I recently spent a couple of days during the Songkran break in Hua Hin. I'll take any excuse to go to Hua Hin since it feels like a second home to me.
I remember the days when the whole family would relocate to Hua Hin for the summer, taking everything with us but the kitchen sink. We had a family compound there, and there would be dozens of kids running around at any time of day. From the break of dawn we'd be down on the beach, swimming, digging in the sand for sea shells and little crabs, running back to the house for meals, then back to the beach again.
Getting to Hua Hin was an adventure in itself. I never felt I needed more than a swimsuit and a few pairs of shorts and T-shirts, but for my mother, packing was a major exercise. We never really understood why she would need a sewing kit or rolls of string, but they always came in handy when the laundry line broke with all our damp clothes, or buttons popped off our clothes from running around so much.
With the car packed to the brim, we'd set off across the river, and along Phetkasem Highway, always honking the horn for good luck as we passed the Chinese shrine just outside Thon Buri.
Our first stop was Nakhon Pathom, with its golden stupa visible from the distance. We'd usually stop and pay our respects, and my mother would stock up at the local market even though we hardly had any space for even a single stick of khao larm sticky rice. But she always made space.
From there we'd head towards Ratchaburi where the landscape would change. My father's favourite game would be to say: "We're going to crash right into the mountain!" And each time, the mountain would make way for the road, but the game never failed to make us laugh and squeal.
Petchaburi was next, with another stop at the old sweet shop for which the province is famous. More shopping, which exasperated the kids who wanted nothing more than to get to the beach as quickly as possible. But as my mum knew well, kids are always hungry, and everything she bought was very quickly eaten up with relish.
By the time we got to Hua Hin, most of the day had gone, but it was never too late for a dip in the sea.
The summer seemed to be spent in perpetually wet and sandy clothes, but we never seemed to mind. We'd sleep with the windows open, lulled by the sound of the waves breaking on the shore, the breeze toned down by the mosquito nets over our beds.
By the time summer was over, we'd be as dark as burnt toast, not wanting to leave, but then happy to be back home nevertheless.
Today, getting to Hua Hin has never been easier. I actually made the drive early one morning in a matter of 23 songs, the number of songs _ some longer than others _ that I got through by the time I reached my destination. In fact, you can actually get all the way to Cha-am in one stretch without stopping at any red lights.
And despite all the growth that the seaside resort has witnessed over the years, the hotels and condominiums and shopping centres, I'm happy to report that the beach has still retained its pristine and peaceful charm that I remember from my childhood days. Admittedly there are a few banana boats and kite surfers around, but the beach is mostly still empty and inviting. Unlike Pattaya, another tourist haven on the opposite side of the gulf, there are no umbrellas and deck chairs for rent or vendors offering som tum or cheap pedicures.
It's just a guess, but my own reason for this is the fact that the high and low tides fluctuate enormously in Hua Hin. When the tide is out, the beach stretches out for miles, but when the tide comes in, the waves literally break on the protective stone dykes in front of each house. At least we have nature to thank for saving the beach from the wobbly deckchair invasion.
But soon Hua Hin is to be the end destination of a new rapid train route, which is being touted at a cost of 82 billion baht. I don't have a clue who this is targetting. Thai visitors will more likely than not drive their cars, as before, since it provides much more mobility once you get there. Foreign tourists might take advantage of the train, perhaps. But more tourists means more hotels and shopping centres.
Will my poor Hua Hin be able to survive "progress"?
Usnisa Sukhsvasti is the Features Editor of the Bangkok Post.