Dawn rose as we reached the edges of the suburbs and the city became illuminated with a smoggy haze. At a crossing I noticed a smartly dressed police officer trying to lure a cat off the tracks with a sucking noise while people scurried past him and each other on foot and moped trying to get to work. It was a relief to leave the franticness of the city behind and it wasn’t long before we were in open, breathable countryside – among lush green pastures farmed by one or two early risers. A few stations along, the train began to fill up with local traders carrying bananas, rice packaged in banana leaves and other breakfast delicacies, which seemed to go down well with the other passengers. As we ate some mango slices we had just bought from one of the sellers, the landscape outside began to subtly shift from grazing land into paddy fields which in turn gave way to rivers, stilted housing and large areas of wetland. What we hadn’t read about this train journey from anywhere before is that it provides an absolutely fantastic opportunity to spot wetland birds. The train snaked alongside small canals of water for almost three hours, passing entire fields filled with white ibis, tall statue-like herons, small water rails, kingfishers and countless other wetland inhabitants. For bird watchers and nature lovers this train journey would be worth taking for the wildlife alone (especially as the tickets cost a total of £1.50 each).

The six hours passed quickly and we both managed to have a small sleep before arriving at Aranyaprathet. By now, the sun was gradually climbing the sky and the heat was intensifying, so it was a relief that we met up with Sarah and Guy and tackled the tuk-tuk negotiating together (the actual border point is a short drive from the station). To avoid unnecessary hassle and scamming, we had got e-visas online a few days before, which is well worth doing as without them, tuk-tuk drivers will attempt to drive you to visa points before the border which are all basically scams. Our tuk-tuk driver did attempt this but we were able to present him with our e-visa and demanded to be taken straight to the border, which he reluctantly accepted. The Aranyaprathet/Poipet border crossing has improved massively in recent years, though the government on the Cambodian side have now set up transport schemes for tourists which make it very difficult to get anything apart from government-approved transport to Siem Reap (and is obviously set at inflated tourist prices). We had printed and read a fantastic guide, written by a local who crosses the border often, which explains all the workings of the border crossing and points out the pitfalls. You can find it at Tales of Asia. The border crossing itself was fairly painless. First we were stamped out of Thailand, and then had to walk across a dusty road in between the two checkpoints in order to reach the Cambodian immigration office. This is a major transport hub between the two countries and we saw families pulling heavily laden wagons and sacks, along side trucks full of live pigs squealing in the heat. We had to walk behind the truck all across the border which was difficult to watch.

'Poipet' by MsNina on Flickr

If you don’t have an e-visa you can still buy a visa at the border, though the queues can be very long. Once you’ve got your visa and filled in a health card you can get stamped into Cambodia, which was very quick and efficient (they even take fingerprints) once you reach the office. Once you are on the other side, you are swiftly shepherded onto a bus which takes you to a transport centre where all the government-approved transport options are waiting for you. We have heard that people have still managed to get into Poipet to make their own arrangements for travel, but the guys hanging outside the immigration office make this very difficult for tourists. It is worth trying to get to Poipet to at least eat before your onwards travel as the food at the transport hub is both overpriced and terrible. They will also insist that you must buy some Cambodian riel or dollars at the exchange, but whatever they say, you are not obliged to do this. All their transport prices are in dollars, the de facto currency of Cambodia, so it is worth taking at least $50 with you across the border. We shared one of their cabs which came to $45 which we split between the four of us. There have been reports of some taxis dropping passengers outside Siem Reap if they had been paid upfront but our taxi driver was pretty good and took us to our hotel (the Golden Temple Villa) after asking someone for directions in the town.

The journey from Poipet to Siem Reap takes about three hours but thankfully the road has been much improved (from dirt track to a single gravelly road). It didn’t take long to fully realise how different Cambodia is from its richer Thai neighbour. Buffalo and horse drawn carts were as numerous as cars and chickens and ducks pecked in the dust along most of the roadside. The houses were mainly stilted and wooden with haystacks and cows dotted around front yards. It may be what the Thais term as a more ‘simple existence’ but I couldn’t help but find it beautiful after a week in Bangkok. Cambodia is still a relatively rural country, the most built up towns being Phnom Penh (the capital) and Siem Reap (which is the accommodation hub for those visiting Angkor Wat). The latter is where we were headed and despite being perhaps the most touristy town in Cambodia there are still many delightful pockets of it left to explore, as we were to find out…

Luckily the rash died down that evening and the next day brought torrential rain, which seemed to clear the air a little. After it had rained itself out, we paid an obligatory visit to the Khao San Road, walking once up and down its insanely crowded street and nebulous side alleys, where people brandished cardboard signs in our faces advertising tailors, foot masseurs and other, more sinister operations. Old women sold lucky frogs (wooden frog-shaped Güilo instruments which actually do sound like frogs) while others peddled catapults launching sycamore-seed-like lights which glow brightly when launched high into the air.

Feeling hungry, we decided to end the day somewhere a little quieter to unwind after the craziness of the KSR and so decided to try out a vegetarian restaurant called Ethos, which my sister Katie had told me about (see the Food section for more details). After filling up on organic chocolate cake and trying some of their home-made Tempeh and Kombacha (apparently some kind of wonder detoxification tonic) and chilling out on their comfy cushions under paper lanterns and brightly-coloured flowers, we felt relaxed enough to face some of the visa preparations we had to do for the next day.

Early the next day we caught a cab to the Chinese Embassy, to find a big notice saying that it would be closed for the next seven days (Chinese New Year strikes again). The Vietnamese Embassy was similarly shut for Tết festival, so it looked like Bangkok, reportedly the best and easiest place to procure visas of all kinds, was not going to offer any help with ours. After conducting a fair bit of online research, we found out that our next best bet was to try the Cambodian town of Sihanoukville for the Vietnamese visa and Ho Chi Minh City for the Chinese. Recent success stories had been reported on Lonely Planet’s Thorn Tree forum for both so that fixed our onward journey plans a little.

We still had five days left to spend in Bangkok, and with nothing specific planned we arranged to meet one of my sister’s friends, Charlie, who was out here teaching English. We fixed a time for Saturday night and decided to visit some attractions in the meantime. We began with the house of the famous American silk merchant (and former CIA agent), Jim Thompson, who has held a particular interest for us since we learned about his mysterious disappearance in the Cameron Highlands in the 1967. After a tour around Mr Thompson’s elegantly furnished villa, we decided to spend the afternoon at the temple and teaching complex of Wat Pho. It was only upon visiting this magnificent place, with its many gilded Buddha statues, smouldering pots of incense and orange-robed monks taking exams or serenely wandering its lofty halls, that we began to experience the spiritual side of Asia that so many travellers bang on about. The temple complex is huge and you can easily spend a whole day there exploring its many courtyards and crevices which house everything from a Thai massage training school (it is the birthplace of Thai Massage) to teaching halls for Buddhist monks and it was also historically important as a centre where people would come to copy texts written in sanscrit from stone tablets to take back to their villages. It was easy to while away the hours ducking in and out of the almost Gaudí-esque ornate statues and pyramid-shaped Chedis. We ended with a quick visit to the giant statue of the Reclining Buddha, which peers down serenely upon the many tiny people gazing up at it, open-mouthed with awe at the statue’s polished appearance, towering size and mother-of-pearl-encrusted feet.

A few days in, we were feeling rested and stuffed full of pineapple and banana-filled pancakes, so we reluctantly left the Lamphu Tree for a cheaper hostel closer to Hualamphong station, in preparation for our early-morning 6-hour train journey to the Cambodian border in a day’s time. As it was a Saturday, we had just enough time to dump our things before heading to the famous Chatuchak Weekend Market, where the best bargains in Bangkok (and possibly the whole of South East Asia) are to be found. The market is huge and is split into wings dedicated to everything from pottery to bath products and even, sadly, exotic animals (Charlie told us that she’d seen sloths for sale there in the past). Before entering the fray, it’s best to know what you’re after and to prioritise what you do and don’t want, to see as it’s impossible to cover the whole market in a day. Helpfully, there are entire websites dedicated to mapping it out, and we found Asia Travel Tips particularly useful, which not only has a map but also includes a guide to haggling. In most cases, expect to pay at least 30% lower than their initial offer, but it’s best to start your opening bid below the 50% mark to get the best deal, and don’t wear expensive-looking jewellery or clothes or the traders will immediately jack up their prices. We also found that making an effort to speak the prices and some phrases in Thai allowed us to banter a bit more with the traders. We didn’t have any particular aims, but we enjoyed wandering around the various colourful stalls, and we came away with a Chinese-style tea pot, two pairs of linen ‘Aladdin’ trousers, silk pillowcases, table runners and wooden wall carvings, which was just about all we could fit in our backpacks. There is not much in the world you can’t find at Chatuchak, if you know where to look…

That evening we met up with Charlie and her friend Ben, who took us first to an Irish pub, for the only Guinness we had had since leaving home six months ago, and then to a local Thai eatery to sample the delights of Sangsom rum (which tastes like whisky) and cheap but delicious Thai food. It was really great to spend an evening with people who had some links to back home, as well as finding out all about the ups and downs of living in Bangkok as an expat. Bangkok, as anyone who has visited it for a while will tell you, begins to wear you down little by little until you know it’s time to move on, which Charlie said she had begun to feel. The rest of the evening passed in a hazy blur, but we did wake up in the morning with some hand-crafted bracelets and an interesting picture of the taxi we took home (at least we think it was a taxi). It seems that the sleazy underbelly of Bangkok with its Soi Cowboy street, drug peddlers and brothels is never that far away as the prominently displayed ‘No Bad Guy’ sign in the Cozy Bangkok hostel we were now staying in reminded us…

We began to feel it was time to leave Bangkok ourselves, which we would have done the next morning had we not been nursing terrible hangovers and had Alex not succumbed to a stomach disagreement (he thinks from eating too many chillies). It was clear we were going nowhere far that day, so we decided to make the most of the situation by visiting the dentist to get Alex’s tooth cap fixed (a relic of an old sports injury from school, which had managed to dislodge itself conveniently on the cargo ship). After all, what better cure for a hangover than anaesthesia? We called around and found a dentist who could see Alex today in the centre of Bangkok (as opposed to one of the side alley operations). The street that the surgery was on turned out to be full of other dentists and plastic surgeons. While Alex was being worked on, I sat in the downstairs waiting room where Mona Lisa Smile was being shown on the TV – it was the first film I’d seen since Australia. As more people piled into the waiting room, I soon realised that we weren’t the only Brits paying the dentist a visit. I spoke to a few people from Manchester and Liverpool who said that they had flown to Bangkok specifically to have dental work done. It’s so much cheaper there for cosmetic dentistry that it’s worth the price of the plane ticket, apparently, and you get to enjoy ‘a little holiday once the anaesthesia’s worn off’!

Alex soon came out re-capped but feeling comfortably numb, so we returned to our brightly painted hostel (another of those in the increasingly popular art boutique brigade) in an attempt to pack so that we could actually make it out to the border the next day before our visas expired. We quickly popped into the local 7-Eleven to get some supplies for the train and I somehow wasn’t surprised to meet an orange robed monk speaking loudly on his mobile phone by the crisps (a bit of a different from those we’d seen earlier at Wat Pho). The air outside was smoggy and the roads manic, but I couldn’t help but feel the seductive charm of this strange, conflicting city.

Back at the hostel, I went to wash the day’s grime off only to find the bathroom sinks were all full of dying moths. The overhead lights must have made the sinks look like giant moons to them, simultaneously turning them into moth death magnets. As soon as the insects touched down, their paper-like wings absorbed the water droplets and pinned them to the bowl. Trying to free them was useless, and I just stood there and watched as the guy from the room next door emerged and efficiently flushed them all down the plughole before gelling his hair in the mirror. It might have been the end of the hangover fragility, but I was once again ready to leave Bangkok.

Trying our luck, we turned to the office ladies who were composing themselves and we asked in very bad Thai about the possibility of booking onto a bus, that day. One of them raised her eyebrows and picked up the telephone. After five or six phone calls involving lots of rapid speech, we were told “Yes, there is a bus… you will be VIP” (but what she meant was, you will pay VIP prices). Not wanting to be stranded in Trang, we took her up on her offer, after which the American chuckled and said, “The buses aren’t that bad”. I asked him what he was doing in Trang, to which he responded “Oh, I’m waiting for the train“, after which I quickly started to lose my sense of humour. We were told to come back a few hours later when someone would accompany us to the bus station, so we sat in a local café for a few hours, checking emails and calming/cooling down with a beer and an iced chocolate alongside a French man who was also waiting for the train (which he had sensibly booked in advance).

At about 5pm a Thai student turned up, and said that she would take us to the bus station and wait with us until the bus arrived. When we asked why, she said, “You know, it’s safer”… By this point we were beginning to really wonder about this bus. At the bus station itself, we were noticeably the only Westerners present (until a couple of German girls arrived later to catch a local bus) but most people either smiled or ignored us, and we didn’t feel uncomfortable at all. Our bus driver eventually turned up looking like an East Village hipster (white crocodile shoes, skinny jeans, tight band t-shirt and a little waistcoat and shades) and more scarily like he should have been in school rather than driving double-deckers cross-country. He motioned in the direction of the upstairs of a bus whose windows were stuffed full of cuddly toys (we wondered how he’d have any space to see the road). We said goodbye to the Thai student (whose English was much better than our phrasebook Thai) and boarded the bus. The downstairs was full of parcels and post so we climbed upstairs as we had been motioned to and were pleasantly surprised to find comfortable, spacious seats complete with a bottle of water, a custard pie and a pillow to make the 13-hour journey more bearable. Our fellow passengers were very helpful, showing us where to put our luggage, where the blankets were etc. so perhaps the American had been winding us up after all.

As dusk began to set in, we passed hundreds of rubber trees and could see rows and rows of little taps fitted to the bases of their bark with buckets underneath. Later we stopped to pick up a couple more passengers outside a sunset market where the last of the day’s wares were being flogged. Pirates Of The Caribbean dubbed in Thai was our entertainment for the evening, as well as the repetitive soundtrack of some irritatingly catchy Thai pop songs. At 9pm we paused at a local service station, our last stop before Bangkok, where we had a quick wash before getting ready for bed. My iPod provided an eerie soundtrack to the nightly goings on outside as I tried but failed to get to sleep. Around 1am, we passed a prison-like lorry which was crammed full of people looking out from between bars. Other trucks with wooden slats drove by, and I could see figures playing card-games at drinking tables through the light-filled cracks – the first of many portable gambling dens we were to see. I finally got to sleep and was woken a few hours later when the bus abruptly stopped in a long line of three-lane traffic – at this point I knew we were in Bangkok.

Still bleary-eyed when we left the bus, we stupidly managed to get into the only taxi which wasn’t a taxi at all but an opportunist who couldn’t actually read or write Thai. We only found this out ten minutes into the drive when she swiftly pulled over and dragged me by the elbow out of the car and into the dimly lit house of one of her friends who she motioned to read the map and directions I had in my hands. Quite a frightening experience at 6am in a strange city but she did finally lead us back to the car, where she promptly upped the price and would only agree to take us further if we paid her three times what we had first agreed. I had heard about all sorts of scams in Bangkok but I didn’t expect to be subject to one quite so quickly. Not wanting to get dragged into any more strange houses for perhaps a more sinister purpose, we reluctantly agreed to pay and felt relieved when she dropped us off on the small bridge which arched over the quiet canal-side hotel we had booked at the recommendation of a friend. Even though it was only 6.30 am, breakfast was being laid out and we were brought cups of coffee and pancakes which tasted incredible after our early morning adventure. A couple of other travellers arrived just after we’d sat down and said they’d just come off the train we couldn’t get on, which they’d caught last night from the next stop along from Trang. It was so packed, they hadn’t slept at all which made me think of the comfy bus and its cuddly toy obsessed hipster driver with a new level of fondness.

A few hours later, we had crossed the oceanic border between Malaysia and Thailand and had arrived in Koh Lipe’s astonishingly clear waters. The ferry came to a slow halt about 100 metres from the shoreline, the closest it is allowed to go, given the reef which surrounds the island. The ferry was met by a couple of longtail boats which are owned and operated by the Chao Ley (literally translating as people of the sea), also known as the sea gypsies who inhabit half of the island. Each of their boats is brightly decorated with day-glo tassels and fashioned out of wooden slats with a bamboo floor. They are the only craft that can manoeuvre safely along the reefs and are therefore the only way on or off the island as there is no jetty.

There was a lot of scrambling as passengers and luggage were parcelled onto the longtails, which began to rock precariously. Trousers were rolled up and shoes removed as we all prepared to disembark in the shallows, carrying backpacks overhead to make the short walk to the beach-hut-style port-a-cabin which housed the immigration office (and was conveniently located next to a bar). This has got to be one of the world’s most relaxed immigration points where laid back officials stamp in their daily quota of 40 or so new visitors to the island before heading back to their hammocks. We waited on the sand for of a couple of minutes while our passports were inked with a 15-day permit (there is a bit of discrimination towards those arriving overland as you only get half the number of days that air arrivals are entitled to) before traipsing off through the island’s tiny main street, which is dotted with coffee shops, bars and restaurants to find our B&B. We realised quite quickly that it had been a mistake to book in advance – we passed many nice beach-side guesthouses before reaching ours (The Reef) which was quite pricey by island standards and slightly inland. Having said that, it was extremely peaceful, had beautiful views across the island, had been sustainably constructed with an outdoor stilted wooden platform from where breakfast was served and had an excellent book exchange library.

Koh Lipe is sadly starting to face the same fate as many other Thai islands where much of the available beach-front space is being gobbled up by developers whose aim is to create luxury resorts of one sort or another. Importantly here however, development has been slower and more tasteful than elsewhere in Thailand due to its unique situation: Koh Lipe doesn’t have an airport or jetty; it’s surrounded by the Tarutao National Marine Park where development, and the use of speedboats and jet skis are banned; the Chao Ley (who have animistic beliefs) own and run a number of the island’s accommodations which they have been able to hold onto in the face of aggressive competition from wealthy developers due to official recognition of their ancestral rights to the land; and plastic cards are as no-go as plastic bags as there are no ATMs to be found anywhere. You can’t help but feel that all these things have saved the island from going the way of Ko Phi Phi and the like for the time being and it was still possible to find stretches of almost deserted beach even in January, which is considered peak season.

The island itself is very small – spanning only two kilometres from end to end. There are three main beaches where most of the island’s accommodation can be found: Sunrise, Sunset and Pattaya beaches. Each beach has its own character – Sunrise beach is where the sun worshippers and dive enthusiasts hang out, Pattaya beach (where the longboats drop off new arrivals) is probably the busiest and is home to the island’s smarter bars and hotels, and Sunset beach (reached via walking through a Chao Ley village and wood) is the hippie zone where tiki torches are lit at dusk and deathly alcoholic cocktail infusions are doled out for next to nothing. All these are connected by the island’s one and only shopping street where you can get everything from a Thai Green Curry to a Tattoo or an Indian head massage. We spent most of our time on Sunrise Beach, which is lined with small bamboo bungalows and is also a fantastic jump-off point for exploring the reef. For the equivalent of 50p you can rent a snorkel mask and flippers for the day which gives you the opportunity to spot Clown fish, Trigger fish, Blue Tang, Parrot fish, glowing sea urchins, and much much more just a short swim away from the shore. I couldn’t help but contrast the experience with that of Pulau Langkawi and was thankful that there is simply no room for an airport on this island, which seems to have made all the difference where rash tourism-oriented construction is concerned.Once we had explored a bit and started to understand what a relaxed way of life really meant, we decided that we wanted to stay for a few nights more before the onwards journey to Bangkok. We found a reasonably-priced spare room in a little eco guesthouse called the Adang Sea Divers which was just minutes walk from Sunrise beach. The cabins were basic but mosquito nets and ‘moon tiger’ coils were provided and we were never really going to spend much time in the cabin with the beach so close anyway. The Adang Sea Divers is run by an environmentally-conscious Swiss couple, who have set up rain-storing water tanks as well as septic tanks to break down and filter used water, which they then reuse to water the plants etc. They told us that many hotels on the island do not filter their grey water and it is either siphoned off into sand pits or directly back into the sea. Awareness of the problem is growing but it is still an uphill battle, especially in the face of a growth in tourism. The Adang eco-lodge is primarily a dive centre but the staff are happy to provide you with a snorkel and fins if you don’t want (or in our case can’t afford) to dive. There is information everywhere about the reef and its inhabitants which is really helpful in identifying all the strange and magical creatures you encounter whilst exploring it. Thankfully, the Chao Ley and most of the foreigners who have set up homes and businesses on the island are fully aware that they are sitting on a little piece of paradise and are fighting to keep it that way (most noticeably by clubbing together to enforce the introduction of long term environmental strategies such as waste management and recycling schemes for the island) but the accommodation choices that visitors to the island make is a hugely important part of this battle.

Our last day on the island came around far too quickly but we made the effort to wake up early to see the spectacle that Sunrise beach is named after. It was well worth it as we, along with a few other early risers, sat on the beach to watch the sun slowly emerge from beneath the clouds. It was very difficult to tear ourselves away but with the clock ticking on our 15 day visitor permit, we knew we had to get to Bangkok where we hoped to procure both out Vietnamese and Chinese visas before heading for the Cambodian border. We collected our bags together, bid our hosts farewell and walked the short half-kilometre through main street to meet the island’s infamous ladyboy ferry ticket collector. We were headed for Hat Yao pier, a three hour ferry ride away and then from there onto Trang where we were hoping to get the train to Bangkok. Stupidly we had forgotten about Chinese New Year…

Red Curry

This is one of the staples of Thai cuisine. It is made with a curry paste (usually prepared in advance from fresh ingredients), a little bit of fish sauce and a large helping of coconut cream or milk, served on a bed of steamed rice. The spiciness of the curry varies from restaurant to restaurant and region to region so it is worth asking about this before you order. We found that most of the ‘tourist’ restaurants tone down the spice quite a bit anyway or can adjust the level to your preferred taste. If you want to try the real thing, find a place which specialises in a few key dishes, that appears to be frequented by local people. Some of the cheapest curries we had in Thailand also turned out to be the best. If you find yourself on the island of Koh Lipe , the Sunrise Beach restaurant on Sunrise Beach served an inexpensive but delicious version.

Panang Curry

One of us ended up trying this dish at almost every restaurant we went to – slightly milder than a regular red Thai curry, it is subtly flavoured with lemongrass, lime and kaffir lime leaves to produce a delicate but delicious dish. When in need of a break from spicy food, we found that this hit just the right balance between heat and flavour (though we also often tried the green and red curries as points of comparison). Once you’ve got all the ingredients it’s not too tricky to make. There are lots of versions of the recipe circulating in cook books and online. Below is a good one that we came across:

(recipe sourced from Catherine at Food Musings, licensed under Creative Commons – if you prefer to create the paste rather than use the packeted ready made stuff, Chez Pim has a good recipe for that)…

2 TBSP vegetable oil
1/2 red onion, sliced into thin half moons
8 TBSP fresh panang curry paste
2 14-ounce cans of coconut milk
3 carrots, sliced 1/2-inch thick on the diagonal
3 crookneck yellow squash, sliced 1/2-inch thick on the diagonal
1 yellow pepper, sliced into strips
1 zucchini, sliced 1/2-inch thick on the diagonal
1 cup baby bok choy, stems and leaves separated
3 TBSP fish sauce
2 TBSP sugar (use palm sugar if you have it)
5 kaffir lime leaves, cut into thin strips

Heat the vegetable oil in a large pot and add the onion and the curry paste. Let the onions fry up a bit and stir the curry paste until the clumps break up. Add a splash of coconut milk and stir the curry paste until it’s a bit mixed in, then dump in the rest of the coconut milk and bring it to a gentle boil for several minutes. Reduce the heat to a simmer and toss in everything else except the bok choy leaves. Let simmer until the vegetables are cooked through and the curry has thickened a touch, 10-20 minutes. Add the bok choy leaves, stir to wilt, and serve over rice.

Tom Yum Soup

This is a clear, spicy, sweet and sour soup that is served at pretty much every restaurant in Thailand and Laos but is also hugely popular in Malaysia and Cambodia. The soup usually contains fish stock, noodles, crushed chillies, kaffir lime leaves, lime juice, lemongrass, meat such as shrimps or chicken, or mushrooms if vegetarian, and sometimes pineapple. We tried a lot of this soup while travelling through South East Asia and our two favourite versions were found at the Mayflower Restaurant in the Cameron Highlands (22, Main Road | Tanah Rata, 39000) and at Tom Yam Kung in Bangkok, pictured left (on a side street off the Khao San road).

Tom Ka Soup

Photo by Evan Joshua Swigart (TheCulinaryGeek)

Tom Ka is similar to Tom Yum soup in its base flavours but uses coconut milk to balance its spices. The soup is usually made from chicken stock, though I have tasted delicious vegetarian varieties, to which coconut milk, cilantro, lemon grass, chillies, mushrooms and usually chicken are added. When you see it on the menu, the name of the soup is usually suffixed with the Thai word for the meat or vegetable that goes in it – so Tom Ka Kai is a soup served with chicken, Tom Ka Moo is served with pork, Tom Kha Thale is seafood, Tom Kha Het is mushroom and Tom Kha Taohu is Tofu. All delicious.

Ethos Bakery Café in Bangkok, behind 111 Thanon Tanao

Only minutes from the Khao San Road, this chilled out café/restaurant transports you a million miles away from the KSR hecticness. Ethos just seems to ooze calm with its comfy cushions, low lying tables, wooden carvings, soothing music and fantastically alternative menu. All their food is vegetarian or vegan and they proudly use only high quality ingredients, sourcing organically where possible.  The choice is extensive with Thai, Indian and Western dishes to choose from, including the likes of Veggie Lasagna with Spinach, Veggie Burgers made from home-baked wholewheat, Spaghetti with ‘Meat’ Ball, Falafel Hommus Tahina & Salad with Pitta, Aloo Gobi with Dal, Apple Crumble with Coconut Cream Custard, Chocolate Fudge Cake and Mango and Sticky Rice. They also home ferment their own Tempeh and Kombucha Tea (both of which they refer to as superfoods).

On one particularly rainy, grey day in Bangkok we suddenly found ourselves in need of some home comforts and Ethos’s Veggie Lasagne followed by their Vegan Apple Pie did just the trick. There’s nothing quite like an apple pie or crumble to conjure up thoughts of home, so in case you’re in need of your own fix, find a similar recipe to Ethos’s below…

(recipe adapted from Trudy at Veggie Num Num, licensed under Creative Commons)

Preparation time: 50min (includes baking time)
Serves 6

• 1 Bunch fresh Rhubarb, trimmed and roughly chopped
• 4 Granny smith apples, cored and roughly chopped
• ½ cup brown sugar
• ¼ cup sultanas (rasins)
• 1 cup muesli or cereal of your choice
• 1 cup rolled oats
• ½ cup shredded coconut
• ¼ cup wholemeal flour
• 50g (2 oz) softened butter (if vegan you can either use vegan margarine for the crumble or just use muesli and/or crumbled nuts alone which tasted really good at Ethos, combined with a little cinnamon)
• Juice of one lemon

To serve

• vanilla ice-cream, natural yoghurt or thick coconut cream for vegans

Preheat the oven to 180°C (356°F).

Place the apple and rhubarb in a baking tray or dish; sprinkle with the sultanas and half the brown sugar toss lightly, add enough water with lemon juice to shallowly cover the base of the dish/tray .

Bake for around 20 – 25 minutes until the rhubarb is oozing juices and the apple soft.

Arrange the apple and rhubarb mixture into a 6 cup capacity baking dish or alternatively six individual 1-cup capacity ramekins.

In a separate bowl combine the remaining dry ingredients and rub through the softened butter with your fingertips until nice and crumbly like breadcrumbs.

Sprinkle the crumble mixture over the apple and rhubarb.

Bake the crumble for around 20 minutes until golden on top and bubbling underneath.