There's travelling on a budget and there's existing in deprived squalor.
Opting to reside at the Cha-Am Villa Hotel places one emphatically in the latter category.
I've passed-out in refuse-laden ditches in the furthest reaches of Isaan with more charisma and charm than this fucking dump, located in North Cha-Am Beach, Petchaburi province.
The hotel's one and only saving grace was its proximity to the beach - a literal 10-second stroll. But after spending two nights here, the discerning excursionist will invariably want to walk into the Gulf of Siam and make for the horizon until the suffering and dread diminishes.
The rooms were windowless, dank and generally very depressing. They were the type of rooms that people hung themselves in. At 700 baht per night, in a holiday destination predominantly frequented by locals, one might expect perhaps a little more bang for one's baht. A view, maybe. Of a tree. Or even some water. OR A LITTLE FUCKING FLOWER!
Nothing. This room had no soul. It was barren, sparse and spiritless.
The swimming pool was a murky green, like thick pea soup. Although undeterred by this, a healthy abundance of youngsters happily frolicked in the water - smiling, laughing, shouting, swallowing vast volumes of algae.
The provided breakfast was bog-standard Thai fare: curries, soups and rice; but a bone had been thrown to the foreign contingent in the form of fried eggs and toast. The eggs were surprisingly good. The proprietors of the hotel had actually employed a chef capable of preparing eggs which didn't look like the outcome of a meeting between a stick of dynamite and a chicken's anus. The toast however, as is to be expected in a country where sugar is added to every-single-item-of-fucking-fodder, tasted like a stale donut.
Even with this seemingly innocent repast, I still subsequently spent the best part of the morning perched on the communal dining room lavatory, blowing my fucking ring-piece inside-out.*
But surely the most resounding grievance which Cha-Am Villa Hotel offered, was the fact that it was extremely dangerous. As in, it would be very easy to die there. No-one goes on holiday to die, I'm sure you'll concur. But the good people at Cha-Am Villa Hotel almost go out of their way to bring about an untimely demise, for you and the whole family.
The flight of stairs leading up to our room level was nigh-on shear. One misplaced step would see you a crumpled heap at the foot of not only the stairs but also of the security guard who snored sonorously beside them.**
And when it rained, which it did in thick sheets, the entire venue leaked. Vast puddles of precipitation amassed in the hotel foyer, causing the staff, who were typically tapping inane shite into their mobiles phones, to lethargically reach for the mops and half-heartedly push the water about.***
Most alarmingly of all was that, during the rain, each and every electrical fixture took a thorough dousing - Cha-Am Villa Hotel was and is a ticking time bomb.
It must be noted that I didn't visit this particular venue on the off-chance - it had actually been highly recommended by an acquaintance of mine, best known for tampering with the torsos of recently deceased livestock.
Indeed a certain withnallstoke had extolled the benefits of these accommodations. And the fact that a long with this, he also chose to do a crossword on a Saturday evening instead of drinking Lao Khao and being sick on the beach, has led me to conclude he's a psycho-lunatic poofter.****
* The view of the communal dining room lavatory ceiling. I would spend the morning shitting out my breakfast here
** The definition of useless
*** Yes, your hotel is shite
**** Withnall being a large poofter