” So she decided to create a range of spa products using virgin coconut oil from a local producer. She carried out three years of research before launching the products, which are manufactured in Bangkok.

Foster’s products contain virgin coconut oil and include body butters, shampoos, massage blends, scrub and face masks. All the containers are fitted into custom-made coconut wood boxes and jars, thereby helping to recycle the cut trees, and all are handcrafted in a nearby workshop. Some containers feature domed turrets resembling Thai temple roofs.

Foster explains she was concerned to find many local coconut farmers selling their plantations off to property developers, getting good prices but losing their livelihood in the process. By supporting coconut-based cottage industries, Foster believes she can assist people to earn a sustainable income and prevent more plantations being cut down. “The trees take 90 years to mature and the old trees are gone. That is worrying.”

Celebrities and top executives who hire the entire estate are often unaware that they are staying in a coconut-steeped environment. The six vast bedroom suites are decorated with coconut-wood tea caddies, candleholders and wastepaper baskets, while in the dining room guests are served from elegant coconut goblets, bowls and noodle dishes. The menu includes tasty coconut curries, soups and cocktails, and the masseuses apply coconut spa products.

Down a steep, concrete track at the foot of the mountain, I meet Foster’s main suppliers. Our first stop is a coconut-processing plant run by two gentle middle-aged women, Kannika Srithonggun and her sister Sunee Bunjam. Foster was inspired by the sisters, who still produce virgin oil “the old fashioned way, with love and passion”.

In the open yard, workers shelter under sun umbrellas as they use sharp pangas (large, machete-type knives) to de-husk huge piles of fresh and dried coconuts. They peel back the husks until they can be slipped off like multi-petalled fibrous flowers, exposing the nut beneath. Coir from the husks is used to manufacture ropes, mats and brushes, while the softer fibres are turned into upholstery and mattress stuffing. The peat from the husks is carted off in wheelbarrows to be composted and used in Bunjan’s flourishing organic garden and nursery.

An old man squats in a shed and prises open the smooth inner shell of the coconuts, scooping out the crunchy white flesh. The discarded shells are used to make carved ornaments and jewellery, as well as being turned into orchid pots. In a processing room, Bunjan smiles as she switches on a gleaming silver machine and feeds in chunks of coconut flesh, which emerge as a stream of rich coconut milk. From this she produces cream and distils cold-pressed virgin coconut oil.

It takes 30 coconuts to produce one litre of oil, from which just the top 100ml is extracted as virgin oil. By adding herbs to some of the oils, the sisters make medicinal massage blends. Bunjan invites me to rub in one pungent remedy, which she recommends for relieving arthritis, and repelling mosquitoes.

A few kilometres away, woodcarver Soontorn Ponoi-Ngam and a team of assistants turn out shapely lidded containers, lamp bases, goblets and mugs. Sawdust flies as Ponoi-Ngam cuts into soft, striated coconut wood to make a huge bowl. This former electrician says almost every product in his Samui Coconut Wood Souvenir shop is made from the palms.

Speaking through an interpreter, Ponoi-Ngam shyly explains that, when he first came to Samui 13 years ago, he noticed how coconut palms were being cut down and the wood simply thrown away. “I wanted to recycle the trees, so I taught myself to carve wood. The first thing I made was a pestle and mortar, and after that I came up with lots more ideas. Now I make about 400 different items and send my carvings to Chiang Mai, Phuket, Krabi and Pattaya, and also export to France and Ireland.”

The wooden items in his shop are so beautifully crafted they invite stroking. The contemporary candleholders, goblets and caddies could grace a modern designer store in Tokyo or Copenhagen. There are also curios, including coconut-shell light shades in the shape of cows and buffaloes, soap dishes with intricate elephant carvings, and belts made from shell sections.

The next day, I take a private longboat out to the Five Islands, a series of limestone pinnacles rising from the ocean to the west of Samui. They are undercut with giant caverns where local sea gypsies harvest swallows’ nests for bird’s nest soup. Later, my skipper stops at a deserted island so I can snorkel. Clambering back onboard, I am surprised to find him armed with a panga. He lifts a green coconut from an icebox, slices off the top, slips in a straw and I have a refreshing drink of coconut water.

Back on the mainland, at The Five Islands Restaurant, I chat to amiable owner Colin Burgess, as I dine on a subtly flavoured four-course meal that includes tom ka gai, the famous coconut-cream chicken soup, and hor moag talay mah-prao pn, steamed seafood with young coconut.

British-born entrepreneur Burgess comments that dishes with fresh coconut are recognisably different, both in taste and appearance, from those made with tinned coconut milk. He explains: “Dishes cooked with fresh coconut are distinctly tastier, smoother and creamier on the palate with a natural and fresh aroma.”

Later, I sample still-warm coconut caramel cooked at a stall near the phallic Grandfather Rock. The caramel is pulled in great sticky green skeins from a pot by a young woman, cut into angular cubes and packed into clear bags, providing bite-sized morsels for tourists.

But the biggest treat is the “four hands” tropical coconut cleansing and calming massage back at the estate. Two charming young Thai masseuses begin the treatment that involves covering my body with a thick coconut and shea butter body mask. Then my arms, legs and torso are wrapped in green banana leaves.

I lie in the warm embrace of these rubbery leaves while the first masseuse works on my face using a gentle scrub that includes coconut shell, and then applies coconut oil-based potions. At the same time, the second masseuse gives a reflexology foot massage with gliding oils. They alternately stroke, brush and rub, at times applying warm and cold compresses. Inside my cocoon, I am steeped in coconut bliss.

• TOUR SAMUI’S COCONUT FARMS AND PROCESSING PLANT for 500 baht per person. All proceeds go to the farmers. info@samuiridgeway.com  
• SIMPLY SAMUI SPA PRODUCTS can be purchased online at www.simplysamui.com or from shelagh@simplysamui.com. The shop is next to Pandora Resort. 119/34 Moo 2, North Chaweng

• SAMUI RIDGEWAY ESTATE AND SPA’S rates start at US$750 per night to hire the entire resort, including spa treatment facilities and the services of a full-time staff of eight. info@samuiridgeway.com

• VISIT SAMUI COCONUT WOOD SOUVENIRS for handcrafted gifts. 54/2 Moo 1 Baan Saket, Taling Ngam; tel +66 (0)77 415260

• TAKE A PRIVATE BOAT TOUR to the sea gypsy islands with The Five Islands Experience. Includes a Thai fusion set menu at The Five Islands Restaurant. Half-day tour with lunch or sunset dinner from 6,500 baht for two people. Book in advance by emailing samui@thefiveislands.com

Bangkok Airways flies 18 times a day into Koh Samui. Visit www.bangkokair.com for more information

Junie kovacs hustled to create a shelter on koh lanta for dogs, cats and the occasional monkey

TEXT BY: SARAH WARWICK

When Lanta Animal Welfare’s (LAW)

Wnew Animal Clinic and Recovery Shelter opened in March, it was the culmination of five years’ hard work by Norwegian expatriate and cookery– school owner, Junie Kovacs. After the 2004 tsunami, Kovacs noticed that construction workers coming to Koh Lanta often brought along dogs, leading to a boom in the stray population. Tourists showered the animals with momentary kindness, fuelling the problem. “This led to a different kind of boom; that of starvation, disease, abuse and injury,” explains Kovacs.

Overwhelmed by the numbers of unwanted animals, locals made crude attempts at population control. “Putting fish hooks in the animals’ food; burning, poisoning or drowning them,” says Kovacs. “Something had to be done.”

That something turned out to be Kovacs’ unstinting efforts to take care of the animals – helped by a tiny band of volunteers. Starting small, she took in abandoned strays at first and ended up housing as many as 40 at a time on the premises of her cookery business, Time for Lime. But Kovacs was on a mission to fund a sterilisation programme, to ensure no more unwanted animals were bred.

The newly opened centre promises a brighter future for the animals. Staffed by volunteers, the clinic is the island’s first vet surgery, and the shelter can house up to 40 dogs, with special cat and monkey houses. To get more people involved, Kovacs had the novel idea of inviting tourists to stay for free in purpose-built chalets, five minutes from the beach. In return, they volunteer for a month of dog walking, feeding or administrative roles.

Now, Kovacs is thrilled to report fewer cases of animal abuse, and a decrease in stray dogs. “This proves that we are making a difference and that our message is being heard.”

From poverty-stricken kids to professional adults – two Cambodian students provide living proof that education and a spirit of generosity can transform lives

TEXT BY: CHARLOTTE LANCASTER; PHOTOS BY: VINH DAO

Deep in the countryside near

Siem Reap, a schoolyard is littered with flipflops. Abandoned, they are left to slowly bake in the mid-morning sun. A few hours later, a swarm of legs stampede across the ground. When the dust settles, the flipflops have vanished.

This is a typical scene for most rural primary schools in Cambodia, and speaks volumes about the government’s efforts to achieve its Millennium Development Goal of universal primary education by 2015. This particular school however, is not government-owned; it’s a school for orphans run by Sunrise Children’s Villages – a small network of Cambodian orphanages carrying out some very promising work.

“Educating Cambodia should be a priority. It is the only way to help us live, the only way to give us our lives back,” says 24-year-old Seyha, an ex-student who, thanks to a generous donor, is completing a degree in political economy and management at the University of Sydney.

While the country has made great strides at primary-school level, education in Cambodia as a whole remains a mixed bag. The kingdom sits at number 121 in world literacy rankings, and the sector is plagued with high dropout rates, peppered with corruption and propped up by poorly trained teachers. Quantity, not quality appears to be the watchword.

However, a lucky few have reaped the benefits of decent schooling and can be seen as Cambodia’s poster children for the power of education. Whether recipients of good fortune or a fine example of destiny’s children – some received scholarships and others enrolled in training programmes – there is no denying that the education they received dramatically changed their lives forever.

Twenty-three-year-old Sophea’s family struggled to make ends meet following the death of her father. Her mother opened a street stall to serve meals to construction workers, while her brother worked with a local water company. Between them, they brought in US$200 a month. Life was difficult and sacrifice was the order of the day.

With money and food in short supply, Sophea quit school and began working with her mother. Then, one day, she heard about the Institute of Hospitality at Shinta Mani in Siem Reap, which helps educate and groom young adults from less fortunate backgrounds. Sophea was accepted into their ten-month culinary programme; along with free education, she was given English-language training and a monthly stipend. After graduating in 2005, she was offered a job at Hotel de La Paix and has recently been promoted to demi chef (a role ranked just below chef de partie). Her monthly pay cheque is now almost double the family income.

Sophea’s plans for the future include opening her own Khmer restaurant. “Shinta Mani helped me gain the necessary skills and confidence to work in a top hotel. I am grateful for the doors it opened for me,” she says.

Narla is another young adult who used the tools of education to dig himself out of extreme poverty. Earning less than US$500 a year, his farmer parents, who live four hours from Siem Reap, borrowed money at 100% interest in order to send him to university. Narla was an intelligent, hard-working student and his parents knew the only way to a better life was through a decent education. He was the first person in his village to go to university.

Narla enrolled at the Build Bright University in Siem Reap and took a job with the tourism police to cover his living expenses. For two years, his parents scraped together the money to send him to school, but in 2006 they had to repay their loans and could no longer afford tuition fees. Narla was on the verge of dropping out when he had a chance meeting with Brandon Ross, president of Journeys Within Tour Company. Impressed by Narla’s command of English and genuine enthusiasm, Ross offered him a job.

Life continued to improve when Narla was accepted for the Journeys Within Our Community (JWOC) scholarship programme, which gave him a degree in tourism and hospitality. With an education in one hand and experience in the other, he was quickly promoted to director at the tour company. Narla has not only changed his own path, but supports his family and helps educate his siblings as well.

He says the highlight of his career was when he travelled to the US in 2008 to accept the Condé Nast World Savers Award in recognition of Journeys Within’s work in SouthEast Asia. Narla spent three weeks in the country giving talks and fundraising for JWOC, and has been asked to become a board member. Narla is a wonderful example of the power and success of philanthropic travel, and loves to chat about his experiences and the future of his country.

From flip-flops in a dusty schoolyard to chef’s whites and crisp business suits, these students’ stories are proof that a little help can turn harsh realities into fairytale lives.

For more information, visit www.scv.org.au,

www.journeys-within.com, www.shintamani.com

and www.bbu.edu.kh

How elephants are helping Koh Chang islanders wise up to nature’s bounty

TEXT BY: STUART HEAVER

For the past two decades, Pittaya

Homkrailas has been living and working with elephants on Koh Chang (the name of the island aptly translates as “elephant”). Now, the naturalist wants to use the example of these wonderful creatures to help motivate locals and tourists to preserve the island’s environment, culture and communities.

Concerned about the impact of Koh Chang’s estimated half a million visitors each year, the Founder and Director of the Asian Elephant Foundation of Thailand has undertaken his most ambitious project to date – the Chang Spirit Foundation.

Inspired by his love for elephants and the extraordinary qualities they possess, Homkrailas hopes to help people reconnect with their natural surroundings.

The Foundation aims to promote the importance of conservation, encourage eco-tourism, and raise funds for projects island-wide.

“The elephant in the wild must eat much to survive but he does not destroy his environment,” Homkrailas explains. He has become quite an expert on the humungous mammals, having spent ten years researching them for his book, Ta Klang: The Elephant Valley of the Mool River Basin. Homkrailas also runs the successful Ban Kwan Chang Elephant Camp, where visitors can take elephant treks through the forests of the national park.

Homkrailas has been passionate about conservation ever since a photojournalism assignment on elephants changed his life forever. “After that, I realised that man is not the top animal, we just like to think we are,” he says. Some businesses have become greedy, he adds, and disregard the environment from which they profit.

With the support of local businessman and landowner Sanan Prasartsal, work has already begun on a new visitor and education centre, on a beautiful spot at Klong Prao Beach, which will form the hub of the new Chang Spirit Foundation. The organisation will aim to encourage cooperation between businesses, agencies and inhabitants, thereby relieving some pressure from local authorities. “We cannot leave such a big problem to just a handful of government officials,” warns Homkrailas.

When asked if they will name and shame those businesses that damage the environment, he smiles. “We can only inform visitors of those businesses that do try to help protect the island’s environment and its communities,” he explains. “The visitors can decide where to spend their money.”

The Chang Spirit Foundation is an ambitious project, but Homkrailas is not short of patience or determination. “I have nothing, but I have the truth,” he says with a huge smile and puts his arm around Prasartsal, his friend and supporter.

Photographer Eugene Tan tells us how to capture motion and depth beneath the water line

The Maldivian atolls are a beautiful, unexpected freak of nature. Set in the middle of the Indian Ocean, these tiny paradise islands were formed from sub-ocean-floor volcanoes. The highest point of the whole country sits just two metres above sea level; needless to say, the islands are vulnerable to climate fluctuations and rising tides. This is why I visit the Maldives as much as possible, to enjoy the islands for as long as nature permits.

One of the best things about mid-ocean islands is that they are surrounded by crystal clear, deep blue waters – perfect for underwater photography, which is my speciality.

This image was captured in the remote southern atolls. Getting there is a task in itself, you can either fly via amphibious plane from the capital or charter a boat – we hired a vessel for one week.

The man in this photograph jumped from the top of the boat – three storeys high – as I waited underwater to capture the shot.

My Canon camera was placed inside an epoxy waterproof case (specially made for this particular model), and I used a very wide-angled lens to capture the vast depth of the ocean.

An image like this is only possible in the clearest of waters – a year-round feature of the Maldives.

To see more of Eugene’s underwater work, visit www.aquabumps.com

Stunning artistic gems are adding substance to Koh Samui’s stylishly exclusive villas

TEXT BY: JULES KAY; PHOTOS BY: LESLEY FISHER

Most villas in Koh Samui already

Mhave an edge – their paradise-island location and breathtaking beach– or cliff top setting. Add to the mix some inspired architecture, creative interiors and fine craftsmanship, and you arrive at these five artistic homes:

LOVE TEMPLE

Upni Duniya sits beside the soft sands of Big Buddha beach, and overlooks the famous golden statue that gives the wide bay its name. The expansive property was designed with over-the-top luxury in mind, and houses imported furnishings, state-of-the-art audiovisual equipment and LED lighting built into its pathways. Finishing touches include a selection of Asian-inspired pieces intended to add a touch of spirituality.

Outside the villa’s beachfront master suite is an eye-catching, handcrafted frieze; a striking replica of the erotic scenes depicted on the outer walls of India’s famous Khajuraho temple, also known as “The Temple of Love”. Historians believe these graphic carvings symbolise ancient tantric mysticism and the power of fertility. The terracotta sculpture is two metres high and four metres long, and was handmade by skilled craftsmen in Chiang Mai before being reassembled at the villa.

HEART OF GOLD

A rustic thatched roof and rich teakwood form the basic structure of the cosy Eden Rock Villa. The owner, Charlie Dwyer, an accomplished sailor and superyacht skipper, has filled the building with art and artefacts from his travels across Asia. A quick scan reveals seventh-century Buddhist statues alongside contemporary batiks from some of Indonesia’s leading artists.

On the stone-clad wall in the upper living space, two exquisite golden kammavaca, Buddhist prayer books, hang side-by-side. These late 18th-century pieces have been delicately crafted from folded layers of cotton or chintz cloth, covered with orange and brown lacquer. To create the text, the script was blocked out in orpiment (a mineral) and gold leaf applied, leaving an impression of the text in the lacquer. Words were then painted on with black lacquer. The result is an exquisite piece of art that can be passed down the generations.

SPIRITUAL OFFERING

Overlooking the stunning north coast of Koh Samui, Tassana Pra is one of the island’s most beautiful villas. The architecture is authentic Thai and flanks an expansive pool, garden lake and wide terraces. The interiors are lined with rich teak wooden floors and antique furniture: restored teakwood desks, majestic four-poster beds and intricately decorated chests.

A striking Burmese offering bowl in the master bedroom is a fine example of traditional Asian art and was found in Bagan, Myanmar. These elegant votive wooden receptacles were traditionally used to carry food offerings to monks; the pointed spire emulates a temple, the bird crowning the piece symbolises the connection between heaven and earth.

BALINESE BEAUTY

Spread over two acres of rolling beachfront land, villa Sumudra (which in Sanskrit translates to “gathering of waters”) is home to a collection of fine Asian artwork.

It took a year to assemble the various pieces that form the Balinese temple-style living room: the core structure and carved wall were imported from Bali, while the antique teakwood roof and decorative columns were sourced from India. The overall effect is a stunning blend of regional influences, enhanced by the villa’s 180˚coastal view.

The ancient wooden carved detail on the reconstructed wall of the temple pavilion is particularly noteworthy: a team of 16 master carpenters lived on site to rebuild the pieces. The raised floral designs provide a delicate yet powerful finish to this graceful and unusual room.

DYNASTIC DETAILS

Baan Rattana Thep’s design aesthetic shouts ‘exotic Thai’. With an eclectic mix of styles and colours, the villa blends a traditional façade and wonderful antique furniture with contemporary art and modern technology.

The striking Chinese cabinets in the main living pavilion were sourced in Chiang Mai. Rich textures, deep colours and distinctive markings give the pieces a powerful heritage presence; such lacquered wooden furniture can often be traced as far back as China’s Han dynasty. An astute blend of practical functionality and artistic ingenuity means residents and guests can both use and admire the cabinets’ fine craftsmanship.

Behind the saffron curtain, a new generation is on the rise: one with a taste for Western-style bars and Converse sneakers.

PHOTOS: PHOTOLIBRARY

Watch out when you visit Myanmar,” says one of the country’s best-known comedians, when I first meet him. “The Government will not like it if you steal or pick pockets – they hate the competition.” At first I am unsure whether to applaud or be appalled by his playful joke. In a decade when Myanmar’s turbulent story has frequently been splashed across the front page, politically sensitive jokes have been barely audible at street level. But following an exaggerated toothless wheeze of laughter, a sign that the comedian smokes too many rolled-up cheroots, it is easy to see the funny side of his quip; to get by in modern Myanmar you need to put on a smile, even if it is one showing more gums than teeth.

Despite Myanmar’s historical reluctance to embrace the tourist dollar – in stark contrast to elsewhere in South-East Asia – the country’s ruling military junta is beginning to ease its stranglehold on visa restrictions and immigration policy. For my part, an early wind of change buffets me upon landing at the sleepy international airport; the barricades and open-ended questions from customs officials are gone. In their place sit a fortified-wine shop (stocked with bottles from northern Shan State vineyards) and an open-armed passport officer. This is my first clue that Yangon is not the city it once was; when I enter the arrivals hall, I am not only greeted by a smile, but also a handshake, a joke and a better English accent than my own.

Searching for optimistic smiles on Yangon’s vibrant daylight streets proves easier than I first thought. Walking around the downtown neighbourhood of Sule Paya, a golden Cornetto-like pagoda, the atmosphere is infectious – I feel as though I could be in any free-willed, neon-lit city on Earth. Blaring speaker systems bounce between Beyoncé and Akon; well-heeled youths dressed in tight jeans and designer T-shirts clink bottles of imported beer. And it is as easy to find a hamburger and fries as a bowl of steaming Shan khauk-swe (the country’s staple Shan-style noodle soup). The streets are punctuated with Guitar Hero T-shirts, Wayne Rooney and Avril Lavigne posters, and booths housing PS2-playing teenagers – the city pulsates with a newborn energy imported from beyond its borders.

Gone are the colonial servants, English drinking dens and elephant hunts of George Orwell’s semi-autobiographical novel Burmese Days. In their place, new bars, Starbucks-style coffee shops, discos and hotels are opening up to cater to the demands of tourists. Visitors are, for once, at an all time high. “Want to buy DVD, meester?” is the new mantra on the trader-laden backstreets.

True to Orwell’s colonial vision, however, there remains a glorious menagerie of old-school British government buildings, which seem haunted by the ghost of Victorian England. But new-rise hotels (such as the Shangri-La-owned Traders) now tower over the city’s iconic pagodas, symbolic of recent investment from the power corridors of Beijing. Amid this eclectic mix, Indian, Thai and Burmese cultures and shopfronts collide, showcasing the vibrancy of the modern Yangon aesthetic.

Leafing through Burmese Days while befriending some locals, I feel sure that Orwell would be forgiven for doing a double take. Burma’s most famous colonial resident, who once soaked up both the genial atmosphere and gin of Rangoon’s social scene, would be taken aback by the cosmopolitan spectacle that now plays out every evening in modern-day Yangon. In previous years, politically brewed curfews stretched across the city and taxi drivers were locked up if they ventured out after dark. In contrast, today there is an air of lubricated defiance on the streets, and Yangon’s citizens – including the fresh-faced, 20-something cab driver who introduces me to the city’s neon and nightlife – are baring a brave new face to the world.

Late-night karaoke bars and clubs draw in Yangon’s younger residents, and at the Thiripyitsaya Sky Lounge in the Sakura Tower – where the soundtrack is Burmese rock rather than traditional Pwe opera – Generation Yangon is determined to have a good time. According to an ancient Burmese saying, the time for ‘evil’ to triumph is during the hottest part of the day, when the world falls still and “when feet are silent”. The rest of the time, however, Converse-laced and Nike-swooshed feet are increasingly likely to be seen shuffling along to the sounds of homegrown rap stars or the country’s growing army of soft-rock balladeers. A trend that the city’s premiere nightspots, Pioneer and Monsoon, undoubtedly applaud.

As my evening progresses, I have to keep reminding myself that I am not in Mumbai, Kolkata or even Bangkok. But the mesmeric view of the storied Irrawaddy River – home to overloaded passenger ferries and overweight elephants – plus a sunset redder than the scarlet betel nut chewed and spat on the streets by locals, reveals Yangon at its most cosmopolitan and beguiling. I head to 19th Street for its array of BBQ stands, buy a gigantic Myanmar Beer and drink in the quasi-liberal atmosphere.

Yet austerity still walks the streets. The Burmese remain one of the few remaining nationalities to follow their forebears and happily wander around, summer or winter, in knee-length skirts. The longyi, a wraparound cloth worn by both sexes, though slowly being phased out by American jeans, is still a sign that Yangon keeps one foot – or rather, one flirtatious hairy knee – firmly rooted in the past.

Later that night, I become acquainted with Pha Lin, a forthcoming Yangonite and owner of the May Shan Hotel. Her frank approach to the city’s power cuts and problems is like a hefty dose of Jon Stewart stand-up comedy – but minus the Hollywood censorship. She shrugs nonchalantly when asked a leading question about the government. “We get on with our lives and they get on with theirs.” As if on cue, the May Shan’s lighting switches off for the third time that day, and the hotel generator grumbles to life like a prop-wing plane. “See what I mean?” she laughs. Glancing at the streets outside, cast in black shadows, it’s an easy decision for me to turn in for the night. I fall asleep as though I’ve been lulled by chloroform rather than a lullaby.

At first light, I make my way to the Shwedagon Pagoda, a place perfectly pitched for early morning reflection. Perched on top of a small hillock north of the city, Myanmar’s crowning achievement is the symbolic heart of the country’s 400,000-plus monk community. The building is a colossus of golden spires and gilded Buddha statues rising almost 100 metres into the sky; it looks like the planet’s most expensive ice-cream sundae. Creating more shine and sparkle than can be found in the average Swiss bank account, the midday sun glares on the temple like an angry god, making wraparound sunglasses compulsory for health, homage and Burmese Nights-style hangovers.

Quite accidentally, I encounter Nhan Dan, a 31-year-old monk. A practising Buddhist for 11 years, he is visiting Yangon from Inle Lake in Shan State. Dressed in the ubiquitous saffron robes and with a face as smooth as a gold coin, his attitude is a surprising microcosm of the city’s modern-day outlook. He listens to The Rolling Stones, smokes Rothmans cigarettes and supports Manchester United because “Alex Ferguson is a very good man”, he tells me in softly spoken English. Down on the street, he watches a car totter by and he bursts into a fit of hyena-like giggles. “Ha ha – very funny. I see a monk driving a car; very funny.” I begin to see that Yangon is much more complex than I first thought.

Back in 1934, George Orwell knew that, in Burma, one does not set oneself up against public opinion. “In comfortless camps, in sweltering offices, in gloomy bungalows smelling of dust and earth-oil,” he wrote, “they earn, perhaps, the right to be slightly disagreeable.” Though the country’s former resident cannot be argued with, today Yangon is starting to show a different, more acquiescent nature. With elections tipped for October this year, perhaps its people could be ready for autonomy once more. I sense an air of defiance, as though the younger generation know they are pushing the right buttons.

I leave for the city’s languorous airport the next day, along a traffic-congested serpentine highway, and for one last time I run headlong into a uniquely Yangon situation. Horns blare, truck drivers spit from broken windows and there is a cacophony of screeches, squeals and spittoon pan pings. My taxi lumbers to a halt and for a moment there is complete silence. Peering out from my rolled-down window I see that the traffic has been brought to a standstill on both sides of the road.

Breaking the spell, a solitary monk crosses the dusty road, his amber robe billowing in the morning breeze. He uses a staff to help him across the worn-out black and charcoal stripes that line the street, while on-looking commuters maintain their respectful silence. Then, one by one, the monk is followed by at least 20 others; they cross in single file until there are more than 100 marching before me. It’s like a Buddhist take on The Beatles’ iconic Abbey Road crossing.

To my left, schoolchildren on buses bow their heads, and to my right passing traders, perhaps on their way to market, enjoy a sacred pause. It’s like a communion, a coming together for a nation so ill at ease with itself. Yet in this fleeting moment, it is clear that a unity – albeit an unspoken one – exists on the streets of Yangon; and Burma’s monks are as yet still more revered than the new rock stars.

Then, as if from the clang of a street-side gong, the traffic revs, exhaust fumes splutter and Yangon’s highway artery returns to the chaos that its citizens endure so well.

BRIGHT LIGHTS BIG CITY: THE BEST OF YANGON NIGHTLIFE

MONSOON RESTAURANT & BAR 85-87, Thinbyu Rd, Botataung Tel: +95 1 295224; www.monsoonmyanmar.com

PIONEER Yuzana Garden Hotel, Alanpya Pagoda Rd Tel: +95 1 248944; www.yangonow.com/ yuzanagarden/eng/facility

THE THIRIPYITSAYA SKY BISTRO 20th Floor, Sakura Tower, 339 Bogyoke Aung San Rd Tel: +95 1 255277; www.sakura-tower-yangon.com/sky

TRADER’S HOTEL 223 Sule Pagoda Rd Tel: +95 1 242828; www.shangri-la.com

Bangkok Airways flies once a day between Bangkok and Yangon. Visit www.bangkokair.com for more information

An intrepid foodie dives into the best street eats in Krabi

TEXT BY: KAREN J. COATES; PHOTO: GETTY IMAGES

Most people seek sun and sand on a trip to the beach. Not I. At least, not in Krabi. Instead, I sniff my way through tin shacks and thatched kitchens, indulging in piquant southern fare.

I find baked crab with glass noodles, zingy cockles with bitter leaves, and slivered papaya with tiny shrimp in a butternut squash-coloured curry – all simply extraordinary.

Here on the Andaman Sea, the exceptional lies in unassuming little restaurants and stalls – not to say that resorts are anything short of marvellous; the Nakamanda Resort & Spa serves perfectly grilled fish followed by vanilla crème brûlée with a shot of lemon milkshake.

But Krabi’s tiny food centres are in a class of their own. Take Aree Dang as an example; a highway stop near Ao Nang Beach with an arresting spread of kanom jeen, curried noodles. There’s no sign to help you find this joint, just a cluster of women guarding an array of pots on the left-hand side of the road as you leave the beach.

Aim straight for the sidewalk with its cauldrons of curry – sweet peanut, green chicken, red chilli squid, spicy beef, yellow fish, spicy crab. Ladle your choice over a muddle of rice noodles, then sit at a long table with baskets of herbs and lotus-like water plants. A proper bowl of kanom jeen requires lots of extra tidbits, such as bean sprouts, sweet pickled peppers, savoury pickled greens, dried anchovies and coconut-cream spinach. Everything goes into the bowl for a hot-spicy-sweet-sour-bitter-salty zinger of a mouthful.

A few miles up the road sits the aptly named Dawn of Happiness; with its string of US$20 beachside bungalows, this is my chosen home in Krabi. My meal arrives on the deck as I gaze upon a horizon of jagged karsts. I eat banana-flower curry and chicken fried in lemongrass, shallots, garlic and cumin. I’m hooked. I’ve found a darling on the sea, with a carte du jour that dazzles me.

That’s the beauty of Krabi; you hit quiet bliss a just a few miles in any direction from the bustling Ao Nang town.

A landscape of limestone caves and precipitous cliff s has long attracted travellers with ropes and the yen to climb. It’s also a playground for geologists and botanists.

I’m more interested in the hill above this beach that supports a few stalls selling fried chicken and appetising curries. I point to a bin and immediately rouse a swarm of women. “Himaphan!” they shout. “Cashew nut! Eat! Eat!” In fact, it’s not the nut they serve with their salted fish curry – it’s the cashew apple. A vendor ducks into her kitchen and returns with a bowl of freshly cut pale yellow fruit.

The women show me a specimen plucked from a tree. “Here’s the flower. Here’s the fruit,” they explain. A curious thing: the apple sits atop the nut, which resembles a lima bean in its early stages. As it grows, the apple swells until it’s picked and sliced and curried by enterprising cooks.

As in much of southern Thailand, a predominantly Muslim population distinguishes the area’s customs, and the food hints at flavours you’ll find towards Malaysia.

The menus are rich, complex and undeniably tied to the sea. “Even seemingly simple dishes have a depth of flavour, which comes from the judicious balance of spices, sauces and, in particular, the gapi or prawn paste, which is the hidden secret behind so many curries and soups,” says Elizabeth Ravech, whose Andaman Camp and Cruise off ers cooking classes, home stays and adventurous itineraries.

The ocean remains the region’s eternal siren. Prehistoric foragers camped in Krabi’s caves, drawn to the area’s bounty. “There’s an old saying that when the tide goes out, the table is set,” wrote Thom Henley, environmentalist and author of a regional guidebook, Krabi: Caught in the Spell. Today’s beachcombers plunder the shore just like their ancestors, probing by hand for fish, clams, crabs and cockles.

For me, Krabi’s most dynamic food lies close to local homes. I find the consummate example beside a local market on Highway 4034, past rubber trees and oil palms, among village cafes with stainless steel bins. No signs, just a simple shack with plastic chairs and collapsible tables. No menu, just a finger point and a nod to the vendor. I’m happy to say I’ve found myself some lunch.

I order gaeng som, a classic southern Thai fish curry, hot and sour, vivid orange like pumpkin.

It comes with a dollop of sweet-savoury roasted coconut and spices. Fresh cucumber slices, raw cabbage and a bitter, pungent leaf accompany my order. A couple of fellow diners begin to roll the supple leaf between their fingers, sniff it and wrap it around a bite of coconut for an even keel of salty, bitter and sweet – delicious.

Nakamanda Resort & Spa, www.nakamanda.com;

Dawn of Happiness Eco Beach Resort, tel +66 (0)75 662091;

Andaman Camp and Cruise, www.andamancampandcruise.com